#and 9 times out of 10 they don’t get a choice in the matter

[katyawriteswhump]

the freak in the penthouse part 12

E-rated (for sexual content), accidental millionaire eddie/sex-worker steve. On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 Part 6.1 Part 6.2 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :)

On AO3 FYI, I’ve basically imagined that Dustin and Suzie are roughly the same age as the others in this, so in their late teens and early twenties…

Chapter 12: reality check

Five Days later

Steve picked up the phone and dialled Eddie’s number. It rang twice, before the answerphone stabbed him with the same old jack-knife in the gut:

“Hi! This is Suzie.”

“And this is Dustin.”

“We’re not around right now—

“—or we’re having our downtime, together or apart, which is super important to us—” 

Jesus Christ, kill me already.

Steve had heard this message a dozen times. Dustin and Suzie sounded so goddamn chirpy, like they were going to explode into song. And Steve had endured waaaaay too many chirpy songs the last few nights, courtesy of Robin’s mom’s cassette deck.

He endured the rest of their nail-scapingly annoying message and braced himself for the Ding!

“Hi, this is Steve. Again. Look, I really need to talk to Ed—”

“Answerphone tape full,” recited an electronic voice, the polar-opposite of chirpy.

“Fuck!” Steve slammed down the receiver. 

Why wasn’t Eddie returning his calls?

Okay, Steve had been sleeping a ton the past few days, might’ve missed something. Robin’s leave was over today, and her mom worked really long shifts…

A muffled meeeeow had him looking up sharpish. Resident cat, Fernando, glared at him through the window.

“All right, I’m sorry I stole your couch. I don’t hate you, it’s your fur that hates me. Way to go making me feel even shittier about it.”

He glared back. Trouble was, this was Fernando’s home, not his. Robin had technically moved out last year, and he’d barely got a nickel to slot into the housekeeping kitty.

He was gonna have to sell his watch. Or the guitar. Dammit, he’d wanted to check in with Eddie first, but what choice did he have?

He leafed through the telephone directory for music stores, scraped together some loose change, and caught a bus across the city. On the journey, he missed his old Sony Walkman as never before. Thanks to Robin’s mom, ‘Mamma Mia’ by Abba ear-wormed through his brain. Uuuuuuurgh! He  hugged the glittery guitar case tightly and attempted to pep himself up.

Eddie said he was crazy about Steve. Steve sure as heck felt the same. 

“Yes, I’ve been broken-hearted, blue since the day we parted. Why, why did I ever let you go?”

“Shut the hell up, Agnetha,” he muttered, earning himself a scathing glance from a woman sitting close. But Steve hadn’t been broken-hearted when he left the hotel. He’d been scared shitless over that fact he was losing his memory as well as his mind. He still was. His future with Eddie had been the one thing he’d felt faintly optimistic about, and… 

“Look at me now, will I ever learn?”

No. No way. Eddie was a good person. Yeah, Robin had passed hours bad-mouthing him. No matter. Steve believed in Eddie. Well, he desperately wanted to. He was getting really worried about him—about whether he’d really been ‘cured’ of his agoraphobia, and about his overly sass-tastic and curiously absent friends. 

He missed him so much. Christ, it hurt.

In ‘Jivin’ Jams,’ Steve laid the guitar case on the counter and opened it. The store-owner’s brows shot sky high: “Where did you get this, son?”

“A friend gave it me,” said Steve. “There was a rumor it once belonged to Jimi Hendrix or something.” 

The guy stared at him, mega-intense, which Steve took to be a positive sign. Maybe he should play hardball, get competing offers from a bunch of stores.

“I’m looking for at least two-thousand bucks,” he ventured.

“I got some catalogues out back that should help me figure out what it’s worth. Gimme a tick.”

Steve shrugged. “Sure.”

The dude vanished. Steve waited, grinning when a track he knew—‘Friday I’m in love,” by The Cure—drowned out the Abba hell-loop in his head. He remembered this one. Yeah, he’d been flat on his back on that honking great bed, with his ankles looped around Eddie’s neck. While merrily fucking Steve, Eddie had sung along like an idiot:

“Monday, you can hold your head, Tuesday, Wednesday, stay in bed, Or Thursday, watch the walls instead, It's Friday, I'm in love…”

Christ, he missed Eddie’s dumbass ‘o’ face. He missed how Eddie always needed him to come too, loving it when Steve squirted across those lick-tastic tatts. Yeah, he missed… so much. If he got a decent amount for the guitar, maybe he and Eddie could rent a place together. Get back to fucking every day of the week…

He was still daydreaming, smirking vaguely, when the two policemen walked in. 

“I didn’t know it was stolen!” protested Steve. The son-of-a-bitch store-owner handed the guitar over the counter to one of the cops.

“Where d’you get it then?” asked the other.

“A friend gave it to me.” Steve’s legs started to feel wibbly.

“This friend got a name?”

Steve bit hard into his bottom lip.

“You think on it, and tell us when we get to the precinct, huh?” 

They took his knapsack and turned out his pockets. When the handcuffs came out, the bubble of panic in his windpipe ballooned.

“I didn’t know it was stolen,” he repeated, sort of on autopilot. They cuffed him anyway. Outside the store, the cool air smarted against his burning skin. “C-crap. No, please! Look… I… I didn’t know!”

He was guided into the back of their patrol vehicle and the door slammed shut. He shut his eyes, rested his head back, and battled his instinct to struggle against the cuffs.

OH MY GOD, EDDIE! YOU REALLY WERE TAKEN FOR A CHUMP!  

Unless he knew it was stolen? No. No way, no way. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. Okay… breathe. Keep calm, right? Shiiiiit! 

Steve had been picked up by the police once before. It’d been soon after he’d run from that man, when he was on the streets, and… Nope, nope, NOPE.

His mind grew as clammed up as his body. Which was probably how, breathing fast and shallow, he survived the short journey to the precinct. Still kinda dazed, he was uncuffed and processed. His rescue inhaler, which had been in his pack, was handed back to him. For the first time in a while, he managed to form a coherent sentence: “I need to make a phone call.”

As he was shown to the booth, his worries swerved off in a whole new direction. Dammit, he still didn’t know Robin’s number. He could try calling the hotel, see if he could get a message to her, but…

His unsteady fingers dialled the one number that’d etched itself into his heart. He knew it was gonna go to that ‘answerphone full’ message.

Shit, you are not gonna cry, Harrington, or you’re gonna be eaten alive.

“Hello, this is Suzie.”

“Oh Jesus Christ!”

“No, I’m afraid I’m not Him. This is Suzie Henderson. To whom am I speaking?”

“It’s Steve.” He swiped his knuckles across his cheekbones. “I’m, uh… um… Eddie’s friend. Is he there?”

“No, we don’t know where he is. We’re really worried.” She sure sounded less chirpy than in her message. “I thought Dusty tried to call you back. Have you heard from Eddie?”

“N-no, no. Oh my God. Oh my God, this isn’t happening, this isn’t happening.”

“You seem distressed, Steve. Can I help?”

What choice did he have? He poured out his story, including how Eddie gave him the guitar he was accused of fencing, right till the call randomly cut off.

…

In the interview room, a tired-looking cop dumped a worryingly thick file between them.

“It’s a simple question, kid. Tell us how you came into possession of Jimi Hendrix’s guitar, and we can cut you a deal. You sing sweet enough, you could skip all charges.”

Steve chewed his thumbnail, stared at the table: “I got it from a friend.”

“Listen to me. That guitar was stolen during an armed robbery at a house in Brentwood. You already got an arrest record. You don’t talk, you’re looking at some serious time behind bars.”

Steve gawked up at the interviewer, his thumb still half-caught in his mouth. He’d go to the prison for the guy he loved but…

This isn’t happening.

“Whoever you’re covering for, are they worth it? You scared they’re gonna come for you? We can put you in witness protection.”

Scared? Of Eddie? It was almost hilarious, and finally snapped Steve from his clammed-up funk. He giggled nervously.

“You think this is funny, kid? You can laugh your ass off in jail. You wanna recall your friend’s name for me now?”

“I… um…”

Eddie would want you to tell him, you idiot! He can probably help clear this mess up! There is also the teensy weensy possibility he’s skipped town, leaving you holding his seriously problematic baby…

“Look, I’m not exactly sure where he—“

The door flew wide and a young woman with fashionably frizzy hair and some serious shoulder-pad action stepped in. “Stop the interview. My name’s Nancy Wheeler. I’m Steve’s lawyer and I need a moment alone with my client.”

The interviewer looked mildly pissed then picked up his files and shuffled out.

Steve slumped back in his seat and blinked at his apparent saviour. Beneath the make-up and the power suit, she didn’t look much older than he was. She smiled tightly, pulled a chair around and sat down beside him.

“Woah, woah, woah.” Steve finally found his voice. “I don’t wanna sound ungrateful, but I can’t pay you anything."

“I’m not actually a lawyer,” she hissed, kinda apologetic. “I’m a trainee journalist. Friend of Suzie’s. She’s sort of into law as a hobby, and she’s clued me in on exactly what to say, so… sit tight, keep quiet. We’ll have you out of here in no time.”

…

Nancy did a lot of talking, and Steve eventually found himself leaving the precinct flanked by Nancy and Suzie. Suzie had brought her checkbook to pay Steve’s bail, though in the end, he hadn’t been charged.

He’d lost track of time during his ordeal, and it was past ten pm and dark outside. Before they reached the bottom of the precinct steps, a Volvo drew up, and its internal light switched on. A guy with curly hair and a ‘Vecna’s Doom Quest’ baseball cap wound down the window.

“Get in!” he yelled.

“Love you too, Dusty-bun.” Suzie headed around to the front passenger seat. 

Steve hesitated. “Uh, look, I appreciate the cavalry charge and all, but you’re, like, complete strangers.”

“Get in, Dingus!” Robin had rolled down the backseat window.

“What the heck are you doing here?” He climbed in, and she folded him into a clumsy hug. Nancy climbed in on his other side.

“Are you okay?” asked Robin.

“Jesus, what do you think? I got arrested, and.. I’m so confused.”

Robin launched her story, as Dustin drove off. When she’d discovered Steve AWOL, she’d freaked out. Then she’d called Dustin’s number, which she knew Steve had been trying all week. While garbling madly at each other, she’d learned from Dustin about Steve’s arrest. Dustin, meanwhile, gleaned that Robin had heard from co-workers that day about an incident at the hotel.

The same incident that Dustin, Suzie and Nancy had spent the last few days trying to get to the bottom of.

“What happened at the hotel?” asked Steve.

“We’re not entirely sure,” said Nancy. Steve wasn’t sure why they'd gotten a rookie journalist in tow. So much baffled him right now. “What we do know is that the police have charged Eddie with assault and battery. His disappearing act doesn’t exactly help his case.” 

“What? No way!” Steve couldn’t buy it. Eddie was one of the gentlest guys he’d ever known. Okay, there was that one time he busted his own knuckles, but…

"It's a pretty serious business," Robin was saying. "The only witness was Doreen. She swore that the so-called 'victim’”— Robin spluttered the word out like sour milk—“was blind drunk and walked into a pillar, but the police didn't buy it.”

“We’ve got to find Eddie before the cops do,” chipped in Dustin.

“Yeah, well, LAPD are the least of Eddie’s troubles,” snapped Robin. “I’m gonna gut him over this whole guitar business.”

Too fucking much.

After the rollercoaster of the past few hours, Steve felt basically punch-drunk. He groaned, rubbed his brow, then shaded his eyes from the dazzle of the streetlights. “Please just someone tell me you’ve got a clue where Eddie is.”

“It’s a work in progress,” said Suzie. “He never picked up his ride from the hotel. We’ve exhausted our leads locally, so we’re heading up to Oregon to see his uncle. Wayne won’t talk over the phone—”

“He won’t talk to us, period,” interjected Dustin. “But I think he knows something.”

“We’re going to Oregon?” Steve emerged from beneath his fingers. “Now? The cops told me to not leave town.”

“Dustin said he’d drop us home first,” said Robin. “I’d be delighted to wash my hands of Jon Bon Jovi’s evil stoner cousin for good.”

“He’s not evil.” Steve gave an enormous yawn, then zoned in on the one thing he knew for sure. “I need to find him. You go home, Robin. Fernando will scratch my eyes out if I spend another night on his couch.”

