#sorry to everyone who has worked hard to hand bind my fics

[greyeyedmonster-18]

(i'm sorry. hold on.

over 3k kudos, and 50k hits.

and no one. not a single soul. was going to tell me that the very first line of ten reasons has a typo in it?)

#sorry to everyone who has worked hard to hand bind my fics #because #the very first line #and i understand that i am a queen of typos #i dont catch everything and never will and I'm okay with that #(also why i pay two separate copy editors for all my academic/research/published personal writing) #but its THE FIRST line #and no one threw stones at my head? #i fixed it now #so if you didnt notice! youll never know now #but REALLY

[wordsinhaled]

so after that devastating ask neil answered about morpheus and calliope’s wedding i was suddenly beset by a MIGHTY need for a dreamling fix-it so... this is that. part headcanon post, part fic, entirely more than i was planning on it being. it got just a bit out of hand and is possibly a bit too sappy but i'm not sorry!!!

-

Hob introduces Morpheus to his longtime friends and colleagues after they’ve been together for a year. Morpheus carries the suspicion that Hob only agrees to wait this long for love of him.

He’s so excited about it, because he loves Dream, and it brings him the utmost happiness to imagine his friends, his loved ones, the people he works with, his students, getting to meet Dream—who hung the moon, as far as Hob’s concerned.

Dream is... less than enthusiastic about it. He hedges about going out for drinks with Hob’s friends, and he’s cagey about agreeing to be Hob’s plus one to the first department mixer Hob’s thrilled to invite him to. He still goes to these things, because Hob is his beloved and he sees how it lights Hob up to have him by his side at them. He’s the picture of gentility each time; shows up looking incredible, asks all the right questions, says all the right things, makes the small talk. He even personally ensures all of these people have pleasant dreams for a week following, for good measure.

But afterwards, he’s always a mess. Tense, withdrawing into himself.

After the third time this happens, Hob cottons on and asks him about it.

“What is it, love? My friends, or my colleagues, do they bother you?”

“On the contrary. Your friends and your coworkers are as lovely as you are, of course. Well—I must admit Dr. Halliwell is... not my favorite, but... by and large.”

“Oh, he’s no one’s favorite. Bloody insufferable, he is. Alright, well, is there anything I ought to be doing differently? To help make you feel more comfortable?" "You are utterly blameless in this, Hob." "That's..." Hob sighs. "A relief, I suppose. But there is something. And if it’s not that, then...?”

And little by little, it comes out. How the last time Morpheus was as serious about someone as he is about Hob, the last time he was serious enough to want to bind himself to someone... her friends and family opposed it. Opposed him. Thought him entirely ill-suited for her. And on their wedding day, the happiest of days, he was so excited to share his joy with his own family, and none of Calliope’s side were there.

“That’s awful,” Hob says, with a few choice swears thrown in for emphasis. “And it must have been hard for her, too.”

“I believe it is a loneliness she still carries. One far greater than my own.”

~*~

It comes out that Morpheus wants to introduce Hob around, too. Wants to bring Hob to family dinner with his siblings and have Hob with him to receive delegations. How he wants Hob to sit beside him in the throne room of the Dreaming. And how Dream wants to know all Hob’s friends, his little found family of students, his colleagues at the university, his neighbors. How he wants to belong in the life Hob has built for himself.

Yet surely, this is bound to end in disaster, too. Surely he is ill-suited for Hob as well, and surely all of those closest to Hob can see it. Are thinking it to themselves. Are biding their time to tell Hob I told you so.

“But... you’ve got to know everyone adores you. They’re always wondering when they’ll see you next. My students are always asking after you. Everyone tells me we're great together, actually. Never seen me happier, wanting to bake things for you, insisting I bring you along to the next thing—all of it."

"Then it is only a matter of time." "Until what?" "Calliope's family were not exactly... incorrect about me, in the end."

"So... what—you think you're ill-suited to me?"

"I am ill-suited to love."

And of course Hob can't have Dream thinking that. It just isn't true.

So he goes out of his way to be even more vocal about the things Morpheus does that are appreciated. To remind him he is loved. To remind him he is welcomed. To remind him just how well-suited he is to Hob, and how much he fits into Hob's life.

So-and-so says hello, he tells Dream, multiple times per week. Hob stops politely turning down the biscuits his favorite TA sends along, and they've always got a note taped onto the Tupperware ("For you and Morpheus") that Hob makes sure Dream sees. (If Morpheus secrets the little Post-Its away in one of the inner pockets of his coat and Hob never sees them again, well, all the better for Dream to keep them.)

~*~

Hob brings Dream to sit in on his knitting circle one week at the New Inn. All his friends are so excited to have Dream model their scarves and gloves and shawls and cardigans. Morpheus stands there for all of it obligingly, feeling the dreams in each and every one of the stitches.

"Brigitte wants to know what you'd like for your birthday," Hob says to Dream one day, after he runs into his neighbor, who is also in the group, and is held up ten minutes by her asking.

"I do not have a birthday," Morpheus says. "Not as such."

"Yeah, but they all don't know that, do they?" Hob grins, cajoling. "Let her give you something."

"What should I ask for?"

"Well, she is getting on a bit, so nothing too adventurous. She usually just knits me something every year. We could just tell her your favorite color." Hob pauses for dramatic effect. "...What's your favorite color?"

"You jest, I hope." "Right," Hob says, voice full of stifled laughter. "I'll tell her. Nothing but black as the deepest midnight for my darling."

Morpheus wears the resulting jumper, a drapey, soft comfort, constantly; and when the armpits pill and if it ever even approaches becoming threadbare he fixes it gingerly with yarn woven of finely-sifted stardust; and Brigitte has only the best dreams of exactly what she wishes to dream about for the rest of her life. It is the least gift he can give her in return.

~*~

When Morpheus finally invites Hob to visit the Dreaming, Hob comes with an easy smile for even the smallest nightmare and an ear to bend for every dream he meets. He brings a profound and open curiosity for everything about the place. Everyone is charmed. Hob is so regular that some of them are baffled. But Lord Morpheus' happiness rolls off him in tangible waves when he is around Hob Gadling. The denizens of the Dreaming can feel that their lord is lighter than he has been in literal ages of his existence.

Everything in the realm is in fragile bloom for the first time in a very long time. The sunshine is resplendent. The air is balmy. Birds sing in the palace orchards. Hardly so much as a drop of rain dares to fall for weeks.

~*~

The first time Hob is invited to a soiree in the Dreaming he frets about his outfit for days on end.

Morpheus is privately amused by it. "You do recall this event is being held in the Dreaming," he says, sprawled on Hob's bed, watching him pass the fabric of two of his bowties between his fingers, one tie black as night and one so dark a navy it could almost pass for black as well. "You do not actually have to dress for it in the Waking. Your dream-self will simply manifest your preferred attire." Hob just scoffs at him. "Of course. But my imagination's got to start somewhere, right? I don't want to accidentally manifest pyjamas with ducks on them just in time to meet bloody Oberon because my mind forgot what a good suit looks like. Can you imagine?"

"I would not allow you to experience any embarrassment in my realm," Morpheus says, possibly with undue vehemence.

Hob glances over at him. "I know, love."

And the ties go forgotten after that.

~*~

“I’ve got something for you,” Hob tells Dream, one day. 

They are in Hob’s living room, sitting on the couch together, Morpheus adrift on a veritable sea of throw pillows. He could, he thinks idly, craft these exact pillows in the Dreaming, replicate their heft and the give of sinking into them, and still they would not offer him such ease. 

“Hob Gadling,” he says, disguising his delight rather poorly, he thinks. “You should not have.”

But Hob is already slipping to his knees on the rug in front of Dream, already pulling a small box from behind his back with a flourish, with the sleight of hand of long-abandoned habit. “Shouldn’t I?” he asks. “You deserve beautiful things."

Morpheus stares at the ruby ring, nestled on its little velvet cushion, for so long and so intently that Hob starts to sweat.

"I know it's been a long time," he says. "For both of us."

Morpheus is still staring.

"Fuck, I had an entire speech planned. Rehearsed it and everything. Gideon told me it was brilliant. But now it's like all the good words've been knocked right out of my skull. All I can think is—I hope you don't run off in the middle of me asking you to marry me." "I will not run off," Morpheus says.

"Good," Hob says. "That's good."

~*~

Morpheus is nervous, at first, about telling people. There is a part of him that wants to hold this joy inside his heart, hoard the buoyant sensation of being loved by Hob Gadling like it is a precious commodity that will disintegrate if he lets it out.

But Hob is generous with his love. He reminds Morpheus of it constantly.

“Dream,” Hob says, one morning, propping his chin on Morpheus’ bare chest to gaze at him. “You’re my fiancé.”

Warmth tingles through Morpheus’ body. “I am,” he says.

“I’m your fiancé,” Hob goes on, and now he’s grinning so wide Morpheus is sure his cheeks must ache. “God, am I really?”

“You are,” he promises, with a little swoop of something like fear, or elation, or both. Surely he cannot just have this joy. It cannot be so simple.

“I am,” Hob says, “the luckiest person in all creation.” He says it as earnestly as if he’s saying a vow, right there in their bed.

Hob’s exuberance is contagious, and Morpheus finds that his own smile comes to his mouth unbidden.

Perhaps it could be so simple if he allows it to be.

~*~

Hob is sitting at the kitchen table, addressing invitations to their engagement party, working his way through a stack of fifty laid paper envelopes. Morpheus sits sprawled in his customary chair next to Hob’s, observing.

“That is a great many people,” he says, plucking the pen from Hob’s fingers once he finishes the current envelope and setting it down before taking Hob’s hand in his, kneading the tension from his palm. “Are you certain they should all be in attendance?”

Hob looks up from where he’s scrutinizing his own calligraphy. He must catch something in Morpheus’ tone, because his face softens from surprise into concern. “Only if you want, love,” Hob says. “You know I’d elope with you tomorrow, if you preferred that.”

“Would that bring you happiness?” Thinking on it, Morpheus is unsure it would bring him happiness, now that it is being offered as an option. Strong as the greedy part of him that wants to hoard their love is, there is also the part of him that hungers for it to be known. To be seen. To be shown.

Hob’s brows knit together, then smooth out again. “I admit there’s a part of me that wants to shout about all this from the rooftops.” He laughs softly. “And there are a lot of people who are happy for us, you know. But—” And here he turns his hand in Morpheus’, so he can hold it properly. “I want you to be comfortable. I could marry you in this kitchen and not tell a soul til after—”

“I wish to have the party,” Morpheus announces, because it is, he finds, true. “And I wish to have a ceremony. Here. And one in the Dreaming.”

“Two ceremonies?” Hob’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Now you’re just being extravagant.”

Morpheus huffs. “You have seen nothing yet of my extravagance.”

He feels none of his usual trepidation at admitting it.

~*~

Their ceremony in the Dreaming is an intimate one. The castle is resplendent with flowers, and the twilight twinkles with stars and carries a hint of magic.

Morpheus presents Hob with a crown made of dreamstuff and a mantle lined with stardust much like the inside of his own coat. Lucienne gives Hob his own key to the library. He dances with Gault in the palace gardens, face lit by the auroras rippling through her wings. The new Corinthian swears to protect him. Matthew perches on Hob’s shoulder almost the entire rest of the evening.

Late in the night, Morpheus and Hob excuse themselves to walk together in the fields of the Dreaming, and to kiss beneath the endless sky.

A fraction of the tightness in Morpheus dissipates, having Hob here. Having him welcomed by his realm. Having his own choice so honored, and Hob so loved.

~*~

There are fifty people at their engagement party in the Waking world, and two hundred at their Waking wedding reception. Most of them are from Hob's side. By the end of the evening Morpheus’ hand is sore from being wrung so many times by well-wishers, he is surprisingly tipsy off surprisingly good champagne on which Hob had spared no expense, and he feels slightly effervescent himself, even in this Waking body.

The gifts table creaks under the weight of all the presents—many of them handmade. There is a hand-painted portrait and a hand-thrown ceramic bowl and a hand-knit blanket for his and Hob’s bed and a crocheted sweater for the dog they do not yet have together. There is a queue to sign the guestbook.

He drifts in the pleasant dreams their guests have for them—Hob’s fellow professors, his research assistants, his former students, his neighbors, his knitting group, his landlord, his philosophy discussion club. These people dream of happiness for Hob; of happiness for them; of happiness for him. There is love in their hearts for Hob, and now, by extension, a new love for Morpheus.

The rest of the old weight lifts from his shoulders that night, as Hob beams down at him, and kisses him long and slow, and whispers “I love you” while his patchwork of family—their family, now—whoop and holler and clap.

#the sandman #dreamling #SMOTHER MORPHEUS IN LOVE TIME

[theycallmequeenie]

A Very Happy Christmas

A/N: Sorry, this has taken me so long to write. It’s been a chaotic week or so. My mother has kept me busy working on making this a good Christmas for my nephew and I guess trying to keep our minds off this being our first Christmas without my grandmother, her mother. So yeah, finally got some time to myself that I can sit and focus on writing. Hope you enjoy this one.  

With love, Queenie.

Warning: This will contain terribly written smut that will most likely be out of character for our cherished Happy. Please proceed with caution. There will be talk of unprotected intercourse in this fic. Please always wrap it before you tap it, unless you are in a committed relationship and KNOW beyond a shadow of a doubt both consenting parties are clean. This ends my PSA portion of this warning.  (Hopefully this will get me comfortable with writing smut for this character so it can be included in one of the Lexie and Happy chapters.)

Master List

Y/N had had a hard year. She ended up moving into a small California town that reminded her of ‘Mainstreet America’. It was almost all family owned and operated everything except for the police station, which was run by the county, and the local garage, that was run by the town’s motorcycle club, the Sons of Anarchy.

It was early spring when Y/N moved into her small home in the quiet town. As she was settling herself in her new hometown, she would occasionally bump into the members of the MC here and there. She would always offer each member a kind smile and she would usually receive a nod in return from each man.

It had been eight weeks since moving in that Y/N was nose deep in her grocery list and not paying attention when she literally ran into one of the leather clad men. On instinct she automatically starts apologizing before even looking up to see which one she had run into. Fortunately for Y/N, she had run into one of the friendlier men who introduced himself as Tig.

Tig did his best to calm the stammering and flustered Y/N down as she had heard enough from the other townsfolk to know what the Sons were and had been told by most to avoid their bad side. After many failed subtle attempts to calm her he finally out of desperation raised his voice to her and clapped a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Doll! Look it’s okay really. I get it, we were both in our own little world instead of paying attention to the world around us. If you are that upset and intent on making it up to me, why don’t you come out to TM tonight for a party. We always enjoy having a pretty face around…”

Y/N blushed at his invitation and tried to refuse saying she didn’t really belong there, but Tig ended up insisting and ultimately winning out. He offered her a smile and a wink before going on his way.

Later Y/N was in her home getting ready for what she expected to be an uncomfortable evening of being a wall flower at a MC party. Questioning why she even let the blue-eyed man talk her into going in the first place. She sighed to herself, shook her head as she finished dressing, and got ready to go.

Y/N went to the party at the clubhouse and surprisingly enjoyed herself she got to know some of the members and was invited back for the next party at the clubhouse to which she willingly agreed and attended.

This became Y/N’s weekly routine for several weeks, from late spring into the summer and into the early fall. In the early fall she was asked to start working in the office of the garage when the woman who had been working quit leaving the club in a bind.

This led to Y/N spending every day and most evenings including the Friday night parties, which she started spending talking to some of the members she had become friends with mainly Tig and another member called Chibs who was the President of the club, who enjoyed telling her the history of the club, or as much of it as he could tell an outsider at least.

Some more weeks pass and before everyone knows it it’s the Friday before Christmas and everyone was rushing around the garage trying to complete last minute plans and things before that night’s party. Y/N had been in the office until late in the evening, focused on the paperwork that needed to be finished not noticing the club’s festivities had already begun around her. Nor had she noticed the club Sargent at Arms slipping quietly into the office to see why she had yet to join them.

Happy Lowman was a quiet man in nature, he was more actions than words type. He knew that Y/N was alone in the world and that’s why she had moved to Charming. To get away from all those memories. Happy did his best to keep his distance from her as he didn’t want to complicate things for either of them, but the few times he had gotten close to her he could almost feel the sadness that rolled off her. And while he was told on many occasions that he was heartless; it wasn’t true and being around Y/N proved it to him and every other person who saw them interact.

Happy was concerned when he had noticed that Y/N wasn’t partying with the rest of the club and it’s hang-arounds, he was secretly relieved to see that she had let herself get engulfed in the paperwork in the Teller-Marrow office. He had feared she had snuck away to her lonely little home to avoid all the ruckus that was going on across the clubhouse.

He stood for a few moments waiting to see if Y/N would notice him on her own, he didn’t want to startle her, but she wasn’t looking up or paying attention to anything but the forms in front of her. He stood a few steps away from her desk and gently cleared his throat with a soft growl before tapping lightly on the desk.

Y/N jumped lightly at the unexpected sound but on realize who the sound came from she offered up a small, sad smile, “Oh, Hap I’m sorry I didn’t notice you come in. I guess I got too engrossed in this mess…”  Y/N gestured to pile of papers on the desk. Y/N did everything she could to ignore the little flutter in her chest, thinking it was from him startling her, not just him.

“I noticed.” He replied in his gruff tone but offered her a half smile to show her he was joking before perching himself on the edge of the desk next to her making sure to keep her undivided attention. “I noticed you weren’t at the party and got worried. I thought you skipped out on us this week.” He frowned gently as he finished his statement, the thought of her being alone in general didn’t sit right with him.

Y/N shook her head, “No haven’t skipped out yet, I wanted to get this all taken care of before I left for the night.” For some reason her voice was softer than normal, and she wasn’t sure why.

Hearing her all but admit she wasn’t planning on joining them for their party tonight upset Happy and in response he instinctively stiffened and pulled away from her form a moment getting up to stomp around the office pacing trying to form an argument that would convince her to stay with the club, with him tonight.

“So, you were planning on leaving without going to the clubhouse tonight. You tired of us already, Y/N?” he tried to hide his face from her as he spoke, he knew it had to be contorting in anger. Or at least he thought it was anger because he was definitely not hurt at the thought of her wanting to be alone instead of with the club or him. He almost rolled his eyes at himself for thinking like this

Y/N frowned and shook her head, “Hap, I’m not in the right headspace for all of that tonight.” She paused and gestured toward the clubhouse. “Those people in there want to have a good time and they want to have fun and well Tig is in that mix, so you know at least one of them wants sex.” She chuckled dryly and is joined by Happy who knows his brother all too well. “Happy, I just don’t want to bring any of them down, including you. I’m not in a people friendly mood.”

This time Happy growled louder this time, and his annoyance showed not only in his growling but on his face too. Y/N noticed his expression on his face and tensed up, which he noticed and started mentally kicking himself. The last thing he wanted was her on the defensive.

Standing Y/N rested her hands on the edge of the desk, “Look Happy, I don’t know what you want…”

Before Y/n could complete the thought Happy closed the space between them and backed Y/N against the wall of the small office, boxing her in with his strong tan arms. His horse voice harsh but quiet enough for only Y/N to hear, “You.”

Y/N looked up at Happy, eyes wide from the surprise of his confession. “Hap….”

Happy didn’t let her speak further, before she knew it his lips were on hers and his tongue was making its way into her mouth to dance with her tongue. Y/N placed her hands on his chest not to stop him, instead seeking another point of contact, Happy took an arm and placed it around her waist pulling her flush against him. He lets out a possessive growl as he kisses down her neck. And slips his hand under Y/N’s shirt wanting skin to skin contact resting his hand in the small of her back and gently started directing her toward the couch that was against the wall of the office.

Y/N started to lightly push against his chest, wanting him to pause his actions only momentarily.

Happy took a step back with an almost hurt expression flashing across his face and he watched hers for a clue as to why she would stop him.

As she caught her breath her cheeks flushed and her voice shook, “Hap, as much as I am all for this,” she paused to gesture between the both of them, “to happen… Could it maybe not happen here in the office? I’m not really an exhibitionist and I’d prefer to not have your brothers walk in on us in the act, so to speak….”

Y/N watched Happy, knowing he wasn’t a man of many words hoping he would vocalize a response and not just storm off like she had witnessed him do in the garage prior to the moment. He had no plans on storming off this time.

Happy cleared his throat, “So you’re not saying, ‘No, stop completely’ you’re saying, ‘No, not here’, correct?” Happy watched Y/N closely for any hint of hesitation when she responded. There was none when she nodded confirming his thought process. He spoke again, “And you aren’t saying ‘no not now’ right?” Again, he searched her face and again she nodded. This time he nodded and looked at her with a smirk on his face, paused for only a second, scooped her up throwing her over his shoulder. Giving her a quick playful sway across her bottom as she protested his method of moving this to another location and carried her off to his dorm in the club house.

As he walked through the door of the clubhouse everyone stopped and looked to see who Happy had over his shoulder and carrying away like a Viking with his war prize. Those partying shared hoots and hollers which only made Y/N blush and tell Happy that this was not exactly what she meant when she said she wanted a change of atmosphere for what he had in mind.

Once they reached Hap’s dorm, he put her down and kicked the door shut behind him. Backing Y/N toward the bed he shrugged off his Cut off and laid it on the dresser in the room and kicked off his boots before turning his attentions back to Y/N.

He started kissing her again, this time he started working on removing Y/n’s clothes as she worked on removing his. Her shirt was removed and then his. He unbuttoned her pants, and she unbuckled his belt. They separated long enough to each remove their jeans. They both took a step back to admire the sight of each other almost naked.  Y/N’s eyes widened at the hardening shape in Happy’s boxers and Happy smirked at Y/N’s Tiffany Blue Lace bra and panty set. Happy usually preferred his women in black but this shade of blue with Y/N’s skin tone might have just become his new favorite.

Licking his lips, he closed the space again with a smirk on his face as he started murmuring in Y/N’s ear asking her if she liked what she saw and telling her that she hasn’t seen anything yet. Before Y/n knows it, her bra has been unhooked and tossed to the side and Happy has his right hand on one of her breasts as Y/N ran a hesitant hand down Happy’s torso stopping at the waist band of his boxers.

Happy chuckled at her hesitation as he traced a finger across the waistband of her panties just lightly enough for his touch to tickle as he leaned into her ear to whisper to her, “It’s not gonna bite you, Little Girl.” He slipped his finger past the thin band of elastic that held her panties in place and into her slick fold to finding his target with ease rubbing her excited nub teasingly.

As Happy teased, Y/N went from feeling his torso to holding onto his arm for support to stay upright. Letting out a little gasp she felt her knees finally give out and buckle. Before she could drop Happy’s lightening quick reflexes had her on the bed safely and resumed teasing her, rubbing her nub, and working her into a frenzy. He watched her reach the edge and started murmuring to her again encouraging her to allow herself to fall over the edge into oblivion.

He upped his tactics and sent her over into bliss. He watched her through half hooded eyes as she came down from her orgasm, grinning to himself he removed her panties and then his boxers.

Y/N repositioned herself and looked up at him as he stood stark naked before her and opened her mouth preparing to take his length into her mouth, to take care of him but he stopped her. Telling her that there would be plenty of time for that later. He needed to feel her wrapped around him. As he stroked himself a few times as she lay back spreading her legs readying herself for what she knew was going to be the best sex of her life.

As he climbed on the bed, he positioned himself between her legs, stretching his long slender frame over her body so that he was face to face with her. Lining himself up at her wet core he asks if she’s ready for him waiting till he sees her nod, he leans down and gives her a deep kiss as he starts to thrust into her.

He was fully seated inside her in a few thrusts. She felt better than he had imagined, letting out a low growl and pausing to steady himself as well as giving Y/N time to adjust to his size. Y/N places her hands along Happy’s ribs and wiggles her hips to entice him to start moving again to which he obliges and starts off slow, increasing his pace evenly, kissing and watching Y/N’s face for cues when to speed up or change the angle. As he feels her close to that edge again, he starts talking to her telling her how gorgeous she looks coming undone underneath him and how good she feels around him.

After she peaks again and as she’s coming down from her high, he withdraws from her and flips her over onto her stomach, telling her to raise her hips. Once she was ready, he reentered her thrusting this time to reach his high. He starts off with a bruising grip on Y/N’s hips and a rough pace. As he chases his high, he moves a hand to her hair as she closes in on her next peak, she begs him to get rougher with her. He obliges out of instinct as he feels his own finish drawing near. As he feels himself drawing near his high, he mutters the curtesy ‘I’m close’ and receives encouragement from Y/N that mirrored what he gave her.

Happy roared to a finish deep inside of Y/N as she crested her own peak for the third time. Happy pulled out of Y/N spent and laid beside her on the bed, placing an arm over her when she tried to get up and leave. All he muttered was a gravely, “Stay…”

Y/N looked over her shoulder at Happy with a look of surprise, “But I thought….” Y/N stopped short with her words after seeing Happy’s face. His expression surprised her as it was outside of his normal gruff expressionless exterior. She could have almost mistaken it for adoration.

Happy shook his head and reached for Y/N’s hand, taking it in his, “Not with you, you I want to stay.” Letting go of her hand he took hold of the flat sheet that was on the bed and held it up silently inviting Y/N to climb in under it with him. “Please…”

Y/N sighed and nodded quickly before sliding in beside him. Happy laid the sheet over her, pulled her close and draped an arm over her abdomen. Holding her tight to him she spoke tenderly, “Hap, you planning on this being a serious thing? You wanting to keep me or something?”

Happy smiled at her and snuggled up a little closer to her, “If you’ll let me, Little Girl. I’d like this to be a serious kinda thing…” He paused waiting to see if Y/N made any attempts to stop him or turn him down, but she didn’t, so he continued, “Merry Christmas, Little Girl.”

The End

A/N part 2: I just want to apologize for how terribly that smut session was written I am not yet a proficient smut author and am still very awkward with the whole organizing of the smut scene. This is something I am still sorta new at and as much smut as I have read over the years you would think I’d have pick up a thing or two from those novels and fics. But if you’ve made it this far, I want to say Thank you for tolerating the terrible attempt you just read. I know if I write it more, I will improve and I am hoping to write more in the future. Much love, Queenie!

@darqchilddaydreamz​  @lady-telford​

#queenie writes #queenies fanfiction #happy lowman #happy lowman fanfiction #happy lowman imagine #happy lowman x reader #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy imagine #soa #soa fic #soa imagine #sons of anarchy imagines #soa fanfiction #soa fandom #david labrava #crappy smut is still smut

[andydrysdalerogers]

Yours Submissively ~ Contract

Steve Rogers X OFC Isabella Davis

Summary: Five Years after the events of Civil War, Steve Rogers has moved on from avenging and has started his own business, Grant Inc. He has a secret that would turn his world upside down. And he's good at keep that secret. Until he meets the woman with violet eyes that could bring him to his knees. Now his mission is to make her, his. But she is the key that could bring the world into balance... or chaos.

And she has no idea.

Series Warnings: slow burn at the beginning, smut, angst, sexual themes of BDSM, dom/sub dynamics, kidnapping, loss of virginity, (and a bunch of others that will come up)

A/N: This specific chapter talks about a Dom/sub contract. I did a lot of research into this and this is a pretty standard agreement. While not a legally binding agreement, the couples I have spoken to about this subject have all agreed that the agreement is for the safety of everyone involved. I wanted to stay true and respectful of those who are in this type of relationships.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Previous: Primero

Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

Bucky, Steve and Belle made it down to the garage. Steve held Belle’s hand as he walked to his Audi SUV. He opened her door to let her in. Once Steve was in and Bucky was in the driver seat, Bucky turned to. Belle.   “Address?”

