#'surely he won't get free with only one arm cuffed!'

[samsrowena]

why on earth would they chain someone up like this

[vbecker10]

Hey love, how are you doing? Hope you’re all good. Could you write a Bucky x fem!reader who has an eating disorder, but she hides it from the team and she does it successfully, but on one mission she passes out, which is weird because she’s one of the best. She says it was just because she didn’t feel well and everyone believes her, but not Bucky. He senses that something’s off and eventually finds out, because he leaves reader no choice but to tell him, and so she does.

I’m struggling with my ed and I would love it, but if you don’t want to write this, it’s totally fine! I am a huge fan of your work💚

I Want You to be Healthy

Pairing: Bucky x female reader (Y/N) - established relationship / reader has an eating disorder

Summary: You pass out on the way to the jet after a successful mission. The team quickly accepts the excuse that you don't feel well but Bucky knows you well enough to know that you're lying. As soon as you are alone together, Bucky pushes you to open up to him about what truly made you pass out.

Warnings: Eating disorder, passing out, denying you have an eating disorder, feeling insecure about your weight & body image, keeping secrets from your friends and boyfriend, relapsing eating disorder

Background: Female reader has an Eating Disorder (a combination of anorexia and bulimia). Reader has the following behaviors: Skipping meals, frequent checking in the mirror for precieved flaws, constantly using a scale and tracking their weight, eating alone and at odd times of the day / night, exercising more frequently and more intensely than needed, not taking rest days or days off for injury, using the restroom soon after eating, making their own meals rather than eating what the team eats, often complains about needing to be healthy and talks about having to lose weight or gain muscle, thinking they are in control of their eating habits

A/N: Hi my lovely anon, I'm so sorry to hear you are struggling with your ED, I hope you can focus on yourself and get the help you need. I'm here if you want someone to listen 💚 Thank you for trusting me with this, I tried not to focus too much on the specific type of eating disorder since there are a few but I found some similarities between them when I was doing my research. I used those symptoms for this to make it a bit general. I hope this is okay 💚

I didn't tag too many people in this because I wasn't sure who exactly to tag, I won't be offend if you skip this 💚

Steve walks at the front of the group, one hand firmly gripped around the arm of a captured Hydra officer, her hands cuffed tightly behind her back. The mission was simple enough and more of you had gone than was needed but you couldn't pass up the opportunity to be out in the field. It was the only place you felt you belonged, where you could show the others on the team you were good enough to be here.

When Bucky had knocked on your door earlier this afternoon and asked if you were free to join them, you agreed eagerly. It was a welcome distraction from what you had been doing for the last hour, standing in front of your full length mirror, scrutinizing every inch of your body. The flaws in your physique are so glaringly obvious to you, you couldn't help but fixate on where you need to lose fat or gain muscle.

Bucky had smirked when you answered your door to him in nothing but a towel, he assumed you were having a lazy day after a relaxing shower. You hugged him tightly and told him you would get ready for the mission. There was no point in telling him what you had really been doing. A super soldier could never understand your daily struggle with your weight or the constant drive to be perfect. None of the Avengers could.

Natasha and Clint follow the captain closely, another captive officer walks with his head down between them as they discuss dinner. They quickly decide that since its Friday, they should get take out when they get back. There was no reason to make an excuse of course, take out was the easy option. Most of the team was either too busy to cook or had simply never been taught how to.

This meant you had to be even more careful because the food that was ordered was never healthy. Soon after you joined, you learned that it was easier to prepare all of your own food and eat in your room. Eating away from the team also meant they couldn't ask why your portions were what they considered small or why you were eating much later than them. It was none of their business anyways, you had told yourself often. As much as you would have liked their company, it was better this way. You could focus on your weight and health instead of answering all of their questions or dealing with their concerned opinions.

Bucky chuckles as he slips his arm around your waist, unaware of your thoughts. "I'm voting for spaghetti and meatballs, not that anyone asked me," he joins his friends conversation but you are barely listening.

Natasha checks to make sure Clint has a firm hold of the captive then she effortlessly turns, walking backwards smoothly through the thick leaves. "What do you want for dinner, Y/N?" she asks you with a smile, pointedly ignoring Bucky's comment which gets a laugh from Clint.

You don't answer, too distracted by the pain that is spreading deep in your stomach, the one that means you've almost reached your limit between meals. When you get back, you'll need to find something to eat, even if that means more time in the gym.

"Earth to Y/N," the spy waves at you to get your attention. When you make eye contact with her, she again asks what you want for dinner.

You shrug in response, the pain in your stomach growing as you walk. You know the type of answer she is looking for. Pizza, Thai, sushi. You could easily suggest any one of a hundred things but you can't. If you did, you would be expected to join them and that isn't something you are willing to do.

"Don't bother," Clint says when you are silent for a few more steps. His tone is relaxed but you worry he can tell what you are thinking. "You know Y/N never eats anything we order. We don't get anything healthy enough for her," he reminds Natasha. "Too much grease and fat and deliciousness."

"It's not my fault I'm the only one at the Tower worried about my figure," you roll your eyes at him.

Bucky laughs, his hand squeezes your waist, a part of your body you've always been self conscious about. "Your figure is perfect, doll," he smiles and you wish you could believe him but it's not that easy.

Natasha turns back to Clint, not missing a step and pats his stomach once. "Maybe you could learn something from her," she jokes.

"Hey!" he calls after her, sounding like an annoyed sibling. She laughs, jogging lightly towards Steve to hold the female officer while he opens the hatch.

Your ears begin to ring and the trees in the forest around you blend together, becoming hazy. Bucky kisses the top of your head and asks you a question but you can barely make out what he is saying. His voice is just above the ringing that vibrates in your mind. He looks down at you, his expression quickly turning to concern as he says your name but you don't respond.

You're light-headed and suddenly feel cold as your vision blurs more of your surroundings together. You take one more small step and stop, unable to continue forward. Bucky's hold on you tightens but you can't make out his words. You recognize what's happening to your body but only a second before you lose consciousness.

"Y/N," you hear Bucky say your name softly as he runs his metal fingers through your hair gently. Opening your eyes with a quiet groan, the jet gradually comes into focus but everything is sideways. You turn your head to look up at Bucky and realize your resting on his lap. "Slowly doll," he says, helping you sit up in the seat next to him.

"You okay?" Clint asks from the seat across from you.

You nod, still a bit dizzy, "Yeah."

"You had us all worried," Bucky says, his eyes not leaving you.

You shrug, hoping a few simple lies will calm everyone including yourself. It's been almost three years since you passed out from not eating. The last time it happened, your eating disorder had spiraled out of control for the second time and your family urged you to get treatment. It couldn't be happening again though, you think desperately. You are in control of your eating habits this time, you had just accidentally gone too long without eating.

"I felt kinda sick this morning. I know I probably should have stayed home but this sounded like a really quick mission," you offer an explanation that sounds likely.

"Next time you tell us if you don't feel well enough to go out," Steve says sternly from the pilot seat of the jet.

"Will do cap," you plaster on a smile to hide the wince from the dull ache in your stomach and salute him. This earns you a huff and a dramatic eye roll from the blonde super soldier.

"Good, can't let anything happen to the second best spy on the team," Natasha says with a smirk as she opens some files on her tablet.

You force out a small laugh, "Second best?" Then you look at Bucky who still hasn't taken his eyes off of you. He doesn't seem to have accepted your excuse as readily as everyone else but he also knows you better than anyone. "Are you going to let her talk about your girl like that?" Hoping the joke with Nat will distract him from his concern for you.

Bucky responds with a smile almost as fake as yours and says, "Of course not doll."

"Hey," Tony says when he spots you coming towards him in the hall. "How are you feeling? I heard to passed out in the field today."

"I'm okay, just a bit dehydrated," you tell him, holding up your bottle of water as proof.

"Okay, just try to be more careful next time," he tells you and you agree to as you continuing towards your room. "You're not gonna eat with us? Nat ordered from this new Mexican place."

"I'm still feeling a little off," you touch your forehead lightly and he nods. It's an easy excuse and it slips out before you even realize you've said it. You take a few more steps down the hall then add, "I'll see you all in the morning for training, though."

"Only if you're feeling up to it," he says and you give him an enthusiastic thumbs up. He smiles, shaking his head when you turn away from him again. "You're allowed a rest day you know," he calls after you. You continue towards your room without responding, you know that's not true.

A soft knock on your door interrupts your reading and you get up to see who it is. "Hi Bucky," you greet your boyfriend warmly but he doesn't offer you a hug or even a smile in return.

"Can we talk?" he asks in a serious tone and you nod, letting him in as your heart races. Those three words send panic through your body in an instant. You freeze as he takes a seat on the edge of your bed, rubbing his hands together anxiously. "Come sit, doll," he taps the bed next to him lightly without looking at you, his eyes still fixed on his hands.

You walk over and sit next to him silently. What do you two need to talk about that is making him this uneasy, you think. The only answer that surfaces is that he's come to end your eight month relationship, but why? Did you do something wrong, had you forgotten something, your mind races in search of an answer.

He takes your hand in his metal one gently and takes a breath to steady himself which only makes you more nervous. "Y/N," he starts slowly, "I love you so much, you know that right?" He lifts his head to look at you and you nod, too anxious to speak.

"I'm going to ask you this once," he says, "And please, don't lie to me." You bite your bottom lip, searching his face for any hint of his question. "Why did you really pass out on the mission today?" he asks.

You feel the smallest hint of relief that this isn't about your relationship but then you are instantly filled with a different type of fear. Has Bucky figured out what you've been hiding from him, from everyone? Does he know about your eating disorder returning and your worry that you're losing control? Your mind fills with all of your most easily accepted excuses, hoping that you can convince him you are okay.

Before you can open your mouth, he shakes his head. "I need the truth doll," almost as if he can see the lies forming.

"I-" your words stick in your throat and you look away from Bucky, your eyes roaming around your small room. You focus on the high tech scale positioned in front of the tall, full length mirror you spend so much of your time in front of.

He cups your cheek, bringing your eyes back to his, "Talk to me. I can't help if I don't know what's wrong, Y/N."

"I'm fine, I promise," you tell him in the most sincere voice you can, kissing his cheek softly. "I told you, I was just feeling a little under the weather today. It's not a big deal."

"You didn't eat again today," he states, no hint of a question in his tone. You're in too much shock to begin defending your reasoning for skipping a meals when he adds, "You've been missing meals a lot lately, haven't you?"

You nod, suddenly feeling caught which makes you feel both guilty and embarrassed. Bucky is the one person on the team you have always been able to confide in, even before you started dating but this was something you wanted to keep even from him. It was the reason you forced yourself to eat when you went on dates with him but you always found a way to excuse yourself and use the bathroom soon after. Had he noticed that too, you worry.

"How long do you think you can go without eating?" he asks but you don't want to admit you know the answer. Since college, you've developed a pretty good sense for how long you can go between meals, today truly had been a miscalculation. Instead you simply shrug as you guage whether or not you can convince Bucky you missed those meals by accident.

"Y/N," he says when you are quiet. "You can't keep doing this."

You chew the inside of your cheek, this conversation reminding you too much of the one you had with your parents the first time they caught you hiding and throwing away your food. Your eyes flicker away from his and back as you start to realize you might be struggling more than you thought.

His jaw tightens and his gaze follows yours to the scale and mirror then he sighs. "I should throw those stupid things out," he says, more to himself then to you.

"No," you respond quickly and he furrows his brows when he looks back at you. "I need them," you try to explain, your body tensing at the thought of being without them even though they do nothing but cause you anxiety and distress. "I have to keep checking..." your voice trails off, you don't want to open up any further. You don't want Bucky you judge you.

"Checking what?" Bucky asks, hoping you will let him in.

"I have to keep checking my weight," you finish and you find yourself suddenly unable to hold the rest in. "I've always been just a little over from where I need to be with my weight." You look down at your body as you sit next to him, you can easily envision all the flaws you saw in the mirror this morning. "I'll get there, I'm close," you tell him as if he's the one you need to convince and not the small voice that dictates what you can and cannot eat.

You had been focused on your weight for almost your whole adult life and never reached your target. It doesn't matter that the target keeps shrinking anytime you are even remotely close. A few times, you had almost reached the number you thought would finally mean you were perfect only for the small voice to disagree. It would insist you could still lose more weight or you had put on too much muscle or needed more muscle or any number of things. Each time your goal changed, your eating habits became stricter and your workouts became more intense.

Bucky cups your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin lightly, "What are you talking about? You're in the best shape of anyone on the team. You're perf-"

"No," you shake your head, pulling free from his fingers. "I'm far from perfect, you of all people should know that. You're a super soldier, you were practically built to be perfect," you tell him and Bucky's metal hand twiches as he removes it from your waist. "I knew you wouldn't understand," you add with deep a sigh.

"I want to understand. I'm worried about you," Bucky says but you don't look at him.

"You don't need to worry about me," you say, shifting away from him on the bed. You feel yourself becoming defensive and worried he will want you to stop checking your weight and eat more. "I'm fine, I told you. Why can't you just leave it alone?"

"Because you're not fine," he says, his voice raising a bit to show his frustration, not at you but with the situation. "You don't eat, Y/N, not nearly enough and I've seen the way you push yourself too hard when we train. I kept telling myself you knew what you were doing and you would stop if you needed to but then today..." he shakes his head as his voice trails off for a moment.

"Today was an accident," you insist but you're less sure of yourself then you had been. "I have it under control. If I had known about the mission beforehand, I wouldn't have gotten sick."

"You didn't get sick, you passed out," he says and you can see he's becoming more upset by the conversation and the fact that you will not listen to him. "What if that had happened in the middle of the mission? What if we had been somewhere more dangerous and I couldn't get to you? You've gone on solo missions, no one would have known what happened to you."

You get up quickly, needing to distance yourself from Bucky's questions and concern and the doubt they are creating in you. You pace around your room, trying to absorb his words but you don't want to believe he's right. You don't want to admit that you're not okay again.

Without realizing it, you walk towards your mirror and tap the scale with your foot. Bucky gets up, coming over to you but your eyes are fixed on the scale. You tap it again and it turns on, the zeros blinking slowly as you remember the number that stared at you this morning.

"I get that your worried about your weight-" he starts but you cut him off.

"Of course I'm worried about it," you look up, folding your arms around your body tightly. "You have no idea how easy it is to gain weight, one little slip and I could lose all my progress. I have to watch everything I eat and workout so I can be good enough to be here, so I can be perfect," you voice your inner thoughts to Bucky for the first time. "I can't just stop," you tell him.

He moves closer to you, removing the empty space you created between the two of you and you begin to feel nervous again. "I want you to be healthy," he takes your hand in his, pulling you away from the scale.

"So do I, that's why I need to do this," you argue but you feel defeated, as if you are only moments from admitting you know he is right.

He shakes his head, his metal arm rests on your lower back, pulling you closer to him. "What you're doing is the opposite of being healthy, doll. Can you see that?"

You look up at him, seeing the concern fill his eyes and you know you can't deny it any longer. You bite your lip and nod slowly, "I think I need help."

"I'm here doll," he responds softly.

"This isn't-" you struggle to find the words and he gives you time, holding you quietly. "This isn't the first time this has happened," you tell him honestly. Bucky holds you silently as you tell him about your struggles with your eating disorder and how you have relapsed previously after getting treatment. He doesn't ask questions or interrupt you, his hand moves gently up and down your back as you open up completely. When you finish, he wipes your tears softly and kisses your forehead.

"I thought I was okay," you tell him, your voice breaking. He pulls you flush against his body, wrapping his arms around you.

"You will be," he assures you and you rest your head on his chest, hoping he is right. "You are the strongest person I have ever met, you can do this. I will help you any way I can, I promise."

You pull away to look up at him, realizing you'll be gone for at least a few months for treatment. "What am I going to tell everyone?" you ask him, feeling a wave of shame wash over you. It was one thing to break down and admit to Bucky that you had an eating disorder but it was an entirely different thing for the Avengers to find out. "I don't want the team to know," you shake your head, worried about their reactions.

He cups your cheek and you look up at him again, "Don't worry about the team or anything else, doll. I will take care of them and everything else. The only thing I want you to do is focus on getting better, on being healthy again." He gives you a hopeful smile and says, "I'll tell them we're going to visit your family. Fury will approve the time off, it shouldn't be an issue."

You sniffle in response then smile slowly, "We?"

He nods, "If that's okay with you. I know there are things you'll need to do alone, but I want to be close, in case you need me. I want to be there for you, every step of the way."

You wipe a tear quickly with the back of your hand and nod, unable to express how much Bucky's offer means to you in words. Instead, you reach up and press your lips to his softly, holding onto him tightly. Pulling away slightly, you look into his eyes and tell him, "I love you."

He smiles, running his fingers through your hair gently, his metal arm still holding you close. "I love you too, Y/N. You will be okay, I promise you will get through this."

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚

@soubi001 @mochie85 @animnerd @cabingrlandrandomcrap @lulubelle814 @siconetribal @jiyascepter @loz-3 @firedrakegirl @dracoswhorexx @lokiandbuckysdoll

[doe-eyed-fool]

Fallen {Chapter Twenty Eight}

Alastor x (Fem)Reader

Warning: Kidnapping, Violence (Vox hits reader), Threats Of Dismemberment/Torture (nothing actually happens tho)

A groan left me as the world finally came back into view, maybe a bit too fast, I shut my eyes tightly and tried to fight off the nausea I felt. I inhaled deeply a few times before slowly opening my eyes again.

I was somewhere I didn't recognize, it looked like a empty room. Nothing but a door ahead of me, and a small window on the wall to my right. It was the only thing lighting the room.

I tried to move, but was quickly stopped by a slight tug. I furrow my brows and look up, my arms had been raised above my head, and my wrists tied together by cuffs, held up by chains that were securely tied to the hooks in the ceiling.

I gasped sharply, it was muffled however, by the rag tied against my mouth. I tried my wings next, but the joints were cuffed as well, preventing me from flapping them.

My breathing became forced and erratic as panic finally set in fully. I tugged harshly at the chains, trying to free myself, but it was of no use.

My legs felt weak as well, I tried to move them, but they were about as useful as my arms, despite not being tied down.

What the fuck was happening!? Where was I!?

Suddenly the door to the room opened, and in walked a familiar looking overlord. "You awake?" He asked before flipping the light switch on. "Good...Now we can get to know each other." He approaches me and crouches to my level.

"I know we've met before. But I think we should start over, we're gonna be seeing a lot of each other from now on so..." He chuckles darkly.

"The name's Vox, nice to meet you."

"Aw, don't look so scared." Vox said with false pity. "I'm not gonna hurt you. Not yet anyway." He smirks. "I'm just gonna keep you here until your little boyfriend shows up. That asshole has been screwing around with me for too long. It's about time I put an end to that radio fucker, and you, are just what I need to do it."

I furrow my brows, I was worried of course and no doubt scared for my own safety. But now I was angry too.

"Wanna say something?" Vox tilts his head, he reaches for the rag at my mouth and pulls it down. "Go ahead then."

"You think just because you kidnapped me, that Alastor won't tear you apart?" I ask. "You underestimate him, if you believe that." Vox laughs at my words. "If he doesn't want you loosing a few limbs, he will come here and behave. If he doesn't, well, that'll be one thorn out of my side."

"Don't you dare hurt him. I don't care what happens to me, you can do whatever you want, but do not hurt Alastor." I say, tugging at the chains slightly.

"Oh, I don't need anything from you. Though, my associate might. I'm sure you've heard of him, and I'm sure you know how popular his films are." He could only mean Valentino. Oh god...I would rather die...