She bitched a bit more, including about how yuck and sweaty he was. Then she refused to leave him. He curled up against her—he couldn’t risk drooling on a complete stranger—and hunkered down for the long drive.

....

Part 13 on Ao3 (tumblr link coming soon!)

promise we’ll get back to Eddie in the next chapter. I needed to get a few more characters into play so we can finally get steddie on their path to healing and HEA… soon (ish!) 

Thank you for reading. Likes, reblogs and comments much appreciated and will feed the bunnies🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕

On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 Part 6.1 Part 6.2 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :)

On AO3 All my ST stuff on AO3

[seilon]

it takes about 45 minutes to get to school via walking + busses with about 25 of that being walking/waiting outside. it takes about 10 minutes by car. it’s 108 degrees. should i get a lyft? probably. but. hgsgghhhhh

[sophia-sol]

Every year at about this time (...very approximately) I post a reclist of 10 short stories I particularly enjoyed reading in the last year, all of which can be read online for free. Here's the latest list, and I hope you enjoy them as much as I did!

1. Sestu Hunts the Last Deer in Heaven - MH Cheung Beautiful and odd. A story of what happens after you've killed the gods, the unexpected realities and the things you have to live with. I love stories about after the climactic things traditional fantasy narratives are about, and this one excels!

2. If You Find Yourself Speaking to God, Address God with the Informal You - John Chu Two butch Asian weightlifter dudes bonding with each other and then dating, and one of them happens to have superpowers, but the superpowers aren't the focus. This is SO charming!!

3. Two Hands, Wrapped in Gold - SB Divya This is a really cool retelling of the classic fairy tale Rumpelstiltskin from the Rumpelstiltskin character's pov, building out the world and his background and making him a sympathetic character with a specific history. Haven't seen a fairy tale retelling quite like this before and it's great! And I say that as a connoisseur of fairy tale retellings.

4. A Farce to Suit the New Girl - Rebecca Fraimow A troupe of Jewish actors in Russia, in a time of political upheaval. This story has such a good and powerful feeling of activity and forward momentum, and of the way a community supports people even if things are weird or complicated! I love every single character and how firmly they are themselves.

5. Sheri, At This Very Moment - Bianca Sayan The sacrifices you make to spend time with the ones you love - a snapshot of one brief visit together, out of two lives that only rarely get to align. Made me teary the first time I read it!

6. Spirochete - Anneke Schwob An engaging second-person pov story about possession and identity. It has such a great sense of timing! And the last line GOT me even on second read when I hypothetically knew what was coming!

7. To Embody a Wildfire Starting - Iona Datt Sharma Ahhhhhh this story is so good at embodying the horrible complexities of the choices people make in the worst of situations, that good and bad and divine and evil and just plain personness can all reside in one being. Also it's about a dragon society and the revolutionary humans who tried to make everyone into dragons, and also about parent-child relationships, and also about a bunch of other things. God it's good.

8. Obsolesce - Nadine Aurora Tabing Is it really me if I don't have at least ONE story about robots in my rec lists? (actually I just went back and checked and in multiple previous years I inexplicably didn't, maybe it wasn't me writing the reclist in those years lol) ANYWAY who wants to have sad feelings about robots again! I know I always do! In a world where anyone who has a physical body instead of having their consciousness transferred is more and more obsolete, no matter if your body is human or robot, what do you hold onto? This one has a real good melancholy tone.

9. Letters from a Travelling Man - WJ Tattersdill ....does what it says on the tin. Letters to a dear friend, from a man travelling for the first time to the unfamiliar part of the world that friend comes from. I love the sense of place you get from the letters, as well as the deep and abiding importance of this friendship in both their lives. Another one I cried over!

10. Texts from the Ghost War - Alex Yuschik Another epistolary one, but this time in text messages instead of letters, and between characters who start the story antagonistically! About mech pilots in a ghost war, and making connections, and finding things to care about, even when stuff sucks. I love them!! (also, I am inescapably me, whoops, it took me until I read some fanfic of this story to realize that almost certainly the story was meant to be canonically shipping the two leads, I never notice romance unless there's anvil-sized indications.) Anyway this is a really good story!

[lucrativesoul]

one of my favorite headcanon tropes is roommate!leon. friends to lovers brainrot anyone?

Leon would start out reserved until you two became comfortable with each other. He’s normally quiet anyway, as you have come to learn, but you also learned that comfortable meant him not being afraid to sit a little too close to you just because it’s cozy for him.

Food is his comfort item. This was discovered very fast. (“Leon, I just bought this whole box of cheez-its two days ago. I didn’t even have any!” “Leon, those were my gummy worms. I would have bought you some.” Once you learned to accommodate his black hole stomach, you found it oddly fun to cook for him, he was always looking to try new recipes.)

He would become overly friendly and caring when he wants something from you. 9 times out of 10, it was because he was hungry. (The one time was when he just wanted company late at night and couldn’t sleep.)

He would always have the courtesy to ask you if something he is doing would bother you, even if it is something you barely even noticed. (“Is my music too loud?” “Should I move my stuff off the table?”)

Leon would slowly start learning your every day routine. What you did on early mornings, how you set up meals around a work or class schedule, and what time you tend to go to bed. He found himself adapting his own around yours, keeping peaceful company unless you were in your room, door closed.

Sometimes, Leon would come home late from work. He tried as best as he could to be quiet so you could stay asleep, but he would always walk into something. It would prompt you to then walk out of your room and just stare at him. (“Leon, really?” “I… I’m sorry, I don’t know how the kitchen table got right there.” You were already awake and waiting for him to come home, but you liked seeing him stumble over himself to apologize to you.)

Once Leon had gotten word that he would be going on prolonged work missions, you could see he was guilty about leaving you alone. You comforted him as best you could, but you were often lonely without his presence. You did lots of cat ownership contemplating during those times.

While he was mostly a heavy sleeper, and could fall asleep anywhere, there were times you would wake up to noise in the kitchen. You would investigate to find him rummaging through the cabinets, looking for snacks. (“I thought you said you bought more cheez-its.” “I did, Leon. You ate them.” “Oh.” “Come on, there’s some in my room. I was hiding them from you, but you can take them.”)

Leon’s love language was very much quality time. You knew his job was stressful, and your schedule was often not fixed, so on the nights you were both home, he wanted to be in your presence, whether it be watching something together, or doing your own thing in the same room. He didn’t want those nights to end, because it always meant you had to go back to your own room. (You didn’t want these nights to end, and you wish Leon would just tell you that you can fall asleep in his room.)

No matter what the temperature is in the house, it seems like it never bothers him, or rather that he gets hot way too fast. This man is seen more often without a shirt than with one, not that it was totally a nuisance to you. You knew he was more observant than he led on to be, so you only let yourself look at his body when he is turned around. (“Leon, I’m in a sweatshirt, and you are half naked. Clearly one of us is wrong about the temperature here.” “Well, it’s not me.”)

Leon grew on you really fast. You knew you made a good choice in roommates after the first time Leon detected your bad mood and did whatever he could to make you happy. (“Gummy worms? Thanks, Leon. I’m surprised you didn’t eat these already.” “I was definitely going to. But you need them more than me.” He definitely snuck a few while you ate them.)

a/n: today is my birthday! take these little headcanons that I'm always thinking about while I finish the other fic and start some more :) does anyone else need a friends to lovers roommates au now... (cause i do) (thank you again for the support on my first fic. the pressure to please is high but i’m excited for my next fics!)

[targaryenluvs]

100K CELEBRATION!

hello my lovelies, we’ve recently reached 100k likes (which is insane in my eyes) and i wanted to throw a little party in here ❤️

1) my requests are open for all fandoms, (click here for fandoms) and you can request blurbs and imagines. you can also ask for specific appearances or names to cater to you.

2) shipping event! i love these myself so why not? you can add a fandom of your choice to be shipped with a character and a blurb about your personality and appearance. in return you’ll get a blurb of the two of you! (adding your real name is optional you can choose to give me a nickname or just y/n).

i don’t know as of now when i’ll close this, thanking all 3.6k (how did we get here wtf) of my lovely followers whether your new or an og, i appreciate you all ❤️

Prompts:

Angst/Hurt:

'You scared me back there.”

“You never really cared, did you?” “I always cared, you never noticed.”

“Do you think you’re invincible?”

"I came as soon as I heard." “You didn’t have to.”

“If you didn’t want to be with me then why the hell did you drag me along?”

“Do you love them?”

“I can’t even look at you.”

“You need to take care of yourself.” “Why do you care?”

“Don’t touch me!”

“Did you ever love me?”

Fluff:

“I would wait here forever.” “God you’re cheesy.”

“Y/n, I love you.” “Finally.”

“You’re cute as hell.” “I know.”

“I could keep you in my pocket all day.”

“Is that my shirt?” “Yes.” “Keep it, looks good on you”

"Wear a sweater, it's cold out."

“Have you eaten today?” “I’ll eat you.” “Woah.”

“Did you buy me flowers, why?” “Just take the damn flowers.” “Naw, have I made you sappy?”

“If I called you the apple of my eye, would you hit me?” “Yes.”

“Time for bed.” “No I have work…” “Doesn’t matter, come on.” “Noooo!”

Flirty/Smutty/Jealous:

“If he doesn’t stop staring I swear to god—,” “Un-ball your fists please.”

“Now how am I supposed to focus when you look like that?”

“Do you ever shut up?” “There’s ways to make a girl shut up yknow?”

“I’d rather die than kiss you.” “Sure thing Y/n.”

“God you’re divine.”

“This is too small. You’re too close.” “Well who’s bright idea was it to hide in a closet?”

“Is that blushing I see?” “No, shut up!”

“I’m sorry it’s a bit difficult to stand here whilst everyone is staring at my girl.”

“I want to put you in a chokehold.” “Whoa sweetheart, you kiss your mother—,” *Smothers his mouth*

“You’re lucky I have self restraint.”

Dark:

1 - “I gave you a chance, remember that.”

2 - “The longer you hide the worse it’ll be when I find you.”

3 - “Did you really think you could get rid of me?”

4 - “Someone dangerous could’ve hurt you.” “You are dangerous.”

5 - "If I was you sweetheart, I’d get to runnin’."

6 - “Just leave me alone.” “Don’t hurt my feelings, god knows what I’ll do.”

7 - “Can’t tell me you don’t want it when you’re acting like this Y/n/n.”

8 - "You don't want to be my good girl?"

9 - "Missed me have you?" “How’d you find me?”

10 - “And who’s going to believe you?”

Cannot wait for requests!

- Kira 🎀

[moonbaby26]

Title: Proposal

(Chapter 16 of Doflamingo’s Marine Series)

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Chapter Pairings: Doflamingo x Reader

Chapter Warnings: language, toxic relationship, abusive relationship, manipulation, angst

Chapter Synopsis: Still feeling pressure from both real and perceived enemies abroad, Doflamingo gives into his insecurities and chooses to take your and his relationship public at last.

Chapters: 1,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6,  7,  8,  9,  10,  11,  12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17

——————————

—————————— 

For as wealthy of a country as Dressrosa was supposedly becoming, shade clearly wasn’t something they’d yet found important enough for including in colosseum upgrades.

You’d had no choice but to fully cover up in layers of clothing today to hide your many injuries. But no matter how you sat now, legs crossed or not, marine coat unbuttoned or not, there was zero breeze and you were getting hot beneath that persistent sun.

Having this tall, pink bird radiating his additional body heat as he insisted on staying hip to hip with you in the booth was not helping either of course.

Feathers grazed against you as you took yet another drink of the iced juice his servants had offered. But you really wanted to put that cold glass against the side of your face. You would have too if the damn cameras hadn’t kept checking back in at the worst times while the sounds of more weapons clashing carried up from below. 

But it really was like some higher power just kept kicking you again when you were already down. 

Because the juice was pulpy, and overly sweet for your tastes. Something Doflamingo had said was his preference when he’d seen you choose it earlier. So you should have blamed him. When on that final sip something harder in the pulp had caught right in the back of your throat.

Debris that was perfectly sized, too small to force down with additional swallowing. But just big enough to trigger a coughing fit as you left your now empty glass on the ledge of the booth.

You grabbed Doflamingo’s drink next. Some rich, dark beer you’d never heard of. Something you were not supposed to be drinking on duty anyway as you suddenly downed it like it was a late night, after hours in Marineford instead.

“Shit.” You still coughed several more times, but feeling that piece finally dislodge in the rush of alcohol. 