“Sorry, Main St, Jersey City.”  Belle looked out the window and. Bucky took off.  The couple sat in silence as Bucky drove.  He was playing some 40s station but the music was soothing to Belle. Her knee bounced and Steve placed a hand to stop her.  

“Talk to me? Please?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Tell me how you are feeling.” Belle’s eyes flicked to Bucky and back.  She looked down.  Steve pressed a button and a privacy screen went up.  “Please Isabella.  Are you regretting this?”

Belle kept her head down but shook her head. “No, I’m sorry.  I just don’t like to talk about the singing.” 

“Why?”

Belle looked at Steve with a hard look.   “You said you wouldn’t pry.” 

“Ok, you’re right. I’m sorry.”  He took her hand and kissed her knuckles.  “How do you feel about this morning?”

She blushed.  “It hurt a little but mostly felt really good.” She smiled. “I would like to do that again.” 

“As would I, Isabella.” He smiled.  “When can I see you again?”

“I have work and school.” 

“Do you have time to do research?”

“Research?”

Steve reached into the pocket of the seat in front of him.  A Manila envelope comes out.  “This is the contract for our relationship.  Review it, take notes, do your research.  If you have questions, just ask me.  You have my number.” 

“What if I don’t want to ask you some of those questions?”

“About that.” He pulled a sheet from the envelope.  “This is a non-disclosure agreement.  It means that anything we do together is between us.  It protects you from being hurt by me in the public and vice versa.”  He handed her a pen. 

She glanced at the sheet and signed.  “Does this include last night?”

“Yes. I value discretion Isabella.  I don’t need the world to know my private life.” 

“I wouldn’t say anything. I just wanted to make sure.  But can I talk to Lila?  I just have general questions.” 

“You could ask me.”  

“No, I really can’t. I just need to know the girl side of things.” 

“If you trust her, fine.  I would rather you ask me but I want you to be comfortable with your body.”  She nodded at his statement. 

Steve never let go of her hand as they arrived at her apartment building.  He moved to the trunk and pulled out a laptop bag.  “I didn’t know if you have a laptop but in here is one for you as well as a new phone.” 

“I don’t need these things.”

“But I want you to have it.  Use them or don’t.  It’s up to you.”  Steve kissed her gently, causing Belle to close her eyes.  “Do the research.  I’ll pick you up from work on Friday.” 

Belle finally opened her eyes.  Steve smiled and kissed her forehead.  “Have a nice Sunday Isabella.   Study hard.”  He climbed back into the SUV and they took off.  She went up to her apartment and noticed Lila wasn’t home.  She went to put away the laptop bag and hopped into the shower.  Once she was out, she wrapped a towel around herself and went back to her room.  She jumped as Lila was now sitting on her bed. 

“So where were you?” 

“With Steve,” she said simply. She started to dry her hair. 

Lila placed her hands on her hips. “With Steve?  That’s it.  You left drunk from the bar.  Scott has been calling me looking for you. And all you are giving me is that you were with Steve?”

“Lila, I’m fine.  He took care of my hangover ass.” 

“With new clothes I see.” Lila grabbed Belle into a hug.  “Are you sure that you’re ok?”

“I’m perfect Lila.  I’m going to see Steve again on Friday.” 

“Nice.  He is gorgeous.  His friend is yummy.”  

“Yeah?  Nice.  Did he get your number?”

“Yep,” with a pop on the end.  “Taking to me to dinner on Wednesday since you have class late.”  

“Good.  Hope he is a gentleman.” 

“I don’t,” she said with a mischievous smile.  Lila looked at the envelope on the bed.  “What’s this?”

“Just some notes I need to review.  Are you hungry?” 

“Yeah, gonna make something?”

“Pasta, I think.” 

“Sounds good.  Need help with that assignment?”  She pointed to the envelope.  “It’s not like you to leave assignments to the last minute.” 

Belle turned to walk to the kitchen, hiding her blush.  “I didn’t, just reviewing.” She started to cook but looked for her phone.   She walked back into her room and still couldn’t find it.   She reached for the laptop bag and the new phone slid out.  She tapped it and there was a message waiting. 

SR: Ok, so this phone is secure.  It can’t be hacked.  Bucky switched it while we were out.  Please don’t be mad. I just want you safe.

Belle rolled her eyes and scrolled through the phone.  All of her apps were there and her music so she switched on some 80s to cook. 

After dinner, she went to her room and closed the door. She pulled out the contract and started to read.

CONTRACT OF CONSENSUAL OWNERSHIP

The purpose of this contract is to:

1. state the full mutual consent of the undersigned regarding this relationship.

2. to clearly define the responsibilities and duties of both Dom and sub.

3. to clearly establish a safe word, and limits.

4. explain the use of punishment and clearly define what punishment is, the implements to

be used and to make clear the other nonphysical punishments and what they entail.

5. foster a greater sense of communication between Dom and sub.

This contract is in no way legally binding, and is meant only to better understand the needs, duties and responsibilities of Dom and sub.

I, Isabella Maria Davis, hereinafter referred to as the submissive, do of my own free will, and being of sound mind and body, do hereby offer myself in consensual slavery to Steven Grant Rogers, hereinafter referred to as dominate, for the period of 90 days, beginning at midnight on Friday, May 30th. 

This agreement may be terminated at any time before the above-named date by either party only in the event of breach of contract. On the above-named date this agreement will be reviewed, negotiated and rewritten or terminated.

Details of Contract

1. sub agrees to obey to the best of her/his ability, and to devote herself/himself entirely to the pleasure and desires of their Dom. The sub also renounces all rights to her own pleasure, comfort, or gratification except insofar as permitted by their Dom. The submissive will not enter into an outside relationship while with the Dominant.

The Dominant agrees to learn what excites the submissive through exploration and communication and try to incorporate this into the relationship.

2. The Dominant accepts full responsibility of submissive. This includes but is not limited to: the sub's survival, health, physical well being, and mental well being. The sub accepts full responsibility for informing the Dom of any real or perceived dangers or safety concerns, but also states that the Dom's decision will be final regarding these issues. The Dom agrees that sub will not be punished for respectfully stating these concerns. The Dom further agrees to listen to the sub's concerns with a clear and open mind. The Dom shall endeavor not to inflict physical harm upon the sub which might require the attention of someone outside relationship.

 3. The sub agrees at all times to make their body readily available to the Dom for his use. The sub will have hair washed and brushed in the style the Dom prefers at all times. The sub agrees to wear any and all clothing the dom picks.

4. The sub acknowledges that she will not sleep in the same bed of the dom unless desired by the dom.  The dom agrees to move the sub to her room if necessary. 

5. The sub agrees to accept the responsibility of using a safe word when necessary. The sub acknowledges that safe word is "red" and safe signal is "blue". The Dom accepts the responsibility of assessing situations where the sub calls safe word and will, to the best of his ability, make judgement on whether to modify the activity or stop activity entirely. The sub agrees to hold no ill will due to the Dom's decision. The Dom agrees not to punish sub for the use of a safe word.

6. The sub agrees to answer any and all questions asked by the Dom freely, promptly, and to the best of their knowledge. The sub further agrees to volunteer any information that the Dom should know regarding the sub's physical or emotional state. The Dom agrees to never use this information to harm the sub in any way.

7. The Dom agrees to furnish all toys such as vibrators, etc. and punishment implements such as crops and whips. The sub agrees to clean and maintain all toys, have them available for the Dom's use at all times, and inform the Dom of any needed repairs or replacements.

8. The sub agrees to allow the following during any scene: bondage, suspension, anal play, toys, massage oil, whipping, and other that are added in the future.

9. The subs states that her limits are, but are not limited to: Blood play, knife play, gun play and other to be added after discussion. The Dom agrees to never violate these limits without prior negotiation of, and consent by, the sub.

10. The sub agrees to address the Dom as ‘Mr. Rogers’, ‘Master’ or ‘Sir’ unless otherwise directed. The sub agrees to speak respectfully to the Dom at all times, including times not spent in a scene. The Dom may address the sub in any way he so chooses.

11. The Dom agrees to furnish slave with a symbolic token of ownership. The sub agrees to wear this symbol at all times, except when The Dom states to do so would be inappropriate or would non-consensually involve others.

12. The sub agrees and understands that any infractions of this agreement, or any act the sub commits which displeases the Dom, will result in punishment. The sub will gracefully accept punishment and try to learn from it. The sub agrees to assemble the punishment materials as ordered by the Dom and assume any position needed to accept the punishment. The sub understands that failure to comply with the Dom's orders will result in a more severe punishment. The Dom will inform the sub that they are being punished when punishment occurs. The Dom will explain the reason for punishment either before, during, or following punishment. The Dom agrees to discipline only out of a desire to better the sub, and further agrees to never punish out of, or during, feelings of anger.

Signed, this __________ day of ____________, 20___.

What the hell am I getting myself into?

NEXT

Taglist:

@patzammit

@texmexdarling

@slutforchrisjamalevans

@jennmurawski13-writes

@firephotogrl74

@tinkerbelle67

@before-we-get-started

@bunnyforhim

@alexakeyloveloki

@amiquette

#andy's hea #andy's shenanigans #yours submissively #chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers au #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #Steve Rogers x OFC #Bucky barnes #chris evans #mcu fanfiction #Steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #chris evans au #avengers au

[k-she-rambles]

Have an outline for a fic I may never write:

some background: the year is 2012, and everything is Avengers. People still write these (❤️ u), but it's the golden age of avengers tower fics. Everyone is friends in messy dramatic ways, overpowered oc's abound and it's fabulous.

This is also the golden age of Loki drama. It started with Thor, but ramped up with Avengers. The discourse was usually "Loki is entirely Evil mcEvil" vs "Loki is my perfect shmoopy-poo, and Thor is a Murderous Meanie"

I'd settled (& found others too) on "Loki DEFINITELY killed people but he was also obviously under duress." I'd recently read some early Diana Wynn Jones (Dogsbody and Eight Days of Luke), I was listening to a lot of Florence and the Machine (Heartlines) and somehow all of that blended to create...this tropey monstrosity. I just didn't have the skill to sit down and bang it out, and I still don't really

(tw for...well Loki's mental state at the end of Thor did not exactly get better by Avengers.)

This is part one|

We start out directly after Avengers, with Thor bringing Loki home to Asgard to face judgement.

Imagine Loki, before the dias in the throne room of the palace of Asgard. It's fall, there is an occasional chill breeze.

Odin, Frigga, and Thor are on the dias above him. The rest of the court behind him. Loki himself in chains.

Odin has described the charges against Loki, and has asked, each time, if Loki had anything to say.

Each time, Loki has remained silent.

He has nothing to say for himself. He's not sorry for trying to conquer Earth. Thanos is coming for them all, and they don't deserve a warning.

In the jumble of grief over losing the approval of the man he once called his father (if he ever had it in the first place), his madness inducing fall through multidimensional space, capture and manipulation by Thanos, and use of an infinity stone, his "crimes" are small potatoes to him. He can't muster the energy to care.

Finally, Odin asks if there is anyone willing to speak in Loki's defense, or on his behalf in regards to his character or extenuating circumstances.

Thor, grief stricken and angry, looks away.

But from the crowd, someone does volunteer: Baldur. Not the wet blanket of the comics, but the closest thing Asgard has to a real lawyer, and someone who grew up with Loki. They have similar fighting styles, and spent a lot of time together as kids.

We get an inside look at Loki's head and discover that this (for reasons that will be revealed later) is, in Loki's opinion, the WORST turn of events. Loki despises Baldur. Baldur obviously does not share Loki's antipathy, and Loki hates him even more because he should.

Despite Loki being uncooperative, Baldur and Frigga argue for leniency.

The closest Loki comes to breaking his silence is when Frigga kneels before Odin to beg for her son's life.

It's granted. Loki is free within the realm of Asgard, but his magic is dampened by what's basically a magic handcuff.

And, because he refused to speak at his trial, he is forbidden by magic to speak within the realm of Asgard.

After this opening, we get into Loki's new life. He's shiftless, depressed, and doesn't want to be here.

He stays in his rooms for the most part. Frigga visits. Thor does not.

Eventually Loki's habits of wanting to get into everything slowly resurface. He's persona non grata in the court. People don't trust him, and mostly ignore him. The exception is Hodur, Baldur's brother, who really does hate Loki, and makes Loki's life miserable whenever possible.

It's not like Loki can say anything.

There is some recovery as Loki goes back to something he used to do as a boy --helping in the stables.

It's hard work that he's no longer used to. And the enchantments binding his words and his magic are affecting his health: he gets dizzy sometimes. A tremor in his hands.

It is a reason to haul himself out of bed at the same time every day.

It is a long winter caring for the horses. One of the mares has a difficult pregnancy, but under Loki's care, Ashes and Ember are born healthy, and spring comes.

Slowly, in small ways, Loki and the Warriors Three make amends, mostly through visits to the stables.

Loki and Thor's old friend and tutor Amora the Enchantress visits. She asks some very interesting questions about Loki's magic handcuffs. Namely, WTF --they are, apparently, pretty overkill --but also, eventually, about Loki's health.

Loki hasn't put much thought into it because his mental health has improved tremendously by not being in Thanos' direct thrall + regular work + a dose of silence being good medicine, but over spring, as people who were once prince Loki's friends become familiar with Loki the very good groom, it gets confirmed: he looks like shit. Is he sick?

It's not the handcuffs --they're only designed to suppress the wearer's magic. He could probably still shape-shift, Amora explains, but that wouldn't affect the cuffs.

Loki gives her a look. He never could shape-shift anyway.

Shape-shifting requires you to pass through your true shape each time, Amora explains. Loki the Asgardian can't shape shift. He already is shapeshifted. Loki the Jotunn could.

Loki's not too keen on this, to put it mildly. His head may be clearer but he still harbors a deep self hatred for being Jotunn. He was raised Asgardian, and the Aesir consider the Jotunn lesser at best, savage monsters at worst. Every day Loki lives he lives a lie, and it's not one of his choosing.

The symptoms Loki displays look more like...well they look like a blood curse of some kind, but that can't be right because if it's a blood curse it's older than Loki is and...blocked somehow, as if someone else is suffering part of it, or part of it has already been fulfilled.

Meanwhile, Thor is sick with guilt over having turned away from Loki --symbolically giving up on him during the trial. Especially now that he sees, from a distance, Loki's progress.

It drives home once again how thoughtless and self centered Thor has been over the ages, that it was Thor himself who was, directly and indirectly, telling Loki that his only value came from being prince and heir, that Loki the person wasn’t worth anything. So that when Loki realized he would inherit nothing and that he wasn't a prince of Asgard he lost his sense of self, and started scrabbling for things to make him worthy...much like Thor himself had

Sometime in this time, Thor finally puts together something that he noticed but didn't comprehend during Loki's trial: Baldur carries Mistilteinn.

When Mjolnir was made, a companion weapon was made for Loki: Mistilteinn, a dagger as well suited for Loki as Mjolnir was for Thor. Only Thor received a ceremony, but he'd never really noticed that Loki didn't carry the princely weapon he deserved. How did Baldur have it?

When Thor goes to find out, he catches Hodur harassing Loki. It's escalated, and Thor intervenes, bodily dragging Loki to the healers afterwards.

Why didn't he say anything? Thor wants to know.

Loki only gives him an ironic look. It's not like Loki could have. It's not like Thor would have cared.

Thor does. At one time it was Loki who rejected Thor. But what recent evidence does Loki have that Thor wouldn't reject him?

This is also where Thor realizes that Loki was acting under threat of torture just as much as willingly conquering Earth. Those burn marks weren't there before.

The story of Mistilteinn is this: the drinking at the ceremony celebrating Thor as crown prince got a little out of hand. Loki, pleased for Thor but still struggling with resentment and the blow at being...pretty much ignored even though part of the royal family, had reacted badly when his childhood companion Baldur had thought to console him.

Baldur asked for Mistilteinn, the weapon that had almost killed him, instead of publicly humiliating his friend, and never revealed what happened except to Odin and to his brother, who found him injured, alone, with Loki nowhere to be found. Loki took this as in deference to Thor's special day, and deeply resented it. Hodur held a grudge for Loki almost killing his brother.

Loki has a vision and comes to realize that Thanos can and probably will track him down for his failures, realizes that he does in fact care if Asgard gets flattened, shapeshifts into his Jotunn form and leaves Asgard for Jotunheim.

Loki reveals that the spell keeping him silent has worn off by whispering a goodbye before he slips through a gate in the world-tree's branches

Baldur reveals that he enchanted Mistilteinn in much the same way Mjolnir was: if Loki should voluntary bear the consequences of harm that he caused another and make amends, the dagger will return to it's rightful owner.

#avengers fic #classic avengers fic #kj writes #fic #loki fic #Honestly a little nervous about putting this out there #It's been banging around in my head for a decade #Got long so it'll be a two parter #fic summary #fic ideas #plotbunnies #Loki redemption

[lemonjoonah]

Level of Restraint (M)

Pairings: Jimin x Reader, Namjoon x Reader, Taehyung x Reader Word Count: 13K  Rating: M  Genre: Thriller, smut, office AU, BDSM AU  Warnings(contains spoilers): This story contains very dark themes and may not be suited to all readers, protected sex (vag+anal), threesome, double penetration, bondage (including partial suspension), dom/sub roles (reader is a sub), praise kink, mild degration, sensory deprivation, spanking, fingering, cum feeding, mild breathplay, sex toys, exhibitionism, voyeurism, discussion of safe word, Namjoon is a professional dom/sex worker, referenced discrimination of sex workers and those who participate in BDSM, public outing of sexual practices, inappropriate workplace relationships, referenced death of minor character, yandere character, misidentified sexual partner, manipulation, bribery, blackmail, implied stalking, violence.

Summary: As a co-founder of a consulting firm you can’t afford to be caught in a scandal. So flirting with your secretary, Jimin, would be out of the question. Giving your client’s son, Taehyung, a reference for a sexual partner would be reprehensible. And having regular paid BDSM sessions with your dominant, Namjoon? That would be a career ending disgrace. It’s too bad the only restraints in life you approve of are the cuffs that bind you to the bed, because there are those hiding in the dark waiting to take advantage. 

A/N: A huge thank you to everyone who supported me while writing this story. It was hard not to question the level of darkness this tale descends to. In the end your assurances and aid are the only reason this fic made it to fruition. Upon reading you might notice several thematic references to the ‘Fall of the House of Usher,’ by Edgar Allan Poe  and the Greek myth of Tantalus. They are two of my favourite tales, and together they greatly represent the darkened desires depicted in this oneshot.

...

8:55 am KNJ: Good girl.

Your heart races upon receiving the response you’ve been waiting for all morning. The sender had requested proof that you were wearing his last minute gift, and you were happy to oblige with the lewd photo. Finally seeing his simple praise for your efforts makes you grin from ear to ear, as you enter the front door to your workplace’s building. The message will be enough to get you through the day, high on the thought of his praise while his present is wrapped tightly around your ribs. Though the garment may be confining, you’ll endure anything to receive those two simple words.

Reluctantly glancing up from your phone you look ahead to see the elevator closing.

“Hold the door!” You call out, making a run for it. Mercifully the gap between the doors widens allowing you to climb in before it begins the long haul up. Glancing over to your savoir, you find your secretary standing at the panel. “Thanks Jimin.”

“No problem,” he responds with a warm smile. “What floor do you need?” Joking as he pushes the button labelled 14. 

You playfully shove his arm while trying to catch your breath. Had he left you down on the first floor there's no telling how long it would be before the elevator returned. The building in which you work has been down to one lift for a couple days, with no promise of when the other will be fixed. It’s not a surprise really, ever since you moved into this complex three years ago you’ve been plagued with breakdowns and shotty utilities. Considering how opulent  the tower is, with it’s gilded elevators and halls adorned in finery you expected better, but people often overlook flaws when they have something pleasant to stare at. Allowing the management to slack on some of the failings of the structure. 

“Do you think you could send maintenance another message?” You ask your hand clutching your waist to comfort the stitch in your side, no doubt a result of the corset concealed beneath your clothes. 

“Consider it done.” Jimin replies, pulling out his phone. “Are you okay Miss?” He asks, your heavy breathing failing to go unnoticed judging from the concern in his voice.

“Fine.” You quickly change the subject, not wanting to linger on your current state. “What’s on my schedule for today?”

“You have a consultation with Mr. Kim of HOC Industries in an hour-” 

“Really?” You cut in, confused about the sudden change. “But I just saw him a few weeks ago. Why is he coming in?”

“He didn’t say, I just got a message last night from him stating he required an appointment immediately.”

“That’s not a good sign...” You groan, wondering what information had dropped to spur a need for such an urgent response. 

“Afterwards you have an early lunch with journalist Min. Followed by a one o’clock appointment with Jeon Jungkook to go over the new web layout. And the rest of office hours are slated as admin.” 

You cringe over the prospect of bookkeeping. Your accountant’s involvement in a recent accident, placed him on an extended leave of absence. Since you are the only other member of your small staff qualified to balance the books, this leaves you burdened with his duties. “Remind me later to make a posting for a temp position.”

“Noted,” Jimin remarks as he continues to scroll through his phone. “Oh and don’t forget, you also have your monthly massage appointment with Kim Namjoon tonight.”

You smile at the thought, you would never forget a booking with him, especially since he’s the reason for your current state of breathlessness. You’ve been counting down the days until you get to see him, with only a few hours left you can barely contain yourself. To everyone who asks he’s a masseur, but the services he provides are far more aggressively intimate than a standard massage. You force a small cough to cover the involuntary moan starting to escape. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.” It’s not a complete lie, with the stress from work there have been a lot of restless nights recently, your appointment tonight should help to relieve a bit of that tension. There’s a loud groan as the elevator comes to a stop at your floor. You look up to the top of the lift and over to Jimin with worry, both of you stepping off with haste once the doors open.

Your entire office space consists of only a few rooms. You and Hoseok had started this company only a few years ago, focusing on corporate consultations regarding public image and approval. All things considered you’re doing rather well. With your negotiation tactics, Hoseok's philanthropy efforts, and Yoongi on retainer as your media source, you’ve been able to take on several giant corporations.    

As you walk down the hall you find the temperature starting to rise, and upon stepping into your’s and Jimin’s shared office, you’re hit with a wave of heat. You whisper your curses as you check the thermostat which has been jacked to its highest setting and refuses to shift back down. 

Giving up on the system you turn to the windows, but even those are a struggle after being neglected for so long. You call out to Jimin for assistance, waiting no more than a second before he is by your side. But even with his help you only manage to open them to the grand extent of a sliver before you’re forced to give in. At least with your office door open there’s now a small draft pervading the space.

“I guess I’ll send maintenance another message,” Jimin chuckles.

“You don’t think he’s trying to push us out do you?” You inquire about the building owner, and one of your own clients. You don’t usually make such bold claims, but with Jimin’s ties to the dubious man, it’s hard not to ask.

“I wouldn’t put it past him. Though I think this is more likely due to his lack of regard for the workmanship going into his properties.”

You nod overlooking the now stuffy room which holds both your desks. It serves its purpose with a sufficient amount of daylight from the large windows, and a partial wall giving you each a bit of privacy. You’d rather not have to leave this building and the status that comes with it, but there seems to be no end with these faulty appliances. “So much for being the height of sophistication.”

While you settle into your workspace you’re already dying from the heat, a sweater and camisole overtop your corset was not the best choice for today, but you didn’t want to risk anyone noticing the garment beneath. As you shuffling through your newsite tabs Jimin readies the coffee maker, returning to you with the first dose of your daily caffeine needs. 

“You’re a saint.”

Jimin smiles brightly at your compliment, living for the praise as always. “Do you want some ice on the side?” He laughs as you tug on your sweater to stop it from sticking to your skin.

“Only if I can rub it all over.” You sigh jokingly as you take a sip of the hot beverage.

“I’d be happy to assist.” His smirk and piercing gaze look to be downright serious, his flirtation hitting a new high today.    

“Sorry Jimin, I already have a massage appointment later. I think Namjoon would be very upset if you took his job from him.”

“That’s too bad.” He mutters, his lip still curled into a smile before stepping away from your desk. “Let me know if you change your mind. I’d be more than willing to compensate him for his loss.” Jimin has never been shy about his attraction to you, a desire which you most certainly reciprocate, but your own company policies keep the both of you tied to flirtatious word play. With Jimin winning more often than not when it comes to provocative sentiments.

He hangs around on your side of the room, straightening the chairs and stray flies, while you continue your search for whatever prompted the need for your haste meeting. At last you find it, on the featured articles of a prominent celeb news site, with the headline reading, ‘The Dark Desires of the Kim Family Heir.’

Much to your chagrin the issue isn’t regarding your client, but his son. As much as you try to stay out of personal family matters, sometimes they are unavoidable, and this looks to be one of those cases.

‘Kim Taehyung has long been considered one of the most eligible bachelors. He has it all, money, power, and a spot on every top ten most attractive list, but those who have been with him more intimately say he craves something more...’ 

Your mouth falls open in horror as one of Taehyung's former partners exposes their most intimate moments with him. ‘The Gucci suits and custom cologne are just an expensive mask for the darkness beneath. He would ask to be tied, bound to the bed and struck. He wanted pain and pleasure...’ The further you read the more your chest tightens. You’d rather not jump to conclusions, but you wouldn’t be surprised if it’s true. A fact which must make it all the more painful for Taehyung. You can only imagine what he must be going through, to have such private details exposed and exploited. He’s currently living your worst nightmare, a societal judgement over one's deepest desires. For professional reasons it would probably be best to stay out of this private matter, but you can’t in good consciousness let him suffer alone.

“That bad?” Jimin asks.

“Yeah...” You cover your mouth to hide your shuddering breath, blinking away the tears that threaten to spill on Taehyung's behalf.

Jimin shuffles in behind your desk with you. By lowering himself to read off your screen, his face falls next to yours. His hands come to rest on your shoulders as he leans in to eye the article in question. You should shoo him away, but you can’t help but be curious of his response to those who engage in such practices. As his eyes scan the page his grip on you tightens, his breathing erratic just like yours, with a whispered “‘Fuck,” escaping his lips. 

“Are we interrupting something?” A voice calls out from your open door. 

Your head snaps over in shock to find your next appointment waiting for you, with his son in tow. You jump up pushing Jimin back so you can greet your guests properly. “Mr. Kim! No not at all,  please come in. This must be-”

“Taehyung...” The younger man mutters as he walks in, slumping down in one of the chairs in front of your desk. His sunglasses are still in place, the smell of spirits wafts over you along with the spicy scent of what must be his referenced cologne. He’s a sight to behold, a person of his caliber could make a fortune off his looks alone; he wouldn’t even need a drop of his father's fortune. But of course, that would have been before this public outing of his bedroom tendencies. Now he’s more likely to be seen as a pariah rather than an asset.

Directing the elder to the seat next to him, you take your own once again as Jimin retreats to his desk. You don’t even have the chance to exchange pleasantries before Mr. Kim launches into the purpose of their visit. “I assume you saw the article about my son?”

“I did, but-”

“And? What can we do about it? How can we spin it? Our stocks have already taken a hit.”