"You won't get away with this. Alastor will come here and rip you limb from limb. And telling from this kidnapping act, you like to play cheap. I bet that's why you're doing this. You can't match up to Alastor."

Vox delivered a harsh slap to my face after that. I failed to hold back a yelp as my head was forced to the side from the blow. I could feel the sharp sting blossoming in my cheek.

"Keep talking shit, and I won't be so forgiving next time." He stood up fully and looked out of the window. "I tried to get that dumbass hell hound to bring you here. But I guess he fucked off somewhere."

Hell hound? Did he mean Liam? Liam was in on this? I guess that would explain why he was at the hotel in the first place.

"Anyhow! I feel like we should start moving things along now. I'm sure he's noticed you're gone, so, how about we give him an idea of where you are. Speed things up, you know?"

"Let's see...maybe I could send him a finger or two? Or maybe one of those pretty eyes of yours?" He grins wickedly. I tried not to let my fear show, but it was clear by the shaking of my hands and shoulders. Vox's eyes trailed down. "That'll do."

I follow his gaze, my eyes falling upon my necklace. I gasp and try to move away as he reached down. "No! No, stay away!" I yelled. "Relax, will ya? I'm just taking the necklace. What? Did he give it to you? How cute." He says bitterly before grabbing at it. "No!" I cry just as he ripped it from my neck.

And just like that, my true form was revealed...

"What...the fuck!?" Vox exclaims.

If I wasn't panicked before, I definitely was now. My true form, my angel wings on display for Vox to witness. This wasn't good. This was the absolute last things I wanted to happen. What would he do to me now that knows? I couldn't look at him, I kept my eyes glued to the floor as I drew ragged breaths.

Vox then began to laugh.

"Fucking really!?" He cackles. "Well no wonder he likes you so much! You're an angel! Oh that's priceless!"

Vox's laughter died down slowly. He crouched back down and grabbed my chin, jerking my head up to face him. "You are both so fucked..."

"Alastor!" Mimzy shouts, before dodging a person being thrown her way. "Damn it Alastor! Calm down, you're making a mess of things!" She calls up at the now titanic sized radio demon. Tendrils grown from his back, were the cause of the randomly tossed objects and unfortunate demons in the way.

This had been going on for several minutes. He was beyond frantic, beyond worried. He wasn't thinking clearly, he was far too distraught for that.

"Don't you tell me to calm down!" Alastor yelled back. "Y/nis missing!"

"Well you're not gonna find her all worked up like this! Get down here and use your head!" Mimzy demanded. Alastor knew she was right, though it didn't make him any less frazzled. He did as she said however, and returned to his normal form.

Now it was just them in the empty longue. Alastor did feel a little bad about causing such a commotion in Mimzy's lounge, of all places. He let his anger and worry get the best of him, and it controlled his every movement. Blinded him from what was going on around him.

He was so upset by this...and he was scared...

"Where could she be?" Alastor's voice cracked slightly. "She wouldn't have just left on her own..." Mimzy didn't like seeing Alastor like this. She was worried too, but she knew it was nowhere near what he felt. "Isn't there any way of contacting her?" She asks.

"You know I don't own a cell phone. She doesn't either..."

Mimzy narrowed her eyes. "Isn't she from the modern era? Why doesn't she have a phone? You know what, never mind. Let's just stay calm and focus alright? Is there any place she might go to that you know of?"

"Other than the hotel, no." Alastor answers. "Alright, let's start there." Just as Mimzy said that, her phone rang. She looks at it then to Alastor. "Speak of the devil." She answers it. "Hello?"

'Hey, Mimzy? Is Alastor with you?' It was Charlie on the other end. The two had exchanged numbers the last time Mimzy had visited the hotel, to see Alastor.

"He is." Mimzy tells her.

'Well, a package showed up for him here at the hotel. It's pretty weird looking...We didn't want to mess with it. But I think it's from VoxTek, which is why it's weird. Alastor isn't really tech savvy you know?'

Mimzy hold the phone away from her to speak to Alastor. "It's Charlie, she says you have a package at the hotel, from VoxTek."

The loud screech of a record skipping made Mimzy wince. Before she could get a word in, Alastor had sunken into the shadows and disappeared. She sighs before speaking into the phone again.

"He's on his way. A word of advice, when he shows up...stay out of his way." Rage couldn't even begin to describe what Alastor felt the moment he opened that package. It was small, small enough to hold the necklace along with a few white feathers inside.

Vox knew...and now, Alastor wanted nothing more than to rip his soul apart, for even daring to lay his filthy hands on his beloved.

He should have known. Of course it was that bastard. Of course he would do something like this. Alastor swore right then and there, that he would invent a whole new form of pain, when he got his hands on that flat-faced motherfucker.

[fastcardotmp3]

for the fanfic name thingie: "guts" or "i know you think we are good" whatever inspires you the most!

there are still so many of these sitting in my inbox that I forgot about BUT HI ANON THANKS FOR THE INSPIRATION MWAH this turned into less of a premise and more of a ficlet but what're you gonna do

guts

Eddie Munson watches a girl be killed by supernatural forces.

He runs.

He hides.

He gets caught.

All that frenetic energy and anxiety, it's not enough for him to escape even the incompetency of the Hawkins PD, or maybe it's too much, a trait which has plagued Eddie from the moment he discovered stories and loud music and the places where those two things meet.

He's in custody when Fred crumples, when Patrick falls, but all it does is convince them that Eddie is covering for a partner and all it does is open up all these avenues and offerings of deals that Eddie can't even consider taking because none of it is true.

He sits in a windowless room with his hands cuffed to the table and wearing clothes out of the lost and found since his are evidence now.

They won't let him talk to his uncle because he's not a minor and Eddie is pretty sure he's legally allowed a lawyer but it's not like they'll be able to help him out of this no-exits situation.

They ask him again. Who are you working with.

They demand again. Tell us and you might get a lower sentence.

The yell and shout and go all quiet and intimidating and threaten him again, again, again and Eddie yells right back, frustrated tears in his eyes and a lack of anything even parading as rest in days hanging heavy on his aching back.

He maintains that he's innocent because if he's locked away for this he can only really keep this, he can keep his own knowledge of what happened, no matter how little he wants to.

Days pass.

The ground shakes.

The town, from what Eddie can understand of frantic whispers and more time spent left alone in that windowless room, is in crisis.

Everything falling apart, as if it hadn't already, Eddie lays his head down on the table to block out the glare of too-bright fluorescent lights.

His head swims, he drifts, he thinks about a life spent in isolation and he thinks about the electric chair and he thinks about Wayne, mostly, how much he's let his old man down.

Alone. Buzzing lights. Creaky chair.

And a soft clicking at the door.

When the knob turns and it pushes open, Eddie doesn't lift his head, too used to this same visit and this same conversation with these same cops--

"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty, no time to lose."

Eddie's head shoots up because he's hallucinating and that's not a show he wants to miss. Not when Steve Harrington is bringing a-- a lock pick?-- to his cuffs and Nancy Wheeler is standing peering out the cracked door with a gun in her hand?

"What the fu--"

"Thirty seconds," Nancy says sharply, "are you sure you know how to use that thing?"

"I've got it, I've got it," Steve implores with hushed exasperation as he does, in fact, unlock Eddie's cuffs and free his wrists for the first time in what's probably been close to a week at this point.

That's. Not something a hallucination can do.

"We clear?" Steve asks as he joins Nancy by the door, Eddie still gaping from his seat, stunned shocked at the sight of them as he rubs his wrists, both of these kids bandaged to hell and with bags under their eyes to rival his own and-- "hey, snap to it man, if we fuck this up Henderson'll have all our heads."

"You're the one who made a pinky promise," Nancy clenches down on her jaw.

"You're the one who insisted on coming."

"You're the--"

"Am I having a psychotic break?"

Both of them whip around to look at him and Eddie both appreciates and shies away from the attention, no matter how brief it is before something is stealing Nancy's gaze back out into the hall and she's calling time and--and--and--

"Up and at 'em," Steve is muttering as he all but drags Eddie to his feet with an arm around him to force him to keep pace.

"I can't tell if you're delusional or if you have just have major guts," Eddie says just before the cross the threshold, just before he lets these two near-strangers potentially save his godforsaken life.

Steve Harrington chuckles, soft and surprised in Eddie's ear, and the look on his face, the shine in those eyes, is the kind of thing that might just make a life on the run worth the fuss.

"Guts, Munson," Steve grins, as hopelessness fades, "definitely guts."

[watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees]

Run, rabbit, run

this had been bouncing around in my head for like 3 years now, i finally wrote it down properly, a little early Aly stuff <<3

masterlist

taglist: @risk606

TW: captivity, implied pet whump, escape attempt, manipulative whumper, restrains, gunshot, mentioned scars, very mild gore (wounds, injuries), recapture

"Seriously?" Luke sounded annoyed more than anything, a little exasperated even. Neither of which emotions he had a right to feel in Alyssa's opinion.

She managed to twist left wrist out of the metal cuff and was diligently working on freeing her other hand.

Both her lower arms were covered in blood, the restraints didn't give easily and first chafed the skin raw, then bloody. It made her left wrist slick enough to pull through at least.

The pain started to catch up with her though and the more time she spent on her right hand, the more it swelled, and it made her escape attempt practically impossible.

That's how Luke found her, he rushed down the stairs and grabbed her by the freed arm.

"This is your stupidest attempt so far" he yanked her arm closer to inspect it.

"Let me go" she tried to pull back, but he was so much stronger. The burst of adrenalin that had kept her going since she managed to free one hand had started to fade leaving only despair in it's wake. She didn't want to start crying.

"I mean you only managed to hurt yourself and for what exactly?" he scolded her with a frown.

"Fuck you, I almost did it" It was a blatant lie, fuelled by the last kick of energy she spared.

Luke glanced down at her very much still cuffed, swollen wrist and didn't feel the need to comment on it. Instead, he shook his head with a sigh.

"This can't go on forever"

"I won't stop, until I get the fuck away from here!" She struggled once more, trying to shake off his hold. This time even weaker than before.

"You're really set on that, huh?" He finally let go of her and Alyssa collapsed. She managed only a tearful glare as a response. What do you think, you monster?

"Okay, then let's make a deal" he crouched down to her level.

"What deal?" Aly asked carefully.

"Be on your best behaviour tonight, and I'll let you make a run for it tomorrow," he cupped the side of her face with one hand, almost affectionately. Aly, was much too taken aback to pull away or even notice.

"I can go? That- Why- How-?" she stammered. It couldn't be true. "You said you would never... You wouldn't. What?"

Luke chuckled with an amused smile plastered on.

"I know, what I said, but look at you" He let go of her face and gestured to her left hand "You clearly aren't going to learn, and you're so miserable you hurt yourself"

Aly noticed the slight change in his tone, that something isn't right about the way he spoke, but she couldn't ponder about it. She'd be free.

"You mean it? You really mean it?" she asked, and a fresh wave of tears welled up in her eyes, for the first time ever since she was there, they were tears of happiness.

"I mean it, you can run to your hearts desire, tomorrow morning. On the condition that you behave for me for the rest of today" She nodded eagerly.

"I'll be good. I'll do anything. Please" He laughed and let her still chained wrist free.

...

She expected he'd order her around, or make her do something horrible and humiliating to get a last kick out of her before the next morning, but all she had to do was follow him upstairs and sit quietly while him and Cole watched a movie, cuddled up on the couch.

It would've been peaceful, if she didn't feel her heart beat in her throat with excitement. She could barely focus on staying still.

She'd be free to go. The nightmare would end, and sure, she'll have the scars that will never fade, but she'd be free.

She planned to get home first, by any means, and later to the police. It made absolutely no sense that they'd just let her do that, so she'd play it safe. And go home first and foremost. She missed her family, her parents and her little brothers.

When the movie ended Luke sent her back downstairs. She barely slept a wink, and the morning light came through the small window of the basement almost too soon for her to prepare for it.

She waited with a tight knot in her stomach to hear any noise from the house that would indicate the guys were up.

Alyssa would be free.

...

She practically offers her hand for Luke to lead her out by, when he finally opens the door and walks down. He laughs at her softly and that sound twists itself into her chest like a dagger.

It still makes no sense, why the sudden change of heart, but he does lead her upstairs, gives her her pair of shoes back as promised, and through the door they go, outside the house.

She breathes in the cold autumn air as if this is her first time to experience it.

"You get a half an hour headstart" It all comes crashing down and she freezes up.

"What?" There's still a smile playing on his lips, but it turned into something sinister and cruel. There's no softness in it anymore.

"You didn't think, you could just leave that easily, right?" he asked. She did and she had never felt more stupid.

"No, you promised, if i was good..."

"...That you can run. Yes," he finished her sentence "if you get out of the forest and on the nearest road, you're free" he explained, and his smile grew into an amused grin as Alyssa seemed to shatter more with each word.

"If I catch you before that," he continued "you're coming back, I think that's fair" She paled at the thought, her face suddenly felt ice cold just mere seconds after it had burnt with shame.

"None of this is fair" she muttered in protest.

"You're right, it's not" Luke admitted with a content sigh. He stepped closer, invading her space, and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "But it's a lot of fun"

She shook her head, it was a silent plea for him to be joking, but he wasn't. Half an hour through the forest she knew nothing about.

"Which way, uhm, where- which way do I go?" she looked around anxiously.

"Any way you want, love" The answer stung like a slap.

"I mean, where's the road?" she tried again. Desperate to get at least a crumb of help that would raise her chances.

"That way" he gestured to the direction of the dirt road that led to the house through the forest.

She nodded and took a deep breath, "So what now?"

"Run" he winked and crossed his arms in front of himself lazily. "Timer starts now" Alyssa bolted.

...

She'd fallen, scratched and bruised herself up more times than she could count. She was clumsy and not used to this type of physical exertion.

The road was right there she saw the unnatural grey of the asphalt peeking through the browns and greens of the forest.

She almost started crying. She was there.

And then she hit the ground the same time as the sound of two shots fired caught up to her.

It was hard to make out what happened, she prayed, something had fallen on her head hit her head and that caused the horrible ringing in her ears. It would explain why she was on the ground all of a sudden. But her head didn't hurt.

What if she got overtly excited to see the road to freedom and tripped over her own feet.

The rustling of the leaves, crushed under a someone's boots ripped both theories to shreds immediately.

"You were so close, Aly," came the voice she hoped to never have to hear again. Luke was so close to her.

She started shaking, as her brain caught up to what had just happened. The pain from both her legs radiated through her in waves. Her heart worked in overtime to keep her alive and keep the oxygen running, she felt it beating against the ground.

"See? The road is right there," he probably pointed to the direction she was still focused on. "It only would've taken you a minute or two"

"You- you promised to let me... I ran, please, I can't-" She gathered her strength, as much there was left of it and pushed herself to crawl forward. She noticed her legs were dead weight, and the burst of energy could only take her so far pulling herself forward on two arms.

He sighed as he watched the struggle, but not didn't make a move. It was a pathetic and ultimately pointless attempt to get away after all.

He was a good shot, he hit both her legs, the right on her thigh the left on her calf. She was dragging two horrendous trails of blood behind herself, and only managed to gain a few feet of distance before her arms gave out.

"You cant do this-" she burst out, sobs bubbling up from deep down in her chest "I didn't- that's not f-fh-fucking fa- it's cheating" she cried. They had agreed it wasn't fair, right.

"Cheating?" he laughed in earnest, and he sounded much closer to her. She didn't notice him crouching down next to her over her own sobs. "Baby, I made the rules, this is just how it is"

"Fuck you" she managed, broken.

"I'm calling Cole to bring the car, those wounds look bad" he reached down to trace the outline of the growing red stain on her jeans over her thigh. Alyssa shuddered.

"No, just, let me go, please, let me go home, I can- I'll crawl, you don't have to- just, please" she begged with a last ounce of effort before succumbing to hopelessness.

"No, darling, this was your chance and you lost it, we're going back home"

[demona-andariel]

Object of Obsession - 40 / 46

Fandom: Halloween

Pairing: Michael Myers x OFC

Summary: In Haddonfield everyone knows the legend that was Michael Myers. Content and at ease, they’d forgotten what it was to feel fear in the month of October. But now, he finds himself back and ready for blood but then a bond forms between him and one of his victims. A bond he can’t seem to break. And it starts to make him do things he never thought of doing before.

Warnings: (Encompassing the whole story in no particular order) kidnapping, noncon, explicit sexual content, smut, loss of virginity, rough sex, blood and violence, knifeplay, canon-typical violence

Author Note: Minors DNI!

Word Count: 3,825

Chapter 40 - Up Against A Wall

The horrible sound of something hard hitting flesh echoed in her mind. They were killing him. She couldn't see. All she could do was listen. Listen to the sounds of blunt weapons connecting with flesh. Hear Michael's grunts as he fought for his life. Strange men yelled, coordinating with each other against him. He needed help. Her help.

She struggled, but her hands were cuffed behind her back. What was wrong with her? She didn't need her arms to help. All she needed was her voice. Only… muffled words came out. She was gagged. They knew how to stop her from helping. Her wrists hurt as she strained to free herself. All she needed was to get the gag off. But it was impossible. Dark world, gagged, bound, helpless.

No! Not helpless. She could do something. She just needed the damn gag gone. She'd make them pay. It was her and Michael against the world. And the world was fucked.

"I'm doing this for you," a familiar voice whispered in her ear. She froze.

Nathan? No…

"I know you think I'm the bad guy here. I'm not. I'm trying to save your soul, babe. Before you doom it to hell for siding with a killer," Brandon's voice said, causing a cold chill to run through her body. She felt an arm wrap around her from behind, pulling her back against his body. She desperately tried to get away, tried to move towards the noises, to Michael. He had a knife. He could cut through the gag.

"Don't worry. I'm not as cruel as he is. I won't let you watch him die like he made you watch me die." He wasn't leading her away though. He was holding her there. He wasn't going to let her watch, but he sure as hell intended for her to listen to every strike, ever grunt of pain until Michael was silent.

She screamed into her gag. If only he'd let her help.

"No!" Gretchen cried out as she shot up in bed. Her body shook and pulse with fear. The cold sweat coating her skin caused the chilly room to feel even colder. She placed her hands on her head, rubbing her fingers along her scalp.

When?

Soon.

"Michael?" She needed to warn him. Gretchen turned, placing her hand on the empty side of his bed. Her heart momentarily sank. Of course he was gone. He was probably out there again, killing and-

"Don't, Gretch," she muttered to herself. "He wouldn't leave you alone like that. Not so soon." Last time he left, he woke her up and said goodbye. No. He was around, nearby.

She got out of bed and walked to the dresser. Sifting through the clothing she'd haphazardly thrown into each drawer the night before, she grabbed the first shirt and leggings she saw.

Her mind wandered back to her dream. Or was it a vision? A vision of sorts. Brandon was coming back. She knew deep down he wasn't gone. He'd come back. But, she also knew he couldn't enter the house. While in the house she was safe from him. They were safe. But, Michael wouldn't stay cooped up in the house for long. And Brandon would probably taunt him into leaving.

She needed answers. She'd drawn specific situations before. Situations that she didn't want to see and hid from herself. Not this time. She needed to know. Needed to see. Needed to figure out a way to avoid that fate.

Gretchen stopped by her art room first, grabbing the first sketchbook and pencil she could see, before heading downstairs to make some breakfast. Brandon's goal hadn't changed. He was still after her, but the way he was going about it had. Instead of focusing on trying to get Michael to kill her or her to kill herself, he was going to try and kill Michael. It made sense. He couldn't get to her while Michael was around.