“Well...I can’t say I’ve ever seen someone try to drown themselves with pomegranate juice before.” His mocking tone accompanied the stare you’d obviously now earned. “Did you forget the difference between breathing and drinking for a moment there, marine?”

And you glared up at him, everything only made worse when you saw that condescending expression on his face.

“Seeds got caught in my throat, you jerk. If you wanted your juice that damn thick, you should have just stuck a straw in a raw fruit for gods’ sake!”

But you saw the weird way Doflamingo paused. And then abruptly, the way the muscles in his brow shifted to give away that his smile had now spread to his concealed eyes.

“You swallowed the seeds then?”

“Well yes.” But such a simple question was far more off putting when he was now looking at you like that. “Should I have spit them out onto you instead?” You tried to fuss back, flustered really of what could possibly be going through that mess of his mind now.

“They don’t teach much literature in those naval classes do they?” He just answered with a question of his own, still looking inexplicably amused. “Just books on a thousand ways to tie ropes and how to properly mop decks then?”

“I don’t know what you’re on about.” You retorted, even still coughing an additional time then.

“I have an entire library back at the palace you know.” He said, even as he made a gesture with his hand to summon another drink tray. “I think I’ll pick out some books on this for you tomorrow. You’ll need something to do anyway while I’m back in meetings. I’d hate for you to be too bored and lonely, just pining for my return all day.”

Of course his taunting tone said otherwise. He’d love you to have nothing better to do than just lay around for hours waiting for him to climb back on top of you, you were sure.

“Go to hell.” You huffed, albeit still gladly taking a water this time as the servants were back before you both then.

“Already there, darling.” He quipped, still grinning as he grabbed another beer from their tray in replacement of the one you’d just demolished for him.

“And we have our first knockout of the competition!” The announcer’s voice boomed with excitement as you and Doflamingo finally looked away from one another and to the scene below then.

You’d already learned that everything was so over the top in this place, bordering on barbaric honestly.

But you’d done your best to reserve your judgement every time the crowd’s energy had surged when new wounds were opened up or bones were broken in the colosseum battles. 

Because it might just be the culture here. Every island had its own traditions, its own history within reason.

Yet when the winner of this latest match began approaching his now unconscious opponent, spear angling further downward to take new aim, you nearly stood.

That was finally well beyond reason to you.

“He’s already down!” You said to the warlord. Your hand had closed on Doflamingo’s forearm in reflex.

And the fresh cruelty budding in that pirate’s smile while he looked from your hand now gripped onto his arm, and then back to your concerned face made you pause all over again. 

“Oh, dear woman…a good bloodletting gets these animals excited like the hateful things they really are. Are you going to deny them this release?”

“There are children here.” You managed to retort. But the fresh tinge of disgust was obvious in your eyes. 

These were people, not things.

Doflamingo still chuckled, like a mix of false sympathy and real distaste as his own hand abruptly rose above you. “And you are far too predictable, love. You’ll owe me again for this one.”

And the previous roar of the crowd quieted in the resulting confusion.

Only with the snail cameras then zooming in were you able to see that true result on the screen. Your surprise matching the other spectators as what now looked like a spider’s web had materialized from nowhere to block the kill shot.

The aggressor’s spear now hung in midair from where it’d been thrown. Its sharp metal tip pressed into that web, unable to penetrate past it and cross just those few inches that remained to the target’s throat.

“And…and I can’t believe it, ladies and gentlemen!” The announcer exclaimed again. “His majesty has interceded into the fight! Sire!? Would you like to address the crowd!?”

Some woman in gladiator attire was then at the booth before you knew it. She appeared to be part of the colosseum workers as she bowed in respect all the while offering Doflamingo a microphone.

You heard the warlord laugh quietly, speaking just to you before that microphone was in range to pick his voice up.

“See the trouble you’ve started?” He chided.

And yet he still took that microphone from her as if this was also second nature to him. No hesitation at all as he relaxed further back into the stone seating beside you.

His arm went tight around your shoulders to keep you in that resulting camera shot with him as well.

“I’m only being a hospitable host, Gatz.” Doflamingo’s best charismatic tone now echoed through the colosseum as he addressed the announcer by name. The whole venue was now silent except for their king. 

“The captain here isn’t yet acclimated to the normal rules our gladiators live and die by. Just now, she expressed an interest to me in seeing even this loser have an opportunity to fight another day. Because she believes adversity can sometimes lead to improvement, even within the weak.” 

He gave a slight sneer then, but remained relatively calm. “I disagree of course. However, I promised her we could try things her way just for today. So not only will there be no executions during today’s events…”

And he did pause briefly there, anticipating the crowd’s palpable shock. But he knew just when to continue as well, keeping them enraptured as he then dropped the next apparent change.

“But also, at the conclusion of today’s competition, the captain will also be granted one pick from all current participants to grant a full royal pardon to. And that gladiator will walk free from the colosseum this very evening, by her grace alone.” 

You hadn’t known a thing about this of course. But your instincts were quick to believe it wasn’t at all an improvisation.

He’d planned this.

He’d known exactly how you were going to react as the battles worsened, and you’d played right into it.

And now he was doing his favorite trick again because of that. Controlling you at the exchange of human lives. 

In Mariejois you’d submitted to him under the implication of him harming both yourself and your crew if you’d revealed him as Joker.

In Sabaody, he’d freed slaves from his own auction house in exchange for your promising to soon meet him again.

And in Scylla, he’d demanded your fidelity and made you promise to always return to him. Otherwise the life lost would clearly be your own. 

“So I’d advise our competitors to do their best to impress her. She’s got very high standards after all.” Doflamingo still added, briefly smirking down at you.

He was complimenting himself of course there, implying that he was already one of your so called “high standard” choices.

With so much amusement, this man could make an instant game out of people’s lives and freedom. All the while still having the gall to stroke his own ego right on top of it. 

————————— 

And just those few hours later, he was already refusing to help you at all in this dilemma he’d so gladly created.

“Just fucking pick one.” Doflamingo drawled, sounding bored by then as Gatz was still talking over you both across the stadium speakers. The battles were done at last, the competitors reentering the arena one by one as the announcer reintroduced them to go through the final motions.

The sun was just beginning to set. Something you couldn’t even appreciate as the sky began changing to vibrant hues of pink and red.

Because you didn’t have an answer yet.

“That isn’t fair to them.” You insisted. “It can’t just be random.”

The warlord’s lips upturned a little, yet another beer still in his hand. “Then be lazy and let the crowd choose for you. I don’t care. Just hurry up. My ass is falling asleep. I’m tired of sitting here.”

“This whole production was your idea, you dick!”

“Yeah well, the fights take that much longer when they can’t just kill one another. It’s still your fault this had to be so drawn out.”

You made a dissatisfied sound in your irritation. He wanted you to just pick whoever the crowd had seemed most fanatic about. But you weren’t feeling that. Because they had cheered loudest for only the most violent participants.

Which seemed like a terrible criteria for choosing the person who was about to be released back into society.

Yet you could feel that Gatz was about to direct the cameras back to the royal booth at any moment.

Fuck. You were just going to have to go with your instincts. You didn’t have any information on each prisoner’s actual crimes to do any better with this.

“The tall guy with the tattoo and the ponytail.” You said quickly to Doflamingo then. 

The fighter you now referenced was one of the first to have come back into the stadium in this final showing, and you’d already forgotten what Gatz had called him.

But Doflamingo did sit up a little more then, looking down at them all to see who you meant. Yet you saw his smirk fade once his gaze found the only man that matched your description. 

“Fine. A deal’s a deal.”

And with almost a huff, the warlord made a sudden gesture with his hand. You’d known the executives were close by. Yet it’d still surprised you when Diamante was abruptly leaning in behind you both at that nonverbal summons.

“Yes, Doffy?” That creep of a man asked, far too close for your comfort.

“Diamante, remind me. What’s that fucker’s name? The one with the ink nearly on his cock. She likes him apparently.” Doflamingo grumbled, his fingers tightening on your side as his arm had moved back around your waist.

And you had to stare at the pirate when he gave this new description.

Because yes, that prisoner was shirtless and had a lower abdominal tattoo. With the bottom of that image partly obscured by the belt line of his loincloth.

But for all that was holy, did Doflamingo actually have a hint of jealousy in his voice again now? As if physical appearance had anything to do with your pick?

Diamante did answer easily with the name though. “He was one of Riku’s army captains.” He also added after with evident distaste.

“Wait…what?” you tried to interrupt at that. Because your true, only reason for choosing that particular gladiator was that in all the fighters you’d watched, he’d shown the most restraint.

Someone with real self control that you’d hoped would be the least likely to threaten an average citizen once freed.

But if they were now saying that he was part of the previous regime that had slaughtered those very same citizens under Riku’s command, then these two things just didn’t add up to you.

Could your instinct be that wrong?

“Does that mean he participated in Riku’s attack?” You asked seriously, butting in again.

“Of course he did. But I told you to pick someone the crowd liked. You wouldn’t do it. This is on you.” Doflamingo sneered a little at that, still confirming your choice regardless. “That’s the one you’re letting go, Diamante. Go tell Gatz. And remind him of my announcement too.”

“Yes, Doffy.” Diamante didn’t argue, though he also looked displeased with you before he was gone again soon enough.

And you must have had an expression of further concern on your own face, worrying over the possible ramifications of this as you heard Doflamingo finally chuckle again.

As if he couldn’t stay irritable with you when you were just this pathetic.

“Poor thing. Not easy making these decisions, is it?” He asked you. He was now rubbing your side with that large hand. “Don’t worry, we’re almost done here. And then I’ll be all yours again.”

———————————

Gatz had loudly announced your choice of who to pardon, and as expected the crowd had given a mixed reaction at best.

Their resentment to anyone associated with Riku’s former regime was still so visceral. A joke that just kept on giving as Doflamingo couldn’t help but gloat a bit. 

Because they were all so fucking gullible. In that prisoner, they only saw someone who had once ravaged their own people without hesitation. 

But you, a woman who had been here at the colosseum all of a single afternoon, had already seen straight through this. You’d zeroed in on likely the least corrupted in all of the current choices and picked accordingly.

It was impressive really. Highly annoying to him, but impressive none the less. 

And Doflamingo had rolled his eyes behind his glasses when that now former prisoner did fall to his knees in the arena at the news of his unexpected freedom.

The idiot was actually crying by then, crying about soon being reunited with his family and thanking you over and over. While Gatz was playing the storyline up all the more, waxing poetic about your supposed indiscriminate mercy and unique capacity for forgiveness as you looked entirely uncomfortable in the whole situation.

But Doflamingo knew it would still work out in the long run. A single, former Riku loyalist back on the loose was no concern to him after all. Because this was perfect bait for others to follow.

Your kindness could soon become like a goddamn siren call to flush out his enemies.

His irresistible siren.

That wasn’t an inaccurate metaphor really.

And as Gatz gradually finished up, Doflamingo was now taking slightly deeper breaths himself without willing it. 

His muscles were tensing and releasing again as he downed the rest of his current beer.

The real show was finally at hand. What he’d been waiting for all afternoon.

And that actual tinge of nervousness was still foreign to him as his hand had returned to his pants’ pocket, fingers tightening around that ring.

“And before the official conclusion of today’s events, it has been commanded that all you good people of Dressrosa please remain seated! As his royal highness, king Donquixote Doflamingo has an announcement to make!”

And their king did stand then, postured at his full height as the snail cameras had to zoom out to then keep you both in frame on the stadium’s screen.

You were sitting properly again for the cameras of course, with your back straight and your eyes cautiously on him. His disciplined marine once more.

Because you did know how to play this part of the game, whether you could yet admit it or not. The falsehood of putting on a strong front.

Another colosseum worker had scurried over then, presenting Doflamingo with a microphone again. He took it to hold in one of his hands, your ring hooked with his fingertip by the other hand still in his pocket.

“Citizens of Dressrosa…” Doflamingo’s smooth voice filled the stadium as all else quieted once more. “I hope you’ve enjoyed the festivities today. And I’m glad everyone could be here this evening on such short notice. As I do have a confession to make that concerns us all.” And his grin widened further in the dark humor of that implication. 

Because there were a thousand crimes that would have lit this place up in an instant if he had divulged even a single one of them.

“I haven’t been entirely honest with you.” His heart was beginning to pound regardless. 

But he liked it.

He liked the thrill in this risk versus reward.

He had waited so long for this.