“Your son just had a serious breach in personal privacy...” You pause hoping that he’ll have some semblance of a realization that he is not the victim here, instead he simply waits for you to continue. Attempt to hold in your dismay, you give him the only answer you can, “Sue for defamation if you’d like, but whether they are printing fact or fiction the damage is done. The press is still focusing on your family due to your early misdealings in your company. I would argue that if you turn the view of operations around then there is a very good chance that the media will start to back off personal affairs.”

“You can’t expect me to twiddle my thumbs and wait. My shareholders are currently questioning his ability to lead, they might seek to replace him.”

“Good.” Taehyung mutters. “If those prudes have a problem with me, I’d rather not have to work with them.”

You bite your lip to conceal a snort of laughter.  Mr. Kim fails to notice but his son seems to have caught your slip, taking off his glasses, he pierces you with a strong gaze.

Kim senior starts up again looking for sympathy and a way out, “Do you know how many of his flings I’ve had to pay off in the past-”

“Maybe you should just stick to your own business.” Taehyung eyes his father darkly.

“They made it my business when they started squealing to the press about what kind of man you are.”

You try to rein the situation in, this battle between father and son having no place in your office. “Mr. Kim! I would actually like to speak to your son for a moment. We can see if there’s a possible remedy for this... exposure.” You stand up, calling over the wall for your secretary "Jimin? Would you mind taking Mr. Kim to see Hoseok?” You turn back to your elder client, practically pushing him out the door into your secretaries’s care. “Jung Hoseok has been continuing his work on your company's philanthropic efforts. I’m sure he would love to show you what he has done with your portfolio.”

“Do you need me to come right back Miss?” Jimin asks with a pleading stare, his eyes flicker over to the young man still slumped in his seat.

“No I think we’ll be okay for a bit.” You mutter to him quietly as Mr. Kim proceeds down the hall. “Just keep him away for a few minutes.”

Once they're both gone you sit back down across from Taehyung with a sigh.

“So are your going to talk some sense into me?” He drawls with disdain.

“Fuck no,” you scoff, rummaging through your drawer. “Can I get you anything coffee, water... advil?”  You finally pull out the bottle of pain relievers and offer one to him as you take one yourself, your head ready to explode in frustration over his father. 

He tilts his head looking somewhat surprised, “So why did you send him away then?”

“I thought you could use a break. I’ve worked with many people like your father, they all want things done their way, and you’ll never be able to tell them otherwise. He’ll never admit to his faults, and the fact that he’s the real reason the media is all over you. So as long as you don’t tattle on me, we both can make it through this meeting with him thinking that he’s won.”

“Deal,” Taehyung agrees while he chuckles at your ploy. 

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” You offer once again.

“Actually I’ll take some advil.”

“I thought you might.” You poor him glass from the cooler and offer up the pill. When his sleeve pulls back to reach for the cup you can’t help but notice the glaring red evidence of a rope abrasion on his wrist. While he throws back the pain killer, you take another sip of your coffee rolling the bitterness over your tongue before breaching the difficult subject. “It can’t be easy to have the press prying into every aspect of your private life.”

“It’s not so much that they pry, but...” Taehyung hesitates, his brow furrows as his fingers run through his hair tugging on the strands between his fingers.  “People know that they can go to them with a story and make money off any relations I have with them. And the press will gladly pay top dollar for what they have to offer.”

“The story is not a complete fabrication then?” You already know it’s not judging from his father's response and the marks on his arm, you just need to hear him say it. 

“No, it’s mostly true.” He admits, watching your reaction.

“Then it would seem that your desires might be thought unconventional by many of your past partners?”

Taehyung nods, taking another sip of his water. 

“From one unconventional individual to another,” you pause waiting for your own admission to sink in. To your delight Taehyung immediately perks up listening attentively as you continue. “There are more discreet ways to fill those needs.”

“Are you offering?” He asks, raising a brown along with the corner of his lips.

“No, I doubt that I would be very good at meeting your cravings, since we both hunger the same type of... attention.” You smile back at him, rejoicing in your mutual secret. “But I do have a friend who will take very good care of you. I’m going to give you a name and phone number, it’s up to you if you want to contact them, but I can assure you any conversations or actions between you and them will be kept strictly confidential. It’s not cheap,” you explain, but doubt that’ll be a problem for him. “But I assure you it’s safe and private.”

Taehyung can barely get the information from you fast enough once you jot it down. His hands, reaching for the sheet, accidentally knock over your coffee instead, sending the drink in your direction and staining your sweater. “I’m so sorry, here let me help you.” Taehyung jumps up and runs and grabs napkins from the coffee station. 

“It’s fine really.” You assure him, making an attempt to stop him as he starts to blot the saturated material. 

Unfortunately it’s at this moment that Jimin walks in to see your precarious state. He stands there for a moment in silence before explaining the reason for his return. “Mr. Kim said he needs to leave soon, Miss. He wanted to see if you two were... finished.” There’s glare set in his eyes for Taehyung's forwardness.

“Yeah, be right there, just one second.” You turn back to Taehyung, exchanging the damp napkin in his hand for the paper you had just written on. “Think about it, I hope you’ll give him a call. I don’t give out his information unless I think it will be of help to someone.”

“Kim Namjoon,” Taehyung mutters quietly while reading the slip. “If I were to go see him, would I find you there too?” He looks back up at you, biting his lip after posing his query.

“Likely not, he keeps his sessions very private, but you can always discuss your...” You glance over to Jimin who is still waiting, and well within earshot. “Preferences with him.”

“Then I’ll consider it, thank you.”

After seeing Mr. Kim and his son off, you're left to deal with the stain on your sweater, with only fifteen minutes before you have to leave for your lunch appointment. “Jimin could you call Yoongi and let him know I’m running a little late? I need to stop by my apartment on the way.”

“No need, I’ve got an extra shirt here.” He pulls out one of his own from his desk. “ I know it’s a men’s fit, but I think we can make it work.” 

“Why do you keep that here?” You laugh. He only looks at you and the stain with a raised brow, no words needed to prove his point. “Never mind, stupid question, but I can’t take your shirt Jimin.”

“I insist, go put it on.” He forces it into your hands as you double check your watch, your time constraints leaving you with little choice. 

Stepping behind the dividing wall, you strip down to your camisole, breathing a sigh of relief that the beverage hadn’t seeped into the fabric of the corset. Quickly throwing his button up over top and tucking it in, you check to ensure your intimate garment is still hidden relatively beneath the shirt before coming back out for his opinion “Does it look okay?”

Jimin nods, but when he reaches out to touch the shirt you recoil, fearing that he will discover what you wear beneath. He chuckles and persists, “I’m just fixing your collar.” He moves in closer standing just a couple inches away. Pinching the two seams of the fabric together, he considers the change. “I think it would look better like this.” You nod, keeping silent as he follows through. Pulling the fabric tight around your throat, your breathing is forced to pause for a moment as he fastens the top button. “Better?” He asks, while his hands linger around your neck.

“Much.” You whisper, as his fingers drift up to hold your chin, with the tip of his thumb dragging along the edge of your bottom lip. You stand there confused as to why your flirtatious game has taken such a physical turn. Although his actions are prohibited and should be censured, you can’t fully condemn them, deciding instead to remove yourself, rather than reprimand him. “I-I should go. I don’t want to be late meeting Yoongi.”  

...

It was a productive lunch to say the least, but that was by no means thanks to you. Your focus was distinctly elsewhere. While you toyed with your bottom lip, thinking of how Jimin had touched it just moments before, Yoongi gave you everything you needed to secure several new clients. Even now as you return, disembarking the elevator on to your floor, you still can’t concentrate on the day ahead.

On the walk back to your office Hoseok catches you, quickly pulling you into his own and closing the door behind. “You need to do something about Jimin.” 

“Wh-what do you mean?” You ask, nervous that he had seen you two together before you left for your meeting.

“Your client earlier, Mr. Kim, he said that he caught you two acting rather close, making suggestions that you two are involved in a sexual relationship. Usually I would disregard a comment like his but-” 

“It’s not true, you know I wouldn’t!” As much as you might want to act on Jimin’s advances you’ve never crossed that line. You know it must have been bad for Hoseok to bring it up, for him to take this serious tone is evidence of his deep concern. 

“I know that, but this isn’t the first time someone has thought you two might be a little too intimate. Some of the staff have also considered the notion. And I can see why, the way he looks at you, talks to you...” Hoseok trails off as his eyes linger on your apparel in confusion. “You weren’t wearing that earlier were you?” 

“No, I had some coffee spill on me earlier. Jimin was nice enough to loan me his.”

Hoseok tilts his head as he raises his brow as if this validates his concerns.

“He was just being helpful!” You offer, but Hoseok doesn’t look to be swayed, and he’s right, this is a workplace not a morning after situation. “Fine, I see your point. So what do you suggest?”

“Redistribute him, send him my way if you have to, god knows that I could use the extra hand. You could even play it off as a promotion, just get him out of your office.” Your heart drops at the thought, not wanting to give him up. Hoseok seeing this takes a softer tone. “Listen I can see that you like him too. I’m sure it feels good to have his attention, but you need to get this out of your system. You have to put a stop to it. We can’t afford a scandal and you know it.” 

With the assurance that you’ll think on the issue, and giving Hoseok your solution by tomorrow, you return to your office. But the problem is far from easy, though you did not lie about your physical relationship to Hoseok, you have been keeping something from him. From all of them. Jimin will never accept a promotion if it takes him away from you. He’s never worked here for the money, he doesn’t need to when his father owns half of the city, this building included. 

...

-3 years ago-

“Mr. Lee, thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me.” You pull out the chair to sit across from him. The massive mahogany desk of his placing a rather large distance between the two of you. 

“Yes well, my building manager said you were very persistent.” There’s a small roll in his eyes as he looks from you down to the computer in front of him. 

“I wanted to discuss one of your properties, an office space in the Madeline Suites.”

He takes a swift glance at your modest appearance with narrowing eyes. “Forgive me, but I believe that location might be out of your price range.” 

“Monetarily yes,” You agree. “But we offer services which might be helpful to you.”

“I do not deal in favours. I can see that this meeting was a waste of time, you may go.” He waves the back of his hand to shoo you out, while his secretary grabs the door from the outside.

“I am not asking for a favour, but offering you my services. I’m the co-founder of a corporate image consulting firm. And come this time tomorrow, I believe you’ll be looking for someone within our realm of dealings.”

“And what makes you say that?” Lee asks, his words laced with cynicism. 

You lay out the first page of the article which Yoongi had sent you, stretching it across the wooden surface to place it in Mr. Lee’s view. ‘Real Estate Developer Lee Gungsang Faced Prior Allegations of Unlawful Evictions and Price Hiking.’ “This is slated for tomorrow morning’s front page.” 

Mr. Lee is quick to send his secretary off, the door shutting once again. “How do you know about this? These cases were settled before they made it anywhere near the courts.”

“I have my sources.” 

“Then stop this! I will pay whomever needs to be paid to prevent this from leaching out. You want the office space, it's yours.” He’s voice is desperate, you have him on the hook, the question now is, how long will he let you drag him for?

“That’s very generous of you, but nothing will stop this from going out tomorrow. My offer is simply to help you get ahead of it and lessen the damage.” You explain, revelling in the fact that money can’t hide everything.

“And how do you propose to do that?”

You pull out a contract for your serves. “I will need you to sign off on my services first. A small fee plus a far more reasonable price for a three year lease of the offices on the 14th floor of the Madeline Suites”

“Without knowing your plan, I think not.”

You give him a bright smile before mimicking his earlier statement. “I do not deal in favours Mr. Lee.”

He grumbles while taking the pen, eyeing you with a dark gaze as he signs on the dotted line.

With the ink still drying you hand over another small document. “Here are a few of my suggestions. Twenty percent of the commercial residences that you have just vacated will be handed over to non-profits for a drastically reduced monthly lease. I’ll even let you pick which you want to support.” 

He looks up at you mortified. “This is excessive.”

“No this is necessary. I’ve seen corporations do far more than this when they are not dealing with a scandal. Your accountants will agree with me that this is the best move, it can be seen as a donation and therefore tax deductible. For the evicted  private residences, I was thinking of partnering with a refugee resettlement program but we can discuss that more in depth later.” 

You carefully tuck away your contract in Lee’s file before dragging another concern to the forefront. “I do have one more request, before I leave today.”

“What more could you possibly want?” He scoffs.

You lean in to deliver your short but important demand. “A heads up.”

“I don’t know what you mean...”

“I mean if there are any other past dealings or actions which might impact your company I need to be aware of them.” There’s always more hidden in the dark, you have one of those secrets on hand now. You need to see if he’s willing to be upfront with you on every dealing of his past, otherwise you might be forced to dig him out from another grave a couple weeks from now. 

“There’s nothing else.” 

“Nothing?” You ask again as you pull out your phone ready to bring forward more evidence. 

“No.”

“So the knowledge of you having and hiding an illegitimate son... you don’t think that’s important? The existence of the only child of the Lee empire, isn’t newsworthy?”

“How did you-” The terror in his face looks to be even greater than the prior accusation. 

“You attempted to evict all of the residents who stayed in your residential apartment for over 10 years if they refused to agree with a massive lease hike. Park Jimin was the only one who wasn’t touched. He has no record of a job, living off what must be money given to him by his parents, so I looked into them. His father wasn’t listed but his late mother, Park Haesoon, used to work for your company, and 22 years ago she signed a NDA issued by your lawyer.” 

You open to Jimin’s public instagram page turning it around for his father to see. “He may take mostly after his mother, but I can still see a few clues to your family resemblance.”

“When does this one drop?” Lee asks in dismay.

“It’s not going to, at least, not from me or my source. We try not to deal in personal life consulting, but I am going to give you some advice in this matter. Get ahead of it.”

“My wife won’t hear of it.” Mr. Lee mutters through clenched teeth, it’s easy to see that this conversation has him very much on edge.

You nod seeing the crux of his dilemma. “I looked into the approximate date of his conception, you were newly married at the time, were you not?”

“Yes. She knows, but her family does not, they have a large political presence and we cannot afford to lose all support from them. Trust me, the boy is not worth the risk.”

“He’s your child!” You berate the CEO, your anger getting the better of you as you think of the emotional toll on Jimin. Not only did he lose his mother but his father won't even publicly acknowledge him. 

“I won’t be swayed on this matter. If you have nothing else to say you may leave.” Mr. Lee rises from his desk and once again gestures towards the door. “I’ll have keys to your new office space delivered to you tomorrow along with the lease. But I should warn you, if there is even a whisper of his name in public in conjunction with mine, I can assure you, your so-called firm won’t last another week.”

...

Less than a month later you and Hoseok have moved your entire enterprise to the new office space. You’re holding an open house for several different staff positions, when the most unlikely of applicants walks in your door, Park Jimin. 

He hands you a piece of paper which you can only guess is his resume, because your eyes fail to leave his face, your mouth unable to form words in your state of shock. Closing the door behind him, he gives you a nervous smile. “Judging from your expression, I take it you know who I am?”

You manage a single nod, still confused as to why he’s here, now, with you. It’s lucky you’re conducting the interviews alone, otherwise it would be difficult to explain your shock to Hoseok without exposing Jimin’s lineage. 

“I’ve been wanting to meet with you,” Jimin confesses, adding sheepishly, “My father told me of your meeting. He said you took a bit of an interest in me, even found my social media accounts.” 

“Oh, oh no.” You finally manage to sputter out, far more anxious with the younger man than his father. You never intended to meet Jimin, let alone have him find out you dug into some very personal aspects of his past and present. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t intend to invade your privacy. I was only trying to figure out what was going on. And when I learned the truth, I wanted him to own up to his mistake of hiding you.”

Jimin chuckles lightly, sitting down in front of you, “I didn’t come here looking for an apology Miss, I know why you did it. I merely wanted to meet one of the few people to ever successfully scare the shit out of my father.” 

The wide beaming smile accompanying his statement spurs a laugh from you, while also allowing you to relax in his presence. “Sometimes you have to intimidate these people to get them to do the right thing. But I’m sorry I wasn’t able to convince him to go public regarding everything.”

“That’s not your fault. In the end it was just nice to hear that there's someone who thinks I deserve better.” Jimin adds, with a look of sorrow leaching into his smile.

“Of course you do, but I must ask, why come here now?” You take a moment to confirm that it is in fact his resume that he’s handed you. ”I can’t imagine that you need a job.” He’s appearance alone is enough to tell you he’s buried in wealth, though his father has not given him the family name, it looks as if Jimin has gained some of the assets.  

“Actually that’s exactly what I was looking for.”

“Your father didn’t pressure you to come here to keep an eye on me did he?” You ask with scepticism. Keeping watch over possible threats wouldn’t be a completely off brand for those of his status. And with you knowing some of his deepest secrets you could likely be considered one of the biggest risks.

“No.” Jimin chuckles, briefly raising his hands in surrender. “I promise I’m here of my own volition. Money isn’t my biggest concern, I’ve been hoping to build connections. I want to use my time wisely and work with someone who is worthy of my focus, and that just so happens to be you.” He finishes with a suggestive smirk, making you wonder if you’ve won his affection too. 

“And what does your focus get me?” You ask, trying to weigh the benefits versus the risk. You doubt that Mr. Lee will respond kindly to you hiring his son, but if he continues to deny his son’s  existence then what right does he have to disagree? 

“Anything you require. I was interested in the posting for your secretary, but any position beneath you would suit me nicely.” 

...

There’s no way you’ll be able to convince Jimin to willingly change roles and work for Hoseok instead. But you can’t deny that your co-founder’s points are valid. 

Jimin greets you warmly as you enter your office. “Did you have a nice lunch?” 

“Yeah, it was good.” You respond, forcing out a smile.

“Really? Because you look upset.” 

You curse Jimin’s ability to read you at a time like this. “I promise, lunch was fine. Yoongi gave me some substantial leads.” You sigh sliding back in your seat. With your values shaken and morals questioned by Hoseok, you are deeply in need of someone to brace yourself on. Wanting to step out of the realm of responsibility and control even if it’s just for a moment, you make a request to Jimin. “Would you go fetch Jungkook for our meeting?”

“I can just call him in.” He makes the case looking reluctant to leave your side.

“Please Jimin just go get him. I need a few minutes for a personal call.”

Jimin looks at you crestfallen before finally leaving. It’s not often you keep things from him, he can scope you out too well for that. But Kim Namjoon’s actual role in your life is the one secret you feel is the most imperative to hide from him.

You pull out your cell, not wanting to use his number on your work phone. After two rings he picks up. “Couldn’t wait a few more hours to hear my voice baby girl?”

You're too embarrassed to admit he’s right, settling on another excuse for your call. “N-no I just wanted to let you know that I’ve sent someone your way... sir.”

“Don’t lie to me I can hear the need in your voice.” He chuckles lightly as he taunts you. “Your reference already reached out to me. I’m excited to play with him, is he just as handsome as he sounds?”

“More so.”

Namjoon hums on the line in gratification. “My babygirl, giving me another pet to play with.” 

You blush from the praise. Taehyung makes the sixth person you’ve suggested following the charity ball you met Namjoon at a couple years ago. Where he, much like you, was secretly scoping out potential clients. Every one of those patrons you’ve given him since then has been his pet, but you, you’re his babygirl. 

“I was wondering...” Namjoon’s carries on, in a tone far more hesitant than usual. “Tonight would you be willing to try something a little unconventional? Would you like to share him?”

“W-would that be okay?” He’s never suggested adding another to your sessions before, but you can’t deny you’re intrigued by the prospect.

“He mentioned an interest in you, and after discussing his needs I feel that I require someone other than myself to pin his desires on. You’ll be the carrot while I’ll be the stick. Do you think you could do that for me?”  Namjoon proposes in a low purr dragging every heated thought and possibility to the forefront of your mind.  

“Yes sir.” Your response is instant, with little thought required. Helping Namjoon with Taehyung? You’d be a fool to turn down the opportunity. There’s a small knock on your office door with the return of Jimin and Jungkook trailing behind him. You start to panic while still on the phone with Namjoon. “I’ll see you later then?”

Namjoon can of course detect the change in your tone, but instead of letting you off the hook he pulls you further. “Did someone walk in on you babygirl? I take it they don’t know about this side of you?”

“No they don’t.”

“No sir.” He calls out your lack of decorum, an error which you know you’ll pay for later. “Such a shame they’re missing out. What do you think they would say if they knew of my plans for you tonight? How I intend to hang you like forbidden fruit above another man. Do you think they would approve?” 

Your eyes widen as Namjoon continues and Jungkook takes the seat in front of you with Jimin standing behind him. You clear your throat and hold up your finger to them, gesturing for another minute. Turning away to hide your face as you continue to try and end the call. But hanging up on one’s dom is never advisable, condemning you to listen for as long as he wishes to torment. 

“I bet you would like them watch, wouldn’t you?” Namjoon asks, egging on your sinful thoughts, transferring them from Taehyung over to your co-workers.

You shift your thighs trying to dispel the building need as you consider the notation of them watching. Imagining Jungkook’s wide eyes taking in the sight, likely with a hand on his cock, he’s an innocent man with strong desires. You’ve known others like him before, they act with naivete but when confronted with an opportunity for more, they don’t hesitate to gorge on what is presented to them.

And Jimin, would he accept your darker needs? You wish he would, desperately wanting him to play along, to help mould you into submission. Your head now filled with thoughts of kneeling before him taking him in your mouth while he christens you a good girl. If only you could be sure that he wouldn’t react like most people, like those who condemned Taehyung. Your eyes flutter back over to your secretary who is looking at you with deep suspicion. You desperately need to end the call or risk giving yourself away. “I should probably-”

“Am I embarrassing you baby girl?” Namjoon teases with an amused laugh. “Does that mean I’m right?”

“Yes...”

“Yes sir.” Namjoon reminds you once again. “I’ll release you for now, but I better see you here at seven o’clock sharp. Is that understood?”

You breathe a sigh of relief at the release.  “Yes sir.” After finally hanging up, you offer up an apology. “Sorry about that.”

“Who was it?” Jimin inquires with a soft tone, but  a quick lick to his lips shows his intentions to be far from innocent. His clenched fists and hovering nature further pointing towards jealousy.

“No one important.” You smile through the lie, careful in your attempt to comfort him. It’s pointless to keep acting in this way, but you still can’t bear the thought of disheartening his feelings or pushing him away. 

...

After your meeting with Jungkook, you're left with a stack of paperwork and your ever persistent lack of concentration as you try to figure out what can be done with Jimin. Should you just tell him the issue, would it help or would it make the situation worse? If he knows how he is perceived then will the affection stop, and if it does, will you struggle with that loss?

“Can I walk you to your car Miss?” Jimin asks with his jacket in hand. You check the time, reading just after five. So lost in thought you had accomplished almost nothing in the last few hours of the day.

“I think I might just stay here until I have to leave for my appointment, I still have a bit more work to do.” You explain rubbing your hands over your face as you pull yourself from your daze.

“Do you want me to stay too then?” 

“No, I couldn’t ask that of you. But before you go I’d like to discuss something” You gesture to the seat across from you which he takes with hesitation. You’re usually not so formal and he can clearly spot the difference. You open your mouth and pause trying to find the right words as his eyes shine in your direction. The evening sun pouring into the room bathing his skin in with golden light makes it so much harder to stick to the issue at hand. You eventually resort to staring at the irrelevant papers on your desk as you open with your concern. 

“I’m worried that our actions towards each other imply that our relationship is not strictly professional.” You blurt it out quickly, hating every word that crosses your lips.

“Have I been making you uncomfortable Miss?” Jimin’s expression falls along with his question, the heartbreak ringing out clear in his voice. 

“No, no. It’s just, I’m concerned about how others see our interactions.”

“Oh, so someone said something to you then?” 

“Hoseok mentioned that a few people think we appear to be a bit more than boss and secretary.” You know it cowardly to bring Hoseok into this, but the information is second hand. You can’t be sure what others have said exactly.

“Well you do know more about me than most.” Jimin laughs lightly. 

“That’s not what they are implying. They think we are engaged in a sexual relationship.”

“And...” He draws the word out as if the implication is nothing, implying there should be a better reason for your concerns. 

“We aren’t Jimin!”

“Well, there's only one way to fix that.” He stands up leaning towards you over your desk. “You can’t say you haven’t thought about it. We could keep it a secret if you’d like, no one has to know.”

You doubt Jimin could keep a relationship between the two of you hidden, with the way he dotes on you already, you’re one passionate night away from finding three dozen roses on your desk. “Someone would find out, and the fall out-”

“Fuck the fall out,” Jimin states with resolve, reaching out his fingers tucking back a strand of your hair before curling beneath your chin. “I’m tired of this charade. Hoseok only said something because he’s jealous. He’s jealous that you want me as much as I want you.”

“Jimin,” You whisper. “Even if that was the case, that still doesn’t make it right.” You pull back from his touch. “You should go. Think about what I said, because if we can’t maintain at least some level of restraint and professionalism... then you might be better off working for someone else in the office.”

“So you’d rather keep your social image than be happy with me?” Jimin accuses, the usual warmth having completely vanished from his face.

“It’s not like that. My standing is my life, it’s my career, any blemish would destroy everything I have.” You attempt to express the fear inside you, the weight that bears on you every day. You already have so many secrets and liabilities, but one as close and extensive as a relationship with him might finally crush you and everything you’ve built. “I like you, I really do, but I can’t take the risk. You have to understand, I’m not like you. I don’t have a secret trust fund to fall back on.”  

Jimin looks as though you’ve stabbed him, pulling away he heads to the exit. “I’m sorry I’m not worth the risk. You know, I thought you were better than that, but it would seem you’re just like everyone else.” 

The door slamming between you echoes through the office as you sag in your chair. Never in all your years have you ever sunk so low. By taking him on you wanted to ensure Jimin’s happiness, to show him his value despite the lack of acknowledgement  from his father, but now it seems you’ve fallen into the same role as those who have hurt him before.

  ...

You type your code into Namjoon’s door, stepping into his hall quickly and shutting the door behind you. It’s just before seven and usually you find him in his living room already waiting, but today it’s empty. Not wanting to disturb him, you take a seat on the couch and wait patiently for him to join you. 

You feel ready to fold in on yourself as you continue to dwell on your argument with Jimin. If you laid out boundaries earlier you likely wouldn’t be where you are now. Hating yourself over his confession, and your inability to accept it. 

There’s movement from the bedroom door as Namjoon’s partner Seokjin comes out to greet you. You look up in bewilderment as he takes your hand, pulling you off the couch. “Namjoon has already started with the other client, so he sent me to fetch you.” 

You nod understanding Namjoon’s divergence from the norm, it wouldn’t be safe practice for him to leave Taehyung alone in a precarious position. Now looking to the door with curiosity, you’re excited by what lustful visions will greet you on the other side. But when Seokjin presents something to you it’s clear that you won’t get to see those sights.

“You’ve been asked to wear this.” He holds out a wide silken strip, one that Namjoon has used as a blindfold in the past. You allow Seokjin to cover your eyes, with a touch far more gentle than you know Namjoon’s to be. You don’t want kindness, craving instead to be broken in by the man in the other room, especially after the damage you’ve done today. The loss of your vision will have to be punishment enough for the time being. 

“Does he want me to undress too?” You ask, touching the silk over your eyes, you're completely blind and already longing for the next step. 