If you think I'm going to let you kill Michael you're in for a surprise. Brandon had her at a disadvantage before. There had been a lot going on. A lot she had to process and struggle with. Brandon's death. Michael abducting her. Her near immediate realization that she was attracted to the killer. Her own denial of that whole situation. And then there was Brandon's ghost and his apparent mission to slowly drive her insane. Insane enough to have Michael kill her, or for her to take her own life. But, he failed. His actions only pushed her and Michael closer together.

Brandon knew more about her than she realized. He'd thrown out subtle hints. Just enough to make her wonder, but not enough for any answers.

"Really going to use your words against me? Again?" Brandon knew. In her vision, her mouth was gagged, meaning he knew how dangerous it was allowing her to speak. It seemed that everyone in her life knew more about her than she did.

Gretchen set down her sketchbook and pencil on the dining room table.

Maybe Brandon was given more knowledge once he'd died. Why he suddenly became obsessed with her, calling her his soulmate, was confusing. She never admitted to him that she thought that. He never acted like he thought they were soulmates. Had he always been possessive towards her? Possibly. She'd been blinded. Blinded by her own desperate need for happiness, she didn't see any potential red flags from him.

Although, it wasn't like Michael wasn't one giant red flag himself. He was a serial killer after all with little care as to who his victims were. Except children. That was one thing he had going for him. He didn't kill little kids.

But, there was something about Brandon that made him seem worse to her. He's a liar. A parasite. He doesn't want you because he loves you.

There was an argument that could be made that Michael's interests in her was purely carnal. Why else had he trapped her in his house, except to fuck her? Make sure she didn't escape? He had been holding her captive.

Had.

She had been trapped, held against her will for some time. But, oddly enough, she had more freedom with Michael. Freedom to be herself. If she'd realized that sooner she could have leaned more into exploring who she really was. What she could do.

Michael didn't care. She could have been the most mentally unstable person and he probably would have shrugged his shoulders and fucked her anyway. Maybe she could have confided in him earlier about her visions, about hearing things. About possibly being haunted. Whether he took her seriously or not, he wouldn't have scoffed at her. She was who she was and he accepted that.

"Because they're you." His words repeated in her mind when he told her why he liked her scars. From the beginning, he'd latched onto the fact that his reaction towards them made her afraid. He didn't have to, but he made sure to never shy away from them. To touch them in the most intimate way he could.

Gretchen tapped the fingers of one hand on the table while her other hand rubbed her scars. Scars that had a deeper more troubling meaning. She still wasn't ready to open up that can of worms and explore that whole part of her life. Of the lie she was allowed to believe.

Gods! So much was happening in such a short amount of time. She wasn't being given any time to think. To adjust to her situation.

Maybe that was why her uncle didn't tell her, prepare her. He knew she was going to end up with Michael Myers. She couldn't exactly blame him for being afraid if that was true. What exactly was she? A witch? Perhaps. Although, her father used to say that they were descendants of druids. Whatever the case was, she was just as dangerous as Michael and all she had to do was speak.

Gretchen tapped her pencil against her sketchbook. Her eyes focused on the page she'd opened. She frowned. It was empty. There was no image she'd absentmindedly drawn to give her another glimpse of what was to come to past.

She flipped through the pages, just in case she'd tried to hide the future, but there was nothing else. Returning to the blank pages, she ran her fingers along the paper.

Future unknown?

"Now you remain silent," she muttered to her mind. She'd been plagued with glimpses here and there of what was to come, but now that she wanted more information her mind refused to cooperate.

"This path will only lead to your heartbreak," her uncle's words echoed in her mind.

This path?

She sat up straighter. There were only a handful of visions that she remember and all of them she never once bothered trying to change their outcome. It was because the outcome was something she thought she wanted. Not this time.

She gulped, swallowing back the gorge that started to develop in her throat. What if the answer was her heartbreak? What if there was no saving him? Unless… what if she left him?

Her heartbeat picked up at the thought. It wasn't like this was the first time Michael's life was in danger. Hell, she was pretty sure he'd been almost killed several times. But, what if she was his doom, his weakness?

She clenched her fists in frustration. Her uncle had done her a great disservice in not preparing her. Then again, maybe he was doing the world a favor. She had no idea what else she was capable of. She would fight for Michael. That she was sure of. Kill for him.

Perhaps her uncle always knew that. It would explain why her father attacked her when she was a kid. He found out that his daughter would fall in love with a serial killer and want to protect the man. So, her family conspired to keep her abilities hidden from her. Keep her in the dark.

Twenty-three. An age she'd been most looking forward to because she was promised answers.

Tomorrow.

Her skin rose as an uneasiness settled on her at the thought. She thought that he chose just a random number, but what it if wasn't so random? Something nagged at her in the back of her mind. An answer to the question she'd just asked, but her brain still held some fog. The pills her uncle had her own clearly affected her abilities, dampened them.

The light in the hallway flickered, interrupting her thoughts. Gretchen glanced up from the table into the hallway. It flickered twice more before going dark. With a loud dramatic sigh, she got up from the table and grabbed the chair she was sitting on. She partially dragged it across the room into the hallway, setting it under the burned light.

She found the spare set of bulbs she'd put under the kitchen sink. Climbing onto the chair, she let out a little shriek as it wobbled under her.

"Gods, if a chair is my undoing I'm going to scream," she mumbled. She glanced in the direction of the dining room. There were plenty of other chairs to grab, but that seemed like a lot of extra effort for a quick second change.

Steadying her feet, Gretchen reached up and unscrewed the burned bulb. Fingers brushed the skin on her belly, causing her to jump in surprise.

"Gods, shit! Fuck! Michael?!" she exclaimed.

His other arm wrapped around her to grab her ass and steady her, as the fingers of his right hand pressed against her belly.

Stupidly tall, silent man.

"I…" Her heart pounded wildly in her chest at his touch. His blue eyes locked on to her hazel ones, but he didn't give her any sign of what he was thinking.

Slowly, he looked up at the empty light socket.

Right.

His powerful arms held her steady as she reached up and screwed in the new bulb.

"Thank you," she said as she looked down at him. Michael's eyes slowly traveled down her body, causing her to swallow hard. She was at a better height for him to view her scars. The scars she thought she'd received in a car accident but apparently were made by her own father.

The thought made her body tremble. So much going on and such little time to process.

Michael looked up at her. His fingers gently touched her scars.

"Michael, I need to tell you-" a loud involuntary moan drew out of her as he placed his lips on her stomach. She ran her fingers through his hair short brown for a moment.

He pulled away. His right hand left her stomach to rise up over her shirt. She started to lean forward then froze as his fingers tweaked the single erect nipple that teased him through the fabric.

His face twitched slightly and he cocked his head to one side. Reaching out, he popped open one button of her shirt. So busy in her own head, she hadn't realized what she wore. Apparently, the first shirt she had grabbed was the old button-up shirt she had found in the house her first day there.

He opened a second and then third button. His eyes focused on the curves of her breasts as he slowly revealed them. Her heart fluttered at the thought of him filling her up, pounding into her, releasing the stress that was building up inside.

"You're not one to watch the world bleed." Wasn't she? She didn't care about the world, but Michael… She couldn't watch him bleed. It suddenly hit her. The answer. She knew what she needed to do to save him.

She grabbed his wrist when he moved to the fourth button.

"I want to go back to my uncle," she said. Before he could do anything, she dropped down and turned her back to him. "I think it's going to be better for us."

He grabbed her wrist, turning her to look at him. His face searched hers as she brought her other hand up to make him release her.

"Michael, Brandon's coming back," she said with concern, pulling at his fingers with her free hand. "I don't… I don't want to see you die. If I stay… you'll-"

He grabbed her other wrist and pushed her back till she hit the wall, pinning her arms above her head. His body crowded hers and she couldn't help but whimpered a little. Her eyes widened in surprise as her breathing deepened. Gods damn, you. He was making it harder for them. He had to know, had to feel that they were doomed.

"Michael."

His eyes focused on the shirt. Trapping both of her wrists with one big hand, he withdrew his knife. She swallowed hard and watched as he pressed the blade against the fabric. The cool steel brushed her skin. She gasped and couldn't help but tense. He's not going to kill you.

She knew that. It was just a little game for him. A game he hadn't been able to play with her in quite a while. The dangerous, unpredictable killer. Or, maybe he would kill her this time. She told him she wanted to leave and he couldn't allow that. Could he?

His eyes focused on what he was doing. He cut through the threads to pop open another button. She gasped again as he used the knife to push the fabric to one side. The blade left light scratches but nothing that caused her to bleed. He moved slowly, cutting out the remaining buttons till the shirt hung open over her.

Her body automatically froze as the knife paused just above her scars. He didn't give her time to seriously believe he'd even try to tease touching them with his blade. He dragged the cool steel back up her middle to her collarbone. There was a moment, a brief pause on the first cut he'd given her the first day she was there. It was all but gone. A small prick she'd made struggling.

Michael's muscles tensed as if he was thinking about pushing the blade into her skin. Taking in a small breath, she exhaled, pushing her chest out just a little bit more. The knife pierced her skin, sending a small but sharp pain through her. Michael froze then pulled his hand back just as a trickle of blood seeped out of her wound. He stared at the trail as it slowly went down her body. Then he lifted his eyes to look at her.

"Are you going to kill me? Or are you going to fuck me?"

His nostrils flared. He raised his knife, placing it by her neck, causing her to move her head to one side. His blue eyes blazed with desire to-

"Fuck you," he stated. He dropped the knife and roughly turned her around. The shirt was torn off her in an instant as were her leggings. He pressed up against her and they both moaned as she felt his growing erection. Michael moved his hands off her as he got rid of his clothes.

She turned around. As much as she wanted him to press her against the wall and fuck her from behind, she more desperately wanted his lips on hers. She jumped up, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. He immediately placed one arm under her ass to help support her.

He slammed her against the wall almost a little too hard, but it didn't matter. His mouth went to her neck while his body grinded against hers. His cock brushed against her, teasing her.

“Michael,” she moaned. Her voice low, heavy and full of lust. She ran her fingers through his hair, before forcing him to kiss her. It was deep and passionate. Her free hand went between them to grab his cock as he guided her down onto him. She let out a gasp, releasing his mouth, as his cock entered her.

"Michael," she moaned into his ear. She hugged him, digging her fingers into his shoulders as he pushed her up against the wall and fucked her hard.

His cock drove into her, reminding her again and again that they were meant to be. He was just right for her. Michael leaned back to grab her neck for a moment. He squeezed to get her attention. His blue eyes stared into hers.

"Mine," he stated.

She nodded her head in agreement. They completed each other. They'd always had an interest, a connection. And with each passing day, each fuck, it only grew stronger.

He let go of her neck to firmly grab her ass for better leverage. His thrusting became erratic, matching his breathing. He was going to come soon. She held on as tightly as she could, letting her moans tell him how she felt.

He slammed her down hard as he pushed up one final time. His warm cum filled her up. She tightened her legs around his waist for a moment, desperately trying to keep him in her for a moment longer.

Gods. Either the world is doomed or we're doomed.

She let out a content sigh and hummed. Michael's hand wrapped around her neck as he moved her head back. Despite his attempt at being semi-rough, he still took care not to hurt her still freshly bruised neck. His body pressed against hers, keeping her up on the wall.

His blue eyes slowly examined her face. She breathed deeply as she watched him.

"Never kill," he stated.

She swallowed hard. "Only fuck?"

"Mine," he stated.

Yours.

Michael's eyes deliberately looked behind her at the wall then back at her. He moved his free hand up to stroke her bottom lip.

"You really wanted to fuck me against this wall," he said, stringing along more words than ever before.

Her pupils dilated. She thought it was a dream, telling him that back when she was feverish. Clearly, it wasn't and he remembered. She kissed him, holding onto him tightly for one more moment. Fuck it! It was them against the world now, wasn't it? That's what she had decided. Michael was a killer and apparently so was she. She'd told her uncle that Michael wouldn't let her go. She'd also told him that she wouldn't let them take her either.

"Come," she said, unwrapping her legs from around his waist. She grabbed his hand, leading him to the living room. She pushed him back against the couch before straddling his lap. A smirk crossed his lips as his hands went along her thighs and then up her waist. His fingers roamed her stomach for a moment. She ran her hands along his face, tracing his features.

"I thought I came here for Brandon." His eyes narrowed as his jaw clenched. "I had a vision. I told you that. I saw me and him together. Only, that specific event led me to you and you to me. I thought he was my destiny, but you are. Fate's fucked up."

He huffed and smirked, looking away for a moment.

"Michael," she said. She grabbed his left hand and brought it up to her right cheek. Slowly, she moved it down her skin. "You cut me here."

His body stiffened as his pupils dilated slightly.

"No," he said, shaking his head as he moved his hand back. She tightened her grip not letting him escape.

"You cut me here," she reiterated. "You have to. Brandon's coming for me. For you."

His fingers curled slightly as he clearly fought her words. She refused to let him go. He had to understand. Slowly, he opened his hand and used his thumb to run along the invisible line of what needed to be. He shook his head again.

She let out a sigh.

"I had a dream… a vision this morning. Soon, I don't know where or when, but soon, Brandon's going to attack us. He's going to bring men with him. They are going to attack you. Kill you. You need to cut me here." She ran his finger along her cheek again. "I'll be gagged. I need my words, Michael. I'm not sure how, but I guess I cast spells? He knows what I can do. I think he's always known. He's been scared of me. Trying to push me into thinking I'm helpless against him. He's going to be able to gag me somehow. I don't think you'll have time to take it off easily. You'll have to cut it off."

His face was once again perfectly schooled, void of any emotions. She moved his hand to the new mark he'd made with her help between her breasts again.

"You can do it, Michael. You did it here. Just, think of it as a bigger mark. One that I'm okay with."

He stared at the mark on her chest for a moment. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her in. His warm mouth pressed against her cheek as he kissed her. She hugged him, pressing her whole body tightly against his. She could handle a scar from him. A deeper more permanent one as long as it meant it saved his life. And that's what that scar meant, wasn't it. Anytime she saw it, it faded in and out. A choice, a path.

As long as Michael helped her, Brandon was fucked.

Chapter 41 - Twenty-Three

[dinosaurtsukki]

solitude | fyodor dostoevsky x gn!reader

part 3 of broken, continuation of savior

summary: for the first time in a long time, you're free of fyodor with him in prison. however, you find yourself wondering if this is what you truly want

word count: 1.1k words

contains: stockholm syndrome-ish (depending how you look at it), slight manipulation

anon: Hi ! First, I hope that you’re okay, I wanted to tell you that your work is soooo great, I really support you. Then I wanted to ask you if you could write a part 3 of « broken ». I really loved « broken » and « savior », you are very talented.

a/n: ahh i'm so flattered but thank you !! broken was actually my first fyodor fic so i'm surprised people like it and asked for a sequel. i was kind of on the fence with how to end this series because y/n and fyodor's dynamic is a bit complicated but i hope it came across here!

you're loathe to admit it, but every time you heard a doorbell ring or a knocking on the door, you hope that it's fyodor finally returning home.

it had been more than two weeks since fyodor had enacted his master plan using cannibalism to get the port mafia and armed detective agency to turn against each other. you weren't completely privy to all the details of fyodor's plan or the bigger organization he was working for, but he did let you know that being sent to jail was a part of it.

"you're free to use this space, especially since the special division and armed detective agency are cracking down on the rats of the house of the dead," fyodor told you one night.

"is that so?" you raised an eyebrow at him. "i see you're playing favorites then."

"you've only noticed my favoritism now?" fyodor chuckled. you found it almost funny in hindsight how your relationship had evolved from him manipulating you to playful banter between the two of you.

"you won't be seeing me for a long time," he hummed, absentmindedly twirling a piece of your hair with his index finger. it had become a habit of his that you didn't find entirely unwelcome. "should i leave you a little souvenir so you don't miss me?"

"you're already leaving me your place," you scoffed, waving a hand at him. "that's enough. i have to lay low for the next couple of weeks too."

"that would be advisable," fyodor nodded, letting go of your hair and sitting a little farther from you on the sofa. you hated that you almost wanted to move a little closer. "i've made sure to take care of my tracks. they shouldn't inspect this place."

"alright," you said, paused, before adding "thank you."

the next morning, he was gone before you even woke up. aside from the emptiness of the apartment, you were left with an ambiguously melancholic feeling.

now, he was gone and you had more than enough room to breathe. if you wanted to, you could even finally run away after making sure the coast was clear. but you had already established a while ago that there was more benefit to you staying with fyodor.

maybe the decision you were grappling with was whether or not you actually missed fyodor.

'impossible,' you thought, physically shaking your head as if trying to correct yourself. and despite what you told yourself, there could only be one explanation as to why you frequented fyodor's study so much and took care to wipe his cello case clean every night.

in fact, you began staying in the study more often each day. the desk was as neat as fyodor had left it with his laptop and several files and books stacked neatly on the table. one book in particular, caught your eye.

"the complete collection of t.s. eliot poems," you read aloud. suddenly, you remembered one of the first time you and fyodor had talked in the library, back when you were just a college student and he was just a handsome stranger.

of course, you could tell that the placement of this book could only be deliberate. "of course you'd leave something for me," you spoke out loud, as if he could hear. carefully, you opened the book and found a space neatly cut into the middle of the pages and a flash drive embedded inside.

...

"well, if this isn't quite ironic."

fyodor doesn't look surprised at all to see you standing in front of his jail cell. in fact, it looks as if he had been patiently waiting for you all this time. and that's because he has.

"you couldn't have left your escape plans in a more obvious place?" you sighed at him.

"but that was obvious," fyodor blinked innocently at you. "i knew you would find it at the right time."

did he know you'd be spending most of your time in his study? it was embarrassing to be known that well but you read intently through the plans he had encoded in the flash drive. you couldn't believe what fyodor was asking of you this time because surely he overestimated your abilities.

"couldn't you have asked someone else, someone more capable, to do this for you?" you asked him.

"what for? i have complete confidence in you," fyodor smiled. he was dressed in the white clothes all the other prisoners wore. you could tell that he had lost quite a bit of weight due to his stay and both of his hands were cuffed. and yet, he looked absolutely delighted at seeing you.

and that gave you a deep sense of satisfaction.

you pressed a hand to the bulletproof glass of his jail cell. "remember that night? when you broke me out of jail?"

"of course i do," fyodor hummed, leaning back and closing his eyes as he savored the memory. "that was sloppy work on your part. anyone could tell that you had an ulterior motive to get yourself caught."

"yeah, yeah. i'm aware," you rolled your eyes.

"ah, but look at you now," fyodor cocked his head. 'you've changed,' was on the tip of his tongue and you could only agree. even if fyodor wrote up the plans for his escape, you were still the one who snuck into the facility and incapacitated more than a few security guards to break him out.

who would have thought this is where you'd end up?

you keyed in the passcode on the door before stepping inside the jail cell. fyodor held his cuffed wrists out to you and you sighed and crouched down in front of him.

"you couldn't have at least picked the lock on your cuffs?"

"i'd rather you do it for me," fyodor smiled at you.

you didn't even need to be told twice. he was the one who had taught you this skill after all and your fingers worked quickly at the lock. of course, you were aware of fyodor intently staring at you and the way his fingers brushed at the inside of your wrist. finally, the lock clicked open and his metal cuffs fell away.

"finally. they tightened those a bit too much," fyodor sighed, rubbing the red marks on his wrists.

"you must have said something to offend them, like always," you emphasized.