“But that secrecy has been for a very good reason. Because the media would have spun this out of control as they’ve already tried to do. So much so that the very peace and stability of this island may have been threatened.”

He was still smiling, letting the lies begin to flow easier and easier from his wicked mouth. 

“And I knew I owed it to you, the loyal denizens of this country to be the first to hear it direct from me when the time was right. To tell you of the choice I’ve made which will affect all our futures.”

And now he did see you, in the peripheral vision of his good eye as you started to look more stressed. That flicker of panic beginning behind those lovely eyes of yours.

You really were a smart girl where it mattered. Thankfully so, as he’d have tolerated little else in the long run. 

He glanced down to you, turning his head to do so. He was making his attention on you undeniable again for those cameras.

“You see, contrary to prior reports, this woman is far from a recent acquaintance to me.”

If everyone was to know, then of course he would put his own spin on the narrative. He could rewrite this as easily as Morgans could.

Doflamingo would make it what he wanted it to be. Not what it really was.

“The captain here is a distinguished marine, yes. Which unfortunately, put us briefly on opposing sides some years ago.”

Oh, the way he knew he was already sanitizing this. As if talking about only a sporting like competition between the two of you then, rather than a trading of blood, bullets, and the warships that’d been out for his hide.

“But as we all know, through my own merit and perseverance, I also rose so quickly to be recognized for what I really was.”

And goddamn, it was actually fun to say this with almost a straight face. “No longer just a pirate, but a guardian of this world. One of the seven warlords, standing now beside her marines as a crucial pillar in the balance of powers on behalf of our world government.”

He was acting as if you two were truly the same, as if you always had been. That you were the self-sacrificing defenders of all these wretches now hanging on his every word.

And your hands were clenching against the top of your skirt in your lap again. 

It was all utter bullshit and you knew it.

His grin widened.

“But I always desired her.”

An actual truth abruptly there.

He saw your lips part slightly. A sudden gun to your head likely would have provoked less surprise now in your eyes.

“So the very moment that ink was dry on my government contract, when my name was rightfully cleared and my honor restored, I called on this woman of course.” 

His fingers were anxiously turning that ring in his pocket now.

“And we’ve been together ever since. In secret to protect her career from all the close minded fools who may still not accept this truth of our shared feelings.”

A sound went through the crowd of course, that mix of true surprise and excitement.

It was every trope he could throw into this. The star crossed lovers, the lonely heroes, the redeemed king pining for his mate that should be untouchable by the prior blood on his hands.

But he still wasn’t done. Because Doflamingo always wanted it all. And he refused to share you even with the ghosts of your past.

“We even went so far as to fabricate other brief relationships to throw the public off of our scent. Just peers of ours who were willing to let their names be tossed into the rumor mill here and there in order to protect us.”

Kuzan, Crocodile, Smoker…fuck them all. They’d had their chances and burned you both. They weren’t going to get any secondary fame any longer because of it.

This was his spotlight now.

“But after three years together…” He was counting from the day he became a warlord of course. At least giving you that sliver of mercy to imply the fucking hadn’t started until he had immunity from prosecution. When he was no longer legally a criminal at least.

When in reality, your very first physical time together had been closer to only three months ago. That day in Mariejois when he’d first closed his hand around your throat and then pounded his raw cock into you for all he was worth not long after. A whole new euphoria he would never forget that initial dose of. 

“We’re not going to hide this any longer.”

His chest tightened as he felt that tangible flare of your haki. But he doubted you would dare strike him here. Not in front of everyone at least.

Doflamingo smiled. 

Didn’t you know that fire inside only made him want you all the more?

“And this country will become even safer under her and my dual protection. We will have a marine port of call established here, just as we implied in Scylla. Dressrosa will be the new home for both her subordinates, as well as the roots for our future royal family.”

The cameras were flashing like lightning, the crowd’s roar the resulting thunder as he finally slid that ring from his pocket.

Your whole identity, your career, and your freedom was likely burning right before you as he saw your eyes look at that jeweled band in the fading sunlight.

A large diamond was in its center, rising above smaller rubies framing it as if they were droplets of blood. Their red reflection casting almost a pink hue across that larger faceted stone.

Like the diamond itself was a survivor rising from the blood of the battlefield.

There’d been no other choice in his mind as soon as he’d seen this ring. He’d known it was perfect.

Like you.

“Marry me.” And Doflamingo’s dark voice said those two words so simply. Firmly for all to hear across the speakers as he held that ring between the two of you.

There was no intonation of a question in that command, but he did not reach for you either to force your hand.

He was still standing, looking down at you. You were seated, so still in the silence that had consumed the colosseum once more as his subjects awaited your answer.

He would not kneel of course. Only in the privacy of the bedroom and within the throws of full passion would he ever do that for you.

No, here in front of all these nameless fleas, it was up to you to rise to meet him. To be worthy of this honor as he loomed above you.

And he did see you take a deep breath. Your haki had stabilized again at last, quieting in tandem to your careful body language as you did stand to your feet.

You held your head up, a forced grace that still didn’t match the sharp look in your eyes. You were staring into those red sunglasses of his in a way that made his stomach tighten.

Like a lioness on a too thin chain.

It could still all go wrong. Because your desire was unclear and wavering. You couldn’t win, but he knew that you could hurt him.

Did you want to hurt him?

His armament was ready. His heart was pounding.

And then you exhaled.

You raised your left hand up from your side, holding it out flat before him.

“Yes.”

Doflamingo did blink behind his glasses at such a small, yet life changing word. The surrender from you that was all it took to launch the crowd into an explosion of hysterics and roaring cheers as he did slip that ring onto your waiting finger.

Their new noise shook the stadium louder than anytime he’d ever heard before as he watched you with some amazement.

He’d abandoned the microphone now, tossed away for someone else to catch or not. He didn’t care.

He didn’t see anything but you in this moment as he squatted slightly, leaning down as well. Whatever he needed to do to catch you by the lips as he’d tilted your head back when the urge overcame him. His grip then so tight beneath your jaw.

And if you really had blasted him with every ounce of haki you possessed in that moment, he still would not have stopped. His mouth was back over yours, fully greedy and exhilarated.

It was now the kiss of victory for all to see as the crowd continued to scream and the cameras flashed.

—————————— 

“Do you want to answer any of their questions?” Doflamingo breathed against your ear. His taste was still fully in your mouth by the time he’d released your lips again. That kiss had been so rough and you could tell he still wanted more, much more.

But you were having trouble catching your breath. The noise, the camera flashes, and the remaining heat you’d endured for hours now were all culminating into this oppressive crush down upon you.

You really couldn’t breathe. Your pulse was racing. “No.” It was nearly a plea. “I want to go.” You said against his open shirt. 

And for that single moment at least he did listen to you. He heeded you immediately.

You heard him call out to Trebol. The closest executive then to you both, that snotty piece of shit that you still refused to even look at.

“We’re heading somewhere quieter!” Doflamingo still had to be loud to be heard above the crowd. “Call me when they’re ready at the palace!”

“Will do, Doffy!”

And that was it. No other warning except for the way Doflamingo’s arms encircled you even tighter before your organs felt like they were being ripped down into your feet.

The ground was gone. The only noise then the air rushing past your ears as you closed your eyes in reflex to that sudden blast.

Any exposed skin you had now registered the temperature change as well. Everything around you abruptly cold and drier then as all went silent once the movement had stopped again.

You could feel your legs hanging freely now. Your arms moved up to slide tightly around Doflamingo’s neck as you dared to take another breath.

“Fuck…” You panted quietly, your eyes opening again even as you refused to look fully down just yet.

“Yes. The air is a good deal thinner up here. But it’s private. Silent. The birds don’t even come this high.” 

And your wholly unorthodox method of transportation was now breathing deeper himself to adjust. His bare chest still so warm against you in contrast to the ever growing darkness, and the creeping cold which accompanied it.

The sun would soon be slipping completely below that far off horizon. The ocean mainly all you could still see. The island of Dressrosa was now just a small circle within it, the lights of the towns nothing bigger than fireflies at this distance.

“I meant…that I wanted to go back to the palace.” You at last responded, trying to regather yourself.

“And miss this view from heaven?” He taunted you still.

But as his grip on you started to loosen, your natural fear only began to rise. Your body knew it did not belong up here, literally now just an arm’s reach from the bottom edges of the clouds his strings were somehow suspending him from. 

This was the very reason mother ocean detested unnatural talents such as his.

“Doffy...” You tried again, still unable to calm your now racing heart.

“Don’t tell me I’ve finally found something that my woman is actually afraid of?” And that grin of his was so infuriatingly smug. 

“You know this isn’t…at least this isn’t the only reason I’m having a…I don’t even know what I’m having.”

A meltdown? Another panic attack? A complete shattering of everything you’d ever been and had worked so desperately to achieve?

“Why didn’t you at least warn me that you were going to do it this way!?” Your voice finally broke then as you looked to his face again.

His smile was fading. “You’ll have to be more specific than that.”

“You lied and told everyone we’ve been together this whole time!”

This was not how it was supposed to be.

And he was just watching you as if this was of no consequence while you went on.

“You just told the entire world that I have been going behind my commander’s back for fucking years, Doflamingo. And that everyone who knew about me and Kuzan or me and Smoker can now call me a cheating bitch…when I’m not, none of that is true!”

And you saw his brow change as soon as their names were mentioned. You knew he was beginning to glare at you from behind those crimson lenses.

“By all means, let’s talk about your other men and their feelings on this while I dangle you a few thousand feet above sea level. That sounds reasonable to me.” He sneered at you.

His hands had closed around your wrists. He was pulling your arms away from his neck now. Your body was starting to slip.

A clear threat, but you knew he was somewhat bluffing. He wouldn’t kill you outright, not tonight at least. Not right after a display like that at the colosseum. He had to keep this farce going in front of the public in the short term at least, lest he be the one to look like a fool.

But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t punish you if you kept going.

You were sure he could let you fall as many times as he wanted. Then catch you at the last moment just to do it all over again.

And he would absolutely be that cruel if you instigated this further.

But you were also so angry, that you truly didn’t care any longer.

“Then do it.” Your voice broke again. “If you’re really that goddamn hateful! Have your laugh and torture me like you would anyone else. I’m tired of trying to make you understand what you clearly don’t want to!”

You saw him pause as your voice rose further at him. Though he was now holding you by only one wrist as you watched him defiantly, waiting for the drop.

You knew his pride wouldn’t allow any other response. You knew that he was going to do it. That he would think he had to do it.

His only hesitation may be in his disbelief that you were actually choosing this. 

That was the only thing you could assume as a grunt came from that man’s throat instead of a laugh. There was no smile. It only looked like an involuntary twitch of stress pulling the corner of his mouth further down. 

An expression of actual misery just before his hand snapped open and you plummeted.

The fucking idiot.

And you didn’t scream. Somehow you forced yourself not to. Your eyes closed tightly as you crossed your arms over your chest and put your ankles together beneath you.

This was the safest way you might dive feet first into the ocean from the highest rigging overhanging the water off of a ship. 

You had to pretend that’s all this was. 

From this height a body would be nothing but a splat of blood and viscera though. Something unrecognizable if you made it that far. 

The timing was so hard to tell with your eyes closed though. 

Just that terrible feeling and the wind rushing past your ears again as the back of your coat fluttered up behind you.

It probably wouldn’t have even hurt. Death like that would have been instant.

What did hurt was the abrupt deceleration. Only then had you gasped, the pain sudden as your body stopped but your insides didn’t. 

Your eyes opened as you clutched at your torso, feeling like things had actually tried to rip inside. Things that never should have moved at all as you twisted in his new strings.

Even through your harsh breathing you could now hear the sea. And your eyes widened when you realized how close it really all was. You could see the waves, breaking gently in the night’s breeze.

A secluded beach was just beneath you. Outside of that rocky ring of cliff face that surrounded most of Dressrosa.

And then the strings had moved again. You were jerked down before being dumped right into that warm sand.

You stumbled, falling onto your knees. But you were still holding your body just below your breasts.

You were too mad to cry by then. You just moved to sit in that sand, not even looking up as those long black shoes met the beach not long after and already began approaching you.

“I guess I forget that I string my insides as well to absorb that shock without thinking.” His tone was cold, almost monotone now. “And you can’t.”

You bit your own lip, refusing to look up at him yet. 

And in all of it. In everything he’d just said and done this evening, what you still hated more than anything was how your heart felt like it was going to twist itself in two.