“No he wishes to save that pleasure for himself.”

You smirk thinking he might, you’ve been wearing his gift all day it’s only right that he gets to see it first.  

There’s a knock and a click of the door before Seokjin takes you in hand again, leading you in. The air is warmer and heavier than that of the living room, making it impossible to draw a fresh breath. 

Seokjin pushes down on your shoulder, a wordless order to kneel. The plush carpet meeting your knees as you lower yourself, if only you could reach out to get a better sense of what’s in front of you, but form dictates that you keep your hands on your lap. 

The bedroom door closes, signalling Seokjin's departure. Sending one last wave of clean air before you're smothered once again. Locked away for the night with your master and his new pet. There’s a small creek from the mattress and the familiar rattle of restraints against the bedpost. You can just barely make out the tone of Namjoon’s low whisper as he speaks to the current tenant of the bed. 

Footsteps land to your left, muffled by the wall to wall but still sending vibrations through the floor.  As Namjoon approaches, your heart pounds wondering what his first move against you will be. He takes his sweet time letting the anticipation build as your chest continues to heave in its attempts to take in the thick air. You keep your posture, maintaining your stance with the knowledge that he will inspect you. Head lowered, hands on thighs, perched on your toes as your knees dig into the ground. Your legs soon start to tremble as your feet strain to bear the weight.

Namjoon settles right in front of you, the slow draw of his breath reaches your ears, while the heat of his exhale hits your face. A hand trails up the outside of your thigh stilling the tremor in your legs with a forceful grip. You freeze wondering if your jitters will cost you, you can’t let him find fault not if you want him to reward you with his presence. 

But as he takes your chin tightly between his index and his thumb, you know you're in the clear. He tilts your head up as you breathe a sigh of relief. “Such a good girl, setting the perfect example.” His fingers slide down petting the column of your throat with a firm touch. “I was so happy to receive your picture this morning, did you wear the gift all day as ordered?”

“Yes sir.” You pant back, eager for him to see for himself. 

“It wasn’t too hard for you then, to go so long in such a confined state?”

“No sir.”

“Good girl,” He purrs in your ear as he starts unfastening your shirt. He hesitates on the buttons for a moment. “Babygirl, would you care to tell me why you're wearing a men’s shirt?”

You swallow not wanting to admit that it’s the fault of the man currently lying in his bed. You plan to take the fall, wanting Namjoon’s undivided attention even if it’s in the form of a punishment. “I spilled something on mine sir.”  

“So clumsy.” He has the shirt completely off now revealing the corset for him and likely Taehyung to see. Namjoon helps you to stand, unzipping your skirt he pushes it to the floor. You feel so helpless without your sight but Namjoon doesn’t seem to mind assisting. He uses the soft fabric of the shirt to dab at the sweat beading on your skin. “Who, may I ask, clothed you in theirs? Such an expensive label, he must think highly of you.”

You shift in place, made uncomfortable by your inability to answer. Knowing if you say his name thoughts of him will be summoned to your mind. You don’t deserve to think of him at such a time, not after you led him on and left him dry.

“You don’t wish to tell me?” The feel of Namjoon’s breath leaves you, the sounds of his feet  indicating he’s moved to the right of you. Heading to a space you know to be occupied by a table and closet full of his tools. There’s a scrap of metal and what sounds like the jingle of buckles. 

“No sir.”

“And why is that?” Fingers trail up your arm as Namjoon signals his return to your side. 

“Because I’m not allowed to have him sir.”

“A noble response.” Namjoon reasons while he wraps the leather strap of a familiar collar around your neck. “But I still plan to get that name from you before we’re done.” He buckles it swiftly checking the tightness with two fingers. You thought him finished but he progresses to cuff your wrists in leather too, tethering them together in front of you. 

He leans in again with a hushed request, “Still know your safe word?” You nod repeating is back to him before he leads you on towards the bed. 

Namjoon stands behind you as he presents you to his new pet. When you gave Taehyung Namjoon’s number you hadn’t been expecting this but you can’t deny enjoying the prospect. But you find the silence and lack of reaction from him unnerving. “I asked him not to make a sound,” Namjoon explains, “And he’s abiding by my rules so well it’s he?” 

Namjoon takes your hands helping you to feel the current state in which Taehyung is interned. A Leather cuff just like yours binds one of his wrists with a short chain leading to bedpost. You imagine that his other limbs are restricted to the other corners of the bed, for Namjoon has bound you in the same state before. 

“Can he see?” You ask Namjoon wondering if he has been left blind too, or if he’s eyes are watching you now.

“Can he see you? He can babygirl, in fact, he hasn’t looked away once, and why would he?” Namjoon sits you down on the large bed to join Taehyung before pulling down the matching underwear to your corset. “They’re so wet, have you been soaking these all day?” 

You nod in response. A delighted Namjoon makes an offer to Taehyung. “Would you like a taste pet? A reward for being so good.” Namjoon revels in his situation with a chuckle, the man beneath you must have nodded. “Then open up.” You know what a taste means for Namjoon, those panties of yours are most certainly shoved into Taehyung's mouth. He lets out a groan of satisfaction at the welcome intrusion.

Namjoon’s hands find your waist dragging you up further on to the bed with your knees now resting on the mattress. “You’re going to straddle him for me babygirl.” He shifts you over pulling up one of your legs to settle them on either side of the man beneath you. Your knees bent with your calves coming to rest against his bare hips. Without his billowy clothes he is far more slight than you expected, but his skin feels firm and toned. 

You slowly move to lower yourself knowing what you will come down on top of as you sit, but Namjoon seems to have other plans in mind. He takes your bound wrist, lifting them above your head and latching the cuffs to a chain in the rafters of the canopy bed. Once fixed in place he tests your limitations, a quick tug to show you even with your arms fully extended you are only able to lower yourself to half a kneel. You groan in frustration with the realization you can’t move any closer to the cock that rests below you. It’s just as he promised, hung like forbidden fruit above another man. Your dominant’s flare for the poetic never failing to surprise you.

“Problem babygirl?” Namjoon cooes in your ear. “Do you have something you want to say?”

“No sir.”

“Good, because if I recall you still need to be punished for your lack of formality on the phone earlier today.” 

Your stomach drops as you realize he’s going to discipline you right now, in full view of Taehyung. The heat rises to your face at the thought of being demeaned in front of another. Namjoon’s hand cups your bare ass, readying it for the assault. “You failed to call me sir twice, three for each lapse should do it.”

While the first strike eases you in, those that follow are not so gentle. The ring of his index biting your flesh with each impact. The third strike is so strong you pivot forward on your knees, your back arching as you bare forward still confined to the corset and chains. The weight of your body pulls painfully on your shoulders for a brief second, but Namjoon is there to catch you. Stopping you before you can slip and more, and propping you back in place before continuing. 

One hand lays firmly on your stomach to prevent the shift from happening again, while the other rubs the curve of your ass mapping where he should strike next. You can feel the warmth in your skin as the blood rises to the surface in reaction to his beating. Your nerves are caught in the struggle between pain and pleasure, even as the sixth and final blow lands. 

“Good girl.” Namjoon whispers his touch disappearing, as you ease down against your restraints. You hang completely by your wrists while your legs quake from the shock. Every nerve in your body feels as though it’s been left on fire with nothing to quench the flames. Leaving you to hang there for what seems like eternity.

“Sir?” You whisper in the dark as the heat continues to build inside you. Wondering where he has gone your body reacts, begging for the return of his attention with a dripping cunt. And with Taehyung below that can only mean the steady drip of your arousal is left to fall on him.

“Babygirl you’re making such a mess.” Namjoon confirms along with a groan from the man beneath you. “But he appears to be leaking too. Do you want some?” You nod eager for a taste. 

Namjoon obliges, grabbing your throat in one hand, he presses a damp finger to your lips for you to take. Your mouth latches over the offered digit, allowing the bitter fluid to sweep over your tongue. You're forced to let it sit there unable to swallow as the grip on your throat tightens, with the strap of the collar digging into your skin. Your mouth fills with saliva prompting you to close it despite your desperate need for air. 

“Does he taste good?” Namjoon wickedly possesses knowing you can barely even nod. It’s when you start to tremble that he finally releases your airway. 

You swallow quickly before letting your mouth hang open in a pant. With your lungs still restricted by the corset your breathing comes in short shuddering waves. “Yes sir, so good.”

“I think he likes having you drench him, shall we give him more?”

“Please.” You beg but Namjoon suddenly delivers a staggering blow to your backside, indicating your misstep. You’re left gasping from the sudden impact, swinging in the restraints as you try to recoil. “Please sir.” Your plea comes again this time with the proper decorum.  

There’s a crinkle of what sounds like a condom wrapper as Namjoon readies himself behind you. His fingers damp with lubrication find your back entrance, your tight hole giving way to a single finger. “You’ve been training for me like I asked?”

“Yes sir.” You almost come at the thought of it along with pleasure with the swirling digit. You’ve dabbled in anal before testing out a few toys, but a few weeks ago he sent you a plug with a tapered t-shaped end, giving you strict orders to wear it to work the following day. Unfortunately that was the date you had scheduled a meeting with your whole team. You were a flustered mess as you fought through your presentation, Jimin’s presence by your side making it so much more difficult to maintain control of your arousal . But the full day of public and torturous stimulation was worth it, for the reward that night was a call from Namjoon. His orders led you through every action of self pleasure.  Telling you when and where to touch before finally directing you to come. You’ve used the item several times on your own since, knowing your practice would help you in this moment. You wanted to make Namjoon proud and take him with little resistance. That desire now intensified with having Taehyung as an audience.

“Then you're ready to take me in front of him?” 

You nod gripping chains of the restraints as Namjoon eases into you. “Just relax.” His hands glide down your shoulders and back, coming to rest splayed across your hips, the tips of his finger root under the corset and dig into your stomach. Your grip eases as you lean back into him. “That’s it.” He mutters quietly as you stretch to accommodate him. “Good girl.”

After taking a few inches Namjoon pushes down on the front of your corset bowing the metal latches back to so they release, with a few clicks and swift presses the garment is off allowing you to breathe deeper than you have all day. 

“God you should see him babygirl, he’s so ruined by the sight of you. You have him panting for you.” You wish you could curse Namjoon for his choice to blindfold you and silence Taehyung, you would take any punishment that came of it, but all you can muster is a gasp while he continues to fill you more. “I wonder how he’ll react,” One of Namjoon’s hands leaves your hips coming to rest with something soft against your aching clit. “When he sees you come.” With a click the object vibrates, throwing you back completely onto Namjoons cock from the shock.

You catch Namjoon’s lustful groan between your cries. He starts to thrust inside of you one hand gripping your chest while the other holds the vibrate down in place despite your bucking hips. It doesn’t take long for you to completely fold. As the heat inside you finally reaches its peak you shatter, your head falling back on Namjoon’s shoulder as you convulse and moan. With nothing for your cunt to clench your legs grip the trussed man between them. He too lets out a sinful groan as the fluids from your fold continue to drip down your legs meet his adjoining skin. 

Namjoon turns the device off and slips out, the bed shifts as he moves in front of you. When his hand cups your face you lean into his touch. “You okay?”

You nod hoping he’ll be lenient with your lack of speech. You hear him whisper as he checks in with Taehyung too. “I’m going to take these now.” Namjoon must finally be freeing him from the waded underwear of yours.

Namjoon’s hands find you again, playing with the arousal dripping down your legs as he drags his fingers up to the source. A finger grazes your folds slipping between without penetrating. You pull desperately against your restraints hoping that it might find its way inside.  

“So are you going to tell me who you’re not allowed to have?” Namjoon asks again. “Or do I have to let you hang here all night?” 

“My secretary...” You give in with a  whisper, hoping that Taehyung won’t hear.

“And what’s his name? Say it and I’ll give you what you want.” 

The deal is too good for you to resist, you last only a couple more seconds before finally giving in. Crying out, “Jimin,” as two of Namjoon’s fingers breach you. Your sopping slit squelching as he curls his fingers. 

“There it is.” Namjoon sighs, his other hand brushing your cheek. “Is he the reason you’re so worked up tonight babygirl?”

“Y-yes sir.” You stutter as his fingers continue. He gives you another minute of bliss before removing his digits. 

“You’re going to do something for me, okay?” Namjoon asks. You nod as he continues to hold your face. “That man between your legs, you are going to fuck him and imagine Jimin as you do so, is that clear?” 

“Yes sir.”

“Is that okay with you pet?” He asks the other occupant, who still remains silent with his answers. The sound of another condom wrapper, comes as your confirmation.  Taehyung lets out an unexpected high pitched whine, likely due to the pressure that comes with the latex being rubbed down his shaft. You’re already so invested in the lie that he’s even starting to sound like Jimin. 

Namjoon is once again behind you. You can hear the rattle of the length of chain that holds you up and as he sinks back into you, his cock slipping in far easier this time, your body gladly welcomes the fullness of his intrusion.  He then lowers you inch by inch, with little strength left in your legs you are relying only on the restraints and Namjoon to hold you up. After gaining a bit more freedom you can feel the tip of a cock brushing up against you. Namjoon’s arm comes to rest on your thigh as he lines the erection up for you to take it inside. It’s a slow descent, as you stretch to accommodate both of them. Your thankful Namjoon’s mercy for easing you down gradually. 

When you bottom out Namjoon pulls the chain down from the rafters he releases the length from your cuffs, but rather than discarding it he attaches it to your collar, tugging on it as if it’s a leash. Though your hands are still bound together you have the freedom to rest them on the man laying down in front of you. You take pleasure in dragging the tips of your fingers across his skin, feeling his abs flex and his cock twitch inside you as you do so. 

Namjoon starts to thrust, keeping a close hold on your collar. While he pushes you are sent up and down on what you desperately want to be Jimin’s thick cock. After a few thrusts you are shoved forward entirely by Namjoon, colliding with the man beneath you. Your chest is pushed into his, as your bound hands are pinned between the two of you. While your head is left to rest on his shoulder, the tip of your nose is able to graze his neck. As you breathe in your mind continues to play tricks, the smell coming off him mimics that of the cologne your secretary wears, rather than the scent of Taehyung. 

Namjoon must have unbound his legs as they bend up to cradle your own from behind his hips bucking into yours, with both men taking you at a steady pace.

You move in closer to his neck, with a lick you taste the salt of his skin showing  your intentions. Biting down on the spot, you suck in deeply as your teeth dig in even harder. The carnal groans you receive from him sending shivers to your spine. There’s the sound of a soft slap, Namjoon didn’t hit you, but the man beneath you returns to his ordered silence.

Namjoon thrusts even harder, pushing you into his chest repeatedly. The thought of being fucked into Jimin’s embrace is too much to bear. Your cunt clenches as you continue envisioning your secretary, and how you're grinding your clit against his pelvis. 

You cry out over the swelling girths inside you, knowing their both likely to come soon. Clenching down one last time you dissolve in the pleasure and contentment. Namjoon finishes first remaining inside while his pet comes too. He leaves you there laying upon your imagined Jimin, in your daze  you can barely move let alone focus on reality. With a wave of exhaustion you start to slip from consciousness, but not before one last praise reaches your ears. Your delirium grants you the satisfaction of hearing the voice of Jimin whisper, “Good girl.”

...

You can’t remember the last time you slept so well. You woke early to find Namjoon had taken care of you in the night, he released your wrist cuffs, and removed your blindfold, after you had passed out from the physical exertion. The only restraint to remain was your collar which he asked you to wear today. Taehyung was sadly already gone, but you can’t deny it was nice to have Namjoon to yourself before you left. 

Now as you head off to work, showered and freshly dressed, with a turtleneck hiding your gift, you check your phone for the first time. Finding a string of apologetic messages sent from Jimin in the early hours of the morning. You reply apologizing too and asking to revisit the subject as soon as you get into work. Thankfully he agrees, the smiling emoji he ends his text on sends a wave of relief through you.

You step in the front entrance of your building ready to handle and objectively listen to Jimin’s thoughts and concerns. While you wait for the elevator your phone vibrates listing a call from an unknown number. “Hello?”

“Hey it’s Taehyung. Hope you don’t mind, I stole your personal number from my father.”

“Taehyung...” Heat starts to rise in your face at the thought of last night. The elevator arrives and you quickly step in. “No, not at all, to what do I owe the honour of this call.”

“No need to be so formal,” He giggles at you.

“Sorry, habit,” You respond. “What can I do for you?” 

“I wanted to thank you for yesterday...” Taehyung starts off. 

But his words are soon interrupted by someone shouting, “Hold the door.” You comply, pushing the button to keep them open, while trying to keep your focus on your conversation with Taehyung.

“...It’s not often that I meet someone who I can be so open with. I called the man you recommended and I’ve scheduled my first session with him tomorrow.”  

You freeze, unable to fully comprehend what he’s saying, surely he misspoke. It can’t be his first session. “W-what do you mean your first session is tomorrow? You were there-” The collar hidden beneath your turtleneck feels as though it’s tightening around your throat. “Last night, I saw you-” The line goes dead as the elevator closes and starts to ascend. It was Taehyung in the bed with you and Namjoon last night. You saw... nothing you saw nothing because of the blindfolded that you were asked to wear.

“Everything okay?” You jump at the sound of the other voice, forgetting that some else had gotten into the elevator. Looking up you find Jimin there beaming at you, his head tilted from his query.

“Namjoon,” You flutter with your phone, too panicked to even greet your secretary properly. “I need to call Namjoon.” But the line won’t connect, not with you in the elevator. “Fuck...” You try again your patience not willing to wait the minute it’ll take to disembark on your floor.  

You are almost there when the elevator shudders and stops. The sudden halt sends you off balance, but Jimin’s there to grab hold of you before you can fall. You thank him before stepping back and putting a bit of distance between the two of you again.

Jimin turns his attention to the panel, pushing the call button, he waits for someone to answer, but the call remains silent. 

While he continues in his attempt to make contact, every scene of the night before floods back to your memory as you try to piece everything together. It was Taehyung, it had to be. He must just be playing a stupid joke. He was surely going to shout ‘gotcha’ before the phone disconnected, but you won’t know for certain until someone can get you off this blasted lift. You sink to the floor and Jimin follows, unable to reach anyone on the outside. 

Despite your best efforts to rationalize what happened, your panicked breaths fail to slow, Spots start appearing in your vision as the elevator sways around you. Your breakfast threatens to make another appearance on the polished marble floor. 

“It’ll be fine. Someone will notice soon.” Jimin attempts to comfort you but even that won’t quash the fear raging inside you.

“It’s not just that...” You whisper. “Something happened last night. I need to call Namjoon, I need to figure out...” Who was actually in that bed with you. Your confusion and panic break free sending you into a fit of tears as you hug your knees to your chest.

“Hush, it’s okay.” Jimin readjusts, moving in front of you and taking your hands in his. He leans towards you as he whispers in your ear. “Don’t cry babygirl.”

Your eyes snap to look at Jimin in alarm. Your prior worries are nothing compared to the terror which takes hold now. “H-how do you know that name?” Your stuttered words barely make their way past your lips.

“I think you know the answer to that question.” He pulls at the collar of his shirt allowing you to spot a large red mark on his neck, right where you had bitten the man you once thought to be Taehyung. “I wanted to wait a bit longer, I wanted more moments like we had last night but it would seem that someone had to go and ruin it.” You pull back but Jimin’s hands shift to take hold of your wrists, mimicking the manacles that embraced you the night before. “Are you not happy babygirl? You got your wish. And I... I got what I’ve always wanted.”

“This is so wrong Jimin! You knew I thought you were someone else! You knew that I wouldn’t have done that last night if I knew the truth.” 

“Even though I was the one you really wanted babygirl?”

“Stop calling me that! Just because of what happened last night does not make me yours. You lied to Namjoon. You said that I sent you. You told him you were Taehyung!”

Jimin gives a wicked laugh in response to your accusations. “Oh, but you are mine. Namjoon is the one who’s been keeping things from you. He’s been in my employ far longer than yours.” He coos as his fingers tighten their grip on you. “I was the reason you were introduced to him, and I was the one who bestowed you with that name shortly after.”

“No, that’s not possible, Namjoon and I, we met at a charity event.”

“Hosted by my father. Where I told him to make himself known to you, to entice you to become one of his pets. I may have acted the sub last night but I am the one who holds Namjoon’s reins, I always have.”

“No he would never do that! He’s considerate and-”

“Had so much to gain by dominating you on my behalf. Money, power, and an assurance of safety, he would’ve been a fool to turn my offer down. Especially since you were so willing to play along with him. I dare say he enjoyed his time with you, but I was the one who permitted him to touch you. I was there to listen, to read, and to direct every conversation. Those gifts he told you to wear to the office, they were all from me.” He lets go of one of your wrists to pull down the neck of your shirt. Revealing the leather band strapped around your neck. “Today it’s the collar, yesterday it was the corset, and a few weeks ago...” Jimin smirks as he recalls the memory to your mind. “You barely made it through that meeting thanks to my gift.”

  It’s impossible to swallow the admissions coming from him, but regardless of what may be true or false, you won’t stand for any of it. “You’ve had your fun, but this ends now.” You reach up attempting to remove the collar but Jimin pushes you to the floor pinning your arms above you as he straddles you. The elevator wavers from the struggle, teetering as you lay captive beneath him. 

“I don’t think you understand the situation you’ve placed yourself in. I hold in my possession your darkest secrets. One’s that will ruin you if they make their way out. Your illegal activity with a sex worker, your inappropriate sexual conduct with your secretary. Not to mention the names and dubious activities of every client you’ve recommended to Namjoon’s services.”  

“Why... why are you doing this?” 

“Because you found me. I worked so hard to exploit my father from the outside, getting everything I wanted without the threat of public exposure. I couldn’t let you ruin it all. When we first met I considered you a threat, but then I saw how easy and enjoyable it was to mould to my will. The more intimate you become with someone the more power you give them over you. Simply being your secretary isn’t enough, not if I want you in a more pliable state.” Jimin hushed whisper mixes with a haunting giggle as his lips come to your ear. “I plan to bend you to fit every one of my needs.”

“You’re psychotic!” You lash out trying to throw him off but he stems your revolt by planting himself further down on to you, sitting on your chest as the elevator sways.

“Psychotic? No, I am simply a man who found his passion amidst his revenge. I know what I desire, and vengeance has taught me how best to take it. So if you want to keep yourself and everything else around you from falling, I suggest you play along like a good girl. Or I promise you, my punishments won’t be as kind as what you’ve experienced before.”

“What is it that you want?” You ask, already fearing his answer. He has you trapped in a gilded cage with him, where one misstep will send you plummeting to meet your end. Nothing that comes accompanied by such threats can be palatable.

“At work? To keep the status quo, I’ll remain your secretary, only so I can keep a better hold on you.” 

“Hoseok won’t agree to that. He already thinks I should ditch you. I should have listened to him.” 

“Then you will make him agree or he might have an accident, much like your accountant did. He too thought we were too close, even threatened to say something. Don’t worry I saved us from him, just as I’ll save us from Hoseok if you can’t convince him to back off. Do you think you can get him to agree now?”

You give a solemn nod, with Hoseok on the line you have no choice.

“After hours, we’ll drop the middleman.” Jimin lowers himself further on to you, laying down on top, his weight flattening you to the floor. With his head coming to rest on your restrained arm as he whispers further plans. “Every night you’ll come to me instead, and every morning you’ll have a new gift to wear. When we step off this elevator you’ll act as if nothing is wrong. You will go about business as usual, is that clear babygirl?”

You stifle a sob staring directly up and away from his eyes, not daring to give him the satisfaction of your fear. With little else to cling to, all you can do is agree for the time being, as much as it pains you, you choke out your compliance. “Yes...” 

“Yes what?” Jimin purrs, his lips faintly touching your ear. “Address me properly, or I will find ways to discipline you right here on this lift.” His fingers tighten and nails bite into your skin.

“Yes sir,” you whine as a plea for him to stop. 

Jimin mercifully lessens his hold on your wrists, hitting you instead with a smirk and befouled praise. “Good girl. I knew you’d finally see that I’m worth the risk.”

...

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[weelittleweasley]

Muggle Music | Draco x Reader

Prompt: As a muggle born Hufflepuff you find comfort in your muggle music and books when you are feeling anxious or insecure. Although Draco has been known to have a distaste for muggles or of muggle descent, however you when it comes to you, his opinions change.

Warnings: angst, fluff

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Hi all! So sorry I haven’t been as active this weekend. I took the time to relax and have a little fun and unwind before things get crazy work wise with me. Hopefully I’ll be back to pumping out fics again by tomorrow!

You delicately place the record on your player that is perched happily on top of your dresser as music starts to play as the record spins. The sounds of the familiar verses and chorus melt away any anxieties that were plaguing you through the day. Stevie Nicks’s voice washed over you as you allowed your body to sway gently to the music. 

Being muggle born wasn’t something you normally worn with a badge of pride at school. You were a little embarrassed that you never grew up around magic and its brilliance, rather you grew up with the mundaneness that was being ordinary for so long. But nothing could quite cheer you up like listening to muggle music or reading a good book that your mother bought from the book store. It was simple, but it never failed to make you feel at home, swallowed with warmth and comfort through these tiny vessels of your muggle upbringing.

Aside from not growing up with magic and missing out on the portion, you were also embarrassed of being a muggle especially because of who you were dating. Everyone and their mother knew that the Malfoy lineage was strict about marrying pure and only having children that would be pure bloods. You had been dating Draco for only a couple of months, but you did feel insecure about his dating history and how it has only been with pure bloods. You were the first to break that streak. Draco didn’t expect to fall for you, but when it happened, it happened fast and every thought he had about you not being a pureblood washed away. But there was always that little voice inside his head that spoke, What would mother and father think about this?

You swayed to Fleetwood Mac, trying to keep your negative thoughts at bay about how scared you were that Draco was going to break up with you because of your blood status. Earlier that day you had heard Pansy Parkinson gossiping to her posse about how Draco deserved to be with a pure blood and not some “mudblood” like you were. When you heard the words fall from her mouth, you wanted to cry. She was right. Draco deserved someone who would make his family proud and you would not do that. 

You didn’t even notice the tears falling from your eyes until they ran across your lips, the salty taste on your tongue. Rhiannon softly played in the background as you wiped your tears away with the backs of your hand. This was such a silly thing to cry over, but you couldn’t help but feel the way you did. Your insecurities were getting the best of you again.

Suddenly, a gentle few knocks come from your door. You suck up your sniffles and wipe what remains of the tears away. Glancing in the mirror, you check your appearance before opening the door. And there he stood. Draco in his Slytherin robes, his white blonde hair combed back, and sneaky little smile. He pulled you in for a tight hug by your contrasting Hufflepuff robes, breathing your scent in as you relaxed under his touch. “Good afternoon, darling,” Draco squeezes you, planting a kiss on your forehead. 

“Hi,” you mutter into his chest before pulling away, letting him inside your room. 

Draco enters, plopping his bag down at your desk. He contorts his face and says, “What is that?” as if to be disgusted by the music you are playing. Your heart sinks gently into your stomach as his face looks confused. 

You feel like your insecurities are now sticking out like a sore thumb. The things that bring you comfort make Draco contort with disgust. “Oh, sorry,” you quickly rush to your record player and turn off Fleetwood Mac as Landslide gets cut off. Too bad, that was your favorite song on that album. “It was my music from home. Mum gave me a few albums to take with me if I ever needed a taste of home. I didn’t know you were coming over or else I wouldn’t have played it.”