"how was i to know they were going to be offended?" he scoffed as the two of you practically strolled out of the jail cell and into the hallway. "i assume you've been enjoying your time alone at the apartment."

"the silence was definitely a plus. although admittedly..." you trailed off and caught fyodor's glance. "i do miss the sound of your playing."

"is that so?" he chuckled amusedly and flexed his wrists. "i'm out of practice but, i think i can arrange something for you when we get home."

you nodded with a bemused smile on your face. "when we get home."

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist): @kiyoobi​​​​ @atsumusdomain​​​​ @laure-chan​​​​ @goodfoodxoxoxo​​​​ @guardianangelswings​​​​ @kei-ya​​​​ @loisuke​​​​ @whootwhoot​​​​ @liz-multifandom-hotel @kac-chowsballs​​​​ @violentfarewll @fyoyacanruinmylifethanks​ ​​​ @nightmare-light​​​​ ​ @miyakiyo0mi​​​​ @whorefordazai​​​​ @rirk-ke​​​​ @cross-crye​​​ @alohablue @duhsies​​​ @alittlesimp @bsdparadise @fyodorscello @sage-brick

[kristaline2dmensimp]

Marco x reader (NSFW)

Warning: Femdom(?), Unprotected sex, slight bdsm.

A/n: Its already oct 7 in my country!!! In all honesty this is my first time writing smut so bare with wrong grammars? 😅 also this is kind a birthday gift to myself. 😁

(ahem @thatbadbruja My friend and fellow Marco simp I won't definitely forget to tag you on my Marco's content. 👀)

1,743 words

*****

3rd person's POV

This last few days you couldn't sleep well since you started to have this fantasy with your lover a.k.a Marco appearing frequently in your dreams. Moreover, in an outrageous state.

Imagining about taking complete control during your sexy time with Marco's hands tied to the headboard panting and moaning, both body glistening in sweat- wouldn't leave your mind.

Succumbing to your desires, you embarrassingly confessed it to Marco which he responded with a raised brow, but didn't dismiss the idea of it. In fact, he's quite curious; he's more open about his kink and fetishes to you, so hearing you voice out your own desire he's more willing to oblige. Which resulted to being locked inside the privacy of your room, full on liplock sharing a hot intense kiss, pulling away only to breathe; discarding each other's clothing until you were left with only your undergarments and him being completely bare.

"Strawberry will be our safeword." You said pushing him down to the bed, with a small smirk on your face. "I think you're underestimating me Yoi." He chuckled pulling you on top of him mirroring your smirk as you straddle his waist.

Smiling you lean down to his ear before you grind against his pulsating cock, wiping the smirk from his face, prompting a deep groan from the Marco.

"Just a precaution, my dear." You whispered before smashing your lips on his, tongue on the mix, one hand caressing the tattooed part of his well toned chest to distract him while your other hand reached for something on your bedside table.

Marco, of course, isn't one to give up easily, so expect a little challenge from him. He smirked as he tried to gain momentum on the kiss.

Frowning, you hump hard enough into his hardened cock swallowing his moans of pleasure.

He tried to move his hand to touch you but felt half of his strength drained from his body. Pulling away for air, a string of saliva connecting you two, looking up, that's when he realized you had cuffed his hands to the headboard.

'when did....' Marco wondered in shock.

"Oh, I hope you don't mind being tied up for a little while." You said massaging his chest with a small grin.

"Really yoi? Seastone cuffs?" He asked panting fo air looking at you through half lidded eyes. He can't deny he's actually turned on by this.

"I know you're not complaining. So relax, I'll make sure you enjoy it." You said grinning as he gulp seeing the mischievous glint in yoir eyes that made his cock stiffer than usual.

"My, my. You seem really excited." You said feeling his hard member under your clothed sex.

"Well that's your effect on me." Grinning at his reply, you lean down kissing his lips soflty before traveling down to his neck and chest until you came face to face with his aching cock.

You took a hold of his hardened shaft pumping it slightly and his hips instinctively jerk into your hand.

"f-f*ck (____)." He groaned out throwing his head back into the pillow, hands clench and unclenching tugging on the restraints you put on him as you drag your tongue from the underside of his shaft to his tip, licking off the precum before swallowing him.

"Shit f*ck!" He grunted catching him off guard by starting immediately on a fast rhythm, bobbing your head up and down feeling his legs tense up.

"Haa...haa...sh*t you're honna make me cum faster than I thought." Marco moaned accompanied by the rattling of the chains at his futile attempt of breaking free. Not being able to touch your face, your hair, 'anything' are pure torture to him.

Feeling delighted knowing you were responsible for the sound of pleasure leaving his mouth, you suck roughly on his length hoping this would push him over the edge.

"(____) I'm c-cumming." Feeling him twitch in your mouth, you immediately pull away. "wha- hey." He whined from the lost contact leaving him fromt the peak of his orgasm. He lift his head to look at you, eyes filled with lust and out of breath.

"Do you wanna cum Marco?" You teased, stripping off your remaining undergarments. "If you're gonna cum.." You trailed off taking his hard shaft and aligning it at your entrance. "Then do it inside!" You finished your sentence as you slam yourself down, the delicious stretch, movement and the thickness of his cock made you moan louder.

"Wai–" He didn't had the chance to finish what he was saying when his body stilled, releasing a strangled groan as he came deep inside of you, back arching feeling the tightness of your walls.

Your body shivering from the feeling of being filled to the brim. "Haa...haa..you came so..much." You panted both of your face flushed red and body covered with sweat. Smiling you look at him in the eye.

"Round two babe? I haven't came yet." You coed and before he could comprehend the dangerous glint in your eyes, you began to lift your hips up before slamming it back down, eliticing the loud sweet moan out of Marco.

"(___) w-wait! I just ca~me." He moan throwing his head back on the pillow, restlessly clutching and tugging the restraints on his wrist, flexing the fine muscles of his arm.

"F*ck!" He cussed. Without the healing properties of his devil fruit, Marco could thoroughly feel the slight overstimulation mixed with pleasure coursing through his body. This may be the first time he felt this kind of sensations and boy it felt too good. The drool at the corner of his mouth and the way he he shut his eyes closed are the proof of it.

"Haa..fuck it." He panted before digging the heel of his feet down to the mattress, moving his hips to meet your thrust feeling determined to make you cum faster. "Ahh!" The action made you gasp and moan as he hit your sweet spot. Falling forward to his chest both of you were breathing heavily but your movements didn't falter still maintaining the fast rhythm.

"Don't think just because...I'm tied up with sea prism stone...I dont have the energy left....to f*ck you..yoi." He said in between breaths while looking at you straight in the eye. "heh, we'll see...about that." You responded picking up the pace.

Groaning, you two chase each other's lips, muffling the sound of pleasure only pulling away for air and your body began to tremble feeling your upcoming release. Your hands on his chest for support.

You shut your eyes closed as you bit your lower lip while Marco let out a hoarse moan feeling you clamp down on him.

Noticing this, Marco speed up his thrust knowing you're gonna cum sooner or later as he found your sweet spot intensifying your pleasure. He smirk watching as you gave off a lewd expression while wiping the drool off at the corner of your mouth.

"Mmm, feels too good." You said slamming down on his shaft matching his pace. Encouraged by your words, Marco continously hit your sweet spot that made you see stars until your orgasm hit you hard to the point you collapsed on top of him. With one last thrust he came deep insde you.

He gave off a rugged breaths as you pulled yourself off, shuddering at the oozing feeling of his release down your legs.

"That was....amazing." Marco stated catching his breath before looking at you. "It sure did." You responded staring back at him.

Marco felt a chill ran down his spine seeing the dangerous glint on ypir eyes haven't faded. He jolt at the feeling of your hand on his softening shaft trying to spring it back to life.

"Haa..(____) stop pls....f*ck!" Marco whined as he squirmed, already feeling sensitive, you had made him cum twice without even a few minutes break.

"Is it too much? Yoi can say the safeword dear." You stated, pausing your ministrations to give him the chance to reply, but you were met with silence his gaze full with lust and heavy breaths.

"I really shouldn't underestimated you. Hope your done with the few seconds break, Marco." You coed secretly pulling out a blindfold, both of you were clearly enjoying this.

Your alluring smirk was the last thing he sees before you put on the blindfold on him, his other senses heightens.

You lean down, capturing his lips swallowing his groans and moans while you kept stroking his shaft.

"The main event is yet to come." You whispered tugging his bottom lip, aligning his semi hardened shaft at your entrance, you began to slowly sink down making him moan loud from the overstimulation and his grip tightened at the chains of his restraints.

" Haa.. You're lucky that you put...ahh...seastone cuffs on me or else...ah sh*t You'd be at my mercy yoi." Marco said struggling to keep his moans down as you started bouncing up and down on his shaft.

You knew he'd never let you go easily and his statement is the proof of it, so why not make use the best of it?

Feeling him twitch, you smirked. "Too bad, I'm in control." You responded letting out an occasional moans when the tip of his cock graze ypur sweet spot.

Completely drowned in pleasure, Marco let out a strangle moan, flexing the veins and muscles of his arms as you made him cum for the third time yet your movements didn't falter.

"If I can only escape this cuf-" Marco didn't had the chance to finish his sentence when you captured his lips, tongue dancing together.

'haa...f*ck..' He thought feeling his impending release coming quicker than the last one.

"I'm coming master~" You grinned widely when Marco cussed out loud from hearing your words, both of your bodies were already covered in a thick sweat and exhaustion were taking over, yet you had the the gal to still tease him? Was what marco thought and he wonder when did you become so bold. But he wasn't going to complaining.

"(____) I'll surely..haa..get you back for this yoi.." Marco stated tugging the chains as you giggle. "I'd be disappointed if you don't, my dear Marco~" You coed before you two came undone reaching pure ecstasy.

[diaco1968]

Payback is as cold as steel

Mini nsfw stories where you take your revenge on the boys (Bakugou, Izuku, Todoroki and Shinsou), for this

WARNING! nsfw, smut, a bunch of kinks like biting, orgasm denial, overstimulation.

Everyone is aged up and are adults.

Bakugou Katsuki

How did he manage to land in this mess? Agreeing to wear this stupid quirk nullifying collar to be on fair grounds with you for physical training, like a total idiot. You had fooled him.

His arms ached from being stretched over the chair and tied up behind his back by nothing other than his own belt. His neck and shoulders were wet and stinging, littered by your little bitemarks, red and purple.

Panting and sweaty as a string of muffled swears and threats left his lips, from his 5th denied orgasm when your hips stopped moving over the bulge in his undone jeans once again.

"Looks like the biting and barking roles are reversed, Katsu. Are you ready to say it now?"

He glared up at you as you looked down on him affectionately with your smug smile, running your fingers through his hair, almost soothingly. As if he'd believe your false sweet demeanor. Mean little demon, you.

Your fingers undid the muzzle behind his head and let it fall off his mouth and chin, around his neck and onto his chest, him taking in a deep unfiltered gulp of fresh air.

"Well?"

He bucked his hips up into yours but you didn't budge at all, moaning playfully and rolling your hips onto his teasingly, knowing his latest orgasm was too far gone already for him to be able to chase it like that. That only added fuel to his fiery rage, even if there was a chance he was going to open his mouth to beg, it was gone now.

"I'm gonna get my hands on you eventually, (y/n), and when I do, I'll make sure that by the time I'm done with you, you won't be able to walk straight for a month."

The somehow none yelling calm way in which he said it actually shook you to your already dripping core. But it was too late to back down now anyway.

"Wrong answer." You rolled your eyes and put the muzzle back over his mouth, strapping it tightly behind his head. He hissed and growled as you leaned in scraping your teeth over his neck, hips beginning to move, grinding over him roughly, before suddenly sinking your teeth into his shoulder, hearing the sound of his sharp inhale from between the little gaps of the muzzle.

Shoto Todoroki

At that moment, he should've known. The look of utter betrayal was what was written all over his mostly expressionless face as he watched the plot unfold in front of his eyes, the moment your fingers wrapped around his tie delicately, undoing it, very slowly pulling it off of him, letting it slide around his neck softly.

Then you didn't discard it like you usually would. Pure mischief flashing behind shiny (e/c) eyes as you straddled his kness tightly smirking down at him, while he was absolutely helpless in his position on the bed, half sitting, back leaning on the headboard, his hands cuffed up aboved his head keeping him up right.

How many times has it been already? You edging him on till he was more than ready to cum, but couldn't and then you stopping to let him cool off a bit. He hadn't bothered to keep count, hoping his negotiation with you would work each and every time, but as he glared at you panting and sweating and gritting his teeth it was obvious you had other plans.

"What is it Shoto? You want something?"

You hummed dragging your thumb over his slit, smearing the precum around, his shaft throbbing under your touch, an angry red and ready to explode at any time. Only if the tie wasn't wrapped around the base so tightly as a makeshift cock ring.

In yet another futile attempt to reach you, he jerked his arms forward, the metal of the cuffs clinking and the headboard creaked before hitting back on the wall with a loud bang. "Fucking hell..." he hissed as you laughed and grabbed his cock again and started stroking it "these quirk cancelling cuffs are pretty amazing, huh?" His negotiation patience flew out the window as he resorted to threats "when I get out of these cuffs, I'm going to hold you down and fuck the shit out of you, till you can't form a single coherent thought, (y/n)." He growled out and you only grinned at him, a shiver running down your spine knowing he would hold true to his words, you leaned in whispering right into his ear in a breathy voice "If you get out of them Sho~" you tightened the tie around your wrist and pulled it a little tighter.

He let his head drop back in between his stretched up arms on the headboard, glaring at the ceiling before shutting his eyes tight and moaning when you resumed your onslaught on his poor overstimulated cock, bucking his hips involuntarily into your touch.

Izuku Midoriya

The moment he stepped in through the doors, you had pulled him inside by his collar and shut the door, slamming him back into the wall.

The way his green eyes turned wide with worry before he realised what was going on when you crashed your lips onto his, added to your desire to mess him up even more.

He looked relieved only for a second, before his expression twisted into a knowing one as you slapped his hand away harshly when he reached out to hold your hips. He whimpered at the sting of your teeth on his lower lip as you bit and tugged on it when you pulled back from the kiss, your hand reaching down and cupping his dick through his pants roughly, him letting out a surprised mewl.

"You will be touching what I tell you, when I tell you  to. Got it, hero?"

He looked at you through half lidded eyes, pupils dilated, already breathless and panting for air "But!-" you gripped his jaw with your free hand forcing him to be quiet "you're going to be a good boy for me, Deku, right?"

He watched you and your eyes intently for a few seconds before nodding his head. That was a couple of hours ago. Now he was leaning back full weight on the wall behind him, dishelved and a hot mess, with your lips wrapped around his cock, sucking his soul out, again and again with no break.

His thighs quivering and legs were shaking, barely able to hold himself up, his head dropping back and hitting the wall with a soft thud as he let out a high pitched exhale that turned into a long loud moan, his hands turning into fists on the wall behind him , knuckles turning white as he came again with nothing coming out, dry as they come.

"Shit! P-please (y/n)! I c-can't anymore... please!" He begged once again almost sobbing from the intense pleasure as he looked down at you for mercy, with you enjoying the number 1 hero, Deku, turning into a loud begging moaning mess under your touch.

Shinsou Hitoshi

Your silence was killing him, crushing his hopes with every passing moment and every time your evil grin faded from his watery vision due to the intense pleasure. Before it all got ripped away from him before he could grasp his now much desired release. "Ah! Fuck! Come on!" He whined and groaned as he tried catching his breath, defeatedly looking at the ceiling before his eyes snapped back on your grin and your unusually quiet chuckle.

Why would you not slip and make a sound in his reply!

It had been a simple request he would have never thought to result in this outcome of all things;

"Hitoshi? Can you do me a favour?" You had kindly hugged him from behind and was now playfully tugging on his arms, to make him turn around, he assumed.

Oh how wrong he was.

"Keep your eyes on mine to the end and it will all be over."

You had said just as you pulled both his arms behind his back, tying them tight and pushing him back on the bed.

That was the last thing he heard you say.

No matter how he prodded at your pride, your conscience, your logic. You wouldn't budge to reply to him, as you gave him a sweet smile while placing the little vibrating buds on his cock securely before walking away, swaying your hips as you showed him the controller between your thumb and forefinger.

"That's a coward move you're pulling, kitten. Never took you for a- Gah!"

You turned the vibrator on, straight on it's highest setting, shrughing your shoulders and smiling at him innocently when he glared at you.

That was an hour and quite a few denied orgasms ago. The thought made him huff out loud.

"You will regret-Ngh! I'm sorry!"

He whimpered as the buzzing sound filled his ears again. He had forgotten threatening was no way to go. It was a simple request; He would have to keep his eyes open and keep them on yours the whole time. He had never thought eye contact with you would be such a hard task to complete.

[whumperflies-and-roses]

"I can't do this anymore", whumpee of choice

Ooooo tsm! This is one of the ones that i had my eye on!

In response to this ask game

Also, sorry if there are any bad spelling or grammar errors I mainly wrote this while it was slow at work

Cw/Tw: asphyxiation, violence, starvation, begging

---

Ruby was thrown to the floor of her cell, hard enough for her vision to go white she concentrated on the dark grey of the floor, where it met the wall, willing the spots to clear.

Whumper stood over her, and placed a boot on her neck, reminding how her powerless she was.

They had bound both her arms and her legs, and fed her so poorly that she couldn't summon her crystals to cushion her fall. Their boot pressed against her power damper collar, leaving barley any room for air to flow to her lungs.

"I thought we weren't going to have any issues today. Too bad, though" Whumper tossed their blonde, extremely long hair over their shoulder with great flamboyance. "Guess you won't be joining me for supper."

Her stomach turned at the possibility of real food, and her body turned in on itself trying to stop the pain in her stomach. It had been days since she had eaten something.

"No-no no please-" She begged

"Oh, what was that?" Whumper pressed their foot down harder cutting off her breathing.

"I can't-" She wheezed "please, I can't do this anymore-" her lungs burned, and she writhed under his boot.

"You should have thought of that when you spoke out of turn, especially in front of my friends." They sneered, flashing pearly white teeth that matched the color of their suit.

Three figures loomed over the doorway, as if it was their que to appear.

"Unfortunately, I am overdressed for the occasion, so they'll have to take it from here."

He slowly relaxed their leg, taking their boot off of her throat slowly, like they was teasing her with her life. She gasped for air immediately, shaking violently.

The two men, clad in black and brown tactical gear, closed in on her, and cuffed her hands and feet to the wall of her cell. The sudden movement made her head swim.

"Do with her what you will, but remember, I want her Alive." She heard him say it though bouts of nausea, overtaking her senses. She really did it this time.

"Yes sir" one of the goons replied.

The person in the white suit turned to walk out the door, but paused before they left.

"If you just tell me who the rat is, I'll set you free" They turned only their head, to gage a reaction or hear better, Ruby couldn't tell.

Her stomach sank with lost hope, hope to get out of here, to be free again.

"I told you, I don't know." She wined. "I don't know."

A brief flash of anger shone though his eyes. He was going to loose his cool sooner or later, Ruby thought.

"Suit yourself. Boys." He snapped, and left the room, door closing with loud clicks and scrapes.

---

Whumper walked down the hall with rithmic, steady steps. Their white suit shone in comparison to the neutral gray walls, giving them an air of superiority wherever they were in these cursed buildings.

They almost lost their cool today. The supers were annoying to be sure, but this one, they thought, was stubborn, and unbreakable.