And that had nothing to do with the fall.

“Doffy…” You said his name in continued irritation, but with grief beginning to show fully on your face.

Even out of your peripheral vision you saw him straighten up at that single word.

“Do you know what’s the single thing holding me back from loving a man like you?”

What a loaded and entirely dangerous question that was. But you gave him no time to respond. You were yelling at this fucking monster next as you glared back up at him, grief and frustration bursting back out all together then.

“It’s only self preservation! Not self respect, not being a marine, not Tsuru, not Kuzan, not even your fucking crimes! I just want to be able to fucking trust you! For one goddamn day for you to not be a complete nightmare! I don’t understand…you say you goddamn want me. You beg me to stay, to say that I love you. And yet you still treat me like this, every single day. Nearly every day you find a new way to hurt me! I can’t do it. I’m not unbreakable. You’re going to kill me eventually! So why not just do it and be done!?”

He stared at you, silent for several moments. But you could see that blood vessel rising on his forehead.

“Why did you say yes to me so easily then?” His voice was so different there, so strained when it finally came.

And you didn’t hesitate to respond to that, regardless of the rising danger once more. “The easy answer? I didn’t want you to have a tantrum and start slicing through people of course!” 

But you still scoffed, not stopping there either. “But the truth? I don’t want to be alone either, you asshole! And I know that no one else is ever going to stay with me for long. Because there is something very wrong with me. Something that only you aren’t afraid of. I don’t know why! But it’s a goddamn curse!”

You heard a low growl from him then even as those waves still moved rhythmically in and out along the shore.

“It’s not my fault.” 

He said this so suddenly, so oddly, that you just had to stare at him as you watched his fist clench at his side.

“The way I treat you…it isn’t my fault!” He hissed at you as you felt that return glare from behind the glasses. His frustration breaking loudly at last. “You drive me fucking crazy! If you would just obey! If you would listen!”

You started to snap back at him. “I’m not your fucking slave! I-“

And he cut you off so quickly. “I don’t care about that! I don’t want you to die! Don’t you understand!? You’re the only one that makes me feel wanted, desired. It’s not transactional, it’s not fucking fake.” He was gritting his teeth, like he couldn’t explain this in the correct words. Like the correct words didn’t exist.

You gestured in exasperation, disbelieving, but knowing this was all the worse if true. “Then you have to work harder! You’re the only one who can protect me from you. If I die, it’s going to be because of you! Don’t you see that!?”

“Then help me!” He yelled right back at you, teeth bared and voice desperate.

This was two insane people now screaming at one another on what should have been a romantic, private beach just after sunset.

And you with a beautiful new engagement ring sparkling on your finger in the starlight all the while.

That finger which now clenched with your others into a fist against your hip. The anger just too much to possibly maintain.

“Fuck, I need alcohol.” You breathed, feeling like you could have punched a hole into a mountain right now if you’d really tried. 

But you didn’t want to. And you sensed Doflamingo still all bristled up a few steps away as you told him as much. “I’m not fighting you.”

You did see his shoulders lower slightly, but that blood vessel in his forehead was still pulsing away.

“We’re getting married tonight regardless.” Doflamingo exhaled next, beginning to pace. “I’m not backing down. You’re signing those papers as soon as they’re ready at the palace. Trebol will call when the official arrives to bear witness.”

“And why does it have to be tonight?” You asked more tiredly then. Nothing was really going to surprise you any longer. You had met your limit for today.

“Because I don’t trust anyone either. When my stunt at the colosseum hits the newspapers tomorrow, someone’s going to try and stop us. I know they are. So you’ll smile, you’ll sign every goddamn paper I put in front of you, and it will all be faxed to Mariejois tonight. By morning you’ll already be Mrs. Donquixote and everyone else can go fuck themselves.”

“How romantic.” You answered, your chin now resting on your knees that were pulled up to your chest as you remained sitting in the sand.

And at last it was quiet then. Just the calm of the waves for a while. 

Doflamingo had finally stopped pacing, standing there with his hands in his pockets watching the horizon.

For several minutes he remained there, lost in his own thoughts about who knew what before he turned to look at you again.

You heard him sigh, something he didn’t do very often as those long legs eventually carried him back over.

You didn’t fully tense as his ass suddenly met the sand to plop down near you. But you raised your head cautiously to acknowledge him.

“It’ll get better.” He said, almost quietly then to your surprise. 

And all of the sudden your legs were moving on their own. You hadn’t even felt him attach a string to your spine this time.

But you frowned as they stretched out on their own accord. You could only wonder what he was planning now before he laid down abruptly, not caring about the sand on his clothes at all apparently. 

His head was then resting in your newly available lap that he had just provided for himself by moving your legs.

He shifted his fingers again after as well, still controlling you to make yours go into his hair next as he used his own free hand to remove his sunglasses.

You saw the genuinely tired look in his eyes then as he looked up at you while you were forced to gently stroke his scalp. “I do want you to love me.” He breathed, his eyes remaining on yours.

“I know.” You answered. Not arguing any longer, and not bothering to demand him to release you. 

“Just don’t give up on me yet.” He said, his eyes going more half lidded as he let your hand stop petting him. He turned his face, so gently kissing your hand then instead. “Because I already love you.” He added.

And you inhaled quietly. It pulled at you every damn time he said it. “I think…that maybe you want to.”

“If we don’t yet, then we’ll learn how to.” He promised you at that, not actually disagreeing. And he turned onto his side then, briefly closing his eyes with his head still comfortably in your lap.

“We’ll love each other.” Doflamingo said, reinforcing this just loud enough for you to hear over the continued waves. “We’ll have to, because no one else ever will.”

———————————

    T⨂  BE 

CONTINUED

———————————

Thanks for reading!

[persevereforahappyending]

Luck Runs Out |Part 4|

Pairing: Mabel x Reader

Summary: When your luck runs out you unknowingly drag Mabel back into the life, she's so desperate to escape.

Warnings: Mention of drugs, mention of death

Word Count: 2.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Epilogue

Mabel was leaning back in her chair, eating fries from a local burger place she got takeout from for you and her. She shook her head as she continued to argue with you. It was a few days after you woke up and though you weren’t super active you were more awake than you had been. Mabel had only known you less than a week, but it felt like longer, the two of you didn’t have a ton in common but that didn’t matter, she continued to listen as you told her about Odysseus. She also found she loved trying to poke holes in the story, but you always found a way to defend Odysseus.

“But he cheats on his wife!” Mabel said again, as you finally ended your ramble, throwing a fry at you in the processes. “How is that a great love story?”

“Because it wasn’t by choice!” You defended, making Mabel roll her eyes for the thousandth time. “Circe is a witch, she manipulated him, he knew it was the only way to get out of there alive or without being turned into a pig like members of his crew.”

“Calypso didn’t trick him,” she was quick to point out. She hadn’t read the odyssey yet, but you had basically given her a full run down, so she was confident in arguing with you.

“He was trapped on an island with her for over a year! She might not have used magic, but she definitely took advantage of him!”

“Twenty years. Twenty year and despite all her suitors Penelope never once strayed.”

“Neither did Odysseus! Not in his heart! He loved her the entire time, his whole journey was just to get back to her. He could have stayed with Circe, he could have stayed with Calypso, but he didn’t because the most important thing was getting back to his wife.”

Mabel sighed, shaking her head as she took a sip of her drink. “If you’d just read it, you’d see for yourself,” you said before shoving your own fries in your mouth.

“I still don’t get it,” Mabel said, throwing her hands in the air.

You let out a dramatic sigh as you let your head flop back onto the pillows. “What’s not to get? He loves his wife!”

“Not that,” she chuckled. “I mean you.”  You lifted your head from the pillows scrunching your eyebrows. “The odyssey is your favorite story, Odysseus is your hero, but you wear a trident necklace.” You tilt your head still clearly not getting it. “Poseidon is the villain! He literally tries to kill your boy the entire story!”

You break out into a laugh, wincing as your entire body shook but the pain didn’t stop your laughter. “Okay fair,” you got out between laughs. “But I mean the ocean is his domain, I feel like if anyone can protect me it’s him.”

“I don’t know, he kind of seems like an asshole.”

“All the gods are assholes,” you smiled. “It’s kind of their thing. But look if I was a pilot, I’d be wearing a little lightning bolt.”

Mabel scoffed, lightly chuckling at that. “You totally have multiple editions of the odyssey,” Mabel narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you?” You opened your mouth as if to defend yourself but quickly shut it. “Of course you do!” She threw her head back as she laughed. “Alright go on!” She waved her hand at you. “Tell me about them.”

“Well, I have a nice hardcover that’s both The Iliad and The Odyssey,” you jumped right into it with a smile. “Then I have a paperback that’s just of the odyssey, it never left my bunk on the boat.”

Mabel chuckled. “Are you serious? You even had a copy while on the boat?”

“Well, yeah,” you shrugged like it was obvious. “I needed something to do during down time or before bed.”

Mabel rolled her eyes at your reasoning before she grabbed the trash from the food, taking it to the kitchen to throw away before she got back to doing her homework. She had skipped class the first few days you were at her place because she didn’t know you well enough. After getting to know you a bit more Mabel decided that even if you were a drug smuggler you weren’t like any of the ones she knew, you were actually kind. When she came home from class the first day she left you alone, you were still there, sound asleep in her dark apartment, she was probably throwing your sleep schedule off with her boarded up windows, but you didn’t complain.

“Holy shit,” she heard you whisper as she started to organize her school stuff. When Mabel looked up, she saw your eyes were on the TV.

She had turned on the TV when she got back with food but had quickly muted it when the two of you started talking. She got up from her seat, quickly unmuting the TV. On the screen was the news, video played showing debris from a boat. Mabel didn’t know what was so significant about it, she glanced back at you to see your eyes hadn’t left the screen. They lived in a fishing town, it wasn’t common but boating accidents happened, hell when she first met Charlie, he had just gotten back from having to be rescued after his first time on the boat. Charlie and the boys had gotten lucky they had all made it to the life raft.

The news anchor appeared taking over most of the screen, the video of the debris still played in the top right corner of the screen.

“Authorities got alerted of an emergency situation last night,” the news anchor said. “Reports of an explosion on the Scylla came in. There is still no word on what caused the explosion or if there were any survivors.” The video took over the screen again while the news anchor’s voice continued to narrate what happened. “A life raft was recovered, however it seems it to have damaged in the accident and doesn’t appear as if anyone made it on to it.”

“There were seven crew members believed to be on the ship,” the anchor appeared on screen again. “No bodies have been recovered but it appears as though there was no survivors.” A picture of seven faces of the crew appeared on the screen.

Mabel’s eyes widened when she recognized the second to last person, it was you. She looked back at you seeing you stare at your own picture with wide eyes. The boat that had sent the distress signal, the one that had gone down, the one where the entire crew was killed, was your boat.

“Authorities are calling this a recovery mission not a search and rescue,” the anchor continued. “An investigation will be underway to determine what exactly happened to claim these seven lives.”

Mabel quickly turned off the TV when the anchor started to go over more of what happened. She had a good idea, the boat you were on went down and your entire crew was dead. For some reason, the authorities suspected you were also on the boat, and you were thought to be dead as well.

“Are you okay?” Mabel asked softly as she turned back towards you. Your eyes continued to stare at the now dark screen.

You shook your head. You were blinking rapidly as you tossed the blankets off your lap and moved to get up from the bed. “Wow,” Mabel said, holding her hands out to stop you. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I-I-I have to go,” you mumbled, groaning as you flung your legs off the side of the bed. “I have to get out of here.”

“What? No!” Mabel rested a hand on your shoulder, pushing you back down onto the bed as gently as she could.

“I can’t be here!” Mabel jumped; she had never heard you yell before. In the few days she spent with you, you had always been kind, guarded, but kind. “I can’t be here,” you said again softer, like usual.

Mabel stared into your eyes. Her gaze darted around your face, taking everything in. She saw your eyes shifting around the room while she tried to keep them on her. It was like you were searching again, waiting for someone to pop out from behind the couch or swing through the windows and get you. There was a slight tremble to your entire body, if Mabel wasn’t standing right next to you, if her hand wasn’t still brushing against you to keep you in place, she never would have noticed. This wasn’t a tremble from the pain or from the cold like when you were first brought to her apartment, this one was much different.

“I have to leave,” you said again. “You can’t be around me right now.”