Draco suddenly grows disappointed in himself. Something you had loved so dearly and had such fond memories attached to was something he was taught to deplore. His disgust with all things doing with muggles made you upset because you were muggle born. Which in turn, meant he was supposed to hate where you came from. How could hate someone as lovely, considerate, and gentle as you? It would be impossible. “Don’t apologize. It’s your room, you play whatever you want. You can keep playing it if you want to,” he urges, hoping that you’ll play the music again just so he can see you happy, dancing along to whatever rhythm played from the odd machine you tinkered with.

Shaking your head, you insist, “No, I don’t want to play it anymore. It’ll just make me sad.” Sad because you miss home and sad because you know that Draco and you come from two separate worlds and he hated yours. Or so you thought. You chose to ignore the sad smile on Draco’s face. “Let’s change the subject, shall we?”

As you talked to Draco about your plans for the upcoming weekend in Hogsmeade, he couldn’t help but be distracted by his own thoughts. He hated knowing that you were uncomfortable and insecure of your muggle history. He hated that he was conditioned from such a young age to have a distaste in those things thanks to his father’s upbringing. Draco’s heart strings were strung any time he noticed you shift in your seat when someone bought up not being of pureblood descent. You would get very quiet and minutes later excuse yourself to go somewhere else away from the people who had insulted you in passing. He knew he wanted to make it up to you, but it was just a matter of how he would do it. 

----

A few days later, you parked yourself at a table in the library, studying and doing homework quietly, scribbling down in your notebook every once in a while. As you jot down notes, you didn’t notice Pansy pass your table. “Studying hard mudblood?” she coos sarcastically at you.

“Please leave me alone, Pansy,” you quietly plead. You just needed to study. That was all. You didn’t need to be reminded of all of your insecurities in the middle of the library for everyone around you to watch your discomfort.

Pansy leans on the table. “Why? Because Draco can’t defend you?” she spits. “I’m still shocked that he’s with a loathsome creature like yourself. Aren’t you embarrassed? You’ll never quite live up to his or his parents expectations? I mean, what’s going to happen when you meet his parents? Let’s see if you even make it up to that point.” 

Tears start to prick in your eyes as you attempt to swallow the lump in your throat. “Go away, Pansy,” you speak gently, no malice in your voice even though you had wished there would be. 

“Am I talking about a sensitive topic?” she asks, knowing damn well what sees doing. “Admit it, (Y/N). You’re no good for Malfoy. You and your little muggle music and muggle books. You’ll never be enough for him.”

With that, you gather all of your stuff and dash out of the library, the laughs of Pansy echoing in the library. As you turn the corner, you bump into the person you wished most not to. “Hi, love,” Draco speaks, happy to see you until he sees the hot tears streaming down your face. “Hold on, wait a minute, what’s wrong?” he grabs your arms, looking at you in the eyes.

You shake your head, “I have to go.” You push past your boyfriend, running out of the library, completely horrified of what just went down. Running down the halls and up the stairs, you try to avoid the stares of concerned students and passing, (Y/N), are you okays. You just wanted to get back to your room.

Opening the door with a swing and then slamming it shut, you inhale a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. You were away from Pansy now and her torturous comments. Looking to your desk, you know exactly what you needed no matter how much it reminded you of your past. You grabbed another record from your stash that you tucked away in your drawer and plucked Queen from the pile. As you placed it on your record player, the sounds of the Jazz album filling your dormitory, sending soothing waves of comfort through you, drying your tears instantly.

Meanwhile in the library, Draco marched over to Pansy, steam bellowing from his ears. Pansy’s smile fell as she saw the pissed boy. “I don’t know what you said, but to be quite frank, Parkinson, I’m not surprised it was something rude and selfish, much like yourself,” Draco spit at her.

Pansy rolls her eyes, “Come on, Draco. You know better than anyone that you don’t belong with a mudblood. You need to stick with your own kind.”

Draco’s blood is boiling. “First of all, you know shit about what is best for me, Pansy, so I’d suggest keeping your fat nose out of my business. Second, muggle born or not, (Y/N) is a brilliant, beautiful person who is a better witch than you will ever be. If I even sense you close to (Y/N) again, consider yourself done for,” Draco scolds Pansy as her face turns parchment white. 

After his little meltdown, Draco leaves the library. On a mission to find you and comfort you after what just happened. 

In your room, you lay on your bed, listening to your muggle music, as you glide your fingers over the binding of your favorite muggle book, The Scarlet Letter. Maybe Pansy was right? You should just stick to your muggle things and stay away from what is muggle born. It would be for the best. 

Your thoughts are disturbed when you hear a knock at the door. You groan, emerging from your position on your bed. The door opens and there’s Draco who wastes no time in scooping you up in a hug. “Don’t listen to her,” he speaks into your hair. “She has no idea what she’s talking about. She is jealous.”

“But she’s right, Draco. I’m a dumb muggle born who doesn’t belong in your world. You were destined to hate me and everything I come from. It should stay that way before things get too complicated,” you try to reason with him as Draco shakes his head in disbelief. “You’ve only dated purebloods, Draco. Ever since we got here, you’ve dated purebloods and purebloods only. I haven’t dated anyone and Merlin, it’s year six! Now, my first ever boyfriend is not supposed to like people like me.” 

Draco’s heart breaks hearing you talk about yourself like this. “You mean someone who is considerate? Someone who is compassionate? Someone who loves people for their hearts?” he retorts as you ignore him. “(Y/N), I don’t care if you are pureblood or not. I want you and you only.”

Your heart should be swelling with joy, but it only makes it break. “I need to be alone right now, Dray. Please,” you whisper, holding your face in your hands. “Just leave me be for right now.”

Everything is screaming for Draco to stay and work this out with you, but he knows you need some space. He just shakes his head and leaves your room sadly. When the door closes, you don’t hesitate in letting the tears fall again. 

-----

Potions class was finally dismissed as you walked alone in the halls, trying to distance yourself from everyone, to scurry away in your room, curling up into your bed while listening to more muggle music, wishing you were home with your mother and father and siblings. 

Draco hadn’t come to talk to you since the library incident two days prior. He didn’t even bother trying to find you when your class took the weekend trip to Hogsmeade. You figured that he was out of your life for good and no matter how much you wanted him to stay, you knew it was best for the both of you. The relationship wouldn’t have worked out anyway. It was best for you to part separate ways.

As you approach your dormitory, you hear the faint chorus of Paul Anka’s Put Your Head On My Shoulder coming from the other side of your door. Your eyebrows furrow. Did I leave the record player on? I don’t even have that record though? You push the door open to reveal a Draco standing the middle of your room, Paul Anka playing on your record player. “What are you doing?” you ask him right off the bat.

Draco has a small smile on his lips. “Doing what I should have done when I asked you to be mine,” he claims as he grabs your hands. “When we took the trip to Hogsmeade this weekend, I bought some muggle records they had in the back of the shoppe as well as some new books for your collection,” he points to three large stacks of records and books on your desk as a smile threatens to spill on your lips. “I should have made an effort to learn about what you grew up with. But better late than never?” he suggests as you engulf him in the most enormous hug you can muster. Draco laughs as you squeeze him tight, his grip on you iron. “I took some time to listen to some of your favorite records and I stayed up all last night reading your favorite book.”

“You read The Scarlet Letter?” you ask in disbelief. The surprises never stopped when it came to Draco. He proudly nodded. “I can’t believe you would do all of this for me...this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

Draco’s heart swells with pride. “It’s what you deserve,” he simply states. “Now,” he extends his hand to you. “Will you join me for a dance?”

Giggling, you accept his hand as the two of you rock gently to the sounds of Paul Anka on your record player, gazing into each others eyes as you smile like an idiot. “I can’t believe you sometimes, Malfoy,” you shake your head. “What do you think of it? The music, the book?”

“To be honest with you, it’s not half bad. The ABBA album is pretty good,” he shrugs, making you laugh wildly, throwing your head back. “Now that’s music to my ears,” he refers to your laughter as you blush. 

For the next few hours, you and Draco listen to your new albums he purchased for you as you lecture him on muggle books and authors, him smiling wide as you speak passionately about them. Although Draco knew his father would have a field day when he heard about this, he couldn’t care less. You were happy and that’s all that mattered to Draco.

#draco #draco imagine #draco malfoy #draco x female reader #draco x you #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy oneshot #draco malfoy fanficiton #draco malfoy x female reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco x hufflepuff!reader #hp #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter imagine #draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader #hufflepuff x draco #hufflepuff

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

I’ve been rewatching CM and god, what I wouldn’t give for them to bring TG back for this revival. I haven’t even watched seasons 12-15 yet because I’m in denial about him being gone 😭😭😩

omg I haven't watched it either xD I've been holding off watching s11e22, The Storm, for like a month I swear. Which, I know is going to be amazing but I also have heard it's the beginning of the end and I'm not readyyyyyyy.

I would give anything for TG to come back. A n y t h i n g. But idk what CBS feels is the appropriate amount of time to be blacklisted or whatever the hell they did 🤷‍♀️ despite how it would be so easy to write him back in, and the missed opportunities is already making my skin crawl.

Okay. This was going to be a quick answer, but I've been THINKING about this way more than I should lately, without ever having watched 12-15 but I feel like I know enough, and with all the projects I'm going to be finishing/starting soon I know I won’t have time to do anything with my ideas. So I'm just going to type this little beginning I have plotted out and maybe one day I'll make it into the fic I want it to be:

(I know you didn't ask for a hc/blurb thing but surprise you get one xD)

CW: Spoilers for season 11-15 that are probably inaccurate af, fighting, violence, bit of blood and injuries talk, some profanity. 

-

((I legit have this all plotted out like a full season, and picture everything as shots and scenes and I know exactly how I would want to bring Hotch back.))

-

It would start in a small suburban town in Indiana, legit white-picket fence, middle of nowhere, off the grid town. With the most pedestrian name ever, we might as well call it Mayberry. Typical weekend morning, bright green grass and trees and summer sunshine lighting it all up, they still get papers delivered it’s that picturesque. And it’ll pan to all sorts of people on this street of nice, two-story houses, and finally zero in on not the man picking up his paper from his front porch, but the jogger slowing down that the man calls to next door, calling him a name we’ve never heard before -- but the jogger answers with that dark eyed squint and a nod... and it is Aaron Hotchner. Or the man who used to be Aaron Hotchner. He hasn’t gone by that name in years, WITSEC provided him and Jack with new ones.

His house isn’t even really decorated like a home, he’s been in enough over the years to know tell-tale signs of what a happy home should entail. Photographs, memorabilia, nostalgia tucked away in corners -- they don’t have that. He has a couple of photographs he keeps in his office, the only two in inconspicuous view being a photo of Haley and Jack when he was two years old, and a photo of his team the day he completed the FBI triathlon and they all showed up to support him. Everything else of their old life is in boxes in a storage facility in downtown D.C., under another false name that can never be linked back to them. 

Mr. Scratch was a poor excuse for why he and Jack were still under WITSEC, but he hopes near daily that it was enough of a reason that no one would question why he didn’t return once that monster was dead. That no one smart enough to read between the lines would go digging for more reasons, or worse -- try to find him -- and they pictured him living a happy retirement very similar to the charade he is living now. 

But Aaron Hotchner was never meant for retirement. No matter how easy and simple his days have been the past few years. It was only a matter of time. 

He walks through his home that looks more like the insides of a Home Living magazine, to his kitchen which is bright and spacious and tiled white that he knows Haley would have loved, getting a glass of water from the sink and chugging it all in one go. It isn’t until he’s getting a second glass that he hears it. The faucet was supposed to have masked any disturbance, they were careful in when they moved, how they placed their feet, the slowness of the their approach -- but not enough.

Hotch keeps his shoulders relaxed, his spine still ram-rod straight but that’s just how he stands and it keeps tension ready at a moment’s notice. Keeps him on alert, which he needs as he takes slower sips of water and lets all his other sense shift to a heightened awareness. Knows this house like the back of his hand, even if he’s never allowed himself to consider it home, so he knows which floorboards creak and where all the furniture is strategically placed. Always prepared for something like this to happen, even if he never imagined someone would be so bold. 

Their mistake.

With a careful tick of his head, peripherals his only guidance, he strikes before the intruder gets to. An iron grip and momentum that propels their face into the metal of the sink basin, shocking them that what their file was so misleading about their target. Retired FBI agent, almost 60 years old, living in Pleasantville with a picket fence and a vegetable garden. This should have been easy. The intruder is stunned by the blow, attempts a quick recovery where they lash out and get a few good body shots into the older man -- but he’s built like a brick wall, can take a blow and give it back twice as hard -- a few more precise hits and another crack of their face to the sink that shatters the bridge of their nose leaves the attacker slumping to the floor. 

“You didn’t do your research,” Hotch tells them, breathing a little heavy, opening up a drawer usually deemed for junk and pulls out zipties and an ancient looking cell phone buried deep at the back. “Sloppy. I expected more from him.” 

The attacker kicks out Hotch’s knees in a fit of rage (at having his skill set insulted so), leaving them both crashing to the floor. They grapple and fight a bit more, knocking dishes from the counters and pots and pans to the floor from the grill top island, but Hotch is so well-trained in take downs he gets the slighter man pinned with only a split lip and a single hitch in breath. He barely broke a sweat. Knocks the guy out clean, two solid punches to his face, and he stops because he knows better. Has been there before, and they need to question whoever was sent to his house to kill him. 

He’s barely off the floor, the intruder binded and stuck in a corner when Jack walks in from early morning soccer practice. Takes one look at the kitchen, his dad with blood in the corner of his mouth, and the guy all in black bound by zipties and already knows what happened. Sixteen, nearly as tall as his father now, he looks only mildly worried for all of two seconds until he sees that his dad has an old flip cell phone held up to his good ear, awaiting a connection with their handler in Indianapolis. 

“... Does this mean we get to go home?” 

The shot would pan back to Hotch, and he wouldn’t answer him, just tells the person on the phone to ‘patch him through, they have a situation’, and there would be no very obvious look in answer to Jack’s question. But all of us who know him, know the subtle changes in expression and the slight softening to that stern frown, knows what his reply would have been.

-

The very next scene would be the BAU. JJ and Emily walking at a brisk pace covering a debrief, since they basically run the department now. Everyone has been called in, everyone, retired and moved away and even the ones who cut all ties have been contacted. JJ has just gotten off the phone with Elle, who is working as a liaison in Rome and assured her that if anyone showed up in her home to attack her that they would be leaving in a body bag. But she appreciated the heads up. 

In the bullpen it’s more like a family reunion than anything. Garcia has just gotten off the elevators, a flurry of color and blonde curls and bright as ever, Morgan and Savannah are trying to corral Hank and the twins (both girls and pure chaos now that they can walk) while still making introductions with the new team and their families, and asking if Reid or Rossi know anything about what’s going on as JJ gets there and asks for everyone’s attention. 

“Not everyone is here yet, Kate and her family are on their way from upstate, Will’s getting the boys from school, and Alex and her husband are on a plane, but we need to get started as soon as possible.”

“What’s is going on, JJ?” Morgan asks, passing off one of the twins to Penelope who is in full baby fever mode despite what is obviously a very bad circumstance that has brought them all together. It’s a juxtaposition that has put everyone on edge. It doesn’t help when JJ and Emily look at each other as if in confirmation, trying to decide who is going to tell them.

“Okay, that doesn’t inspire confidence,” Rossi points out. “What happened?”

Emily sighs and makes a gesture for JJ to take the floor, since she has been on point for most of this.

The bull pen is silent in anticipation.

“Earlier this morning, Hotch was attacked in his home in Indiana,” she says, and whatever anyone thought was going on -- that wasn’t it. The shock across the room is like a bomb has detonated.

Rossi curses something out in Italian, looking down, and JJ immediately realizes how this all sounds. But doesn’t even get to backtrack as Reid looks completely devastated and Garcia like she’s about to cry and everyone else starts shouting questions at her. 

“What happened to Jack?”

“How did they even find him? What the fuck is wrong with WITSEC?!”

“Is he okay?” asks Tara, the only intellectual who can see the panic now blooming on JJ’s face.

“Yes, yes! He’s okay, sorry, no -- Hotch is fine. The guy who tried to kill him... not so much, but he should be conscious soon so they can question him.” 

“Jesus Christ, JJ,” Morgan says looking like he just aged ten years in the past 30 seconds. “Lead with that.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry. He’s okay, Jack is okay, they’ve been picked up. But... there’s a lot we need to be filled in on,” she admits, which quiets the room once more. “Apparently, the WITSEC had nothing to do with Mr. Scratch. There’s something much bigger and more dangerous going on, and he went under to keep us all safe. As well as himself, and Jack.” 

“What is it?”

JJ makes a gesture with her hands splayed as she looks a little lost. “I only know bare bones, we have to wait to hear the specifics and get everyone somewhere safe.” 

“You think we’re going to trust WICSEC after this?!”

Emily intervenes this time, “We have a plan, or... Hotch has a plan, I think. We’re just learning about everything as we go, he’s really the one that knows the most about it.”

“Then where is he?” Morgan speaks up again. “If he’s been pulled out, and we’re all in danger, why isn’t he here explaining this to us himself?” 

It’s a good question, and everyone looks expectantly at the two women leading the informal briefing. 

“Will he come back at all?” Reid asks, speaking up for the first time. It’s been years, that’s a long time to rethink a life like the BAU, and everything it entails.

JJ takes a deep breath. “He’s... in--”

“Out-processing.” 

Hotch is at the back of the room. Everyone turns to him, even JJ and Emily look surprised to see him so soon.  ((But we all know the CM cinematography love that kind of return shot, so I’m catering to it. For situational parallels if nothing else. Imagine the gif sets.))

“I pushed it as fast as they could go, but WITSEC always drags their feet.” The familiar drone, dry barely-there-humor, breaks whatever spell that had been over the room at the sight of the old Unit Chief. Disbelief and relief and stunned surprise litter every expression, and although Penelope looks like the first to say something, her words change course just as she opens her mouth. Because  Hotch is still in civilian clothes, a duffle-bag over his shoulder he used as a go-bag for decades, and beside him with a bag of his own with messy dirty blonde hair is--

“Oh my God, is that Jack!?” she near sobs, the teenager smiling at her in a way that looks so much like Haley, and she goes to hug him first with the boy meeting her halfway. “You’re so tall! And so grown up, look at you!” There’s definitely tears and the team converges on the Hotchners all at once. Reid hugs Hotch first, as tight and bone-crushing as that night in Atlanta all those years ago, followed soon after by Rossi who looks like he might shake the man but just hugs him tight and plants an absurdly embarrassing kiss on his cheek that finally cracks Hotch’s expression into something like a smile. Everyone hugs, everyone, Savannah calls him Aaron instead of Hotch because that was how he’d introduced himself all those years ago, the twins wave shyly and he shakes hands with the newer members that never got to meet him but have heard very tall tales about him for years and years. 

(And y’all, it would be the best damn scene and I would sob like a baby watching it.)

Morgan would be the one that would hold back and let the others go first, but it would also be the most profound when Hotch goes to shake his hand and the other man uses that to pull him into a tight hug of his own. 

“I’m glad you can still hold your own,” he’ll tease with nearly no heat behind it. Hotch hears it for the caring that it is.

“Like hell I would let that happen twice in my own home,” he assures him. 

Everyone settles down, and Emily leads some finer points of what’s going to happen with everyone in the next few hours. Days. Weeks, even, because there’s no knowing what is going to happen next. Hotch observes her, and there HAS to be a shot where she glances over to him and they share a look of understanding -- because she is Unit Chief now, and he approves of what he sees. 

But she turns the floor over to him, and Hotch explains what’s going on.

((I’m going to leave the finer points out about the case and the unsub, mostly because I haven’t finished ironing them out yet and I hope once I watch the remaining season I will be able to much more easily))

But at SOME POINT in the briefing, when Hotch is explaining what happened with the assassin in his home and how he apprehended him, and Emily maybe interjects with the injuries sustained and that they are still waiting for the man to regain consciousness. Penelope will 100% lean over to where Jack is sitting beside her and say without flinching, “Your dad is such a bad ass.”

((I also plan on bringing up Reid was in prison in this scene but it will be more humorous than anything because of Hotch’s reaction, stay tuned on that one. Again I’m not there yet))

((and where I’m taking them is also a secret because I need to do research and it will be so damn cool, but Hotch has everything completely planned out -- like he does. Goes as far as asking the few who question him “Secure enough for you?” when he drops where they will be staying and the protection they will have. Full blown mic drop moment.))

“So gather all of your belongings that you have here. Secure pets and homes, call the kid’s schools, whatever you need to do,” Hotch informs them, stepping back into his old shoes as team leader without even meaning to. But no one tells him to stop. “We need to be in the air ASAP, the jet is being prepped as we speak so we need to move on this.”

He leaves it at that, and everyone doesn’t move. Watching, waiting, smirking a little bit (Penelope, maybe even Reid), until he gives in.

“Wheels up in 30.”

Garcia giggles so much she near cackles with it. “Oh, I just got goosebumps!” And by Emily’s smirk and Morgan’s shared grin with Reid, a million watts between them, everyone is up and moving and pulling out cell phones to get their affairs in order.

Rossi sidles up to Hotch at that point, also openly smirking that they got him to say those four time-honored words. “Welcome back, Aaron.”

And Hotch, well -- he looks around the room at the family he had to leave behind without any hope of seeing them again, and feels every hardened edge in his face and demeanor soften. Before he looks to Dave and tells him what’s been going through his head ever since he walked back through the doors of the BAU.

“It’s good to be home.”

((END SCENE))

#CM SPOILERS #If only I could write fic full time xD #GOD I've been dying to write all that down for weeks #and then you my beautiful anon sent that ask and I jumped at the opportunity #sorry I used you for this but I'm so glad I did #I hope you enjoy it if you don't mind all the spoilers #also if anything doesn't line up with canon I am SO SORRY I legit haven't finished season 11 #and I haven't met any of the new team. Not even Luke #But they would all be there #full cast. chaos. It would be awesome #katyswriting #criminal minds fanfiction #no pairings #Aaron Hotchner

[skellebonez]

I AM SORRY FOR THIS SKELLE BUT I MUST: 5 (kidnapping them was the only way I was going to get them here),6 (let's make a deal, shall we?) and 41 (can you teach me how to do that) with the demon bull fam and mk with a little hint of 64 (I may have eaten seven of them already). NOW GO HAM MY DUDE

Oh I had way too much fun with this one. I took S2E4 (spoilers mentioned for that!) and some tweets made by one of the show producers on the same day as fuel for a very silly idea I had. I don't write what can be considered "Crack treated seriously" (or at least semi-seriously, this is not a 100% serious fic) often but when I do I go hard. This is more focused on MK and others than SpicyNoodles so it's a bit more gen fic than a full on ship fic as well.

Kidnapping them was the only way I was going to get them here/Let's make a deal, shall we?/Can you teach me how to do that?/I may have eaten seven of them already.

"Red..." MK started off slowly, watching as his boyfriend's face flushed and twisted in embarrassment. "Can you tell me why your mother showed up at my apartment and used her wind vortex thing to teleport us here without an explanation? And then left us in your..." He looked around, noting that aside from the excessively large throne and two smaller thrones beside it this room looked like a... "Living room? On a couch?"

"I can-" Red Son started, raising a hand before pausing a frowning deeply. "Actually, no, I can't explain. This is just weird, even by my parent's standards. I have no idea what is going on, but since you're still here..." He shrugged with a hopeful smile, shaky through the uncertainty. "Maybe it's not bad? I mean, if Mother was truly upset or wanted to do something bad surely she would have not left us to our own devices. Maybe she’s... uh... happy I finally have a boyfriend?”

At the pointed raise of an eyebrow from MK that hopeful smile faltered a bit. Happy Red Son had a boyfriend for the first time in a couple centuries? Under different circumstances he wouldn't doubt that! Happy when that boyfriend was MK?

Oh he did doubt that.

He knew that they shouldn't have been sneaking around the way they had been. It had made sense at first, two people on opposite sides of a feud lasting centuries who discovered they actually enjoyed spending time together more than fighting each other. One who decided he very much would rather not follow through with any kind of domination and see his family hurt, who realized "actually my sworn nemesis isn't so bad", and another who decided "my life is already weird enough, why not give this befriending my enemy thing a shot".

And then one thing lead to another and before they knew it their secret friend meet up became a secret boyfriend meet up. They'd managed to keep everything under wraps for a while (except from Mei because, well... she was his best friend! He couldn't not tell someone and she would have found out fast if he wasn't obvious, and she had quickly become a mutual source of support for both of them), though MK knew Pigsy and the others knew something was up. They didn't question him, though, aside from the occasional good natured jab. "Wow MK, you seem happy today. Got any plans?" and that sort of thing. They seemed to trust him to make his own decisions, as long as he was happy and healthy and eventually told them. (Sun Wukong, however, may have caught in a little when he jokingly asked if MK had gotten a boyfriend and MK had choked on his drink. He never brought it up specifically after that but he was smart. Too smart.)

Red Son, on the other hand, was fantastic at keeping secrets when he tried. Or MK thought he was... the last few months gave no indication that either of his parents had discovered their little sneaky rendezvous. Then Princess Iron Fan broke into his apartment and, well, here they are. Clearly something had gone wrong somewhere along the line.

Before MK could follow through with any questions of whether or not there could be a fate worse than instant death that involved lulling him into a false sense of security, the two men froze at the sound of quickly approaching voices.

“Could this not have been done another way, my dear?”

“Kidnapping them was the only way I was going to get them here, you know that. Noodle Boy is not that gullible, contrary to what we first believed.”

Ah... shit... Red Son’s parents.

Mk quickly ran through all the possessions he had in his apartment and wondered if he had time to text Mei or Pigsy the world’s fastest will and testament and if that would be legally binding. He just hoped he had something for Pigsy to handle the Phantom Orderer they'd had for the last year.

They always ordered on the app and prepaid and managed to leave him a sizeable tip in his tuk-tuk after he dropped off the food at whatever random location they indicated.

"Good," PIF's voice rang clear, far faster than he could even attempt to pull out his phone, and MK turned to see that she was casually lounging on the shoulder of the Demon Bull King. She jumped down, her wind lightening her fall so much so that she barely made a sound when her feet touched ground. "You've made yourself comfortable."

MK couldn't bring himself to move, as much as he very dearly wanted to run away as quickly as possible. Yes, he was The Monkie Kid and had progressed far enough that he could probably escape without much problem. Yes, he and DBK had had an understanding after the White Bone Spirit and Lunar New Year Festival (though he still didn't know if PIF ever found out about that one). Yes, Princess Iron Fan had shown little interest in him before and had even worked beside him with no complaints (she didn't even care enough to attack during the Food Wars thing!). But that was all before she apparently found out he was dating her son behind her back while they were technically still enemies.

He was glad at that moment that she had grabbed them before they went to get lunch... his stomach was doing back flips that would make a gymnast jealous.

"Uh, yes Miss-Mrs-Muh-M- Princess Iron... Fan?" MK couldn't help but stutter awkwardly, holding onto the hem of his jacket and worrying it as he tried to keep his composure. He looked beside him, watching as Red sat straighter and kept an even expression on his face that he couldn't quite place. His hair seemed to spark softly.