Screams and pleas ricocheted through the halls, filling their heart with glee. It wouldn't be too long now, until she would snap. They had ways of making them talk. And they wouldn't spare anything to make it happen.

Not in a million years.

[bill-y]

INURE

Peeta Mellark x Reader

[ We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn’t been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family. ]

Info: This is basically a reader insert and I’ve changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN’T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE

Part four: Click here, rooroorara shooty shooty vang vang

Part five: You're right here, silly!

Part six: Click here, war criminal of 1878!

Wattpad acc: L0calxDumbass

The moment the anthem finished, we were taken into custody. It's not as if we were cuffed or anything; a group of Peacekeepers simply marched us through the front door of the Justice Building.

Each year, at least one of the tributes tries to escape; I've never seen one successfully do so.

Once inside, they put me in a room. It's the most prosperous place I've been to. With a thick carpet in the ground and a weird couch made of fabric, I've never seen before.

It was a strange texture, almost like the weird fuzzy stuff in deer's antlers. My father called them velvet; was this the same thing? If so, that's a bit gross.

Despite this, I still caressed the couch; it was oddly comforting. Almost like you're patting a nearly hairless kitten. It switched from smooth to rough each time I ran my hands through it.

Then I remembered that we only had an hour to say goodbye to our loved ones before leaving for the Capitol. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath in. I didn't want to cry at all; the cameras were trained on me. I'm sure the Capitol would eat my tears up.

The first people who came in were my mother and my brother. Kunal let out a sob as he ran towards me, practically throwing himself onto me. I hugged him, staying silent as he buried his face into my neck, afraid that if he let go, I would disappear.

But I needed to break it one way or another. "Mother," I called, my voice detached. Her green eyes met mine, her lips quivering. I gulped down my spit, taking another deep breath in. "Do you. . . Have any idea on how you'll support yourselves. . ?" I asked.

Her eyes landed on the thick, red carpet. "Not as of now," she answered grimly, "But Katniss' mother offered me some work at the apothecary,"

My arms around my brother tightened. Maybe Gale and Katniss could bring them some of the game as well, though I wouldn't count on it. Why would they help us when they have other things to worry about? It's not as if I could teach Nal how to hunt either. The boy's frightened by his own shadow.

All he's good for right now for picking flowers as much as I love him. A sigh escaped my lips, my chest falling slowly as the reality sunk in.

"Well, you must think of something," I told her, my brows furrowing. "I'm not going to come back; I won't be able to support you and—"

"No!" she barked, "No! You will come back, Y/n." she proclaimed, her eyes shaking. She clenched her, fists, "Swear that you will."

Bitterness rose within me. "Tell that to the Capitol, mother," I said coolly. "If I die, then I—." My words were cut short by the sobbing of my brother.

He sniffled, pulling away from my now wet neck. "You'll win, won't you?" he croaked, wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his reaping clothes.

I felt my heart stop; what was I supposed to say to him? "No, Nal. I will surely die, don't count on it,"  a lump formed in my throat.

My eyes landed on my mother, who gave a stern look.  It told me to lie, if not for her sake, then for my brother's. With shaky hands, I held my brother's shoulders. "I'll make it out; then we can— gather some flowers in Victor's village, yes?" 

Nal nodded, hugging me once more. I took a deep breath before I started explaining what they should do. With mother possibly getting a job at the apothecary, perhaps they have a  chance to survive, after all. Though I'm not sure, that's such a pleasant thought with the fact that I will die. 

Soon enough, a Peacekeeper was at the door, telling them their time was up. I gave Nal a hard squeeze before pushing him off. My mother nodded at me; her strawberry blonde hair bounced as she did so. "I love you both," 

The words were stuck in my throat; I couldn't say them. Maybe it was because of my strained relationship with my mother or because I hated the fact that I had just given my brother a false sense of hope. I simply watched as they walked away, hand in hand. 

Nal's watery blue eyes looked back at me one last time, a look of sadness. He knew I was lying. I sounded unconvinced when I told him. My posture slumped; I felt horrible. Our maker is siis merely, I suppose.

The next visitor was unexpected; Peeta's father, the baker. My gut churned; I was off to kill his son soon. Why has he come to visit me? Perhaps he has come to beg me not to kill his son? Not that I could either way, Peeta was stronger than me: it was clear as day.

He handed me a small piece of parchment. It was filled with warm cookies. A delicacy. He must've visited his son; after all, why would he just me cookies? I was about to die anyway; why feed a dead man?

I let out a huge breath, "How was the squirrel?" my voice pierced through the thick silence. He shrugged, "Alright," he answered. Then another wave of silence hit us. I sniffed awkwardly, the scent of fresh bread entering my lungs. 

I couldn't think of anything to say. What was I supposed to do? ApoloApologisebe, but I never really liked apoloapologisingee no need to. If I'm sorry, then I'll show it. We sat in awkward silence before the Peacekeepers told him his time was up. He stood up, clearing his throat.

"I'll keep an eye on the little boy, make sure he's eating," He stated before leaving. I felt the pressure lift from my chest. They may not like me much, but Nal was practically an angel to them. An angel born in a family of rebels, I'm guessing, is their thoughts.

The next guest then entered. Madge. Her expression wasn't weepy nor evasive, nor did she wear that bright smile she always had when she was around me. It looked urgent. She walked straight to me, the urgency in her tone quite surprising, "They let you wear one thing from your district in the arena. One thing to remind you of home, will you wear this?" she holds out a circular gold pin that was on her dress earlier.

My brows furrowed, "Your pin?' I said. Does she really to die wearing rich-people-things? That hasn't even crossed my mind. . . 

"I'll put it on your tunic, alright?" She said, not waiting for my answer as she leaned in and fixed the bird on my chest. "Promise me you'll wear it to the arena, Y/n. Promise me," She took my hand, her thumbs rubbing the back of my own.

Compared to Peeta's, hers was cold yet soft, almost as if she was nervous, worried. But why would she? I barely talk to her; she's the one who always strikes a conversation. All I do is nod and disagree at certain times. 

She leaned closer to my face; I gave her an uncertain smile, pulling away. "Thank you, Madge," I muttered. She nodded, letting go of my hands. "Please, stay safe," her voice trembled as she rushed out of the room. I was left standing there, confused. What was that? Why did she visit me despite my rudeness earlier?

Next was Gale and Katniss. I didn't hesitate to hug both of them before pulling away with a sigh. "Hey, you'll be fine," Gale reassured, patting my shoulder. I stayed silent, only nodding. Katniss gave me a pity smile, "I'm sure it would be fairly easy to get knives, Y/n."

A sigh left my mouth, "I know— I just— Don't want to—" I stammered, making a stabbing motion with my hand. Gale gave me a pitied look, "It's just like hunting, Y/n. You're the best hunter we know," he said.

"They're not animals. They think; they're armed."  I reasoned, my voice trembling. Why did I have to feel these emotions now? Maybe reality has finally settled in, the truth that I'll never see any of these faces again. On the off chance that I do, I'm sure they'll view me differently, a cold-blooded murderer.

"What's the difference, reale said grimly. Those words echoed in my head as they went away with the Peacekeepers. What is the difference? We're all just feral dogs forced to fight or cocks pit against each other.

I took a deep breath as I got called to ride a wagon to the train station. It was a relatively short ride. We never really had the luxury of these; we always had to travel by foot.  

I silently thanked myself for not crying; there were insect-like cameras trained onto my face. Thankfully, I knew how to act, to bite my tongue. If I hadn't, I'd probably be screaming profanities. My eyes glanced onto the television screen; I look bored. Which, I surprisingly was.

It was as if my spirit left me already.

Peeta Mellark, on the other hand, had obviously been crying. However, he didn't even try to hide it, which was quite odd. Was this his strategy? To appear weak and vulnerable to assure the other tributes that he was no threat? This worked for a girl from district 7. Johanna Mason.

She seemed frightened, a cowardly fool that no one bothered about her until only a handful left. She then killed them all, with no problem whatsoever. I remember watching this game, quite shocked. She sold her act to me, but then again, maybe I'm just oblivious.

This worked for her because she looked frail, weak. Peeta applying this strategy was quite odd. Not only did he not look soft, but he was also jacked. He just looked like a big doofus. All those years having bread to eat and hauling trays made him physically capable.

Annoyance rose through me when we had to stand by the train's entrance while cameras gobbled out images up. I was sure I no longer looked bored but rather pissed. It wasn't like I was about to put on a pretty smile for them. These jester-dressed-worms should know how I feel.

Finally, we boarded, and the train began to move at once. The speed took my breath away. It was going faster than I could ever think of. The scenery around us just blurred—a mix of the neutral colour palette that made up District 12. 

We were taught about coal in school. Some basic maths and reading before it circled back to coal again. Our district was used for coal mining, even hundreds of years ago.

Then there are the weekly lectures about the history of Panem, which never fails to annoy me. It's all blather about how we owe the Capitol because of the rebellion and whatnot.

I knew they're hiding something; we couldn't have lost that easily. I always think about this whenever I'm up in the trees, daydreaming, which is why I'm always the last one to arrive at the hill.

The tribute train was much fancier than the room at the Justice building. We were given our own rooms, a dressing area and private bathroom with cold and hot running water. We've never really had hot water readily available at home; we had to boil it.

Though I can't say, I like it, with all that effort I just end up not liking the bath. I much prefer the cold, flowing current of a river.

There are drawers filled with fine clothes, and Effie Trinket told me to do anything I want, wear anything I want, everything is at my disposal. Just be ready for supper in an hour. I peel off my father’s tunic and take a cold shower. I’ve never had a shower before. It’s like being in the rain, inky much tamer. I dress in a dark green shirt and pants, trying my hair to the usual, small pa

At the last minute, I remember Madge’s little gold pin. For the first time, I get a good look at it. It’s as if someone fashioned a small golden bird and then attached a ring around it. The bird is connected to the ring only by its wingtips. I suddenly recognise it—a Mockingjay.

Funny little birds, my favourite creature in the forests, that's for sure. These were a slap to the Capitol's face. They genetically altered animals as weapons. Muttations as we call them, or Mutts for short. One particular kind was a bird they labelled Jabberjay, able to memorise and repeat whole human conversations.

Homing birds, exclusively male that were released into regions where the Capitol’s enemies were known to be hiding. After the birds gathered words, they’d fly back to centres to be recorded. It took people a while to realise what was going on in the districts, how private conversations were being transmitted. Then, of course, the rebels fed the Capitol endless lies, and the joke was on it. So the centres were shut down, and the birds were abandoned to die off in the wild.

But they didn't die; instead, they mated with the female mocking birds and produced this weird species that can replicate both bird whistles and human melodies. They've lost the ability to enunciated words but could still mimic a range of human vocal cords.

My father used to sing them a lot. I guess he passed that habit down to me. Whenever I'm not doing anything, I find myself singing to the hummingbirds, who surprisingly listen and replicate my Father's song. It was a simple melody, made of 10 notes at least.

It warmed by heart, especially at times where I miss him. I smiled, fastening the pin to my shirt, the dark green as its background.

Effie came to collect me. I followed her through a narrow, rocking corridor into a dining room. There's a table where all the dishes are highly breakable. There waiting for us was Peeta Mellark, the chair beside him empty.

"Where's Haymitch?" Asked Effie Trinket brightly.

"Last time I saw him he said he was going to take a nap," said Peeta. "Well, it’s been an exhausting day," said Effie Trinket. I think she’s relieved by Haymitch’s absence, and who can blame her?

Food came in courses. Though I barely touched the carrot soup, the chocolate cake, lamb chops nor the mashed potatoes. I wasn't going to eat this, not from the Capitol.

My jaw clenched as Effie told me to eat up, smiling brightly at me. I gave her a pained smile, slowly taking a bite of the lamb on my plate before swallowing it roughly.

A swirl of guilt formed in my stomach, was I eating really this luxurious food whilst Nal and mother struggle? I sighed, digging my nails into my palms.

Peeta looked at me oddly as he stuffed his face, he nudged my side and nodded towards the food. I simply shook my head, pushing the plate away.

Effie put her lips together at my stubbornness. She was muttering something about having no manners.

We go to another compartment to watch the recap of the reapings across Panem. They try to stagger them throughout the day so a person could conceivably watch the whole thing live, but only people in the Capitol could really do that since none of them has to attend reapings themselves.

One by one, we see the other reapings, the names called, the volunteers stepping forward or, more often, not. We examine the faces of the kids who will be in our competition. A few stand out in my mind.

A monstrous boy who lunges forward to volunteer from District 2. A fox-faced girl with sleek red hair from District 5. A boy with a crippled foot from District 10. And most hauntingly, a twelve-year-old girl from District 11. She has dark brown skin and eyes, but other than that, she’s very like Nal in size and demeanour. Only when she mounts the stage and task for volunteers, all you can hear is the wind whistling through the decrepit buildings around her. There’s no one willing to take her place.

Last of all, District twelve. It showed Nal getting called and me volunteering. The commentators weren't sure about what to say regarding the silence. I only smirked at this, crossing my legs in amusement. Just in time, Haymitch fell from the stage, earning a comical groan from the commentators.

Peeta silently took his place on the stage; we shook hands and then just cut to the anthem.

Effie Trinket is disgruntled about the state her wig was in. "Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behaviour."

Unexpectedly, Peeta laughed. "He was drunk." He said. "He's drunk every year."

"Everyday," I added, finally breaking my silence streak with a smirk. Effie makes it sound kike Haymitch just had rough manners that could easily be dealt with.

"Yes," She hissed "How odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and your death!"

Just then, Haymitch staggers into the compartment. "I miss supper?" he slurred. Then he vomits all over the expensive carpet and falls in a mess.

"So laugh away!" said Effie Trinket. And so I did, I barked out mocking laughter as she hopped in her pointy shoes around the pool of vomit and fled the room.

Word count: 2974

Tags:

@nin3s

[the-last-airblender]

Chapter 4: Run

He looks at you one more time, aims and fires.

Masterlist with the previous chapters

Word count: 5,6k

Notes: Din Djarin x reader

Warnings: angst, violence

Summary: You get prepared for your marriage to your much older cousin, but neither you nor Din are planning on letting it go through.

Moodboard for this chapter:

~

Your knees buckle and the firm grip on your arms is the only thing that keeps you upright as the guards escort you down the hall. Your father's words are still echoing in your head.

'I want to ask you not to get in our way this afternoon, Mando', he said. 'This is simply none of your business. Unfortunately, I will have to take certain measures to ensure that all of this runs smoothly. Too much is at stake here. Our cities will benefit enormously from this union, as our alliance will be stronger than ever. Plus, a big wedding party later this week is sure to make the people forget about the new tax law.'

'You can't force her to get married', Din tried to object.

Signas snorted. 'Oh, I sure can. And don't think you can stop this. It is happening.' He got as close to the Mandalorian as he dared. 'So keep quiet and you are free to leave tonight. If you don’t, I can’t guarantee the safety of that cute, green child you have with you.'

Din had flown forward in rage, but was stopped - with difficulty - by the guards, who basically had to hang from his arms with their full weight to do so. He wasn't quite sure what he planned to do when he reached the mayor, but he could still do a lot of damage with his hands cuffed. Signas knew this and had jumped back, but quickly recovered from the shock. He wiped imaginary dust from his sleeves.

'I knew he was valuable. Don't get me wrong, Mando', he said. 'I don't want to hurt that child-'

‘If you come anywhere near him, I'll tear your limbs off', Din growled, anger beaming off him as if it were sunlight. 

'Then don't give me a reason to', Signas said coldly. 'If you had just given me my daughter like we agreed, none of this would be necessary. You would've been a whole lot richer than the first time we met. So really, you're to blame if anything happens to him. '

This time the guards weren't able to restrain Din and he broke free from their grasp without warning, but they weren't complete idiots. He had barely taken two steps when the now familiar crackling sounded and his beskar loudly made contact with the ground. You grimaced in sympathy, the memory of the pain still fresh in your mind.

'Take him downstairs', Signas ordered irritably.

As they lifted him by his armpits and dragged him out of the room with much groaning, he turned to you. 

'The same goes for you, by the way. I'm sure you wouldn't want anyone else to get hurt because of you, let alone a little kid as big as your nephew. I suggest you keep that in mind today.'

You already know where the guards are taking you before you’ve even reached the door in question. A push makes you stumble into your bedroom, where you’re met by your stepmom Avlin and your aunt Taska, who watch in silence as your handcuffs are taken off. Your eyes dart across the room and are drawn to what lies on your bed: a long, red dress, richly decorated with gold thread, and a matching headscarf that won't be allowed to be taken off until the wedding night. In any other situation you would’ve loved the dress, but now it only adds to your anxiety.

The door closes behind you and you hear a guard cough. One shout and they'll come running back in, but for now they'll give the women the privacy they’d also get on a normal wedding day: it is tradition for the mother and mother-in-law of the bride to prepare her for the ceremony. Avlin is the closest thing you have to a mother, although your father has always forbidden you and Samick to call her that. He married her when you were very young and you love her to bits. You only wish you could say the same of him. 

Usually, this dressing ritual is an intimate, loving moment for the bride and her mother before she separates from her family and begins her own life with the groom. Today, however, it’ll be a lot more difficult.

You stay where you are, tense as a bowstring. You look at Avlin with wide eyes and the exhaustion and pain on her face seem to emphasize the wrinkles starting to form around her eyes and mouth. Her black hair falls on her shoulders and she fiddles with a loose thread from her long, yellow dress, clearly chosen for this occasion. She had disagreed with the whole situation, but you know she was too scared to argue with him. A part of you hates her for it, but then again, you're not much better. No one dares to rebel against him, because everyone knows what happens when someone attempts to do so. You quickly push the memories of those moments back into the most secluded part of the archive of your brain before they can reappear completely.

'Honey ...', she begins with a sigh.

Then, you can no longer stand it and you fly into her arms.

~

Red eyes stare at you in the mirror on your desk. Avlin is braiding your hair and your aunt is sitting next to you, frowning with concentration and decorating your arm with a tube of gold paint. Via the mirror you look at your other arm, which is already covered in curly patterns and countless flowers. You used to dream for hours about your big day, how you’d look so beautiful that all the guys in town would regret ignoring you. How you’d walk to the priest, where the love of your life would be waiting for you in the most beautiful of robes. How he’d shed a tear at the sight of your beauty and your broad smile. How it’d be the happiest day of your life.

You clench your fists to keep the anger off your face and get rewarded with a slap on your shoulder from your aunt.

'Don't move', she orders irritably.

Taska is your father's sister and like the rest of that branch of the family, she is very conservative -which in this case means she has absolutely no problem with this marriage. In fact, she is head of the city guard and will soon also oversee Chavez's city guard. She's therefore dressed in her ceremonial white guard uniform, with her shiny badge proudly pinned up and her blasters on her belt, instead of a festive dress like Avlin. You don't doubt she was furious when she heard about your escape and nearly had to say her promotion -and the considerable raise- goodbye. The fact that the situation now seems to be under control is probably the only reason she’s decorating your arm instead of chopping it off. 

Unbelievable how your relationship changed so quickly; she's the one who had been training you and your brother since you were kids. You owe your fighting skills to her and now she happily contributes to this nightmare, ignoring your opinion and dismissing your strength.