“What are you going to do?” ‘Mabel decided to ask. “You were shot, your crew is dead, you dropped a pallet of drugs in the ocean. Where else do you have to go?”

You opened your mouth to say something, but no words came out. Mabel knew she was right, according to authorities you were dead, lost at sea, like the rest of your crew. She didn’t know what had happened, but she knew you couldn’t just go waltzing out of her apartment. Your face was all over the news, this was a small fishing town, everyone would know your face by now. You wouldn’t be able to walk through town without someone spotting you and that would lead to questioning from police, if you were lucky. Word would get around to whoever you worked for rather quickly, Mabel didn’t know your boss, but she knew how quickly word spread through a gang especially when it involved a missing shipment.

“They did this,” you whispered. Mabel furrowed her brow. “The people I work for.” You looked back at the blank TV screen. “My captain shot me; they left me there at the ocean's mercy.” Mabel had stared at you; you had such a fascinating way of talking about the ocean. It was clear you respected the ocean and how it could go from calm to ruthless in a matter of seconds.

“The people I work for,” you continued, turning to face Mabel again. “They aren’t good people. My crew went back without a shipment and now they’re all dead.”

“You can’t know that,” Mabel tried to reason, tried to make it seem not so dire, as if there was hope. Mabel knew that was all bullshit though, she had dealt with dealers her entire life, she knew how they got when drugs went missing or when payment was short. She couldn’t imagine what your boss would do with an entire shipment missing.

“Of course I do.” You let out a humorless laugh. “We’re expendable.” You shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “They lost their drugs so now they’re cleaning house, can’t have an incompetent crew working for them.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Mabel raised her arms. She understood how violent drug gangs could be. The one you seemed to be working for was even worse than all the guys she knew.

“I don’t know.” You ran a hand through your hair in frustration, gripping it tightly. “I don’t know. Maybe if I tell them what happened, if I return the drugs I do have, and tell them where the shipment is, they’ll let me go?”

Mabel stared at you; you said it like a question. It was clear you didn’t believe it though. If you walked into wherever your boss was working out of, you wouldn’t be walking out. You were already presumed dead. All your boss would have to do is kill you then take your body out and drop it in the ocean, it would be as if nothing happened, no one would ever know.

“Well, you can’t leave here until we have a plan,” Mabel stated, crossing her arms so you would know there was no arguing with her.

“If they find out you’re helping me they will kill you,” you said.

You looked up at her guiltily, as if everything that happened was your fault and you were the biggest inconvenience of her entire life. It wasn’t untrue, it wasn’t your fault you got shot, it was Charlie’s fault for bringing you here in the first place. If someone were to ask Mabel a few days ago how she felt about you she would have said you were an inconvenience, she had to keep you hidden and take care of you because of your injury, it was all truly inconvenient. However, Mabel enjoyed your company, she liked it as you quietly sat there while she did her schoolwork, even though you hadn’t gone to college either you still helped her out with what you could when she was struggling, you always asked her about her day. She also liked listening to you talk, she was about to go out and buy The Odyssey so she could continue to discuss it with you. You got so excited when talking about something you loved so much, it was cute.

“I don’t want you to put yourself in danger, not for me,” you continued, talking as if you weren’t worth helping, as if you weren’t someone worth being saved. “They blew up an entire boat, with their main crew for bringing in their drugs on it. They won’t have an issue with getting rid of you and your friends.”

Mabel sucked in a breath; she knew that was true. If your boss learned you were alive and someone had helped you, even if they were a total stranger, they’d find them and kill them. Charlie and his crew were in this deeper than they could imagine, they found you, they found you with drugs, and said drugs were still on their boat. Your boss would kill all of them just to get the drugs back, it wouldn’t matter that it’s only three packs, they wouldn’t take the chance of letting witnesses survive. The fact that Mabel helped you and just knew what happened also put a target on her back, you were all screwed if the gang you worked for got wind of any of this.

“I think that ship has sailed,” Mabel mumbled. She watched as you closed your eyes, letting out a long sigh. She didn’t mean to make you feel more guilty, but she needed to express why you couldn’t leave. That leaving wouldn’t change the fact that they’re all in danger.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “Your friends should have just left me in the ocean.”

Mabel frowned; you truly thought you were better off dead. “I’m not,” she admitted softly. She smiled when you looked up at her surprised. “The boys chose to help you and I chose to let you stay here during your recovery. So, we will figure this out, together.” Mabel crossed her arms, staring down at you so you knew she was serious and there was no changing her mind.

“Besides,” she grumbled, pretending to be annoyed by what she was about to admit. “I’ve enjoyed talking to you. You aren’t the like regular drug smugglers I know.”

“I’m not a drug smuggler,” you replied instantly.

Mabel smiled, making you smile as well. She now believed it, you might have done some drug smuggling and that technically did mean you were a drug smuggler but that wasn’t all you were, you were so much more than that.

“Since you’re already sitting up,” Mabel said with a slight smirk, already knowing how you’d react. “Let’s change your bandage and clean your wound.”

“Ugh,” you dragged out in an overly dramatic groan.

Mabel moved to the spot right next to you, and slowly began peeling back the bandage on your shoulder. She ignored the way her knee brushed against your leg. She flicked her eyes to your face, seeing you already staring at her, she pretended she didn’t know where your eyes went when they flicked down for a second. She pretended her eyes didn’t also flick down to your lips, she focused on the bandage, silently hoping she wasn’t blushing as she tried to continue to ignore your unwavering gaze. You were cute, you were fun, but you were trouble.

[just-aake]

Boundless Devotion - Part X

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: MedievalAU. Natasha is the eldest princess of the Romanov Kingdom. As the time of her coronation approaches, she is suddenly forced to make a decision – either find herself a partner or her parents will choose one for her.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Warnings: slight angst, violence/abuse

Words: 6296

The once warm and bright morning sun has since disappeared behind looming gray clouds as a gentle breeze drifted through your open window, bringing a subtle coldness to your room.

Despite the gloomy skies and the promise of rain, you can imagine yourself enjoying this kind of ambiance, sitting in your window seat with a good book, accompanied by the soothing sounds of rainfall as you read.

That would have been a nice way to spend the remainder of the day — if it had been your choice.

At this point, you’ve gotten used to your father’s strict and outrageous behavior. Forcing you to stay in your room is arguably not the worst thing he’s done to you, so there's not much point in getting angry. 

Besides, you have a certain someone who is already upset enough on your behalf.

“That insufferable tyrant of a man! He doesn't care about anyone but himself, always stalking around with that condescending attitude of his...” 

Sitting at your desk, you glance up from your book to look at Wanda, who paces around angrily as she continues her rants of frustration about your father. 

Seeing the familiar red mist emerging around her hands as she gets more heated, you decide to call out to her.

“Wanda, your powers are reacting to your emotions,” you remind her.

Thanks to Carol’s gift of the sorcery books, you and Wanda have learned more about her powers, such as how they work and the things she can do. 

With enough time and practice, Wanda can eventually gain control of her powerful abilities without it causing too much of a strain on her. 

In the meantime, however, as her powers grow stronger, they have recently been appearing more frequently and unexpectedly, especially during emotional moments like these.

Wanda looks down at her hands in confusion before sighing and dissipating the red mist with a wave of her hand. The red glow in her eyes also fades back to its original green color — a new effect of her powers that you both recently discovered.

Your expression twists down slightly in concern at the sight. 

Hiding Wanda’s abilities from others, especially your father, will be more difficult if this continues, and your original plan to quickly find a partner so that you can take yourself and the twins away from him is not progressing as well as you hoped.

Then again, at the beginning of your search for a partner, you never expected to find yourself in a fake relationship with Natasha — the same relationship the princess had pointed out this morning as nearing its end, and you know she was right.

With Rumlow hopefully having given up on pursuing you after the way you treated him as well as Natasha’s encouragement for you to be with someone else, it reminded you to refocus on your original goal of finding a decent partner for yourself.

However, now this time, you have to deal with getting over your feelings for the red-haired princess as you continue your search.

You internally sigh at the difficulty of your situation. 

Why did your feelings for Natasha have to be brought to the forefront of your heart after all this time? 

It was simpler when the two of you just remained as friends, without all of the pretending complicating your relationship. 

Unfortunately, you don’t have time to deal with your confusing feelings right now. 

There is a more pressing matter.

Your eyes glance to Wanda in contemplation.

Maybe you should consider asking Kate about taking in Wanda for a bit to give yourself some time to review your plans.

Though, you already know Wanda would reject the idea since it would mean she has to leave your side.

You wipe away your worried expression when Wanda turns to you.

Placing her hands on her hips, she questions your calm attitude.

“I don’t understand how you’re not upset about this. He’s basically restricting your freedom.”

“Well, I still have you and Pietro,” you point out before shrugging. “Plus I was going to continue my research anyway, so it’s not like I’m going anywhere else today.”

Wanda huffs at your response, crossing her arms and looking away from you exasperatedly to glare at the wall.

With Wanda somewhat calmer, you return your attention to the book on your desk that you were previously reading. 

Despite what you said earlier, instead of continuing your research, you were actually reading accounts detailing the previous war between the Romanov and Stark kingdoms again, specifically focusing on any sections about Captain James Barnes.

His backstory was compelling.

Despite a tragic accident resulting in the loss of his arm, Barnes still rose in rank to become the Captain of the Stark Kingdom where he served with loyalty for many years and was even a formidable force during the war. 

Everything was going well for him — prestige, honor, strength. He was well-liked by all in the kingdom.

Then that one tragic event took everything away. 

All the books depict the same conclusion after the war. Captain Barnes killed the Stark king, queen, and their newborn daughter in cold blood on their way home.

No further details are provided other than that.

Furrowing your brows, an uncomfortable feeling nags at you about the strangeness of the situation.

Why would anyone with his kind of reputation do something like that?

Your suspicion from your previous conversation with Queen Melina about the Black Widow operations emerges again concerning the captain.

Despite your father’s denial of any involvement in that tragedy, this connection could be a possible explanation for the animosity between the two of them earlier.

However, it doesn’t explain the mystery behind why this so-called stranger seems to recognize you or be so concerned about your life here.

A commotion outside your room interrupts your thoughts, and Pietro’s voice echoes from behind your door.

“Move! She’s not going to run out the moment you open the door!” 

You laugh lightly at his words, turning to see the other twin slipping inside with an annoyed huff.

“Man, I hate these new guards,” Pietro comments as he shuts the door behind him.

His hair is slightly disheveled, probably from all the running, and tucked under his arm, he holds an elegantly wrapped box.

You make your way to him and reach up to fix his hair gently as you ask. 

“Did you find out anything?” 

Ducking away from your fussing, Pietro nods and replies, “I overheard some of the guards were taking him to the prison.”

Wanda comes up next to you, folding her arms as she joins the conversation.

“Are you two talking about that criminal?”

She turns to you in concern.

“Y/n, you shouldn’t go near him. He’s dangerous.”

You unconsciously rub your wrist at the memory of Barnes attempting to take you away while saying those confusing comments about you.

At Wanda's expectant expression, you shrug and try to explain to her.

“I know, it’s just…something that he said keeps bothering me.”

But now there’s no way for you to question him since he’s already taken away from the manor.

Your shoulders slump with a resigned sigh, “I just wanted to see if I could get a chance to know what he meant.”

The twins exchange a surprised glance at your words — it was rare that you expressed wanting to do something for yourself.

The two of them silently signal each other with their eyes to do something to distract your mind and cheer you up.

Pietro snaps his fingers as he remembers another piece of information.

“Oh! Princess Natasha and Yelena also came by the manor just now.”

Despite your attempt to push your feelings away for Natasha, you still can’t help but perk up at the mention of her name.

“So where are they now?” Wanda asks.

Pietro winces at the question before replying sadly. 

“They were turned away by Lord Dreykov.”

Wanda huffs and throws her hands up in frustration.

“That man ruins everything!”

Your mouth turns down slightly in disappointment at the news, but you decide that this was probably for the best anyway. You haven’t had enough time to sort out your feelings for the princess yet.

If you were to see her again so soon, you’re not sure whether your heart would skip or break at the sight of her.

Noticing your still sullen expression, Wanda decides to try another approach, nudging your shoulder in a teasing manner.

“You know, with everything going on, you never told me how your 'date' with the princess went this morning,” she probes gently.

Startled at the sudden topic change, you huff lightly and give her an exasperated look. 

“I told you it wasn’t a date. It was just a chance for Natasha to relax for a bit. This is a very stressful time for her.”’