Though she raised a brow at this, PIF didn't comment on that at all. Instead she made her way to the other couch across from them as opposed to what was clearly supposed to be her throne, leaning forward right her elbows on her knees and her fingers laced together in front of her. DBK stopped behind her, seemingly content to stay standing.

"Noodle Boy... you prefer to go by MK, is that correct?" She started, and he nodded slowly in confused response. "Hmn... so. You've been dating my son for quite some time. Many months... no, a bit over a year if I am not mistaken in how long his behavior has changed." 'Oh shit' went MK's brain. "You must be quite serious, if you're willing to go through so much just to see each other. Late night meetings. Secret hideaways. Sneaking onto Flower Fruit Mountain, even." 'Oh SHIT' it repeated in horror. "That's quite the dedication to show toward anyone... I hate to admit it, but I am quite impressed." 'OH SH-wait what?'

"Bw-huh?" Was what MK managed out, half a sound that was almost a word and half a squeak of confusion.

"The fact I myself remained oblivious until only a few weeks ago is quite something. Let's make a deal, shall we?" She continued, sitting back straight and looking like the proud Princess she was and not like a woman sitting on a couch that looked comically small in front of her enormous husband. "You and Red Son no longer have to hide your relationship from us and in exchange..." she paused, as if relishing the building tension between herself and the couple before her. "You will come over at least once a week so we can get to actually know you properly."

MK froze. Red Son froze even more.

Then his entire head lit ablaze as he jumped up and gestured at his mother with a gaping mouth. "Th-that's it!? I-I was... I was RIGHT!?"

PIF barely reacted to this, merely lounging sideways as she put her elbow on the arm of the couch and rested her cheek on her hand.

"Whatever you were right about, I suppose you were. But yes," she shrugged, honestly looking... kinda happy? "Has this been about a year ago I perhaps would not have understood what you saw in Nood-MK. But I can see how happy you have been lately, and there's something about him that is like... what did you say he was like, darling?" She turned to DBK, who shrugged himself with an unreadable expression.

"A ball of sunshine given human form."

... that was not what MK ever expected to hear from the Demon Bull King's mouth...

"Yes, that's it," she nodded as if this was completely normal and ignored how Red Son flopped back down onto the couch and stared at the ceiling. "I'd hate to admit it, but you've grown on us through out sparse interactions. Somehow. And we have been eagerly waiting for the day we could finally welcome someone into our son's life. So what do you say? Do we have a deal?"

She seemed... serious. MK may not know her that well, but it was clear to anyone when she wasn't being so.

"Uh... o-ok? Sure?" MK said softly, nodding in amazement as DBK and PIF actually smiled at this.

This was the strangest day of his life, beating our every single demon fight and even the day he got the Monkey King's staff. But he'd take this strangeness over the alternative 500 times over.

"Excellent," DBK nodded himself, there was a lot of that about. "That seems to have worked out n-"

Everyone paused at a loud grumble echoed the room, all turning to Red Son as he flared up in embarrassment this time.

"Don't look at me like that, we were supposed to eat half an hour ago and I am starving," Red Son grumbled as he sat up, not looking anyone in the eye. "I don't suppose we could. Eat now? Please?"

Despite the situation, MK couldn't help but smile at his pouting.

"I could bring us some food from Pigsy's?" MK offered in an attempt to contribute. Something. "I mean, I know Red likes it and you kinda seemed to like it the one time you tried it and... uh... yeah."

"Actually... I may have eaten seven of them already..." PIF admitted, looking away in embarrassment. "l've tried not to give into the temptation, but your father's noodles from the Food Wars were so... I just can't resist ordering some secretly after 5 or so weeks!"

"So you're the phantom orderer!" MK gasped out in shock, but after a moment he frowned and rubbed the back of his head. He had a bit of an idea. "Well... I could... make some for us instead?" He ammended his offered softly. "I may not make it exactly like Pigsy does, but I can get pretty close as long as you have the ingredients! And you wouldn't have to worry about me going there and coming back! We can eat like. Immediately!"

"I think that sounds acceptable," PIF said with a nod as she stood, but MK could see a bit of excitement sparkling in her usually cold eyes. "Come, Red Son. I need to discuss some upgrades the Bull Clones have been asking for with you. Your father can assist him in the kitchen until we are done."

Red looked over at MK and only stood to follow his mother once he nodded, giving his father a pointed look before exited the room. MK, in the meantime, looking up at DBK with a gulp and followed him as he lead the way toward their kitchen.

It was... well, bigger than he was used to. But pretty normal, regal size and decor aside. And it seemed, once he was given the nod of ok from his host (and wasn't that a bizarre thing, DBK and PIF being his hosts on a home visit to his boyfriend's parents... he was going to need to get used to that) he checked the fridge and counters and found he had just about everything he needed to make what he had in mind.

"Can you teach me how to do that?" DBK asked after a moment, startling MK into nearly dropping the sauce he needed for the broth. "Not the recipe itself, just..." He gestured to the counter. "Red Son has a bit of a proclivity toward cooking and he's been trying to get me involved, but we've never cooked anything like. That."

His words were awkward and stilted, but MK could tell he was trying. The same way he could tell PIF wasn't kidding with her offer. They just seemed to... want to get to know him as a potential... son-in-law... huh.

"Sure, but you're gonna want to shrink down a bit for this."

Lunch turned out amazing and, while awkward (much like most of the day)... it was nice not to have to hide their dating for once. And Red actually seemed pretty happy! Though he learned quickly that the Monkey King was still a bit of an (understandably) sore subject that was best avoided. For now.

Maybe not forever though.

(When PIF very not subtly dropped him and Red Son both off inside Pigsy's Noodles after their lunch, the only response he got was a "oh, so they finally found out huh? Looks like things went well" from Pigsy and Tang. Maybe he wasn't as sneaky as he thought he was...)

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #gen fic #mk #qi xiaotian #red son #spicynoodleshipping #dbk and pif #pif may be one of least favorite characters in the show for a few reasons #but even she can have good moments in my fics from time to time #crack treated seriously #i love that i can use that tag #ship fic but only just

[silverwhiteraven]

Beauty and Self-Expression in Wing Culture

So it's like 3am as I start to write this, and instead of sleeping at 2am I was thinking about the Wing AU I've been seeing for Miraculous Ladybug, courtesy of these three lovelies: @justaferal-bastard @thechatsmeow @tizzymcwizzy

[Warning: I got carried away and this goes from analysis, to idea, and then into a short fic-snippet.]

Actual Warning: It gets kinda, like, minor-angst about how the idea works?? More of a potential hurt/comfort at the end, IDK? But it has character growth! We stan Adrien rebellion against Gabriel! And healthy use of beauty products!

Anyways!!!

I love AUs like this that are saying 'What if Idea! What if apply Idea to World!' And then there's me, who likes to say 'Yes, yes! Now lets take World, and apply it to Idea.' And this is what happens.

So I was having some thoughts and things about Adrien and his wings, ya know? The wings are always tucked in close to back, always straight up, always prim and proper and stoic, as his Father and social economic class dictates. It puts people off at first because wings are one of the first things you see, one of the first things you subconsciously assess and judge and take into account. But to anyone who actually looks at the rest of him and stays around him and pays attention to him notice, there's a clear disconnect between how he holds his wings and how his actual personality is. It becomes obvious that his wings are like that from years of following a rule of conduct given to him, and a lot of birdie-see-birdie-do behavior of being around his own family and the Bourgeois.

Basically, wings, too, are subjected to self-images and self-expression. People of higher classes use their wings to show their class, power, and wealth; 'I don't fly' is basically 'I don't have to work for what I want'. Lower classes do that sort of thing less and less, and their wings are used more freely to express the self; not just free in actual movement, but with decorations as well, with things like feather-dyes, jewelry, and fake/decorative feathers and down to make themselves more unique and more like themselves.

Then I thought, well, what else? What about cultural beauty standards?

Well wing-types likely will be subjected to this, much like body-types. Already certain wings already have inherent uses. Falcon-like wings for speed, goose wings capable of long distances, hummingbird's for agility; all these physical traits that may or may not even match up with the main body that on its own also gets told has types meant for certain activities (tall people and basketball anybody?). Imagine all those wings that are colored and shaped like those of Birds of Paradise, though, swoon. But those weren't the thoughts I had.

My thought was the techniques in which beauty standards are met and maintained. Physical things that alter the looks. For the normal body, we have things like paddings, corsets, binders, and lifestyles, too, like dieting and working out. Extremes can even go to surgery.

So here was the specific thought I had about Adrien:

Wing-Binding.

Using unseen binds like netting, straps, or even cords, hidden underneath the feathers and down, to hold the wings in place and in whatever form is wanting to be presented.

Everyone should know that long-term and over-use of anything that restricts the body is unhealthy and can cause damage, even permanently. And I imagine Adrien has been modelling since he was small, too, so he would have been subjectes to it since before he even knew what it was, what it could do. Before he could comprehend what was happening and give consent to it.

Shealtered and with all his social and media intake controlled, he would have no clue that these are things he should be allowed to not do. And, sorry to anyone who liked the picture-perfect Mother Image Adrien paints of Emilie, but just like with him not being allowed to go to school or socialize outside of Chloé, or having to work a job and take unwanted extracurricular lessons and activities, Mama Agreste, at the very least, enabled Gabriel to doing something such as Wing-Binding to their unconsenting amd still-growing child.

Given! It isn't absolute in how bad it is, he can remove them for physical activities like P.E. and Fencing, or when photo shoots are doing Wing-Fashion, and when he's at home, too, but still, all that time in public having to use them because his Father says so sucks, a lot.

And again, the damage it could cause, both to his wings as they grow, not being allowed to stretch and strengthen, but also to the feathers, having to grow past and rub and push against what's holding them or sitting below.

It's kinda heartbreaking thinking how lovely he looks but just how much getting to that pleasing image might have just crippled him.

And then I thought about Chat Noir.

Chat, with wings free to move as he pleases, free to droop and drag, free to stretch and feel the wind, free to puff up and shield another.

And when he stretches those wings, be they magically dyed a new color or made bigger, they now have an emphasis on the burden they bear outside of the magic.

The feathers once unseen when tucked are now out and bare, spread out as he makes himself look bigger while he hisses and intimidates an Akuma. Everyone can see how the edges of his feathers are jagged and don't smooth out, some of the shafts are crooked or even broke, and as he beats his wings, they swear some will simply come out, from the quil and all, and disintegrate before they even touch the ground.

Ladybug asks him about it, and he grins and shrugs, "Probably a stylistic choice on my Kwami's part; they aren't actually that bad when I'm out of the suit."

"Mon gryffon," she calls his attention to her with one of her nicknames, a serious and sad look in her eyes. "Not that bad is still bad. Why are they like that?"

"Bindings kinda chaff sometimes, I think the suit just makes it look really bad," he answers, but he doesn't understand, why is she looking at him like that? A little bit of it clicks. "I thought most did it?"

She shakes her head, spreading her own, beautiful wings to him, and he can't help but reach out and run his claws gently through them. Her's don't show the signs of the Wing-Bindings his do. His head snaps to look down to the Parisians on the streets and those above them in the air, looking for signs of his own condition in the open wings. His heart beats hard and it almost hurts as another piece clicks.

"No, Chat Noir," Ladybug answers softly, "that isn't normal... Whoever makes you use those, they shouldn't have. No one still growing their wings should ever use those, ever."

He nods in understanding. His grin, long gone, comes back as he whipes away the tears that has built and he holds out a hand to his partner. "Care for one last fly before we part ways? I think I still need the practice." Especially since I've never flown outside of the suit, and I don't think I'll get a chance to yet, either, goes left unsaid.

But sometimes realizations like this are a part of the recovery. Chat Noir flies with his Lady, and thinks about how Adrien is going to tell his Father he won't wear the Wing-Bindings again, or at least about how to hide the future fact that he got rid of them all so that he can't anyways. He thinks about how he's going to practice flying, maybe ask Marinette for tips.

Chat Noir, the Gryffon of Paris, adds a new determination for the future, alongside winning Ladybug's heart and defeating Hawkmoth: Let his wings be free, and heal, because he'll be damned if he lets Chat Noir be the only time he ever flies, and, once his role as the Black Cat is over, with no suit to aid him, he will simply burn his Father's company to the ground if he never gets to fly again because of what Gabriel had done.

Anyways!! That was the thoughts I was having, it's 4:30am and I hope y'all really like, uh, whatever this is!!!!

#ml wing au #wing au #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #chat noir #willowbendt

[a-written-dream]

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 1,788

Fandom: Merlin (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)

Characters: Merlin (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Alternate Universe - Future, Gen or Pre-Slash, Rebellion, Arthur Knows About Merlin’s Magic (Merlin), Cybernetics, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Captivity, Identity Reveal, Evil Uther Pendragon (Merlin), Self-Doubt, Self-Hatred, pretty canon-typical though, POV Merlin (Merlin), The Merlin Melee Challenge 2021, Fights, Rebel Leader Arthur

Summary: Because they had been captured and suddenly Arthur was no longer just Arthur, he was Arthur Pendragon, son of everything they fought against.

Or: In a world years into the future, Merlin and Arthur fight against the tyranny of Uther Pendragon with an entire rebellion by their side. But Arthur hasn’t been entirely honest and even locked up in a cell Merlin can’t help the burning feelings of betrayal and anger. - For @merlin-fic-server’s Melee Challenge. Prompts: ‘I wish I’d told you’, punk, coin & Russian Violet

The metal is cold against Merlin’s back and against the skin of his wrists, even though he’s been pressed against it for the better part of an hour. He wonders briefly if it’s on purpose, if they keep the cell so cold to inflict more distress and discomfort. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was.

A florescent light flickers above their heads, and the only sound in the small space is their breaths bouncing off the walls. There are dents in the door from where Arthur tried to break it down, but even with his strength the door didn’t budge, and with the power-dampening cuffs around Merlin’s wrists, Merlin’s magic is all but useless. Arthur kept trying for a formidable amount of time, but when his hand gave off a sickening crunch of metal, he screamed in frustration and punched the wall for good measure before sinking down onto the floor.

Metal scraps still litter the floor around Arthur’s legs where he’s sitting in the corner now, a long time later, the fight all but drained out of him, head in his hands. The silence is heavy and thick and awkward, tense with Merlin’s anger and confusion, with Arthur’s guilt and anxiety.

“I wish I’d told you-“

Arthur’s voice is quiet and yet it seems to echo and boom within the metal box they’re locked into. It startles Merlin out of the apathetic calm he’d been lulled into by the silence. They’re waiting for their inevitable executions, and yet the sound of Arthur’s voice makes a white hot feeling of betrayal course through him.

“What,” he interrupts, “that you were leading a rebellion against your father? Believe me, Arthur, I wish you had too,” he snaps.

Because they had been captured and suddenly Arthur was no longer just Arthur, he was Arthur Pendragon, son of everything they fought against.

Arthur winces in his corner, running his hands through his hair. “No, I-“

Merlin doesn’t let him finish, too angry to keep the words bubbling to the surface down any longer. “How could you keep this from me? From all of us?” Merlin has been by Arthur’s side for years, fighting with him, protecting him, supporting him, and yet Arthur’s kept something as monumental as this a secret. “How could you not tell me?” Why did you not trust me?

“Why?” Arthur snaps, finally looking up to meet Merlin’s gaze. His blue eyes flash with anger, and Merlin is sure his own dark purple ones are just as angry. In Merlin’s fury, they unhelpfully provide him with the weaknesses in Arthur’s protective plating, with information on just where to send a spark of electricity and magic to shut down Arthur’s entire power system and deal the most damage.

Merlin blinks the detailed blueprints away. He has them memorised, but even betrayed and angry and hurt, he would never do anything to harm Arthur.

“Does it matter?” Arthur continues, voice hard and cold and wounded. “Does it matter that he raised me? That I grew up trying to be loved by a tyrant? That it took me years to finally understand the extent of his atrocities and his crimes? It sure doesn’t make me blind to them, now.” There are tears in his eyes and guilt in his voice. “Sure doesn’t make me blind to the horrific things I’ve done in his name, done to people like-“ you, he doesn’t finish. Like Morgana, like Mordred. To people with the ability to infuse their tech with magic. “I hate him, Merlin, and I hate that I still love him, but nothing, nothing, could ever make me see past the things he’s done, the things he is still doing to his own people, to my people, to our people.” He grits his teeth and clenches his eyes shut, brow furrowed in a painful frown. When he opens his eyes and looks at Merlin again, he looks so very tired.

“I tried to kill him on sight, when I first understood, really understood. I screamed my throat raw as I condemned him from the cell he put me in, and then I decided that I would do everything in my power to make sure his rule comes to an end. I can’t continue to watch people suffer under his hands, no matter how much my wretched heart still aches for his love and approval. I can’t let him continue to slaughter innocent people simply because they exist in a way that doesn’t appease him or because they disagree with him, even if I can never atone for what I’ve done. I will live with the guilt for all my life but I couldn’t, can’t, continue to live without trying to right the things he’s wronged.”

Merlin can’t do anything but stare at him, for a long stretching moment, watching as Arthur holds his gaze and swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. This, this is why they follow Arthur, why the whole rebellion would be willing to lay down their lives for him, because Arthur is a man who hurts with injustices he’s grown up never knowing but has intimate knowledge of, because he sees wrong and does anything he can to make it right, because he’s willing to go against everything he’s been taught to believe and everyone he’s been taught to love to save people he’s never met. Because he’s willing to kill his own father if it means the rest of the world gets to go on living.

“You should have still told me,” Merlin says quietly, his chest aching at the pain in Arthur’s eyes.

Arthur averts his gaze, clenching his hands into fists in front of him. The sound of metal grinding against metal fills their cell.

“I didn’t want you to see me any differently,” he admits quietly.

Merlin’s heart throbs with hurt. Does he not realise Merlin could never? Does he not know the world could turn and end and he would never see Arthur like anything other than the best, the most important person he knows?

“Arthur,” he says softly. He doesn’t continue until Arthur lifts his gaze to look at him. “When I look at you, I see a man who is honourable, compassionate, and kind. I see a man who would do anything to change the world for the better – even go against the father who raised him. I see my best friend,” Merlin watches Arthur grit his teeth and blink the wetness from his eyes, “and I couldn’t see you any differently even if I tried.”

Arthur gives him a hesitant, forced half-smile, hands relaxing against his bent knees.

“I’m hurt you didn’t trust me enough to tell me,” Merlin admits, and Arthur glances away, shame pinching his brows together. “But I’m not angry at you for being someone’s son.”

When Arthur looks back at him, Merlin smiles. “We cannot help who we are born as, only who we choose to become, and every day I have known you, Arthur, you have chosen a path that is good and just and right, that goes against everything you’ve been born into and raised to believe, to be someone who is kind and fair and understanding. And that makes you the greatest man I’ve ever known.”

Arthur’s eyes are brimming, but he’ll never let the tears fall. He never does. There’s a smile on his lips though, and this time it’s soft and small and real.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he says quietly.

Merlin smiles at him again, and he hopes it’s reassuring and forgiving. “The rebellion would do well to know.”

Arthur shakes his head. “They wouldn’t follow me if they did,” he says, as if he truly believes they wouldn’t, as if he doesn’t understand all the reasons each of them have to stand by his side.

“They would,” Merlin tells him, certain and sure. “Sure, there might be backlash from some, but most of them have followed you for long enough to know that it doesn’t matter. They trust you with their lives, Arthur, with the future. Not because of where you come from, but because of who you are. You have proven time and time again that you are willing to lay down your life for the cause just the same as the others, that you will sacrifice everything you have to give for a better world if you must, that you will not hesitate to go through hell to get us there. They don’t doubt your loyalty to them or to the world we’re trying to create, and it won’t change with this truth. They follow you because you are a thoughtful and caring leader, no matter the circumstances of your birth; the only thing that binds you to Uther is your blood and your name. They know that, just as well as I do,” he says. He’s grinning now, the edges of anger only a drop left simmering in his stomach. “You are the rightful heir to the throne, but more importantly, you are their chosen leader, and they will follow you because they choose to do so. Trust them like they trust you.” Merlin holds Arthur’s gaze with steady eyes, and he wonders if the fire he feels in his chest is as clear to Arthur as it is to Merlin. “It matters where you come from only because the world deserves to know that even the son of Uther Pendragon will not tolerate his tyranny or bow beneath him.”

Arthur swallows again. “I don’t know if I can do it.” He looks at Merlin, conflicted and uncertain and scared. But Merlin can see that he’s made up his mind, probably long before Merlin told him to. Perhaps he just isn’t ready to face it alone.

“I’ll be there every step of the way.”

Arthur’s smile is tentative and grateful.

“Thank you, Merlin.”

There’s a beat of silence where all they do is smile at each other, and then Arthur closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, flexing his broken fingers. When he opens his eyes again, the fight and the purpose that had first pulled Merlin in shines with the brightness of a hundred suns and Merlin grins so widely his cheeks hurt.

“So, how do we get out of here?”

Metal scraping against metal catches their attention as something slides underneath the door. The brass object on the floor is flat, thin, and round and they both look down at the coin, hundreds of years old and completely useless in a world where physical currency hasn’t existed for well over a century. They only know one person who still carries those around.

They turn to grin at each other.

“Gwaine.”

#merlin #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #merlin & arthur #merlin fanfiction #merlin fanfic #cyberpunk au #dystopian au #arthur pendragon #nox writes #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #hurt and comfort #angst #merthur

[buckybarnesbabydoll]

Lost and Found: Chapter 2

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader

Warning(s): none <3

Word count: 2,000+

Summary: You teach the Mandalorian how to ride a blurrg, and you have a strange dream after he's gone...

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 3

Note(s): i hope you guys enjoy this next part! i'm new to writing fanfics so pls go easy on me <3 I might try to make this a little bit of a slow burn fic too, also this part is now posted on my ao3!

The following day, you stood behind the ropes of the circle where you tame blurrgs. The Mandalorian has been trying to ride the same blurrg that attacked him the day before. He’s been trying since early morning and judging by the placement of the sun, as well as his groans in frustration, he hasn’t made a lot of progress. Kuiil was watching from inside the tent for a little bit, before leaving the rest to you so he could work on another one of his projects. You had your hood pulled over your head to keep the sun from beating down on you, leaning on one of the poles while you watched this hopeless lesson.

One arm resting on the wooden cylinder, while the other absentmindedly fiddled with the necklace you had on. It was a simple leather rope that was wrapped around a crystal. You found it interesting how that crystal became your favorite color, or perhaps your favorite color was because of the crystal. The only thing you knew about it was that you’ve had it since you were a baby, never being away from it. Even taking it off for a second made you feel vulnerable. At this point it was a part of you, the only thing binding you to your past, which was still muddled in smoke and mirrors.

Hearing the blurrg squawk and growl brought you back to the mess in front of you. You tried teaching the Mandalorian the same way Kuiil showed you how to ride, but now you’re learning that maybe everyone learns a little differently… It wasn’t that he wasn’t able to mount the creature, it’s that it wouldn’t let him stay on. Throwing him off at any attempt or scurrying away to different parts of the circle, it’s been a bit of a goose chase to watch. You couldn’t blame it though, he did try to burn it alive, or so that’s what Kuiil told you when he found the Mandalorian. But you had to admit, seeing a Mandalorian, who were revered for their strength in battle, get thrown around like a ragdoll was a little funny.

After getting bucked off into the dirt for the umpteenth time that day, the armored man exclaimed a ‘Dank Farrik!’ and stood up. Almost stomping towards you in a fed-up cadence with his arms swinging from irritation. You could almost perfectly imagine his expression underneath that helmet.

“Alright, this isn’t working. Do you have a speeder bike or anything else I can use to get there? I’ll pay you,” the modulation didn’t hide any of his feelings either, you bit your lip to keep from chuckling at his suffering.

“Sorry, we don’t have anything like that,” you swore he rolled his eyes under that helmet, unable to believe there wasn’t any other form of transportation besides those oversized land piranhas. “Perhaps try approaching it more… gently.” The silver helmet looked at you again, a brief silence before repeating you.

“Gently?” There was a slightly incredulous tone to the question. He’s been trying almost every method all morning, sowhywasn’tanythingworking.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “your methods are too blunt for it. It’s scared,” you gestured to the blurrg that was pacing on the other side of the circle.

“Scared of what? It attacked me,” you shrugged in response, looking at the distorted reflection of yourself on the beskar.

“At least try and approach more passively.” He sighed, deciding it wouldn’t hurt to try it your way. It was something different after trying forever. The Mandalorian moved closer to the blurrg, holding up his hands with his palms facing towards the creature. The blurrg started to act anxious again, watching his movements. But he gently shushed the creature, displaying his body language as less threatening as he scooted closer.

As the blurrg seemed to further relax, he quickly grabbed the reins and got up on its back again. You held your breath as you watched him climb up, and as the moments passed the creature seemed to start walking around like normal again. You cheered a little bit, since this was the first time you’ve taught someone how to ride a blurrg, you weren’t exactly sure how it was going to turn out. Fortunately, your first (and hopefully, last) attempt at teaching was a success. Thankfully, he didn’t die!

“Alright! Now let’s get you to your bounty!”

After the success of the Mandalorian learning how to ride a blurrg, you promptly hopped on yours to guide the way, where his bounty was waiting for him. You rode through the desert planet, hopping over fissures in the ground and riding across large swaths of cracked mud. You found it sort of fascinating how the cracks sometimes appeared hexagonal, how something so monotonous could be interesting to you, you’d never know. Again, it was hard to find a lot interesting on this desert planet. Your mind drifted off to different places on your ride there since the bounty hunter you were guiding was a man of few words. Well, at least when he wasn’t frustrated. You didn’t know a whole lot about Mandalorians, but you were sure you’d probably never know since he’s most likely going to die trying to get his bounty. They always did.

You rode up to the location of the Mandalorian’s bounty, the spot used to be a small town where you would visit and play in the fountain in the middle. Once a month there used to be different festivals for the various alien cultures that lived there filled with music and life. You’d walk around to the colorful vendors full of tasty food and pretty trinkets, always asking Kuiil for something from them. You didn’t have a whole lot, so those days he would always spoil you sick with anything you wanted. The resurfaced memory is fuzzy and warm, but things have changed now since it was taken over by raiders and pirates. It was never the same and it hurt to see something that special be ruined so quickly.

“This is it, whatever you’re looking for, it’s in there,” you tilted your head in the direction of the town. Or at least what was left of it. The Mandalorian took out his fob, holding it in the direction of the abandoned town. The quiet beeping increased over the ride to the spot, showing you had taken him to the right place.

“Thank you,” he said, nodding to you. You glanced over and noticed he was handing out a small pouch to you, but you shook your head in rejection. “Please, you’ve helped me a lot.” He reinforced the statement by urging the pouch your way again. The offer was nice, you’ve never encountered a bounty hunter quite like this one.

“That’s kind of you, but the only payment I need is seeing this area cleaned out of them,” you looked back at the territory a little solemnly. “Things… haven’t been the same since they arrived, but no one has managed to get rid of them yet.”

“...Then why help me?” He folded one hand over his wrist, holding the reins in the lower hand. It made sense why you were so patient to help him out, perhaps this place meant more to you than he knew. You paused to consider your answer.