You force yourself to take a deep breath and look at yourself in the mirror again. You have no tears left to cry and instead, anger is brewing deep inside you. Your fighting spirit is back in business. Still, you’ve got to be patient and approach this smartly. Cooperate for now and strike when everyone has dropped their guard. Now that the guards have electroblasters - undoubtedly courtesy of your cousin, who’s involved in the weapons industry - you won't underestimate them a second time. That feeling is most likely mutual, considering what you’ve done. Plus, your aunt is a problem in itself: even if you manage to get your hands on your weapons, you're not so sure you could beat her in combat. Maybe if you could get a hold on one of those electroblasters…

Avlin twists your braids into a bun and secures it with hairpins from the tray on your desk. Then she takes the red headscarf from your bed and starts wrapping it deftly around your head so that any hair disappears underneath. Your long, gold earrings rattle with every move. Once she has pinned the scarf in place, she puts her hands on your shoulders and squeezes them encouragingly. Before you can stop yourself, you've put your hand on hers. As much as you hate that Avlin’s allowing all of this, you know it's not her fault. Leaving her behind is gonna hurt like hell.

'You look regal', she whispers.

Despite everything, you cannot suppress a small smile. However, it disappears right away when your aunt approvingly adds: 'Chavez will not be able to resist you.'

Your chest tightens at the thought of your cousin's greedy gaze, which has followed you since long before this marriage was proposed.

'I'm glad that Mandalorian took you back', she continues without looking up and you don't feel like correcting her, fearing that you'll explode doing so. 'What a ridiculous situation that was! You clearly fail to see how this marriage will profit you as well. The life of a mayor's wife really isn't the end of the world. Think about it: wealth, status, servants... You can buy all the clothes you want and you won't even have to work for it!'

You grit your teeth and ignore her.

'Really, your father is doing you a favor. So put a smile on that pretty face of yours when we go downstairs, would you?' She puts the cap on the tube of body paint and proudly admires her work.

'Beautifully done, Taska', Avlin says diplomatically, before the sales pitch can continue. 'Hey, didn't you have something for her?'

Thanks to your familiarity with the Duuganese tradition you already know what she means.

'Oh yes, that's right', your aunt sighs, getting up and looking around. 'Where did I put that thing?'

'I believe I last saw it in the kitchen.'

Taska looks around one last time and then frowns as she walks towards the door. 'I could’ve sworn...'

As soon as she's gone, Avlin grabs something from under your bed and puts it in your hands. You observe the object, which has been wrapped in a piece of fabric.

'What is this?', you ask.

'We have to hurry', she whispers. ‘Open it.'

You unfold the package and see that it is a metal bracelet. You weigh it in your hands and notice it’s surprisingly light, although one side appears to be heavier. It’s about ten centimeters wide and subtly decorated with a floral pattern.

'It had to match your wedding attire, otherwise people would get suspicious', she explains. 'I had it made for you as soon as I heard about the wedding. Quick, put it on.'

You slide it around your right wrist and look at it from different angles. Only then do you see a small opening on the inside of your wrist.

'Now do this', she says, extending her wrist so the back of her hand moves toward her body. 'But be careful.'

Your brow furrows and you copy her movement. Suddenly, a small, flat blade shoots out from the opening and you nearly yelp, but swallow it just in time as you nervously glance at the door. As soon as you bend your wrist back, the blade shoots back inside the bracelet. Your confusion immediately turns into fascination and you try it a few more times. The blade is about eight centimeters long, razor sharp and sturdy, and invisible when retracted into the bracelet. With a wide grin you let it pop in and out a couple more times and notice that it makes virtually no noise. It’s a fine piece of craftsmanship.

'Pressing this disables the mechanism.' Avlin points to a small flower that, upon closer inspection, indeed looks like a button. 'You don't want to accidentally cut yourself or others.'

You throw your arms around her neck.

'Thanks, mom', you say into her long, black curls, now feeling even more rebellious.

She presses a kiss on your cheek and then pulls away to give you a serious look. 'I know I should have done more, that I should have put a stop to all this. I just...'

You shake your head. 'I know. This isn't on you. '

Her hand squeezes yours.

'Use this wisely', she warns. 'Wait for the right moment.'

You nod and lower your eyes.

'You know I have to leave, right?', you mutter.

A warm hand lifts your chin and forces you to look at your stepmother. She smiles sadly.

'I know', she whispers.

The door opens and your aunt enters with another bundle of cloth in her hand. You get up, feeling safe and self-assured now you have a weapon on you again, and turn around for the final part of the ceremony. Your aunt's fingers deftly attach something to the back of your headscarf and the next moment a thin gold filter falls over your world and the scent of attic and memories reaches your nose. It’s your aunt's bridal veil, as tradition dictates, and you have to admit it is beautiful as well. The edges are decorated with swirling, gold embroidery and the fabric is so light that you hardly notice you're wearing it. Thankfully, you can easily see through it, because it will stay on till just before the 'I do'. Then Chavez will lift it up. You swallow and turn to your aunt and Avlin. The latter looks at you with tears glittering in her eyes.

Before she can say anything, however, your aunt claps her hands excitedly. 'Time to go!'

~

'This isn’t fair', the female guard moans at the ceiling. 'Just as something interesting is about to go down, I have to babysit in the wine cellar.'

'Tell me about it', her colleague grumbles. 'I would’ve liked to see that bitch's face. She deserves everything that’s coming for her considering what she's done.'

Din only half listens to their complaints. His back is leaning against a large wine barrel and his hands rest on his bent knees. Every muscle in his body whines and his left arm still twitches every now and then. Being shocked twice in a short amount of time has left him in a horrible mood and now that he's back in control of his limbs, he's more than ready to end this shitshow.

Crappy, fluorescent lights cast a cold light into the sizable cellar, which is filled with at least a dozen large wine barrels in untidy rows. Cobwebs hang from the ceiling and it’s clear that nobody has bothered to clean in here for a long time, as people with dust allergies would surely drop dead upon entering. A couple of wooden crates with Maker-knows-what in them are stacked against the wall across Din. He suspects that his weapons have been put in one of those crates, because a few meters to his right the child looks at him with concern from his pod. How relieved Din had been to see him safe and sound. Oh, they’re all gonna pay for even threatening to hurt him.

'I would have preferred to chop her head off myself', the guard agrees. 'This is as close to a real punishment as we're gonna get, I guess. She's gonna spend the rest of her life wishing she never came back here.'

'That little brat should be in jail at the very least! She killed three of us and Signas is acting like she didn't eat her vegetables at dinner!'

Din takes a deep breath. Party time.

'They had it coming.'

The guards whip their heads around and the woman immediately explodes.

'What did you just say?!', she yells.

Her colleague tries to grab her arm, telling her that he isn't worth it, but she shakes him off, her furious gaze locked on their prisoner. Din's willing to bet she was close with the guards that were killed. He moves his hands to the right of his knees, pulling his feet further towards him, as if to hide a bit from her. The tension in the room is almost tangible. Good. Angry people make mistakes.

'They shouldn't have gotten in her way', Din shrugs. 'Have you seen those knives of hers? They brought it upon themselves.'

That's all it takes. She storms over to him, cursing and shouting and so caught up in her tirade that she has no time to react when Din suddenly moves. He draws the vibroblade from his boot, jumps to his feet and catches the woman in his arms, the blade against her throat. Immediately, the swearing dies away and she's wise enough not to move.

'Anna!' The other guard has drawn his blaster and is aiming it at Din, but he doesn't shoot. His colleague serves as a living shield and the Mandalorian wisely moves them between the guard and the child.

'Put the blaster down', he barks.

'Put the knife down', the guard counters.

'You want another one of your colleagues to die?'

He hesitates for a second, his face crumpled in anger, but then decides against creating another vacancy and drops his blaster on the ground.

'Where are my weapons?', Din demands.

'Don't tell him, Val!', Anna yells.

Val keeps silent and glares at him.

'I won't ask again', Din snarls, pressing the blade against her throat.

The guard reluctantly points to one of the crates. 'That one.'

'Open it.'

He walks over to it and opens the lid. Din drags his hostage along with him and glances into the crate. Relieved, he sees that his blasters, bullets and gauntlets are all accounted for.

Suddenly, a heel harshly meets his crotch, making him grunt in pain, and simultaneously Anna pushes his hands away from her throat, quickly diving away from his grip. Normally this could never have happened, but with his hands still handcuffed he is a lot less mobile. Enraged, she kicks him in the stomach, causing him to stumble backwards against the wall near the crate.

She really shouldn't have done that.

Both guards grab their blasters and keep them aimed at him.

'Bastard!', Anna spits, rubbing her throat. 'I'll get you for that!'

Din stares at them, panting but well aware of the fact that he's now standing right next to his weapons.

'I'll kill that little gremlin of yours, I swear', she continues furiously. 'I'll skin him alive!'

'Speaking of that little gremlin,' Val says slowly, 'what's it doing?'

All three of them look over at the child, who has his eyes closed and his hand raised in their direction. A small smile appears on Din's face under the helmet.

The next moment, his handcuffs click open.

~

With every step you take towards the palm tree filled courtyard, your heart beats faster. A Duuganese priest waits by the beautifully overgrown gazebo, dressed in black robes and holding a ceremonial staff. Once the 'I do'’s have been exchanged, he will hit the ground with it and loudly announce that the marriage has been approved by the gods. Chavez, richly dressed in bright blue and golden robes that lightly flutter in the wind, awaits her next to the priest. His long, black hair is tied into a bun on the back of his head and a big scimitar hangs from his belt - just for show. You know he can't actually wield it. His brown eyes are fixed on you and a shiver creeps down your spine.

‘You'll be okay’, you quietly tell yourself. ‘I won't let anything happen to you.’

Words Samick said to you years ago when he first taught you how to drive a speeder. Now he waits by the small artificial pond a few feet from the gazebo, his arms folded. The inner conflict is visible on his face and for a moment you wonder if he also remembers his words. When he averts his gaze, you’re sure.

Your stepmother, your aunt and you stop right in front of the priest. The two women bow to him and step aside. On the other side of the priest is your father with a smug expression on his face and to your left and right guards are watching your every move. A gentle breeze rustles the trees.

Chavez reaches out to you with a grin. 'Let's do this.'

Wait for the right moment. With a sweet smile you take his hand and he pulls you closer, as if he can hardly wait to do Maker-knows-what to you. The priest hits the ground with his staff and begins his story. You hardly hear it as you scan your surroundings as inconspicuously as possible and wonder how you’re going to tackle this. In any case, waiting for the 'I do' would be a bad idea, because that’s when all eyes will be on you and as soon as you say yes, you’ll be married in the eyes of the gods and the law and you want to prevent that at all costs. The thought of Chavez having any kind of power or claim over you makes your stomach turn. You need a diversion.

It's as if the gods heard you. Out of nowhere, shots echo through the courtyard and two guards fall to the ground. Avlin screams, your brother and your father look around in alarm, searching for the source of the blasterfire, and Chavez protectively pulls you to his chest. You immediately tear yourself loose from his grip. Your aunt is the first to spot the Mandalorian and starts firing in his direction.

How he slipped into the courtyard with all that beskar on is a mystery to you, but the fact that he’s here at all makes your heart leap with joy and relief. You rip your veil off and fly to one of the fallen guards to grab his blaster, while the shots continue without interruption. The other two guards, like the rest of your family, managed to hide behind trees and they fire at a  certain point behind the gazebo, where Din pops out of the thick vegetation for a second and continues to make things real difficult for them. You don't bother hiding, knowing that you stand out in your red dress and that Din won't shoot you anyway. Just as you’re about to start firing at the two guards, you hear running footsteps behind you and when you whirl around, you see even more guards coming: not just your father's, but also your uncle's. You’re outnumbered. 

You start firing at the hallway nonetheless and several hit the floor, but more keep coming. You duck behind a tree after all, splinters flying around. A look over your shoulder tells you that the other two guards have lost the fight and the fight now appears to be between Din and your aunt, who seem to be quite well matched and fire at each other from the cover of the dense vegetation.

You keep shooting at the entrance from behind your tree, but there’s just too many opponents and the first manage to reach the courtyard and seek shelter in the vegetation. A well-aimed shot makes you dive away and as you press your back against your tree, your gaze crosses that of Samick, crouched helplessly behind a bush. He looks from you to the guards and then to the fallen guard right in front of him. Then his hand moves to his blaster and your heart sinks in your shoes.

‘Please,’ you quietly beg the gods, ‘don’t make me fight my brother.’

He picks up the gun and gets to his feet.

'Samick!', you beg over the sound of the blasters going off all around you. 'Please!'

He looks at you one more time, aims and fires.

You dive sideways, but then you hear a heavy thud and a now familiar crackling close behind you. He runs over to you and joins your spot behind the tree. You exchange tiny smiles and that’s all you need. As if on command, you both jump up and open fire.

~

Damn, where’s that woman?

Din looks around with narrowed eyes, but the vegetation is too dense and your aunt is nowhere to be seen. She should be somewhere on the floor right in front of him, since that’s where he'd heard the scream, but he can’t see her and all his instincts tell him to be on guard. His helmet shows the many footsteps in the garden, but both of them have run back and forth quite a bit and it is difficult to see what her most recent footsteps are. Then he sees footsteps leading to the edge of the courtyard and when he realizes that they are circling around him, it’s already too late.

'Drop it', says a voice behind him.

Gritting his teeth, he puts down his blaster and stands up, turning towards your aunt.

She smiles triumphantly. 'I can be sneaky too. Now walk.'

She gestures with one of her blasters and he starts walking ahead of her towards the gazebo and the clearing where he'd just seen you during the ceremony, all red and gold. He couldn't resist admiring you from the bushes where he hid. You were by far the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

As he reaches the gazebo, he is surprised to see at least a dozen additional guards, lying motionless on the ground or still jerking from a electroblaster hit. You’re standing next to your brother, who seems to have taken your side, as you both keep your blasters pointed at Signas and the priest. With your headscarf slightly undone, dirt on your face and a blaster in each hand, you look even more beautiful than before. Avlin stands to the side, fear in her eyes as she seems torn between her children and her husband. There's no sign of the groom.

'Put down those weapons!', Din hears Signas angrily say. 'Stop this madness!'

Neither of you move and everyone turns their eyes towards him and your aunt as they step into the clearing. Your eyes widen in surprise and concern.

'Drop the blaster, aunt Taska', you say in a steady voice, your blaster now pointing at where she’s using Din as a human shield.

She snorts. 'You put that blaster away, child. You're not gonna kill your own aunt, now, are you?'

You cock your head. 'You're right. I'm not.' And without blinking, you fire.

It's a direct hit. She drops on the ground like a bag of flour and starts shaking as the electricity violently takes over control of her muscles. Din looks at her and then at you. That shot was impeccable: he'd felt it go right past his hip, to where Taska apparently wasn't entirely shielded by his body. An unstable and incredibly tiny target, but you hit it without hesitating, not worried in the slightest about accidentally hitting him and it is clear why.

Then, he turns to Signas and the priest and drily announces: 'I object to this wedding.'

Despite everything, you grin and throw him one of your blasters, which he easily catches. Then he grabs Signas by his robes and pushes him towards you. 'What do you want to do with him?'

You hesitate, your blaster still pointed at your father, not sure what to answer. What to do with the most influential man in town? The man who made your life so miserable?

'I don't know', you whisper.

Signas bursts out laughing and you cringe.

'Go ahead', he grins scornfully. 'Shoot me. Kill me! You wouldn't dare.'

You grip the blaster firmly, but you both know he's right. Din looks from you to your father, waiting for your response.

Then Signas suddenly grabs your wrist, snatches the blaster from your hand and grabs your throat so tightly that stars appear before your eyes. In a reflex you try to push him away, gasping for breath like a goldfish on dry land, but in the process you extend your wrist and the knife shoots out of your bracelet.

And digs into your father's abdomen.

Much later you still won’t be able to say with certainty whether you meant to do that. Signas's expression changes from furious to bewildered and he looks down with a frown as he is pulled away by your brother and Din, who rushed over to you, and the pressure on your throat disappears. You gasp for breath, even though the whole thing lasted only a few seconds. The two men lower the now wailing Signas to the ground, knowing he won't be a threat anymore. With wide eyes you stare at the knife on your wrist, blood dripping off the blade.

‘Are you okay?’, Samick asks, his eyebrows raised in worry.

'I didn't ... I ...', you stammer as he puts his arms around you.

'I know.’

You make sure to retract the knife before embracing him tightly and you bury your face in his neck.

'I'm so sorry', Samick whispers. 'For everything. I should have helped you sooner, I was a coward. Please forgive me. '

You let go, tears streaming down your cheeks, and smile. 'Of course.' Hesitantly, you turn to Avlin. 'I'm sorry-'

She shakes her head and there's no grief or anger on her face when she walks over to you and takes your hands.

'Don't be', she sighs. 'I won't miss him in the slightest.'

Suddenly, you hear a voice in the distance.

'City guard!', someone shouts. 'Everything alright, mister mayor?'

The color drains from your face as you look towards the entrance and start to panic. Not all the guards are dead and when they come to, they will certainly make sure to tell everyone what went down here. You're screwed.

Avlin, though, keeps her head cool and quickly hugs you before grabbing your shoulders and looking you straight in the eye.

'Go, quickly', she commands softly. 'Take the speeders. We'll hold them off - I'll make something up.' You start to protest, but she interrupts you. 'Don't worry about us. We'll be fine, we'll leave as soon as we get the chance.' She sternly ushers you towards the other door. 'Run! Oh, and check the second drawer in your father's desk!'

'I love you', you tell her and Samick before you and Din hastily make your way towards the exit. Your brother walks over to the entrance, where the first city guards appear just as you enter the hallway. You blink away your tears and take a left turn, the Mandalorian right behind you. The hall runs around the courtyard and you wait until all the city guards are in there before you quickly walk towards the main entrance. Then you pass your father's office and after a short hesitation you duck inside.

'There's no time!', Din hisses, having heard what Avlin said.

You ignore him and run to the desk, pulling open the second drawer. On top of a pile of papers is a red, velvet bag of credits. It's your dowry, you realize. You grab it and grin. You’ll make good use of this.

As you walk down the hall, Din pushes a button on his gauntlet and soon the pod with the child comes floating down the hall. He coos at the sight of the Mandalorian.

'I'm happy to see you too, kid', the Mandalorian says in a hushed voice. 'But we have to get out of here.'

A press on another button closes the pod's panels as you walk into the entrance hall, where you nearly trip over your bag. Apparently it had been thrown there carelessly and you sling it over your shoulder as you pass it. The guard who had taken it from you had also taken your daggers and blaster and put them in the bag, you notice after a quick glance at the contents. Nice.

You run out the door and luckily no city guards remain outside.

'This way!', you shout, turning right to where the speeder bikes are.

Din quickly attaches the pod to one of the speeders while you hop on another and start the engine. A few seconds later, you both race off.

~

Weyfel meets you at the workshop. He spreads his arms in an apologetic gesture.

'Sorry guys, I'm afraid the mayor doesn't like me very much', he says, laughing awkwardly. 'I'll lose my business for sure if I get in his way.'

Din ignores him and keeps walking towards the Razor Crest, which, thankfully, now looks fully finished. The pod hovers after him.

You, however, glare at the mechanic, snarling: 'Thanks a lot.'

He looks after you as you stomp away, no doubt confused by your outfit. You don’t care.

At the base of the boarding ramp, you stop and look up at Din, who’s almost inside. He hears your footsteps stop and looks back. You rub your neck hesitantly. He might have said you could hitch a ride to Nevarro, but who knows, he might have changed his mind. You certainly wouldn't blame him after today's events. He got shocked twice thanks to you.

Din follows your thought process and for a second, he asks himself the same question he did last night. The second after, though, he knows the answer.

‘Come on’, he says, turning around and disappearing into the ship's hull.