Wanda rolls her eyes at your denial, turning to her brother for some backup before noticing the box at his side.

“What’s that?” she points.

Pietro smirks proudly as he offers the box to you.

“I snuck it away from some of the guards. Apparently, this was another gift from Princess Carol that they didn’t give to you,” he reveals.

Smiling in surprise at the information, you take the box, your fingers lightly running over the cursive letters of your name written in the familiar handwriting of the other princess.

Wanda raises an eyebrow at your reaction curiously before her eyes narrow suspiciously in a teasing manner.

“Wait, you spent a lot of time with her at the festival. Is there something happening between you and Princess Carol?”

Wanda gasps dramatically, her hand landing on your arm and shaking it lightly.

“Is that why nothing is happening with Princess Natasha? Your heart is torn between the two royals vying for your affection!”

Rolling your eyes at her teasing and pulling away from her excited grip, you move to place the box on your desk while replying over your shoulder in an attempt to clear all the misunderstandings.

“Nothing is happening with either of them,” you state firmly.

“Carol is just a friend, and Natasha…” you trail off sadly as you remember your earlier conversation with her.

With a soft sigh, you continue sadly, “Natasha doesn’t—” 

Two gasps of surprise interrupt you, prompting you to turn around quickly toward the twins.

Both of them have expressions of shock and amazement on their faces, their gazes fixated on something across your room. 

Confused, you turn to the cause of their reaction, only for your eyes to also widen in surprise at the sight.

Natasha is outside your opened window, her arms casually resting on your window sill, holding her up.

“Hey,” Natasha greets you normally with a tiny wave and a small grunt of exertion as she adjusts her grip on your window sill.

“Can I come in?” she asks casually.

“Ohmy—Natasha?!”

Hurrying over, you help in pulling her through the window, the both of you stumbling and falling to the ground.

With Natasha on top, she quickly braces one hand on the floor to catch herself, while her other hand covers your head protectively.

After ensuring that the two of you landed safely, Natasha leans her head down in exhaustion against your shoulder, chuckling softly.

“That was harder than I remember," she remarks jokingly.

At her words, you pull back from her embrace and begin to check on her with a small frown. 

“I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t do that anymore,” you chastise her as your hands brush carefully across her face, examining her.

There were times in your childhood when Madam B wouldn’t let you go out to play until you finished the vast amount of studies that she assigned to you. 

During those times, Natasha would sneak in through your window to spend time with you without anyone knowing. 

That is, until one day she had gotten a small cut on her hand from the climb, and you had told her not to attempt it again.

“Well, Lord Dreykov wouldn’t let me in…,” Natasha catches your hand against her cheek, leaning gently into your touch.

Her eyes soften fondly as she looks at you before continuing, “…and I really needed to see you.”

You swallow nervously under her gaze — it is more intense than anything you’ve seen from her before.

You’re not sure of how to respond, her warm presence already dispelling the previous coldness in your room, distracting your mind.

An awkward cough from Pietro catches your attention, snapping you from your thoughts and reminding you of the others in the room.

Pulling your hand away slowly from under Natasha’s, you clear your throat slightly as you stand and compose yourself. 

Wanda wears a sly smile as she raises her eyebrows at you, but you give her a firm look, silently signaling her to refrain from any teasing remarks before she has a chance.

Natasha stands up next to you and dusts herself before giving you a smirk.

“I thought I was the princess, so why are you the one who is locked away?” she teases gently.

You hold back your amused smile as you try to maintain your reprimanding expression, shaking your head at her.

“Natasha, you shouldn’t be here. If my father finds out…,” you begin.

Natasha frowns at the mention of him.

“Yeah, about that, why isn’t he letting you out?”

Wanda steps forward before you can reply.

“Because he’s a terrible person and he treats Y/n horri—”

“Wanda, that’s enough,” you cut her off with a meaningful stare. 

Wanda presses her lips together in a pout but she listens to your words and doesn’t continue.

Natasha raises a brow and tilts her head questionably at you, her eyes glancing between you and Wanda in suspicion. 

You let out a sigh and shake your head as you explain. 

“He’s being temperamental and unreasonable right now…which is why I think it’s best if we get you out without him knowing,” you say while glancing at the door in thought about how to sneak the princess out.

Seeing your worried expression, Natasha takes your hand gently to get your attention, turning you back to face her.

“Hey, I don’t want to get you in trouble. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

Her thumb caresses the back of your hand gently as she searches your eyes before asking seriously.

“Are you okay?”

You open your mouth, hesitating as you consider how to respond.

You know that Natasha isn’t supposed to be here, with Queen Melina having already told you the details about Natasha’s busy schedule for the next couple of days. 

The last thing she needs is to be worried about something as trivial as you being confined to your room.

With a deep exhale, you reassure her with a small smile.

“I’m fine, Natasha.” 

Natasha examines you closely for a moment, a doubtful look in her eyes. She eventually relents reluctantly when you give her a resolute nod.

Turning towards your window with a sigh, she offers, “I can sneak back down if you want me to go.”

Your eyes widen at the suggestion, and you grab her arm to pull her back to face you before she can move, giving her an incredulous look.

“You can't be serious,” you exclaim in disbelief. 

When Natasha just blinks innocently at you in confusion, you give her a deadpan expression as you state firmly.

“You are not climbing down, Natasha.”

Before she can argue, the sound of your door handle turning causes you all to snap your attention to it in panic.

Pietro swiftly blocks the door, slamming it closed with his body.

“Open up!” the guard’s voice calls out from outside.

“Haven’t you heard of knocking?” Pietro shouts back before shrugging his shoulders and gesturing his hands at Natasha frantically.

Ignoring her small exclamation of surprise, you quickly usher Natasha into your closet, closing the door just in time as the guard shoves his way into your room.

He inspects the room critically before looking at you, standing with your back pressed against the closet door.

“I heard another voice,” he asserts, moving towards you in suspicion. 

With his focus on you, Wanda silently steps up from behind him, her hands already enveloped in a red mist as she raises it next to the guard’s head.

She moves her fingers sharply, and the mist shoots towards his head, causing his eyes to glow red for a second.

The guard stops suddenly and shakes his head in confusion before looking around again.

“Never mind,” he says slowly. “It must have been from somewhere else.” 

With that, he leaves the room and begins to walk away to investigate elsewhere.

Once he’s gone, Wanda falls to the ground with an exhausted exhale, and you and Pietro rush to her side quickly.

“How are you feeling? Are you okay?” you ask while checking her condition.

Wanda nods and raises her hand in a stopping gesture at your fussing before replying weakly.

“I’m fine. Just feeling a little tired.”

“That was amazing!” Pietro exclaims. “What did you do to him?” 

“Yeah, what did you do?” Natasha comments as she steps out and looks at the three of you curiously.

The twins turn to you with wide eyes, expecting you to respond. 

At Natasha’s questioning gaze, you wave your hand vaguely in the air, trying to come up with an explanation.

“Um…Wanda just has a special way with people,” you say with a slight wince at your pathetic answer.

Natasha squints at you suspiciously with a knowing expression, already aware that you’re hiding something, but she doesn’t press any further. 

Wanda glances at her briefly before turning to you. 

“You should take this chance to get the princess out before they come back.”

Seeing your conflicted expression as you try to examine Wanda again, Pietro rests his hand on your shoulder, stopping you, and gestures to the door with his head.

“Go, I’ll make sure she’s okay,” Pietro reassures you.

You hesitate, looking at Wanda once again, and she, in turn, gives you a reassuring nod. 

With a resigned sigh, you stand and grab Natasha’s hand, pulling her along as the two of you move quietly through the manor.

After a moment of sneaking through the hallways, Natasha breaks the silence.

“About what Wanda said earlier, with your father—” Natasha starts.

“It’s nothing that you need to worry about,” you interrupt with a small reassuring smile over your shoulder before turning back around, not noticing Natasha’s frown at your words.

Deciding to change the subject before she can press further as you check around the corner, you decide to ask her something else you were curious about from the moment you saw her at your window. 

“So what was the reason for this visit? I know you have that meeting today.” 

Natasha rubs her neck nervously as she remembers her original purpose for coming to you. 

“Um…this morning, after you left, I realized something.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, both at her words and at the sight of guards coming from around the corner toward your position.

Turning around, you quickly push Natasha into the nearby supply closet before she can continue and close the door, enclosing the two of you inside.

You hold your breath as you listen carefully until the sound of the footsteps passes by and eventually fades away before relaxing.

“I think they’re gone. We should be able to go now,” you exhale gently.

When Natasha doesn’t move or respond, you finally focus your eyes on her.

That’s when you realize the closeness between the two of you, standing in the small closet. 

Moving your head slightly, your nose lightly brushes against hers as you examine your positions.

Natasha’s arm is propped next to your head, her hand pressing against the wall behind you, which is the only reason there is some distance between your bodies. 

The small light coming in through the cracks lets you make out her face faintly in the dark.

Her eyes appear lost in thought and unfocused as she stares at your face, giving you that same intense look from earlier that made you lose your breath.

You feel a small exhale from her against your lips, making your heart speed up slightly.

“Natasha?” you whisper nervously against her when you feel her face begin to lean in closer.

Your voice seems to bring her out of her thoughts as she reels back in surprise. 

Natasha clears her throat in response, looking away to the door. 

“Y–yeah, let’s go.”

After leaving the storage closet, you and Natasha stand awkwardly in the hallway, with you trying to understand what just happened and her trying to compose herself. 

With a determined breath, Natasha places her hand on your arm to turn you to her.

"Y/n, about this morning—" 

Before she can finish, a figure comes rushing around the corner.

“Pietro?” you tilt your head curiously at his appearance.

He has a sheepish look on his face as he looks between the two of you awkwardly. 

“Sorry, am I interrupting?” He gestures back towards his previous direction. “Wanda is resting already, and she said to go help you.” 

You subtly take a tiny step from Natasha at his comment, not noticing her small pout at the action as you shake your head at him in response. 

“No, it’s fine. We were hiding from some guards.”

Pietro nods in understanding.

“Yeah, they’re swarming the manor.”

Natasha sighs at the interruption, crossing her arms as she asks calmly. 

“Is there a way to reach an exit without running into any more patrols?”

Pietro thinks for a minute before snapping his finger with a thought. 

“There’s the old staff tunnels in the library that leads out to the gardens.”

At your agreement, the three of you make your way to the library where Pietro reveals a hidden door behind a banner in the far back, concealed by the cover of bookshelves.

Right as Pietro pries the door open, the sound of the library door bursts open, and your father’s voice booms in the space.

“Whoever’s in here, don’t bother hiding. You can’t escape.”

Pushing Natasha to Pietro, you whisper to him hurriedly.

“Take Natasha and go.”

“But—” he argues.

You give him a firm look that leaves no room for arguing.

Pietro frowns, but he relents and grabs Natasha’s arm. 

She promptly brushes him off and takes your hand before you can leave, pulling you back to her.

“I’m not leaving you. This was my choice. I can take the responsibility,” Natasha insists.

Gently covering her hand with your own, you give her a small squeeze in appreciation and a bittersweet smile before slowly pulling your hand from her grip.

Your other hand moves up discreetly to her shoulder, and with a hard shove, you push her into the tunnels as Pietro closes the door behind them.

“Hey—” Natasha whispers harshly in surprise at your action.

“Pietro, please get her out safely,” you tell him through the small opening on the door.

He has a displeased look on his face, but he still nods determinedly at your request.

Footsteps come closer to your position as you re-cover the door with the banner.

“Come out now, or I’ll have you dragged out,” your father’s voice threatens.

With a deep breath, you step forward from the shadows. 

Dreykov rolls his eyes at the sight of you and gestures for his guards to stand down.

As if returning to his original task, he hands one guard an envelope and dismisses him with a wave and order. 

“Make sure this is delivered to the handler in the Stark kingdom. Quickly.”

The guard takes the envelope with a bow and turns to leave the room.

Furrowing your brows at his words, you eye the envelope suspiciously, the object giving you a bad feeling.

However, your attention is diverted when your father turns to face you again. His hands cross behind his back as he slowly steps closer menacingly.

“I believe I told you to stay in your room,” he says, his tone low in a displeased manner.

“I just came to get some books,” you lie smoothly. 

Dreykov scoffs and gestures with his hand dismissively.

“Does that servant boy of yours no longer run to fetch you things anymore?”