“I’ve never met a Mandalorian, I’ve only lived here my entire life so all I know is the stories my father told me,” you mused, “if they’re correct, then this shouldn’t be too hard for you.” You start turning the blurrg before pausing, a hint of amusement on your face, “Not to mention, it was fun seeing you get bullied by that blurrg. Good luck!” You giggled to yourself, riding away as he shook his head. His face was definitely burning just a little bit from the memory of that display.

You took your time riding back, the Mandalorian still on your mind. Even though you got a ways away, the sound of blasters being shot reached you. Taking a minute to listen, it took a little bit before it went quiet again. That’s how it usually was, you’d bring them to the quarry, they would go off and get in a shootout, and you’d never see them again. You sighed, shaking your head. You wanted to have hope for the Mandalorian, but hopefulness won’t keep him from getting killed by a blaster shot.

“Well, at least now I know I can teach the next one how to ride a blurrg,” you shrugged to yourself, riding off back home. As you rode away into the desert, in the dust of an ended firefight the Mandalorian stood, gazing down at a small, green child in a floating pram. A child that would change both of your lives.

You arrived back home a little before nightfall, leading your blurrg back into her area before closing it off again. You pulled your hood off and sighed as the cool air drifted through your hair, the cool breeze felt nice on your scalp. Kuiil walked over to the entrance of the tent, holding two containers of water in his hand.

“Do you think this is the one?” You glanced over at your adoptive father, taking a drink he offers to you.

“I am not sure, we will find out in a few days,” he tilted his head to the side in uncertainty. “Do you think this is the one?” You shrugged at the question, taking a swig from the container. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him to make it, but with no one else making it back it was kind of hard to think anything else except that. “I’d like to think so. It would be cool to say I know a Mandalorian that didn’t immediately die after meeting him,” the Ugnaught snorted at your reasoning. “And… I don’t know, he just seems.. different. I don’t know if I can explain it.” Perhaps it was the slowly increasing need for change in your life, but you knew what you felt.

At least that’s what you thought.

The rest of the evening passed by without anything else eventful happening, but before you went to sleep you found yourself still wondering what happened to the Mandalorian. Perhaps he was dead, but oh well. You’d get your answer in a few days. Accepting the fate of your brief acquaintance, you let your eyes close and peacefully drifted off to sleep. You dreamt of the desert, the imagery moving over the sand to the location of the small town you used to frequent as a child. However, it wasn’t the nostalgic memory you were used to, it simply showed the current state of the town. But the movement didn’t stop there, you were slowly guided through the town, the echoes of laughter and cheer, of your childhood, bounced around until you entered the main building.

It was dark inside, the only source of light was the sun pouring in from the windows and entrances. Your heart wanted to wander around, to relive those fond memories. Relive moments when you weren’t worried about bounty hunters or mercenaries coming through your home and making you feel a little more on edge. But something drew you away from those thoughts. There was the slight tugging in the back of your mind, almost like a small string pulling you in a different direction until you saw what could be the source. You apprehensively approach a white, spherical floating object. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought it was a baby pram. Until it popped open, showing two green ears poking out from underneath.

You tilted your head in wonder, seeing something small start to peek out from underneath the blanket it was in. But you couldn’t get a good look at it, the face was blurred for some reason. It all felt… foggy. Despite the low visibility, you felt your hand lift a little to hold your finger out towards the small thing, wiggling it a little bit. It reached out a three-clawed hand at you, right as its hand wrapped around your finger, you woke up.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #mando #mandalorian #pedro pascal #the child #baby yoda #grogu #star wars #mando x reader #the force #fanfiction #fanfic #slow burn #the mandalorian x jedi! reader

[lovely-yandere-imagines]

Flowers of My Affection

Hey Lovelies, so I recently opened up my commission and this fanfic is the first one i got! It’s a lovely Yandere!Giorno x reader fic yay! If you’d like to commission me you can find the link right here or in my bio!

Notes: 18+ ONLY! This character has been aged up as are all the characters I write for, I set this a few years after the events of part 5 where Giorno is now the new Don of Passione and a few of our other boys make small appearances.

Pairing: Yandere!Giorno Giovanna x Reader

Warnings: slight violence, slight public embarrassment, unhealthy relationships, implied dub-con, nsfw, objectification, Giorno is delusional and wraps reader in vines.

Word count: 1,400

Description: Giorno’s darling runs away early in the morning and the golden boy has to chase them down, when he catches them he punishes them by turning his object of affection into a living vase!

You had to get away from him, his overbearingness, his “affection”, his obsession with you, his possessiveness. You had to get away from your captor, Don Giorno Giovanna. You had to run, as quick as you could, he had finally made a mistake and there was no looking back now. Everything happened so fast, you remember him unlocking the door that morning to bring you breakfast and as hard as you could you socked him in the face and quickly slipped by him, no hesitation needed but you had to be quick cause he was gaining on you and quick. You could hear him calmly calling after you as he ran after you. 

If someone didn't know you had been kidnapped they would have thought you two to be a couple in the middle of a breakup. You ran right then left, you didn’t know where you were but you tried your best to read the street signs as Italian didn’t come to you as easily as English but you could make up some words. ‘I need to find a telephone or a police officer’ when suddenly you hear him rounding a corner and calling after you this time sounding more frantic than before, “Darling! Please, don’t run from me, it won't end well.” No time to look for a phone and then you saw him, oh thank god, a cop, you ran to him screaming for help and practically flinging yourself into his arms.

As the unknown policeman catches you you’re met with cold golden eyes and purple lipstick, he seems familiar to you, like you've seen his face before “What's the meaning of this!” he interrogates you angrily, and before you can say anything you hear the cooled voice of Giorno behind you that makes a shiver run up your spine.

“Sorry officer, me and my Tesoro had a bit of an argument and she ran away from me.” The two continue to speak in Italian and you’re only able to catch bits and phrases from the conversation and then you finally hear the officer address you. “Well, Y/N, it looks like I caught you just at the right time, you shouldn’t run off on this side of town late at night, you never know who you’ll run into.” wait, how did he know your name you think to yourself but before you can question him you feel Giorno firmly grab onto your arm.

“Thank you, Officer, I’ll make sure my flower doesn’t run off again.” he shoots you a look and you swallow the lump that's formed in your throat, just before he dragged you back to your cage you see Giorno slip the office some cash and he smiles back at him. Neither you nor Giorno spoke a word as you walked back to the mansion, all the while he still had his vice of a grip on your arm. Once you both get back to your shared room Giorno angrily shoves you into the room, his usually calm demeanor is now gone and you can see that he’s visibly shaking.

“You know you could have told me if you were lonely, Fiore. I could have kept you company, I know I'm a busy man but I would have shown you all of my love.” you try to speak but he cuts you off “But now you’ve lashed out and ran away like a child and made me the bad guy for what I'm about to do to you, you need to be punished...” Suddenly you feel a vine quickly bind your arms behind you back and cover your mouth when you begin to beg for forgiveness. 

“No..no more talking, I’ve heard enough of your excuses.” He grabs you tenderly but the chin and kisses your forehead, he lowers himself till your eye level and gives you a delirious grin, you can help but feel your stomach churn at the way he stares at the nightgown he pick out for you earlier that night, a silky pink vintage dress with a rose in the middle where you neckline was. His eyes linger there for a moment and suddenly he rips it off of you with ease. 

“It’s a shame I had to ruin this but if you're a good pet I might replace it for you..” He rubs the delicate fabric between his fingers before tossing it to the ground then looking back up at you with love in his eyes he likes what he sees before him. His beautiful flower a naked as the day they were born and his eyes light up suddenly like he just got a great idea. 

“You know, flower, you have a beautiful figure, it's almost like I'm staring at Aphrodite in the flesh, so beautiful…” he trails off lost in thought and then looks you right in the eyes, “You’d make a very beautiful vase for my office…” Your stomach sinks but then you feel vines covering your body, soft tendrils cover your most delicate areas and you can see various flowers blooming off them. Giorno then begins to rearrange them to his liking till you're covered and can barely move, feet and hand still bend and your mouth still covers with small cherry blossoms tickling your nose.

Giorno gently picks you up and carries you to his office, careful to not damage any of the flowers or vines. He passes by a few of his underlings and you try to hide your face unsuccessfully, you can hear them gossiping about and you one laugh and is brave enough to address Giorno, “Hey boss, I like your new flower pot, know anywhere where I can get one?” another one replies “Mista leave him alone, can’t you see he's pissed right now!” 

Giorno says nothing and just keeps waking, you wish he’d say something soon, he’s starting to scare you more than usual. Finally, he makes it to his office and places you behind his desk. “There, now you won't be lonely while I'm at work and everyone will be able to see my beautiful muse” He strokes your face no longer looking at you as a person but as his possession. He hears your stomach growl and remembers that you hadn’t eaten that morning. “Oh dear, it seems I’ve forgotten to feed you. I’ll be right back, flower.”

Several moments pass and then Giorno comes back with a plate and a glass of water and gently moves the vines from your lips, “I hope you’re still hungry, here open up.” He then stares to spoon feed you and give you little sips of water in between. It’s moments like this that you’re thankful for when he's not threatening to kill your whole family or the random stranger that looked at you too long and he’s hand isn't lingering on your thigh longingly, the moments when he’s gentle and caring. Then you get an idea, you two have never made love before but maybe if you gave yourself to him he’d unbind you..it was worth a shot, wasn’t it?

When you’ve finished all your food Giorno goes to put the vines back when you finally decide to speak up, “Giorno! Darling... I’ve been thinking…” He stops and stares at you waiting for you to continue, “I-i was thinking...that maybe..we could be us..intimate.” He blushes slightly at the idea and brushes your hair behind your ear, you can tell he’s lost in thought so you interrupt “I mean..w-we could make love, right here, right now if you unbind me.” you can see him hesitate and then he starts to put the vines back over your mouth, and not even thinking you quickly spit out “I’ll be yours! And only yours! I won't let anyone else have me, you’re my everything Giorno, please!”

He stops and you don’t know what you’re expecting to be honest but when he smiles you can tell it's genuine, “Oh, il Mio Amore, that’s all I’ve ever wanted was for you to love me back, I'm so happy.” He removes all of the vines from you and quickly picks you up bridal style and begins to carry you back to your shared room stopping for a moment and calling out to someone “Fugo, cancel all my appointments for the day, Amore and I are going to have some alone time.” and with that, you’ve sealed your fate, he’s never going to let you go now.

#giorno giovanna #giorno x reader #yandere #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #yandere!giorno #nsfw? #yandere x reader #yandere jjba #golden wind #commission #jjba fanfic

[fanfics4all]

Should Have Been Me

Request: Yes / No  (I'm sorry to bother again but I just love your fics so much) could I request another but harry has a twin sister who is a hufflepuff but no one really knows about her she's practically Harry's shadow she was selected in the goblet of fire along with her boyfriend (Cedric) to some attention but doesn't work so when they to the cemetery before Peter kills Cedric she takes the hit know others will miss him more than her and he brings back her body Harry gets devastated for losing his sister @kiss-cult​

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Cedric Diggory x Fem!Potter!Reader 

Word count: 2643

Warnings: death and that should be it 

Y/N: Your Name 

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you! 

Masterlist 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

When I first got sorted I was a little upset that I wasn’t in the same house as my brother. Harry was placed in Gryffindor and I was placed in Hufflepuff. Being new to the wizarding world I was kind of scared and nervous. Luckily an older student named Cedric helped me a lot. We became close and Cedric ended up asking me out. I of course said yes and Harry wasn’t happy about it at first. He’s always been the over protective brother, but once he saw how incredibly happy I was he accepted it. 

It was the beginning of fourth year and I was sitting in the Great Hall next to Cedric. We may have seen each other over the summer recently, but it wasn’t enough. 

“Now we’re all settled in and sorted, I’d like to make an announcement. This castle will not only be your home this year, but home to some very special guests as well. You see Hogwarts had been chosen-” Dumbledore cut himself off as Filch ran up to him. He whispered something to him and ran off again. 

“So Hogwarts has been chosen to host a legendary event. The Tri-Wizard Tournament.” He said and people started whispering. I furrowed my brow confused about what was going on. 

“Now for those of you who do not know, the Tri-Wizard Tournament brings together three schools for a series of magical contests. From each school a single contestant is selected to compete. Now let me be clear, if chosen you stand alone. And trust me when I say these contests are not for the faint hearted, but more on that later. For now please join me in welcoming the lovely ladies of the Beauxbatons Academy of magic and their headmistress Madam Maxime.” Dumbledore said. The doors opened and a group of very pretty girls dressed in blue danced their ways up the aisle. Butterflies flew into the air and just about every boy was staring at them. They bowed and everyone applauded. 

“And now our friends from the north, please greet the proud sons of Durmstrand and the high master Igor Karkaroff.” Dumbledore said. The doors opened again and some older looking boys walked up the aisles holding bo staffs. They were twirling them around and something slamming into the ground, making sparks fly. The girls were staring in awe, well I wasn't, I didn’t much care for them honestly. Once everyone was settled the feast started. 

Once it was finished Dumbledore gained everyone’s attention again for another announcement. 

“Your attention please! I would like to say a few words. Eternal glory, that is what awaits the student who wins the Tri-Wizard Tournament. But to do this that student must survive three tasks. Three extremely dangerous tasks. For this reason the Ministry has seen fit to impose a new rule. To explain all this we have the head of the Department of International Magic Cooperation, Mister Bartimus Crouch.” He said. Thunder roared above us and it started to rain. Students screamed as they started getting wet. Someone casted a spell at the ceiling and everyone was back to normal. 

“Who is that?” I asked Cedric.

“Mad-Eye Moody. He used to be an Aura.” He explained and I nodded. 

“Why is he called Mad-Eye?” I asked. 

“Well, he lost his eye and leg during the war and he honestly his job just made him lose it.” He said and I frowned. 

“How sad.” I said. 

“After much deliberation the Ministry has concluded that for their own safety no student under the age of seventeen shall be allowed to put forth their name for the Tri-Wizard Tournament. This decision is final.” Mr. Crouch said and a bunch of students started booing. 

“Silence!” Dumbledore shouted and everyone quieted down. Dumbledore casted a spell over a box and it revealed a goblet containing a blue flame. 

“The goblet of fire. Anyone wishing to submit themselves for the tournament merely write their name upon a piece of parchment and throw it into the flame before this house on Thursday night. Do not do so lightly, if chosen there’s no turning back. As from this moment the Tri-Wizard Tournament has begun!” Dumbledore explained. 

The whole week Cedric was talking about wanting to put his name in. I was worried about him doing so, but I couldn’t stop him if he really wanted to. Luckily he came to me before he made his final decision. 

“Well, what do you think?” He asked and I sighed. 

“Honestly? I think it’s too dangerous, maybe it’s because this is still kind of new to me but still, it’s really up to you.” I said. 

“Do you not want me to?” He asked and I bit my lip. 

“I just don’t want to see you die.” I said and he smiled. 

“Don’t worry love, I promise I’ll come back to you.” He said and kissed me. 

“You better.” I giggled. He quickly wrote his name down and grabbed my hand. He led me through the halls and to the goblet. He ran up and placed his name into the fire. That was it, there was no going back. 

The rest of the week I was so anxious. I wasn’t going to be better until they picked names. I could only hope that Cedric wasn’t picked. Thursday came soon enough and we were all gathered in the goblet room. 

“Sit down please! And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for, the champions selection!” Dumbledore said as everyone was taking their seats. Dumbledore approached the blue flame and it started glowing red. A name flew out and I felt my heart rate picked up. 

“The Durmstrang champion is, Viktor Krum!” Dumbledore shouted. People cheered as another name came out. 

“The champion from Beauxbatons, Fleur Delacour!” He shouted. Peopled cheered as the last name came out. 

“The Hogwarts champion, Cedric Diggory!” He announced and my heart clenched. Cedric smiled as he ran up to the front. He grabbed his name and ran into the room with the others. 

“Excellent! We now have our three champions! But in the end only one will go down in history. Only one will hoist this chalice on champions, this vessel of victory the Tri-Wizard cup!” He said. Everyone cheered, but the goblet started glowing red again. Another name flew out and Dumbledore silently reads it. 

“Y/N Potter. Y/N Potter?” He called and my eyes widened. I looked over at Harry, who looked just as shocked. 

“Y/N Potter!” He shouted again and I slowly got up. I walked up to him and took my name from his hands. 

“She’s a cheat! She’s not even seventeen yet!” a few people shouted. 

“She got Cedric to put her name in!” Someone else said, but I ignored them and walked into the room with the others. Everyone looked at me with a mix of shock and confusion. 

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Cedric asked. 

“I-I don’t know. My-” I was cut off by the teachers bursting into the room. Dumbledore grabbed me and my eyes widened. 

“Y/N! Did you put your name in the goblet of fire?” He asked. 

“No sir!” I answered. 

“Did you ask one of the older students to do it for you?” He asked. 

“No sir!” I said. 

“You’re absolutely sure?” He asked. 

“Yes sir.” I answered. 

“Well of course she is lying!” Madame Maxime said. 

“The hell she is. The goblet of fire is an exceptionally powerful magical object, only an exceptionally powerful conjurer could have hoodwinked it. Magic way beyond the talents of a fourth year.” Mad-Eye said. 

“You seem to have given this a fair bit of thought Mad-Eye.” Igor said. 

“It was once my job to think as dark wizards do Karkaroff, perhaps you remember?” He said. 

“That doesn’t help Alastor. Leave this to you Barty.” Dumbledore said. 

“The rules are absolute, the goblet of fire constitutes a binding magical contract. Mrs. Potter has no choice, she is as of tonight… a Tri-Wizard champion.” He said and my eyes widened. Cedric and I went back to the common room and everyone was giving me a nasty glare. 

“Ignore them.” Cedric whispered and took me to my room. 

“Did you actually put your name in?” He asked. 

“No! I’ve been so terrified for you, I would never even think about putting my name in!” I said and he nodded. 

“Alright, I believe you. I just had to ask.” He said. 

“I don’t want to do this Ced.” I said. 

“I know, but you have to, love.” He said and kissed my head. 

The first two trials weren’t the easiest. Cedric had helped me prepare, but I was alone in this. I had managed to survive until the last challenge. Everyone was gathered outside at an arena and music was playing like nothing bad was about to happen. The champions walked out, along with myself. My nerves were at an all time high. 

“Earlier today Professor Moody placed the Tir-Wizard cup deep within the maze. Only he knows its exact position. Now as Mr. Diggory-” Dumbledore was cut off by people cheering. 

“And Mrs. Potter tied for first position they will be the first to enter the maze. Followed by Mr. Krum and Mrs. Delacour. The first person to touch the cup will be the winner. I’ve instructed the staff to patrol the perimeter, if at any point should a contestant wish to withdraw from the task he or she need only send up red sparks with their wands. Contestants, gather round.” He said and we all walked over to him. 

“In the maze you’ll find not dragons or creatures of the deep. Instead you’ll face something more challenging. You see, people change in the maze. Oh find the cup if you can, but be very weary you could just lose yours;ves along the way.” He said and I became more nervous. 

“Champions! Prepare yourselves!” Mad-Eye said. Cedric hugged his Father and I hugged Harry. 

“Be safe.” He said and I nodded while I bit my lip. 

“I’m scared Harry.” I whispered. 

“Hey, you can do this.” He said with a reassuring smile. 

“Harry’s right, you’re strong.” Cedric said coming over to us. 

“I’m so scared.” I said. 

“Hey, you got this, love. You can win this.” He said and I smiled slightly. 

“Don’t go easy on me, Ced.” I said and he smiled. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He said and pecked my lips. Harry went up went up to the stands while Cedric and I went to out starting spots. 

“On the count of three… One-” Dumbledore was cut off by the cannon going off. Cedric and I entered the maze and I watched the walls close behind me. 

As I was walking through everything was making me anxious. There was a heavy mist and there were noises all around me. While I was walking I noticed Fleur was on the ground unconscious. She was slowly being swallowed by the walls and I started panicking slightly. I shot up the red sparks and hoped that someone would save her. I kept walked through the maze and noticed something shining in the distance. I started towards it and someone tried to hit me with a spell. 

“Get down!” Cedric shouted and I ducked. Cedric hit him with a spell and ran up to him, kicking the wand from his hands. He pointed his wand at Viktor’s body and my eyes widened. 

“No stop! He’s bewitched Ced!” I said. Cedric wasn’t himself. The two of us started to struggle. 

“Get off me!” He growled.

“He’s bewitched!” I said again. He pushed me off him and the two of us started running towards the cup. The undergrowth grabbed Cedric and he fell to the ground. I looked at Cedric and I froze in fear. 

“Y/N!” He called. I quickly gained the courage and sent a spell to the plant that held him. I helped Cedric up and he looked at me. 

“You know, for a moment there I thought you were gonna let it get me.” He said. 

“Never, I was just scared.” I said. 

“Some game huh?” He asked. 

“Yeah…” I said with a sigh. The wind started to blow and Cedric pushed me towards the cup. 

“Go! Take it, you saved me!” He said and I shook my head. 

“Together, on three. One, two, three!” I said. We both ran towards the cup and grabbed it at the same time. The cup ported us somewhere and we landed on the ground. 

“You okay?” He asked. 

“I think so, are you?” I asked and he nodded. 

“Where are we?” He asked. I looked around and noticed we were in a graveyard, it looked just like the one Harry and I have been dreaming of… 

“I’ve been here before…” I whispered. 

“It’s a portkey. Y/N, the cup is a portkey!” Cedric said. 

“I’ve been here before in a dream. Cedric, we need to get back to the cup, now!” I said. 

“What are you talking about?” He asked, grabbing me by the shoulders. I felt a sudden pain in my head and I groaned in pain as I held my scar. 

“What is it?” Cedric asked, his voice filled with concern. 

“Get back to the cup, please!” I begged. Wormtail walked out holding what I could only assume is what’s left of Voldemort. 

“Who are you? What do you want?” Cedric asked, getting ready to protect me. 

“Kill the spare.” I heard Voldemort’s voice said. 

“No!” I shouted before he could cast the spell. I jumped in front of Cedric and the spell hit me. 

Cedric’s POV

Y/N was dead. She took the curse that was meant for me. She sacrificed herself for me. 

“You idiot!” The creepy voice hissed. The man who was holding something walked closer and he trapped me with a tombstone. 

“Do it quickly.” The voice said and the man dropped something into a cauldron. 

“Bones of a Father, unwillingly given.” He said. A bone hovered over to the cauldron and was dropped in. 

“Flesh of the servant willingly sacrificed.” He said and cut his own arm off over the cauldron. 

“Blood of the enemy forcibly taken.” He said and walked over to Y/N.

“Leave her alone!” I growled at him, but he ignored me. He took the knife and sliced down her arm. He quickly took the knife back over to the cauldron and let the drops fall in. 

“The Dark Lord shall rise again!” He said. The cauldron burst into flames and Voldemort emerged. 

“My wand Wormtail.” He said. My eyes widened. He was back. He looked back at me with a smirk and then over at Y/N.

“Such a shame.” He said looking at her. 

“The only reason you are still alive is so you can return her to Harry Potter. Tell him I have returned and I will win.” He said and I was freed. I ran over to Y/N and grabbed the cup. We were transported back to the arena and everyone was cheering. 

“Y/N?” I heard Harry asked, and I just cried. Harry ran over and kneeled next to his sister. 

“What happened?” He asked with tears falling down his face. 

“He’s back! Voldemort is back. It was meant for me, I was meant to die. She jumped in front of me and took it.” I tried. 

“This is your fault! You killed her!” Harry cried and clung to his sister. 

“I-I…” I couldn’t say anything. I felt like it was my fault. I should have been the one protecting her, not the other way around. 

“I’m sorry Harry.” I cried. 

“Sorry won’t bring back my sister!” He shouted. He was right. Y/N was gone and it’s all my fault… 

Tag list: @les-bio-lie​ @tashy-bear​ @ashwarren32​ @hollie-blogs​ @schisbro87​ @lover-of-books-and-teas​ @nerdygaloresposts​ @teenwolfbitches2​ @genius2050​ @drw0301bieber​ @lady-of-lies​ @ravenmoore14​ @ravenempress101​ @cillianchamp​ @rowanthomasknapp​ @in-slytherin-we-trust​ @accio-rogers​ @sambucky8​ 

#harry potter imagine #harry potter and the goblet of fire #cedric diggory #cedric x fem!reader #cedric diggory x fem!reader #harry potter x sister!reader #cedric x potter!reader #cedric diggory x potter!reader #fanfic #request #hufflepuff #hufflepuff!reader #cedric x hufflepuff!reader #harry potter x hufflepuff!reader

[curiosity-killed]

Hi....If you don't mind me asking, who are your favorite MXTX characters (top 5 from each novel)? And why? I'm sorry if you've answered this question before.

Aw of course I don’t mind! Though I feel like my answer is going to be a disaster bc I love these casts so so much aha let’s see:

✨ SPOILERS AHEAD ✨

MDZS/CQL

1. Wei Wuxian

Ah so I feel like this is obvious based on the sheer quantity of things I produce and the effort I put into hurting him 😅 but yeah! I love how much of a classical tragic hero he is and I love how much love he has and how that gets twisted around and shaped into a collar of spikes around his own neck. I saw gif sets of wwx before I ever knew about CQL and my reaction was “fuck. I’m going to love him” and I do! And I love that he does learn from his past and I love most of all that he learns to accept the love he is given and is able to make a happy ending in a place of being loved and held in respect and appreciation

2. Wen Qing

On the other hand, I did not expect to be like “mine now” with Wen Qing. Don’t get me wrong, the sexy immortal look got me but it wasn’t really till I started writing fic that I was like ohhhhh Oh Boy. Wen Qing is brilliant and ruthless, fiercely loving and aloof and cold. I love that she gets the lose-lose challenge of balancing what is right for her family vs what is right in the world, what she owes to her sect and what she owes to individuals. The golden core transfer is my favorite dubious science experiment in p much all media I’ve consumed. She gets to be so human—prickly and tough and also achingly gentle and afraid and putting on a tough face and sometimes still crying. “I’m sorry and thank you” ! Im!!

3. Jiang Yanli

The first fic I wrote for this fandom was literally “Jiang Yanli died no she didn’t” lmao I do feel like I underserve Jiang Yanli in that I often fall prey to using her to further the complexity that the male characters are permitted while denying her the chance to be given the same space for development and breath — something to work on! But in that, I really genuinely love how tightly she binds herself to her family and how she tries so hard to be what others need her to be—and then she does make a choice for herself and for a single moment at least, she gets to be loved and to be happy and to have this, a husband and a son and a place, for herself. And terribly I love how much she permeates the story still after death. She is the unspoken voice, the face turned from the camera but always still present, carried in the hearts and names and memories of the ones left behind

She deserved better but—I am weak for the tragedy of it all

4. Jiang Cheng

Another surprise (tho hardly surprising in hindsight): Jiang Cheng is just...horribly understandable. He makes terrible choices and his greatest heroism is undone by a choice made for him or, in the case of “killing the Yiling Laozu” is a lie. He is such a youngest sibling who doesn’t want to be the youngest until all at once, he’s the one in charge and he doesn’t want it at all. He is full of anger and hurt and so much love he doesn’t know what to do with it, doesn’t want it anymore, has no place to put all of its terrible, overwhelming flood.