A smile splits your face in two and you can only just stop yourself from skipping up the ramp. Something tells you that your life is about to get a whole lot better than before.

~

Tag list: @buckysalefty @dark-academics-and-florals

[screamingintosilence]

You Were the Greatest Thing (That Ever Happened to Me)

Songfic Writing Challenge Day 10

Terrible Things - Mayday Parade

Warning: Major Character Death

Jughead Jones watched in amusement from across the yard as his 16 year old son brushed a hand through his own dark locks, looking nervous and slightly sweaty as he stuttered over his words while talking to the beautiful red headed 15 year old daughter of Archie Andrews and Veronica Lodge.

To his chagrin, Betty had put her foot down during pregnancy and that's how their sweet, beautiful baby boy ended up being named Forsythe Pendelton Jones the Fourth. FP had laughed heartily when they told him, he knew it was definitely Betty's choice. But when their little guy came into the world, screaming, pink, and a head full of downy black hair, Betty had looked at him with a smile that said, “See? He's your son and I was right.”

And she was right, she was always right. The only concession she gave him when it came to their child's name was letting him pick out a nickname because “Betts, if that's going to be his name, we’re not actually calling him that.” And that is how Cooper Jones the Fourth made his entrance into their lives.

He watched as his son turned and ran towards him, smile splitting across his face and all Jughead could think was his much he looked like Betty in that moment. His eyes, his nose, his cheeks, they all came from his wife.

“Hey Dad!” Cooper was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Son,” Jughead smirked at the boy while raising the glass of sweet tea to his lips.

“Can I borrow your truck? I finally did it! I asked Jules to the movies and she said yes!” Both Joneses looked over to where the redhead girl was excitedly talking to her mother, the look on Cooper’s face one of adoration. Jughead smiled, it reminded him of how he must have looked when he first fell in love with Betty.

“Don’t stay out too late. You behave tonight, ok? And you treat her right Bud, got it?” The ring of keys rested on the older man's finger, waiting for his son to take it.

“He always does, Mr. Jones!” the young Juliet Andrews cut in, skipping over to them, not realizing how her words made Jughead's heart stutter and stop for a few moments before picking up again.

“Always! Thanks Dad!” Cooper grabbed the keys before interlocking his fingers with the petite girl next to him, both getting lost in each other as they walked to the front of the house where he had parked when they came over to the Andrews’. Neither teen noticing how tears brimmed in Jughead's eyes.

He felt a slim arm loop itself through his own at the same time as a heavy, familiar hand came to rest and squeeze his shoulder.

“B and I used to joke about this happening,” he heard Veronica softly say next to him as she too squeezed his arm, resting her head on his other shoulder. “We would talk about just how long it would take them, like how long it took for you two.”

The tears started to slowly fall. “He must take after me,” he let out a watery laugh. “I'm pretty sure he's been in love with her since I told him what love was. Probably took until reading his mom's words from when we were his age about how she wished I would just make a move for him to pluck up his own courage.”

The pressure from the hand his redhead best friend increased. “You were the very best thing to happen to her, Jug. Believe it. She glued us all together, figuring out in her Betty way just how this crazy jigsaw fit together.” He nodded, sniffling to keep from sobbing.

“She did,” he swiped at his eyes. “It's been nearly eleven years, but it still feels like yesterday, ya know?” He could see tears rimming Archie's eyes as Veronica let hers stream down her cheeks as they both nodded.

“Let's get you home, Jug,” Archie's arm wrapped securely around his friend’s shoulders as Veronica's hand dropped to his, holding it firmly. He might have always been friends with Archie, but it was Betty's doing that they had stuck together through even the toughest of times; and it was Betty who had brought the whirlwind that was Veronica Lodge into his life, even if it was begrudgingly at first.

--

It had been hours since the Andrewses had seen him safely home. He had pulled some of Betty's old journals from her last few days to read, a habit of his from the past ten years.

His was reading over her passage from the day she had told him the news, his heart breaking over every sentence.

I told Juggie the news today, it didn't go well. I had gotten the call this morning from the doctor that my results came in. It was devastating. Juggie and Cooper were out having a boys day with FP and I just didn't have the heart to interrupt to have him come with me.

Crying in the middle of a doctor's office without my husband definitely makes it on my top 5 most embarrassing moments... But I won't have many of those moments left to make, I guess.

I've been in tears all day, but there's nothing to be done about it. I was told that I can still give it a shot to fight this, but the cancer was progressing so rapidly that my chances are very slim. The oncologist said that my counts have jumped exponentially and that I'm already Stage 4. Stage 4 cancer at 33….

Cooper is only 5, what will Juggie do? He's the most amazing dad, I know he'll be ok, but God, I'm far from it. There won't be chances to see him grow from my tiny little squirt to being as tall as Jug. There won't be any Homecoming, Formal, or Prom pictures of me pinching his cheeks. I won't get to meet the person he'll fall irrevocably in love with and I won't get to tell him that that's how it was with his father.

I know Jug will do all of these things, and he'll be wonderful and amazing and everything or baby boy needs. It's just so hard to come to terms with one’s own demise.

And Jug, God, Jug. We won't have our 90 years together like we joke about. I don't know if we'll even have 1. God what I would give for the assurance of just one more year together.

I love him more than all the stars in all the galaxies. He was everything I ever needed, always there for me from the beginning. God, I don't know if he even knows how much I love him, how much he means to me.

I-

The front door opened as Jughead hastily wiped the tears from his cheeks and dabbed at the page of Betty's diary gently, careful to try and not smudge it even more from where his past years and even hers had fallen.

His 16 year old son, his and Betty's pride and joy, waltzed in with a look of having his head in the clouds. Jughead smiled, though some rouge tears still fell free.

“You guys have a good time?” His question came out a little choked, causing Cooper to come to, taking in the scene of his father on the couch, nose and eyes red, with his mother's journals in front of him.

“Yeah, the movie was good. Jules was just…” His eyes got a little dreamy at the mention of his best friend, now potentially girlfriend. “You ok, Dad?”

“Yeah, just…” Jughead trailed off.

Cooper sat next to him wrapping an arm around his shoulders, shoulders that used to carry his son on them for hours, but now felt like they carried the world, especially in moments like this. “Just missing Mom?”

Jughead tried swallowing past the lump in his throat, wiped his hands over his face, and nodded. “Yeah. She would have been so proud of you, Cooper. You were her baby boy, and now you're all grown up.”

Tears filled the young man's emerald green orbs (ones just like his mother's) as he ducked his head to gather his thoughts.

“You know, she was terrified of being a mother, scared after the way she was raised and seeing how crazy your Aunt Polly. But God, Cooper, you made her so happy. She took one look at you and it clicked. She looked at me and said, ‘This is it, Jug. This is how it was always meant to be. I was always meant to be his mommy and you his daddy.’ And like always, she was right. I was always meant to be your dad. You made it so easy, you were such a wonderful baby and child. You have me the strength and will to keep going, Buddy.”

Jug pulled Cooper into a tight embrace, kissing the top of his head. He could feel the tears staining his shirt from where his son's head rested.

After a few moments of silence, the younger man pulled back, wiping away the tears that lingered on his face.

“Dad?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you tell me about the time that you first kissed Mom again?”

Jughead laughed. “Sure, Bud. Well I had went over to her house one afternoon to see how she was. We had snuck into The Sisters of Quiet Mercy, where your grandparents had put Aunt Polly when she was pregnant with the twins, the day before.” Cooper was nodding along. Jughead had told him this story so many times now but it was one of his son's favorites.

“We got caught by your grandmother, and she was so furious that she kept your mom home from school without access to her phone. So naturally I grabbed the ladder from your Uncle Archie's dad's garage and scaled the side of the house to your mom's window.” He gave his son a stern look suddenly, “Don't even think about doing that with Jules, you hear me? Your aunt would kick my ass.”

Cooper snorted, “I won't, but Aunt Veronica wouldn't do that. She loves me too much to care,” he grinned mischievously.

Jughead jokingly cuffed his ear, “Let’s not test that theory, shall we?” The young man laughed, settling down one more.

“So, anyways. I could see your mom through the glass looking very serious and contemplative, kinda like how you get sometimes. She was still trying to solve everything in that beautiful blonde head of hers, and I just knew that that was my moment. I had loved her for years already, but seeing her be Nancy Drew,” he looked down at the floor, his mind conjuring up the image of his love. “She was something else, Coop.

“I knocked on her window to get her attention, thinking I was so clever and smooth. I remember the first thing I said was ‘Hey there Juliet, nurse off duty?’” Cooper snorted again. “Yeah, it was as cheesy as it sounds, but God, your mom? She just brought that mushy side out of me.” He grinned at the memories.

“You know, that's where Jules got her name.”

“Wait, what? You never told me this. How?” Cooper looked bewildered at the new information.

“Yeah. After the complications of your birth made it so we couldn't have any more kids, your aunt decided that she would use the name for us. She loved your mom so much and knew how much she wanted to name a little girl Juliet that Veronica said she'd name her daughter that to honor her. Jules was originally going to be named Elizabeth but your mom insisted that they go with Juliet once you were born.”

Cooper sat, stunned that the love of his life got her name from his parents love story.

“Betty desperately wished she could watch the man you would become, she's so proud of you, Bud. I just know it.” Cooper's and Jug’s eyes glistened.

“She's so proud of you too, Dad.”

“Thanks, Coop. Now, enough sad. Tell me about your date,” giving his son the biggest shit-eating grin.

“Daaaad-”

[pick-a-paint-brush]

The response to my french revolution/ captive prince AU were so positive, thank you all! I give you the first chapter! this is my first experience in really writing a fanfic so wish me luck. But first a quick disclaimer- the story doesn’t 100% line up with an historic timeline, nor is it entirely historically accurate so keep that in mind.

Paris, 1823

Damen walked confidently, though he was still hesitant. The city was beautiful. Paris was at its best in early spring, the trees green and color blooming everywhere. He walked along the Seine, the afternoon light reflecting on its surface, the Ile de Cite and the great Notre Dame coming up on his left. He grappled with his decision. Throwing everything away on a day that the wind felt quite so good on his face, that the sky was that particular shade of blue felt wrong in a way. Ungrateful.

He stopped, will he ever see the sky again? With the Paris sky endless above him, he thought of home. Where the sky collided with the expanse of the ocean in a clash of blues. I might never see the ocean again, he thought.

But it did not matter, Jocelyn was right. The regent had to be stopped. How could he, Damen, call himself a protector of the people of this city and do nothing. The regent provided just enough food to keep the people from starvation, just enough services to keep them from the plague. And the people were thanking him! Thanking this monarch who kept them just alive enough so that they weren't dead. He coaxed them into forgetting their true goal- equality, freedom, fraternity.

Damen had once had the privilege of living life to its fullest, he knew that the people of France were simply surviving, not living. He wanted them to have more. And so, the regent had to be stopped. Jocelyn had formed the plan. “Challenge him to a duel, he won’t be able to refuse and keep a semblance of authority”. Damen liked the idea, it was honourable, sword against sword and a chance to free them of this burden. “But how can I get near him, he never even leaves Versailles”. But Jo always had an answer “He has left it this week, he's in the Palais de Luxembourg for a couple of nights, I heard it from a whore on St Germain de Pres ”.

So that was where Damen was heading, crossing the Seine towards the magnificent gardens, His sword strapped to his waist. He passed the watch a couple of times but kept his gaze straight, giving them no mind. He arrived at the gardens with the sun lowering on the horizon. He sat on a bench overlooking the side entrance to the Palais, where he guessed the regent would exit for a discreet walk in the gardens with his retinue.

He sat and waited as the sun disappeared and darkness came. He felt the righteousness in this choice. It did feel like the right thing to do. It was only natural that he was getting cold feet, there was no way to know what the consequences will be. But he could also feel his confidence, his bravery and strength, the morality in the path he chose. He was ready.

He felt the sensation of danger from behind before he heard a clear voice say “you are under arrest for high treason”. His sword was out of its sheath and in the guards throat before he even got up. But two more were already behind him and he turned to engage them. As he did so he felt a heavy blow on the top of his head.

Damen slowly opened his eyes to what he soon realized was utter darkness. He blinked several times, he saw nothing but a thin line of light on the floor in front of him. A door, probably. His right wrist was cuffed to a wall behind him, the metal tight on his skin. The air was heavy and smelled of mildew as if he was underground. A dungeon.

Damen tried to gather his brains and recall how he had gotten there, remembering a guard coming up behind him and then nothing. It was like they knew he was coming, the guard had mentioned treason. What was he talking about? He hadn't done anything yet. No one knew he meant to do something at all, expect for Jocelyn. Dread started to kick in, he's surely going to the rope. He’ll be dead by dawn, if dawn hadn't come already.

Time passed, for Damen it felt like hours upon hours. He started feeling the need for movement. More time passed, hunger came, an uncomfortable albeit familiar feeling. What was he doing there? What was the point of leaving him in a dark cell for what felt like a full day, with no explanation and no sentence.

And then, the sound of a key in a heavy lock woke Damen up from the stupor he had fallen into. He was alert at once. People and light flooded in from the open door. There were four of them, bringing bright torches with them. Damen blinked with his adjusting eyes. Three armed and in uniform, soldiers. One, holding his hands casually behind his back, his clothes gleaming with golden thread, a courtier. They stood in the opening to his cell, a short distance from him, far enough that with his chained arm he could not touch them. Damen was watching them with open fury.

“Hello” said a deep voice. “I’ve heard from a very lovely lady that I would be receiving a visit from you”. Damen squinted, trying to get a better look at the speaker and said nothing, not comprehending. “Light the lamps” ordered the voice, and a soldier moved to light the torches hanging from the wall. More light, enough that damen saw his visitor clearly. Red silk coat, dark hair and beard, gold in his clothes, gold around his neck, gold on five of his fingers. Gold on his chest, where an honorary badge rested over his heart. When damen recognized it he jerked and felt a sharp pain in his restrained wrist. Royalty was standing before him. The speaker was the regent of France.

The regent spoke again “This lady had a tale about a group of rebels who were still not pleased, despite everything I have given for the people of this city.” Damen couldn’t help but snort. The regent stopped talking and advanced on Damen who was taken aback by the regent's quick advance, but still looked defiantly into his eyes. The regent pulled his hand back and before Damen knew it he slapped a ringed finger across his jaw. It hurt. The regent was a strong man and he put effort into the blow. Damen spat blood on the floor, now he was really angry.

“Did you have something to say?” asked the regent, he kept his hands a hair’s breadth from Damen’s face as if the proximity will keep the pain fresh. In a way it did, Damen could feel the ghost of a touch on his tingling jaw. But he wasn’t afraid, and he was angry. He swallowed more blood and said “The people of france have tasted freedom, and they will have it once more”. The regent buried a finger into Damen’s bruised cheek, making him wince.

“What an interesting thought” continued the regent, “any way, you might want to listen to my story I believe you’ll find it interesting. As I was saying this lady- beautiful golden curls, says she knows you quite well”. All at once Damen stopped breathing. His heart, already beating fast from the moment the regent entered the cell, started pounding against his chest. Blood rushed to his ears, it was hard to hear what the regent said next. “She gave me some useful information about a certain group of rebels. Told me this group was gaining followers, that the people of Paris looked up to these usurpers. she also told me-” the regent paused. He had damen’s full attention, the ache in his jaw now accompanied by a pressure in his chest that was making its way up his throat. “That this group will be meeting in a certain tavern tonight at sundown”.

“No!” damen exclaimed, lurching forward. The chain on his wrist clanged loudly. “I’m not finished” continued the regent calmly, as if he was disturbed in the retelling of his day in the gardens. “Lastly, she told me a special friend of hers that could help me a great deal was coming straight to me, thanks to her persuasion. And to challenge me to a duel of all things. I refuse by the way.”

Damen was seething. he could feel hatred like a weight on his chest, towards this man, but also towards...

“I’ve decided we’re not going to deul, instead we’re going to have a mutually benefiting relationship”. Damen understood, he didn’t even have to hear the regent say it. “You’re going to help me, tell me everything you know, do anything I say”. Hopelessness settled on Damen, he felt close to tears from the injustice of it all. “because if you don’t, all your friends will die in front of your eyes”.

Damen breathed once, twice, a third time, swallowed against the feeling in his throat and forced his gaze upwards. “You will kill us all, no matter what I do”. The regent looked down inquisitively. “I won't” he answered “I think you will learn that I am a reasonable man. Your men will be imprisoned, they will serve their sentence, then they will be released”. Damen had no choice, it didn’t even matter if he trusted this wretched man’s word and the regent knew it. If there was a chance, slight as it may be, to save his men, Damen will do it. “Okay” it came out strangled, forced out of his throat like bile.

“Marvelous” said the regent as if a business deal had been struck “you will bathe, you will eat and rest and then you'll talk”. Confusion must have showed on Damen’s face because the regent added “You see, I am a reasonable man to those who obey” he turned to leave. Turning his head around as he stepped outside, he said “If we’re going to help each other, I would like to know you name”. That confused Damen, did she not tell them his name? Why? what else did she keep to herself?

“Jacques” Damen replied with all the contempt he could muster.

“Funny” said the regent, and left the cell.

A bucket was brought down for him to bathe, then a meal of simple bread and clean soup, which he finished in one gulp, then a pallet that would make him more comfortable. Through it, Damen felt numb. His mind was in loops. Jo, his group, escape, Jo, his group, escape.

Jo, Jocelyn. He couldn’t believe it. Damen trusted blindly, he knew this, Nic had told him so countless times. And yet, he was so sure with Jocelyn. He knew her to be cold, detached, he just hadn't thought her heartless. The feeling in his chest was familiar. This betrayal bearing the shadow of that of his brother’s, in his teen years. Rendering him without a title and without a home. And yet, she could have utterly ruined him. She had information that would send him directly to the gallows, faster than he could utter a word of dissent, but she did not tell it.

Then there was his group. “Les Corbeaux”- the crows. Scavengers, street rats. Damen had befriended each of them, then he had rallied them. The thought of one of them being hurt - it turned his stomach. Lastly, the thoughts of escape. he knew his hands were tied, literally and figuratively, with his friends imprisoned. But he couldn’t help it. The concept of cooperating with the regent, although forced to do it, shook him to his core. His mind supplied him with an unhelpful list of possible escape plans. he called on his restraint, not to act on any of it. He would first have to find out where he was, and where his men were. Then maybe escape would be possible.

The next time the door opened it again woke Damen up from a doze. And again a couple of soldiers and a courier entered. The latter was speaking as he entered “My uncle must be confused, why else well he let a Corbeau live inside these walls”, the torches were lit and a heavy silence fell.

The courtier's bright hair shon gold in the torchlight. He wore harsh blue clothing and a silver circlet on his fair hair. When Damen caught his eye a peculiar look flashed on his face, which was fine boned and pale. For a mere second Damen could have sworn he saw surprise and something akin to terror on that face. But in the blink of an eye the features transformed into a look of deep disgust.

For Damen it felt as if he were facing a ghost. It was like he was back in the chateau he had broken into six years prior. Bright summer sun shining on expensive wooden floors, dust billowing in the sunlight, mirrors gleaming around him, the sound of birds and the smell of summer bursting in from an open window. Damen thought then that the place wasn’t suited for the violence that occurred that day. He remembered blood dripping out of his shoulder, he remembered staring at it in shock, he remembered the weight he put on his sword when he drove it into his opponent's chest.

The courtier, who was of course the new Dauphin- prince Laurent, spoke. “Hello, peasant. I have come to inquire as to the reason my uncle visited a lowlife such as yourself, and in the dungeon no less”. Damen noted that the prince's face was flushed, his speech muddled by drink. He also noted that his eyes were bright even in the dark cell, but above all he noticed the arrogance in his voice and manner. Every bit the spoiled aristocrat that Damen imagined him to be. “I could inquire the same about you, mon cher” replied Damen, he might deal with the regent. He wasn't going to indulge his spoiled nephew. The prince raised a slender eyebrow “oh I see, breaking you will be so much fun”.

Damen took a beating, his torso was now full of dark bruises to join the one on his jaw. His body felt tender, but he had lived through worse. The encounter with the crown prince made his heart boil. He was everything Damen hated about the aristocracy in the form of a young man. Arrogant, cruel and cold. And he had promised Damen in a sweet voice that he will be visiting again in the morning. Which Damen supposed was near, though keeping time was difficult.

In the time he had to think Damen decided on a plan, or an idea that might lead to a plan. He will call on all of his self restraint, he will play nice with this ice prince and then he will weedle what he could about the location of the other prisoners. He didn’t know then, didn't count on the prince being quite so infuriating.

He entered Damen's cell looking alert, showing no sign of waking up after a night spent drinking. The guards entered next to him, looking at Damen as if daring him to make a move. The threat of a beating still fresh on his body. “Are you ready to cooperate?”.

Damen calmed his breathing and looked into those blue eyes. “Yes” he breathed out.

“Good” said the prince, “but first, I ask that you leave us alone” this to the guards. They looked taken aback but left the cell and closed the door behind them.

For some reason, Damen's sense of danger only intensified the moment he was left alone with the Dauphin. His heart started beating rapidly as Laurent took a seat on the ground in front him. A prince in full splendor, crouching on a dirty floor with a commoner, it put Damen on edge. He sat just close enough that Damen thought if he reached out he could touch him. He lowered his eyes and stared at the filthy floor between them.

Then the Prince spoke. “I know who you are Damianos”.

[takaraphoenix]

Okay but consider this: SH soulmates AU where when you meat your soulmate a golden energy cuff forms on your writs, keeping you together until you kiss and make up. The moment Jace meets Magnus they get stuck together. Jace kisses Magnus hoping it'll solve it but apparently the make up means more like "establish an actual emotional bond that will ensure you won't run for the hills" and is required. Alec cackles a lot at Jace until Jace gleefully informs him Alec will be making excuses for-- 1/2

2/2 –him at the Institute because Jace is NOT coming home soulbond-shackled to a warlock with reputation. Lots of Jagnus UST and banter. Maybe in the end Jace gets his revenge when Alec gets equally chained to a random mundie/wolf 👀 on a mission. Also a nice layer of angst because back when Alec had a crush on Jace he knew they aren’t soulmates.

*frowns at you* Why are you doing this to me? I see this as a personal attack on my person. I am supposed to write this hella smutty PWP Ethan/Nico/Jason/Percy foursome that somehow already has 12 pages and they ain’t even together yet, I don’t have time to get distracted by shiny Jagnus–

Magnus blinked, a half-amused look on his face. Thepretty blonde in front of him looked mainly annoyed. Not so much atMagnus personally - or so Magnus assumed - but rather the situation.

Not everyone was lucky enough to meettheir soulmate. Those who did ended up literally linked to eachother. A golden glowing link that tied them together and didn't allowmuch room to move apart from each other. The direct connection lasteduntil a mental connection was established.

Until the bond was fully accepted andformed.

Usually, that happened rather quickly.It was a natural reaction, to fall in love with your soulmate. Theyusually always found an angle they shared, something that connectedthem. Then, when they shared True Love's kiss, the physical bindingsdissolved, leaving nothing but a golden ring around their wrists toindicate that they had indeed already found their soulmate. And thenthey lived happily ever after.

As things stood, having a bunch ofShadowhunters in his loft after an attack on his club was notentirely how Magnus had imagined meeting his soulmate. Though theblonde with the plush lips and mismatched eyes was very niceto look at.

“Well. That's unexpected”, notedthe very tall one.

“Oh, really, Alec. Thanks forthe input”, snarked pretty blonde.

Magnus smiled amused. “Now, now. Noneed to fight. How about some introductions? Magnus Bane, it's apleasure to meet you.”

“Jace Wayland”, grunted the blonde,seizing Magnus up. “How do we get rid of those cuffs?”

“True Love's kiss. That's always whatdoes the trick”, offered Alec and rolled his eyes.

Jace sighed and grabbed Magnus by theneck with his free hand. He offered Magnus a questioning look atwhich the warlock leaned down to seal Jace's lips. They were soft andJace gladly parted them for him. The Shadowhunter was surprisinglycompliant and Magnus found himself wrapping his free arm aroundJace's waist to hold him in place, as though he was afraid Jace wasjust going to melt away beneath him. When they parted, golden-blueeyes stared up at Magnus in a way the warlock could easily get usedto.

“Well, that didn't work”, notedAlec in the same deadpan voice as before.

“Great”, grunted Jace annoyed as helooked down. “Just... great.”

“Guess you're stuck together untilyou come to a mutual understanding of each other”, stated Alec witha slight snicker. “Wonderful. You could have a tea, share childhoodstories. Oh, maybe you can wear matching clothes.”

“Laugh all you want. You're the onewho has to come up with some kind of explanation”, growledJace, wagging a finger at Alec. “Come up with an excuse, something,anything. I just... I am not returning to the Institute,chained to the High Warlock of Brooklyn.”

Magnus made a slightly amused face atthat. It was fair enough; everybody knew the Clave only pretended tobe progressive. They didn't care much for Downworlders.

“Fine”, sighed Alec before heturned to glare at Magnus father fiercely. “You. If you harm myparabatai, I'm coming back for you and I don't care if you're theHigh Warlock of Brooklyn or not.”

“I assure you, harming my soulmate isnot something I'd ever do”, promised Magnus honestly, a bittouched by the Shadowhunter's concern for Magnus' soulmate.

And now that was a thought that filledMagnus with warmth. His soulmate. So many centuries alone. Now,finally, he had found his other half. He was never going tolet harm come to Jace, he was going to do his everything to protectJace from here on out.

“It's a slumber party then”,chuckled Magnus cheerfully.

“Just until we forge this...connection, whatever”, grunted Jace defensively.

“Of course, of course. For now,drinks?”, offered Magnus.

Jace heaved a sigh and accepted hisdrink gladly while watching the others leave the loft. This was goingto be... an experience.

Jace wake up feeling warm and surprisingly well-rested.He blinked blearily and looked around, just to notice that he wassleeping on someone's chest, in a bed that wasn't his own. Said otherperson was the reason he felt so warm. An arm was wrapped around hiswaist, holding him close.

“Good morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?”

Blinking slowly, Jace looked up at Magnus Bane. Thewarlock was smirking down at him, looking decidedly too handsome thatearly in the morning. Jace had heardabout him. Heard all about the High Warlock with the changingbed-companions. Even more of a reputation than Jace. Then again, healso was at it for a couple more centuries than Jace. Now Jace had aplayboy soulmate, huh. Well, probably served him right; he had neverbeen very chaste either. Still – how was Jace going to live up tocenturies of most likely incredible sex? Not to mention, he was aShadowhunter, Magnus was a warlock. Neither of their communities weregoing to be big fans of that.

“...What happened?”,grunted Jace and looked at their linked hands.

They were holdinghands, the hands that were cuffed together with the goldensoulmate-bound. Their hands were laying on Magnus' chest, right nextto Jace's face. He considered getting up and bolting, but then again– where to? They had maybe two inches of range with the cuffs.

“We drank. A lot. Andthen you fell asleep on me. It was a bit difficult maneuvering youinto the bed, but I made due”, chuckled Magnus. “You're a heavysleeper.”

Actually, he wasn't. Hewas a very light sleeper; being raised by his father had done that tohim. Was this the effect of the soulmate thing...? Was... hissoulmate seriously making him feel safe enough to sleep? No. That wasridiculous. Right? Sure, soulmates were supposed to be all of that –protection, safety, love – but he didn't even knowthe guy. Magnus' arm felt heavy on his waist all of a sudden, likeJace was acutely aware of it now. Warm, oddly comforting.

“Great. So. What arewe going to do about this...?”,grunted Jace, pointing at their joined hands.

“Get to know eachother to establish the soul-bond to solve the soul-bound”, offeredMagnus.

“That'll require moredrinking”, muttered Jace pointedly.

There was alot of drinking. They basicallyturned sharing their past into a drinking game and a competition. HowJace's mother had died before his birth and how he had been raised byhis father alone, that was until Jace witnessed the bloody death ofMichael Wayland. Magnus' mother had killed herself and Magnus hadended up killing his stepfather, who had not been able to deal withthe warlock child either. Faced with that, and also quite some drinksin, Jace had opened up about the abuse he had suffered at the handsof his father – the story of his falcon and... quite some more.

At that point, theybasically got lost in a competition of all the things that went wrongin their lives. Every wrong decision, every disappointment, everybroken heart and broken bone. It was oddly cathartic, for the both ofthem. Most of those things, neither had ever shared with someoneelse.

By the time eveningrolled around, they were both rather drunk and emotionally drained.Leaning against each other, they made their way to the bedroom andcollapsed on it arm in arm.

“For what it'sworth”, started Jace, voice low and a little lulled. “I'llnever... cheat on you. I don't do that shit. Like, whatever we'regonna be, I'm not gonna betray your trust like that.”

Magnus smiled faintly,feeling touched. “Thank you, sweetheart. And I promise, I'll notlet love destroy either of us. I'll not let something happen to youagain.”

Looking at Magnus –at the most powerful warlock in all of New York and most likelybeyond – Jace couldn't help but actually believe those words. Hehad never felt that safe with someone before. He had never sharedmost of those things with anyone but his parabatai. Was this it? Wasthis why soulmates existed? To have someone to rely on, to trust, toprotect and be protected by?

“I...”, startedJace softly before leaning in.

“Yes”, agreedMagnus slowly, bridging the last inch between them.

This kiss feltimpossibly soft, like their lips were barely touching. And when theyparted, Magnus could freely cup Jace's face with both hands. Not thateither of them noticed, they were too lost in each other's eyes. Jacesighed contently and laid down on Magnus' chest, closing his eyes.

Magnus woke up withquite the headache from drinking all day yesterday and also with anodd feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had never talked thisfreely about his mother with anyone but Catarina and Ragnor. Therereally was a truth to soulmates though; he had instantly felt like hecould trust Jace and hearing his soulmate open up to him had told himhe had made the right call.

Using his magic, Magnussummoned a large breakfast for them both and sat up. That was when henoticed that he could use both his hands freely. He stared inamazement at the golden tattoo around his wrist, the band signifyingthat he had found his soulmate. From that, he turned to look at hispeacefully sleeping soulmate. The blonde was still snuggled up tohim. Which, in itself, was kind of nice. To wake up to someone,feeling his warmth pressed against him. It felt comfortable. Safe.

“You're staring atme. It's creepy, Bane”, grunted Jace teasingly.

“Well, seems likeyou'd have to get used to it”, countered Magnus, waving at Jace.

It took the blonde amoment to realize why Magnus was waving at him – their hands. Theywere free. Wait. How... Had sharing about their crappy childhoodsseriously forged a deep enough bond to break the stupid magic? Jaceturned his hand curiously, staring at it.

“Huh. So... uhm...What now?”, inquired Jace slowly.

“Now, breakfast. AndI suspect you have work. Perhaps... a date, after?”, suggestedMagnus gently.

“Sounds... like aplan”, agreed Jace with a small smile.

[xxkellsvixen19xx]

Notice Chapter 15

She was now being rewarded for her bravado. "You look like an exotic slave girl who's escaped from a harem. My harem. A very exclusive harem of one very beautiful and beguiling young woman." His intense blue stare swept up and down her body. "Do you have any idea what you do to me, Y/N?"

"So, I'm your love slave now?" she asked, though there was no rancour in her tone as there had been when she'd first learned what he was offering. Instead her tone was teasing.

But Michael chose to take her question seriously. Their present accord was so new and he didn't want to scare her into leaving. He needed to assure her. "Only when you want to be. You have safe words for a reason and if you decide to say no at any time, I won't force you. I can't. I wouldn't."

Y/N raised herself off his lap to rest her hands on his shoulders. She'd worked out that this was mostly acceptable to Michael as long as she didn't threaten to move them. "I know. But I might want to play."

“Y/N, I'm not sure that's a good idea right now. You still haven't recovered completely."

She leaned forward and placed an open-mouthed kiss on his sculpted lips, slowly moving her body until she was straddling his hips. Within seconds, he wrapped an arm around her waist and slipped his free hand into her hair, holding her head still as he ravaged her mouth hungrily, nipping, licking, his tongue pushing past her lips, stroking... teasing.

Breathlessly, Y/N spoke almost against his mouth as she slipped out of her robe. "I trust you not to hurt me. Take me. Take me to the Red Room." Like falling off a horse, she felt she needed to face the room now, if she were ever to get over her fear from the last visit.

Michael's lips strayed to her right ear. "Are you sure?" he whispered, placing sensuous open mouthed kisses down her neck till he pushed the spaghetti strap off her shoulder, while his fingers repeated the process with the left strap. Momentarily, the silk clung to her dampened skin, till her top slid down her breasts. His hungry mouth followed the path of the camisole till he was sucking her left nipple and rolling the other between his thumb and index finger. "Don't say yes just to please me." He forced the words out around her swollen nipple. Never had he given a submissive such leeway, but Y/N was different. If he hadn't realised before, he knew for certain now.

Yes, he wanted her as a sub and a wife. He didn't want to give up the lifestyle completely and he was fairly sure she liked the kinky fuckery, too. He just had to be careful to do only what she was comfortable with. "If we go to the playroom now, there won't be any punishments. I think you've had enough for one weekend. This time there may be a little pain, but it'll be more about pleasure. You have my word. I'll take care of you."

"Then please, Sir! I want you to play with me."

Through his jeans, Michael could feel her excitement dampen her harem pants and slid his hand to cup her mound, his fingers exploring her folds. “Y/N, you're so wet and ready." He stood up, steadying her with his arm around her waist. "Come!"

Y/N adjusted her camisole, took his proffered hand and followed him up the stairs while the music continued to play

*************************************************

For the first time, Y/N felt the Red Room welcome her. As the subtle lighting came on, she trembled slightly, but more from anticipation than anxiety. Michael, however, felt her shiver and immediately turned to her, pulling her into his arms. One of his hands held her head as he bent to kiss her... a kiss of tenderness, of reassurance.

“Y/N, you can still say no. We can go back downstairs to our bedroom. You know there are other ways of keeping me happy."

"No! I signed the contract of my own volition. I might not like the belts and stuff, but I've enjoyed all the other things we've done in here."

He kissed her quickly again, with a stirring of passion. "I've enjoyed it too, Y/N, and, since it's your wish, I intend to make you cry again but this time it will be with pleasure. Turn around."

She complied at once and said, "Yes, Master."

There was a sound of an edgy indrawn breath as Michael's hands stilled in her hair. “Y/N, don't. Master is not a name I wish you to call me. I like the way you say my name, but in this room, Sir will suffice."

"As you wish, Sir."

"Good girl," he said, running his lips up her neck and gently nibbling her ear before braiding her hair. "Now, undress and wait for me as I've instructed you."

The room was still while Michael left to don his playroom jeans and Y/N calmed her heart beat as she followed his instructions. When he re-entered, she could hear him open the drawers of the chest and within moments, he was behind her. She could only hope the toys he'd chosen weren't too extreme as she wasn't sure how much she could withstand. Yet he'd asked her to trust him and, like Michael, she understood they could only be together if they believed in each other.

"Stand, Y/N," he commanded.

She obeyed and he slipped a blindfold across her eyes, causing her to draw in a quick breath.

"Hush! It's only to heighten all your other senses." His hand was on her arm as he explained further. "I'm going to tether you to the cross, but it's not for a punishment. It's just that I want your body completely open to me. Do you trust me, Y/N?"

"Yes, Sir."

A few moments later, her wrists and ankles were shackled to the carved St Andrews cross. None of the fetters were over tight on her skin, but she certainly couldn't move any of her limbs.

"What are your safe words?"

"Yellow and Red, Sir,"

"Remember you can use them at any time for any reason and I'll stop immediately," Michael said in his Dom voice, though Y/N sensed the hint of anxiety still in his tone and she vowed that she would try to endure whatever he had in-store for her.

"I'm going to use some toys in this session and I hope you'll find them pleasurable."

She could feel his breath on her cheek and knew he'd moved very close. His lips were on hers, his mouth devouring her, his tongue probing. Y/N greedily leaned into his kiss, but just as her desire pooled in her groin, he moved back. She felt bereft. But she had no need as his mouth was nipping at the base of her throat, running open-mouthed kisses down to her shoulder. She squirmed beneath his touch.

"Stay still!" he ordered. "And have patience. I hope to have you squirming with need very soon."

Again, he lifted his lips from her skin, only to replace them on her left nipple where he teased and sucked, worshipping it with his teeth and tongue. The feeling went straight south. But suddenly, she experienced a bite on her engorged nipple which wasn't from any part of Michael. Within seconds, he'd repeated the same actions on her right breast.

"They're nipple clamps, Y/N," His voice came soft in her ear and his breath heated her skin. "Very mild ones. They shouldn't cause you too much pain once you become accustomed. You can tell me to remove them, but I'd like you to give them a chance." As he spoke, his fingers were tenderly massaging her breasts around her clamped nipples. "You look mighty fine like this, baby."

Michael's words sparked Y/N's desire and, surprisingly, she was discovering he was right. The clamps did hurt a bit, but the pleasure that was building deep inside her robbed them of their worst sting. She didn't trust her voice and just nodded.

"My brave girl," Michael said before she felt something long and narrow trace a pattern on her flesh from shoulder to shoulder. There was a click and suddenly soft vibrations massaged her sensitive skin. "This is a wand," he explained again. "It won't hurt you at all. It's purely for your pleasure."

He lightly moved it down her side, below her breasts and up the other side of her body. It grazed up her arm all the way to her cuffed wrist then slowly back again, repeating the same path below her breasts and up her other arm. Y/N groaned.

"Is that good?" She felt like she was in a trance, dancing to her sexpertise puppet-master and when she didn't speak, the vibrating halted. "Do you need me to stop? Answer me, Y/N"

"No! Please don't stop," she whimpered and was rewarded by Michael moving the wand down the side of her body towards her stomach where it hovered on her navel, teasing... torturing her with a promise of what was to come. He appeared to concentrate on her middle, moving up to her waist then from one hip to the other, increasing the pressure on her skin.

"Please," Y/N  ground out again, her body trying to lean into the tormenting wand.

As she arched her body forward as much as possible, a small space was created between her back and the cross. Immediately, she felt the wand slide around to her back and Michael increased the speed of the vibrations, very lightly following the curve of her spine upwards then down towards her buttocks.

Again, he leaned in close to her. "Remember, you must tell me if you are uncomfortable at any time?" He paused, waiting for her answer.

"Yes... yes. I will." And the wand was vibrating against her butt, her butt which just yesterday had experienced the pain and humiliation of the belt, but the tip of this instrument was soft and he was handling it with a lightness and gentleness of touch, so that it caressed her skin rather than caused her any discomfort. If she felt pain, it was barely there at all. Instead she felt the reaction cause her juices to flow even more. She was thoroughly wet and wanting.

“Michael," she said, demanding and beginning to writhe with passion.

Everything ceased.

“Michael?" she asked, puzzled.