5. Lan Wangji

I almost didn’t put Lan Wangji or Jiang Cheng on here and then I realized that this is sort of a list of characters I’m pickiest about in fic and...yeah. I think what I love best about Lan Wangji is his journey of grief and healing and through that, his decision to step into world. Where Wei Wuxian’s decision to travel and be removed from the cultivation world (in varying degrees depending on your headcanon preference lol) is really, really important to me, Lan Wangji’s decision to go from being an isolated lone agent working apart from the systems of the world to being involved and invested in changing those systems and working to make them better is also really important to me. I’ve talked before about how relatable Lan Wangji is to me (esp with regards to our interaction with the outer world) and there is something deeply hopeful and comforting about post-timeskip Lan Wangji being in his like mid-/late-30s and still making decisions and growing and changing and choosing to invest himself in the world and the future

yeah. i have thoughts here that I don’t really have the maturity, life experience, or articulation to put into words but Lan Zhan Good basically

TGCF

1. Xie Lian

suuuurpriiiiise!! Yeah honestly mxtx’s mains in TGCF and MDZS really just hit all my buttons basically. What appeals to me most of all about Xie Lian is, fittingly, how he is humanity taken to extremes. His capacity for incredible kindness and compassion is equaled with his capacity for cruelness and ruthlessness. His heaven-shaking highs are matched with calamitous lows. He is the hyperbolic of what it is to be human—and he is also the small moments, the wildflowers and the maple leaves and the mundane chores and the comfort of whispered conversations late into the night. I could quite literally go on for pages about what I love about Xie Lian but I am not Hua Cheng and can restrain myself LMAO

2. Hua Cheng

of all the characters on these lists, Hua Cheng is the one I’m pickiest about tbh! When I say I love him for similar reasons as Xie Lian I don’t actually mean this as being similarities between the two but the fact that both of them so richly convey mxtx’s points about the nature of humanity and what it is to be human. Hua Cheng is both the boldest and most arrogant of all and also the most vulnerable, the one who shies away from the truth because he’s braced for it to hurt and isn’t sure he can take it. He is gory blood rain and an umbrella to shelter a fragile bloom; he is a blade whose wounds only heal if he permits it and he is a sacrifice that he brushes aside as a fit of madness. *pats his head* this boy can fit SO MUCH inside him that he refuses to acknowledge

3. Jun Wu

Definitely my favorite antagonist in recent reading. I was doubtful of him from the start (something something issues with authority something something probably should talk to my theoretical future therapist shhh) but the unfolding of his reveal was so delightfully painful and exquisite that I was like “YES!!!” reading all of it. About the epitome of a satisfying plot twist imo. But about the character himself, I love how he parallels so many — Xie Lian in his rise and fall, his glory and disgrace; Hua Cheng in his fixation and ruthlessness; He Xuan in losing himself to the plot and not knowing how to move forward. I love that he feels beyond human in a way the others don’t—he’s so old and has gone through so much and he doesn’t feel things the way humans do anymore, doesn’t remember right how love squeezes the heart or how hate can exist without acting on it. I love that he thinks he knows how to control everyone and that it’s such mundane things that fool him: Xie Lian’s absurd stubbornness, Hua Cheng’s foolish faith, Yin Yu’s...emotional maturity??? Not Sure how to verbalize that one. But in the end, he is defeated by both the humanity of others and by his own—he’s so tired. He’s exhausted in a way that gods and ghosts aren’t meant to be. He is, under the armor and the masks, the curses and the power, human—benevolent and cruel, evil and good.

4. He Xuan

I love my fish man! No but really I love how He Xuan is so fixed on his one goal that he refuses to acknowledge anything else in his (after)life—which doesn’t make it go away. I love that he is left unmoored, purposeless through the very act of completing that which gives him purpose. I love his long con and the ways he clings to himself but loses himself not in the act but in the telling himself it’s an act. I love that he tries to be a moral man and then becomes a ghost king, a calamity. His reveal is also terribly badass and I do love his bone fish wholly unironically. Like I’m not going to get a He Xuan tattoo (for one thing I’ve been meaning to get a tattoo for 5 years and still haven’t gotten around to it) but also. B o n e f i s h

5. Mu Qing

Of course! The Jiang Cheng of tgcf lol Mu Qing (which my phone desperately wants to autocorrect to my Qing) is so...gah he’s such a mess! And he so fully commits to the belief that no one will ever see and understand him as he is but will always view them through their own convictions about him and his actions — which is simultaneously heartbreakingly lonely and also. Sir You Are a Clown. I genuinely think he’s owed apologies from both Feng Xin and Xie Lian for their treatment and assumptions of him and think that he would be HORRIBLY offended at the thought (while secretly touched? But like secretly even to himself). He will never explain himself and will just clam up tighter the more people accuse him and it’s such a self-sabotaging behavior and also so horribly relatable. I love u sir, you’re a disaster

SVSS I have not read but I do really like the moshang art 😂

#long post #asked & answered #lol sorry this is so long and incoherent #the truth is that I really love these stories and their casts #and I think it’s v hard to extricate the characters from the cast #because they are so deftly and beautifully interwoven #but here are the characters I think are my favorites lol #loosely in order #tgcf spoilers #also this is why I prefer tgcf to mdzs tbh? #jgy is intellectually interesting to me and a good antagonist #but not personally compelling in the way jw is

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Third chapter of my OC fic ^_^ 

With this chapter, Solara will have met all of the Vermillion siblings. But she will also have to face her own unexplained emotions, which she tries to deny. 😉

This series will have mature content so reader discretion is advised.

Words: 4940

Chapter 3

Solara sat by the desk, slowly familiarizing herself with the documents and lingo used, making notes for herself of the formatting and writing down phrases she still needed to run by someone, in order to be certain of their meaning. She stopped only to rub her temples every now and then, giving her brain time to process all of the information that came her way. Hours ticked away but she barely noticed, until she struggled to grasp even simple sentence structures and she concluded to herself that perhaps she ought to stop for the day.

It was then that the door swung open, Mereo standing in the doorway with her hand on her hip, and a raised eyebrow.

“You still here?” Her tone was a strange combination of disappointment, amusement and disbelief, which in its absurdity made Solara chuckle.

“Well, it’s not like you really showed me around the base anyways, so I figured that someone was bound to show up eventually. Besides, I had a decent amount of time to collect some notes and phrases that I need to-“.

“Give it a rest,” Mereo interrupted while crossing her arms.

Silence fell between them as Solara put down the paper she was holding, frowning to Mereo, who close her eyes and sighed.

“We both need to eat something,” she remarked, her gaze directed blankly ahead of her, into the depths of the burgundy carpet. “And I was thinking that we’d make a small detour and go see my brothers before doing so,” she continued, her tone growing more silent.

Solara’s frown melted as sorrow veiled over her complexion at the sight of her friend. “Of course. I suppose one is long overdue,” she said, smiling to Mereo with softness as she got up from the desk.

Mereo’s gazed focused on her, lips curling up just enough to notice; their agreement being in the silent gaze they shared. But as they turned to leave, Solara wasn’t quite sure if she actually heard Mereo murmur under her breath with gritted teeth: “They should’ve told me sooner,” or if it was just a figment of her imagination as she couldn’t picture her beast of a friend murmuring anything.

She glanced to Mereo from the corner of her eye, searching for any signs of confirmation for what she supposedly had just heard. Mereo’s expression had fallen back to that of a blank stare into distance, a telling sign of her being deep in thought. I think… She probably thought out loud. A careful smile rose back to Solara’s lips as Mereo started leading her forward without a word. She’s not blaming herself, I know that much, but whoever it is that didn’t inform her of the situation faster than this… Well, I feel sorry for the poor soul.

---

As they walked down the corridor, only the sounds of their steps echoed from the walls. During their travels there had been many silences that had fallen between them, but none had borne the weight of this one. Mereo’s gaze was on the floor, and though her expression was stern and unwavering, it spoke of her worry. Solara knew that Mereo was the type to never show even the slightest traces of weakness, but she wasn’t made of stone. She had feelings just like everyone else, and this, this was her sorrow. It was woven into the unsaid words that hung in the air, and hidden behind her eyes that now seemed distant.

They reached a door, but before Mereo could open it, Solara placed her hand on Mereo’s shoulder. A soft smile emerged on Solara’s lips; her eyes instead filled with grief as they looked at each other for a moment that seemed longer than what it must’ve actually been. The frown on Mereo’s expression softened and a careful smile tugged the corners of her lips as well, while her other hand curled into a fist. Mereo turned to face Solara, nudging her onto her shoulder with the said hand, before taking a hold of the handle with the other.

Solara only nodded in reply, letting go of Mereo as she opened the door.

Leo was standing next to the bed with a blank expression, sunlight cascading into the room from the window, under which laid a figure. Solara looked at the young lion as his eyes still lingered on his brother, while Mereo closed the door.

The pair of green eyes finally turned to look at them, giving the two a stern gaze that lacked his former enthusiasm and cheerfulness. All of which was more than understandable, but still filled Solara with melancholy.

Mereo only nodded to her brother as she walked over to the bed, the two siblings standing on opposite sides of the bed like guardians to their brother. Silence hung heavy over them as neither had anything to say, or perhaps too much to say.

Solara saw Leo’s hand curling into a fist, and by instinct she moved closer to him from the foot of the bed. But as she did so, she felt another tug deep in her chest. As if pulled by threads of silken cobweb, her eyes turned to the figure that laid in the bed, and nothing could have prepared her for what followed. Despite all the whispers of the walls, the lingering implores and the unexplained warmth, she couldn’t have anticipated the twisting of strings of fate around her heart. She stopped in place, seeing nothing but him as she placed one of her hands on the footboard of the bed, fingers curling around it.

Her ears registered the fight that erupted between Leo and Mereo, but it was distant as if in a dream. There as something about Mereo being wrong about their brother, and Mereo shutting his opinions down, but Solara couldn’t concentrate on it. Not any of it. All she felt was the entwining of golden threads around her soul, into a tight embrace, one that had previously only existed as passing breaths, but now pulled her closer and closer.

But she knew that she couldn’t. She couldn’t just sit at his bedside and take his hand onto hers, letting herself to be submerged into the endless ocean of the fondest emotions. She couldn’t. No. And yet the threads kept pulling, and wrapped tighter around her heart, sinking into it, clenching it and tearing it, but still… she couldn’t.

And the worst part was that she couldn’t explain why she felt the unexplained deep desire to hold his hand, and assure him that it was all going to be alright. She couldn’t hold him in her arms and stroke his hair, while humming a gentle tune to his ear. And, for the life of her, she couldn’t tell why she had such feelings for a stranger. But he feels familiar. As if I’ve known him all my life. How- why am I-? I just feel like crawling into the bed and laying down next to him would be the most natural thing in the world. I could nuzzle against his neck and press a gentle kiss onto his cheek while placing my hand on his chest and…. And what am I thinking?! There is absolutely no reason for me to feel like this. Yes, he’s handsome I’ll give him that, and I’ve been told that… what have I actually been told? Well, Mereo calls him stupid constantly, but I take it that it’s all just because they’re siblings. I know that Leo looks up to him, so he must be very capable… But none of that explains anything. I’ve seen aesthetically pleasing, or handsome, men before who’ve been courteous and kind, and I’ve never felt such longing for them. Her fingers curled tighter around the footboard as she battled with herself.

Then a memory flashed through her mind. Solara remembered her mother telling her about something like this when she was young, but much like most children, she hadn’t imprinted the conversation into her mind. What was it that she said? Something about… “Your father and I, we gravitated towards each other. It was something that neither of us anticipated, but it was… like a cosmic dance where I was being pulled to him, as much as he was pulled to me. And for this brief passing second, we call life, we’ll keep tumbling towards each other, refusing to let go.” Something like that. I think it was along those lines. So… Is that what this is? Lo- Lov- No. It can’t be. I don’t know him, unlike my parents who knew each other. My fate isn’t tied to him… and even if it was, it doesn’t mean that his would be tied to mine. These whispers of belonging, they must be mistaken. The Tree of Binding Fates might be yet to tell me… She swallowed and was woken from her thought with a slamming door as Mereo left the room. Leaving the three of them in silence.

Leo’s brows were furrowed and he clenched his jaw, his entire body seeming tense.

“It’s going to be alright Leo,” Solara tried as she took a few steps closer to him with an empathetic smile.

“But aneue shouldn’t say that! Aniue has been working so hard for the squad, and when he comes back, he’ll prove her wrong!” His statement was firm and filled with young lion’s pride.

Solara placed her hand onto his shoulder, feeling him relax under her touch.

“I just… I just wish that I could help him recover,” Leo muttered, probably for the first time in his life.

His statement radiated with the purest of wishes, which took Solara aback for a moment, as she felt her already bleeding heart, cry for him, for the both of them.

“He knows that you’re here, standing by him,” Solara comforted while casting another soft smile to his direction.

“How can you know?” Leo asked while turning to her, his eyes pleading as he wanted to believe her statement.

“Well,” she paused for a moment as her thumb brushed the crumbs of uncertainty from his shoulder. “I’ve been told that people in a coma can still hear what happens around them. So, he hears your voice and what you tell him. And even if you didn’t talk to him, or in the unlikely event where he couldn’t hear you for some other reason, I’m certain that he feels your strong mana around, rooting for him to come back.” She paused once more as Leo processed her words. “He knows that you’re there for him. I’m sure of it. You’ve always believed in him, and he’ll always believe in you.”

The young lion blinked and a careful smile emerged onto his lips as he looked at his brother.

“But,” Leo paused, thinking how he should formulate his question. “If I want to make sure that he knows that I’m here, I should just talk to him?” He asked, turning to look at Solara once again.

She only nodded as a reply, while retracting her hand as she saw certainty rising back to his eyes.

“Does it matter what I talk to him about?” He continued, looking at Solara intently.

“Hmmm,” she hummed while her eyes shifted to the ceiling as she thought. “I don’t believe it does. I’ve heard that some even read books to their loved ones because they don’t really know what to say, so they’ve felt that to be an easy starting point.” She smiled as her gaze fell back to Leo, who was still staring at Solara with wide eyes. “Is that something you’d like to try?” Solara continued as her head tilted a bit, the comforting smile ever-present on her complexion.

Leo’s gaze shifted to his brother as he thought. “I don’t really know that many storybooks…” he mumbled as his gaze fell to the floor. The veil of sympathy wrapped tighter around Solara’s expression as the corners of her lips tugged further, for she felt the bond these two brothers shared, and which made the moment all the more melancholic.

“Well, do you know if he had one? Or if there was one that he used to read when he was younger?” She inquired, hoping to lead his train of thought forth into a haven of hope. And as his expression brightened, quite like the light of awaking dawn which repels the shadows of night each morning with the rising sun, making Solara feel warmth spreading across her body.

“Yes! There was a book he said he liked when he was my age! It was… um…” Leo seemed to have regained his energetic self in a blink of an eye. He put a hand on his hip as another scratched his head, while he tried to remember the name of the book. “I can’t remember,” he admitted before continuing. “But he gave me the book! So, I can just read it to him and he knows that I’m here, right?” Enthusiasm seeped from his entire being, his both hands now held in front of him, ready to face the obstacles laid before him.

Solara nodded to him, her action only fuelling him further.

“I’ll go get it right now!” He exclaimed and started running.

Solara followed him to the doorway and called out after him:” Leo! There’s time for that later, but you should…” her voice faded with the sentence as the vermillion haired boy had already disappeared behind a corner. “Get something to eat first…” she finished her sentence, out loud, but speaking to no one. Her posture slouched forth as she sighed, but regained it as soon as she heard steps approaching her.

She turned around to see Randal walking to her direction with a cape in hand.

“Hello,” she greeted as she turned around, giving him a smile.

“Hello,” he replied and paused, thinking if he should make a comment or not. “You’ll have to excuse Leopold, he’s quite energetic and very quick on his feet.” He stated, his tone staying steady and formal.

“Ah, it’s completely understandable,” she smiled, loosely waving her hand in front of her as if to brush off the action.

Randal only nodded as a reply, while taking the last few steps towards her and handed out the cape he was holding. “Here’s the cape Captain Mereoleona requested for you. Welcome to the squad,” he smiled.

As far as Solara could tell, he was being sincere, but given that she had just taken over some of his work, there was something she wished to ask. Since she knew that the action could be seen as interfering with his territory. Thus, she felt a compelling need to clarify something to him as she took the cape from him, holding it in her arms. “Thank you. I’m glad to be here. But can I clarify something with you?” She asked, her smile turning to that of slight hesitance.

Randal’s expression became that of intrigue as he replied: “Of course.” There was no judgement, nor even a hint of malice in his eyes, which alleviated Solara’s worry.

“Well, as the newest addition to the squad I know that I technically shouldn’t be taking care of any of the paperwork, and my intention isn’t to step on your toes. So, if you feel like I’m overstepping my boundaries, and crossing onto your territory as the Vice Captain, I do hope that you tell me.” She gave him an awkward smile, hoping that she had succeeded in relaying her intentions.

Randal seemed surprised for a brief second before the expression faded, and a smile rose to his lips as his gaze fell to the side. “Well, as long as we’re having an honest conversation,” he paused long enough to gaze back at Solara. “I’m glad to finally have someone to do the work with me. You see, before the work was divided between myself and Captain Fuegoleon. And during the time he has been incapable of completing those duties, it has all fallen onto my shoulders. So, I’m- I’m afraid that I’ve fallen behind,” he admitted, a shadow of shame passed over his complexion and he sighed. “I’m just glad to have someone to help me, and I trust that Captain Mereoleona wouldn’t assign you to it if she wasn’t certain that you could take care of it,” he smiled, gratitude radiating from his expression. And with that the last traces of hesitance washed from Solara, making her feel lucky to have been welcomed with such warmth.

“I do hope to live up to the expectations,” she chuckled. “But there are a few questions I’d like to ask regarding the forms and lingo. As this isn’t my native language, I seem to find myself struggling a bit already,” she admitted with a slight frown.

“Of course. I’m happy to help the helper,” he smirked with good will, making Solara giggle. He joined her in her laughter for a brief moment as they shared gratitude for one another.

Once the laughter settled down, she continued: “So, is this a good moment or… um?” She asked, tilting her head slightly.

“Well dinner is served soon, so we can start at the dinner table if you feel comfortable with it. Or then we can talk afterwards.” He thought out loud, his gaze shifting to the ceiling before falling back to her.

“Either is fine for me. After all, in addition to my questions you need to fill me in on the most pressing matters that should be taken care of, post haste,” she shrugged.

“True,” Randal nodded as silence fell between them for a moment. Both thinking where should they start.

“Well, if we start already on our way to the mess hall, we’ll get matters moving quicker,” she stated, earning another nod of agreement form Randal.

Solara closed the door to Fuegoleon’s sickroom, seeing his form from the corner of her eye, which caused the golden strings to clench around her heart once more. A veil of sorrow passed her complexion as the walls whispered to her again, imploring her to stay. I can’t. She only thought, trying to brush it all away from herself, but only succeeding to press it deep down into the back of her head. This’ll pass. I’m sure of it. This is a crush and nothing more, so it’ll pass. All I have to do is wait it out. She tried to convince herself, force herself to believe that to be the case, but the flicker of hope is one the hardest thing to snuff out, only allowing her to deny its existence. So, it remained, small, and quiet, but it remained. She could push it away as much as she wanted, and try to deny it to the best of her ability, but it still flickered.

The door closed, alleviating her aching heart. The feeling grew quieter as they walked away, beginning the discussion on what Solara already knew about the tasks at hand, and moving to comparing the differences in legal procedures between Clover Kingdom and Thea. But only to the extent where they were able to confirm or invalidate similar practises, based on which they’d be able to determine areas that needed to be addressed further. Their conversation carrying through the dinner, Solara being seated near Randal in order to keep the conversation going. Mereo appeared, only making a comment on them finding common ground rather quickly, but not otherwise interfering with the conversation.

Everyone seemed friendly, making introductions and some friendly conversation, but still giving room for Solara and Randal to finish their discussion. The only one to arrive late for dinner, was Leo, a frown painted over his expression once more.

Solara’s brow furrowed at the sight of him, but she didn’t wish to hurt the young lion’s pride and address the issue right there, in front of everyone.

“Hey, Leo?” She asked in a suitable point of the flowing conversation.

“Yeah?” He asked, clearly trying to hide his troubles and putting on a brave face. But his tone spoke far too loud of the worry that must’ve curled into his bones once more.

“There’s something I’d like to talk about with you a bit later on, if that’s okay?” She gave him a reassuring smile, making the corners of his lips turn slightly upwards.

“Yeah, it’s alright.” He stated with a weak smile, a flicker of gratitude passing through his eyes.

“Wonderful,” she only said, not wanting to make a scene of the situation, all others seeming to pay no attention to the brief interaction, or thinking nothing of it. Only Mereo raised an eyebrow, but opted to say nothing.

---

After dinner Solara and Randal spent a considerable amount of time in the Captain’s, and Randal’s offices, revising documents and laying groundwork for the following day, sun already having set as they were able to wrap things up. Solara left Randal’s office, only to find Leo waiting behind a corner.

“Hey,” she greeted, giving him a tired smile.

“Hey,” he replied his gaze falling to the side.

“What’s going on?” She asked, as guilt of making him wait this long tugged at her heartstrings.

“I-,” he paused as he held out a book, his eyes falling to its cover. “I tried to read it to him, but I kept skipping over lines, or reading them twice, and then sometimes I had to stop to pronounce words correctly, and it wasn’t good story telling…” his confession fell from him onto the book and tumbled down onto the floor with a loud clang that echoed around the hallway.

Seeing him so defeated twisted her heart, subsiding her own fatigue as sadness washed over her. “Maybe it’d help if you first read the chapter to yourself quietly, and then read it to him,” she suggested, trying to meet Leo’s gaze.

He only grit his teeth, his fingers curling tighter around the book. “I tried that, but it didn’t help,” he forced the words out of his throat, their sharp corners slicing his tongue on their way out.

A brief silence fell between them as Solara search for words of comfort to give him, but felt powerless to help him. After all, there was so little she could actually do for him, and that little felt so inadequate.

“May I?” she asked while holding her hand out, Leo’s gaze lifting only enough to reach the tips of her fingers.

He said nothing, but handed the book to her. His eyes travelled with the motion as Solara held the book out to herself. She turned the pages to the first chapter, letting her index finger glide across the lines. The spacing between the lines is quite thin actually. It’d be difficult to keep track while reading out loud even if using a finger as a cursor. She thought for a moment, but as she became aware of her note sheet, that was still in her hand from her talks with Randal, an idea dawned on her.

“Hmm,” she hummed as she took the paper and folded it to reveal a blank surface. She placed the folded edge under the first line and began to read, moving the paper and revealing new lines as the story advanced, but stopped after the first paragraph. Her eyes lifted from the book and met with Leo’s, whose were now wide open, his mouth agape. “See, you can use a blank piece of paper to help you keep track of the line you’re on,” she smiled and held the book out, handing it back to Leo.

“You should read to him!” Leo exclaimed, making Solara’s brows shoot up in surprise.

“I-,” she paused as her expression softened back to what it had been, “Wasn’t this supposed to be for him to know that *you* are there for him?” she asked, but feeling a tiny bit flattered.

“What matters is that he knows that somebody is there for him! It doesn’t matter if it’s me reading or someone else, as long as he knows,” Leo stated firmly while taking Solara’s hand and started pulling her towards the sick room.

“Leo, I-,” she began, but didn’t really know what to say. Still Leo heard the hesitance in her voice, so he turned around to look at her, his hand still holding on.

“Would you read to him, please?” His tone was stern and determined, telling her just how much this meant to him. But what made Solara unable to turn down his request, even if she had wanted to, was the implore in his eyes.

She looked straight at him, seeing that he wasn’t going to give up without resistance. And quite frankly, she had no objections in going along with his wish, given that he indeed was fine with her reading in his place.

She blinked slowly, her expression melting to that of a soft smile and sympathetic gaze as she replied: “if that’s what you wish.”

Leo’s eyes lit up once more as a prominent smile rose to his lips in triumph. “I can listen too, can’t I?” He asked, excitement radiating through his question as his grip of her grew more intense with his enthusiasm.

“I can’t see why not,” she said, tilting her head as she hadn’t really imagined herself ever reading to people, but saw no harm in it. I can’t really say that I’m a storyteller, but if it makes him feel better, suppose it’s alright. She thought as Leo started pulling her forward once more.

“Um, Leo? Where are we going?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“To aniue! Let’s start the story already today!” He didn’t as much as turn his head back to Solara, only focused to move forward.

She let out a faint sigh. It’s already late, and we both should be going to bed… But if it’s just for tonight, then suppose it’ll be fine. For the future we need to establish some kind of a schedule though, but… as things are already in motion, suppose staying up a little bit later for today is acceptable. She frowned slightly, but said nothing as she knew this to mean a lot to him, destroying his newfound feeling of security and comfort being the last thing she wished to do.

“Leo, there’s no need for you to pull me. I can walk on my own,” her tone stayed calm and gentle, but was spoken loudly enough for him to make no mistake.

“Oh right. Sorry,” he stated as he glanced to her and let go, rubbing the back of his head briefly.

“It’s alright,” she replied as they continued forward, a more profound silence lingering in the air as the base was starting to quiet down. And as it did, the pull towards the sick room grew more intense. The tugging and twisting made her want to run, but it’d do no good. It’d serve no purpose and she had no right. She grit her teeth, once more wanting to snuff out the lingering feeling, but didn’t get very far.

Eventually they reached the room, Solara forcing herself to keep her gaze away from the man who laid on the bed. Which proved to be difficult as she sat down on a chair next to him, Leo moving a chair onto the opposite side, facing her.

Just concentrate on the book and take deep breaths. This’ll pass. It’s nothing. She held the book out and began reading, Leo listening to her intently as the story unfolded. Minutes ticked away, but none noticed the time passing, as they were immersed with the plot. And as the first chapter ended, Solara put down the book, telling Leo that they should get to sleep. He protested, but gave in as they agreed to continue tomorrow.

Darkness prevailed outside, and the only light source in the room was a single candle that cast its soft glow around, shadows dancing with the flickering flame. Solara encouraged Leo to get some sleep as she summoned her radiating mana skin, extending from her fingertips as if as claws, to cast some more light into the room before snuffing out the candle.

“I’m not that tired,” Leo yawned, making Solara raise an eyebrow at him; a hint which he understood and got up to leave.

Solara stayed behind to move the chairs away from the bed, making a few yawns of her own. But as she passed the man in deep, deep slumber, she couldn’t help but whisper out a question: “Who are you to me?” A pointless question she needed to ask for reasons that she couldn’t fathom, and yet… despite knowing that she wouldn’t get an answer, she felt strange comfort rising from it. As if by acknowledging him, they would have gotten closer; the tugging of the strings of fate easing up for the moment. She scoffed at herself for being ridiculous, and shook her head while making her way to the door.

But as she was about to make her leave, the door being open by only a mere crack anymore, she stopped and whispered: “Good night.” Her voice barely reached her own ears, the action making her feel like a fool once more. But with those words she was able to close the door and retire for the night, wondering if staying here was actually a good idea as she questioned her sanity. But still, leaving seemed more painful than it should. So, for now, she settled for rubbing her temples and trying to work her way around the emotions that she shouldn’t have had. This will pass. A sentence that became a mantra for her. A mantra that lost gravity each time she repeated it.

#black clover #black clover fanfiction #black clover oc #oc; solara #embers of sun and flame #chapter 3 #fuegoleon x solara #fuelara