You frown, and your hand clenches in anger at his words. That protective instinct over the twins washes over you, and you can’t help but correct him.

“His name is Pietro, and he’s not a servant.”

Dreykov eyes you critically in annoyance before shaking his head in disapproval.

“That is why you will always be weak, viewing those orphans as anything other than what they truly are — disposable tools.”

You know you shouldn’t push your luck, but his words cause you to remember your earlier suspicion about him and the old captain, and your accusation comes out before you can stop yourself.

“Was Captain Barnes also a tool for you?”

The room grows cold immediately at the silence that follows, and in response, you wrap your arms around yourself defensively, already missing the warmth of Natasha’s protective presence.

Dreykov's eyes narrow at you, as if trying to gauge your implication.

After a tense moment, he finally speaks up in an indifferent tone, issuing a command to his guard.

“Hold her.” 

Your arms are restrained as he calmly steps closer to you.

You press your lips in a thin line in preparation, already knowing what comes next after such disrespectful behavior. 

His hand hits you hard enough to knock your head harshly to the side, and you feel a small amount of blood drip from the corner of your lips.

Shaking the pain away, you return to your original position defiantly — his reaction already giving you the answer to your question. 

At your expression, Dreykov sneers at you before hitting you again.

This time the impact was strong enough to knock you to the ground. Without giving you time to recover, he roughly grabs your hair to pull your head back to look up at him.

You press your mouth shut to prevent yourself from crying out in pain, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

He presses his finger against your head in a mocking gesture.

“You would think your simple mind would learn already that I do not tolerate such disrespect in my presence.” 

Letting go of your head with a dismissive throw, Dreykov turns around sharply and heads towards the door while gesturing to the guard. 

“Take her back to her room and make sure she stays there this time.” 

The door shuts behind Dreykov as the guard pulls you to your feet and tightens his grip on your arm.

Despite the throbbing pain on your cheeks from the impacts, you feel more relieved that Pietro was able to get Natasha away. 

The guard moves to shove you back in the opposite direction towards the other exit.

However, his grip on you is suddenly removed, and you turn in surprise to see him now unconscious on the floor. 

Natasha stands beside the unconscious body, breathing heavily at the figure in anger before looking up at you, a mixture of fury and concern in her eyes.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Soon after you disappear from view behind the hidden door, Pietro swiftly pulls Natasha further into the tunnels while she is still distracted in shock by your action.

Not too far along in their path, Natasha realizes what is happening and breaks away from his grip, turning around swiftly to return to your side.

However, Pietro is faster, rushing past her to block her path. 

Natasha shoots him an intimidating look.

“Move, Pietro,” her voice is calm with an underlying warning tone.

“I can’t do that. Y/n told me to take you away,” Pietro responds determinedly.

“You would leave her behind like that?” Natasha exclaims.

Pietro’s expression twists down with a painful and regretful look at her words before returning her stare with a defiant expression.

“I don’t like it either, but this is what she asked me to do,” he argues.

“Even if it means you’re abandoning her,” Natasha accuses.

“I’m not abandoning her!” Pietro replies angrily. “You have no idea what Y/n has done for me and Wanda. I am doing what I can to not cause her any more trouble.”

Natasha opens her mouth to argue against letting you sacrifice yourself to take the blame for her actions when a loud echo of what distinctively sounds like a slap travels in the space, causing Natasha’s eyes to widen as she snaps her attention towards your direction, realizing what the sound implies.

Her body moves instantly towards you, but Pietro blocks her path again.

“Get out of my way,” Natasha warns dangerously, her patience thinning by the second. She doesn’t want to hurt him, but she will force her way through if she has to.

“Don’t go,” Pietro pleads, fear appearing in his eyes, though it was not caused by her.

He holds her back, pressing his hands against her shoulder before releasing a shaky breath and shaking his head as he reveals the truth. 

“He’ll do worse if you help her.”

Natasha freezes as she snaps her attention to him.

“What did you just say?”

Pietro’s head falls to his chest in shame.

The memory of the first time Dreykov had hurt you after his return to the manor flashes in his mind, and how his attempt at helping you and doing what he thought was the right thing only ended up causing you more harm.

It took three days for you to recover from your injuries after that. 

You never blame him, of course.

You never blame anyone. 

Since then, he has never been able to get the courage to help you during those times, not that you ever let him. He could only stand back and watch helplessly.

Pietro flinches at the sound of the second hit, and his hands fall back to his side in defeat as he lets the princess rush past him back into the library.

At least, with this, he can let someone with more strength than him save you.

Natasha returns to the library and sees the guard pull you up from the ground roughly, and red instantly fills her vision.

In the next moment, the guard is swiftly subdued, unconscious on the floor.

Looking back up to you, Natasha sees your surprised expression, but she is more focused on the sight of the harsh redness on your cheek and the blood at the corner of your lips.

She instantly makes her way to you and cradles your face gently, inspecting you carefully with a concerned expression.

You wince away from her touch, grabbing her hand and pulling it away slightly.

“I’m fine, Natasha,” you murmur under your breath with a small sigh.

Natasha's eyes widen in disbelief and she shakes her head vehemently. 

“No, you are not fine! He hit you!”

Her eyes instantly snap angrily to the door that your father just left out of.

Recognizing her expression, you quickly pull her into a tight embrace before she can charge after him.

She’s practically shaking with anger, but she doesn’t push you away.

You tighten your hold on her, pressing your head comfortingly into her neck, trying to calm her down.

“Don’t, Natasha,” you tell her firmly against her skin.

With her coronation so close, this is not the time for her to cause a scandal by attacking a noble like Dreykov.

Rubbing her back slowly in a soothing pattern, you whisper into her ear gently. 

“I’m okay.”

Eventually, Natasha lets out a deep shaky breath against your shoulder before whispering to you in defeat.

“How long?”

When you don’t answer her, Natasha closes her eyes fiercely in realization and tightens her grip around you, as if trying to wrap you protectively in her arms.

Meanwhile, your eyes glance up at a movement behind Natasha, and you spot Pietro standing a small distance away, his gaze staring at the floor sadly and his body curled into himself in guilt.

You let out a knowing sigh at the familiar sight, already figuring out what is bothering the twin. 

With a resigned breath, you extract yourself from Natasha’s embrace slowly before gripping her hand and pulling her back towards the staff tunnels. 

“Come on, we can all talk after we get outside,” you remark softly.

As you pass Pietro, your other hand reaches out to grab his hand, and you give him a reassuring squeeze as you pull them both along.

The three of you make your way through the staff tunnels in silence and exit out of the manor and through the garden without any more incidents.

You make your way toward the side gates of the manor near the stables.

The entire time Natasha follows you without saying anything as she tries to process and piece together the new revelations. 

It’s been a year since Dreykov has returned and remained in the kingdom.

During the year, you had avoided her enough that she did not see you as often to be able to notice anything unusual.

Her eyes glance at your hands clasped in hers, and it drifts up to your wrist as she remembers something from before.

Right as you reach the edge of the stables, Natasha stops moving altogether, causing you to stop and turn to her in question.

Her gaze remains fixed on your wrist for a moment before looking up into your eyes with a sad expression.

“The injury on your wrist from before, that wasn’t from an accident in the kitchen, was it?” Natasha asks in realization.

You don’t respond, but Natasha can already tell the answer from the look on your face.

With a resigned sigh, you turn to Pietro and ask him gently.

“Can you get a horse prepared to go?”

Pietro nods wordlessly in understanding and leaves the two of you alone for some privacy.

With a deep breath, you rub a comforting pattern on the back of her hand.

“Natasha, you don’t have to worr—“

“Stop saying that I don’t have to worry about you!”

Natasha closes her eyes briefly in frustration before looking at you.

“Why didn’t you tell me this was happening to you?”

You withdraw your hands from hers and wrap them around yourself defensively.

“I’m handling it, Natasha,” you tell her stubbornly. “You have more important matters to deal with in the kingdom than me. Not to mention your coronation is literally in a couple of days.”

With a huff of disbelief, Natasha holds your shoulders, shaking it slightly to make you understand.

“You are the most important thing that I care about right now.”

Natasha’s face shifts into an expression of pain.

“What kind of ruler can I be if I couldn’t even protect the person that I love?”

Your eyes widen slightly at the word, but you quickly brush away the feeling, remembering how emotional Natasha must be feeling at the moment.

Her instinctive protectiveness of her friends must have made that word slip out as meaning the friendly kind of love.

You place your hand atop hers and squeeze it comfortingly.

“You don’t need to do anything. I do have a plan to get away from him. It’s just taking some time,” you explain. 

“Then come stay at the castle for the time being,” Natasha reasons. "He can't hurt you there."

“Natasha, I don’t think—”

“Please," Natasha brings your hands to her chest, giving you a pleading look as she rests her forehead against yours.

"Let me at least offer you that.”

You hesitate, but before you can respond, Pietro returns with two saddled horses in tow, causing you to give him a confused look.

“What's this?” you ask him, gesturing to the second horse.

Pietro gives you a small smile as he hands you the reins.

“You said you wanted a chance to get some answers. I think this is a good opportunity for you to go get it.” 

You realize he is referring to earlier when you expressed your desire to get more answers from Captain Barnes.

"This is not really a good time," you remark.

Pietro nods in a gesture to Natasha.

“I’m sure the princess can get you access,” he states confidently.

"I'll go with you," Natasha agrees, not ready to leave you yet and determined to continue the previous conversation with you.

You glance at Natasha briefly, already guessing the reason for her quick agreement despite not knowing the complete situation, before giving Pietro an unsure look, but he rests his hand on your shoulder comfortingly.

“Wanda and I can cover for you until you return,” he insists.

Seeing his resolute resolve, you pull him into a hug, remembering how he was like in the library moments ago with that guilty expression that you recognize from before.

“You did good, Pietro. You always have,” you remind him.

He tightens the hug appreciatively in a silent response.

When you finally pull away, you ruffle his hair playfully, causing him to fix it back with a pout as you laugh lightly. 

“I'll be back soon. Check on Wanda and keep each other safe until then, okay?”

He gives you his usual playful smirk as his finger taps the tip of your nose teasingly.

“Always.”

After he secures you onto your horse, he points to Natasha with a serious expression.

“You better take care of her,” he tells her in warning. 

“Pietro!” you chastise his blunt tone with the princess.

Still, Natasha nods firmly in understanding before glancing at you.

“I will,” she promises.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Series Masterlist : Boundless Devotion

a/n: Thank you for reading! This was a hard chapter to condense, but I think this was the best that I could do.

Taglist: @lightwhoranoutoflight, @taliiiaasteria, @romanoffprentiss, @canvascoloredin,  @silentwolfsstuff, @blacklightsposts, @arcturusseer, @presser24, @dvrkhcld, @jujuu23, @screechcat, @vivs46, @cd-4848, @youneversawmehereooooooo, @pancakefan7529, @confusedspaceotter, @natbelovasblog, @izzy-b09, @iamheartless, @mrsrushman, @fxckmiup, @natty-taffy, @2silverchain, @traveler-at-heart, @autorasexy, @natsxwife 

[featki]

9:34pm !

— pairing: 양정원 x reader — contains: Flirting, petnames (baby mainly), and clingy won — now playing: 一子青葉

9:34pm — The phone rings "Wonie" appears on screen, a mix of surprise and delight on your face follows

Jungwon was supposed to be grounded—you too hadn’t hung out in a few days which was a lot to Jungwon, you could never spend longer then an hour away from him in school without him tracking you down and following you around like a puppy dog, so a few days? The poor boy must be losing his mind.

"Jungwon? I thought you were grounded" A slight chuckle escaping your mouth "I am" you could tell he was grinning through the phone "i snuck my phone back" "Are you dumb? You‘ll get in trouble" "I had to talk to you, haven’t heard your pretty voice in forever" Usually, Jungwon's flirty choice of words never phased you much, but his tone of voice mixed with the raspiness from being sleep put chills down your spine "Ohh so you missed me?" "Of course i did, who wouldn’t." his voice trailed off into a whisper, making you chuckle at his drowsy state "Plus my parents went to sleep a lot earlier then usual which means this is my one chance to talk to you" "Using your only chance to talk to me? I’m honored" Friendly sarcasm lacing your voice "I missed you alright? Making it worse, Im not even aloud to talk to you in school, im so busy with exam‘s. I’m going crazy baby" Again this language wasn’t new to you when it came to Jungwon, but something’s hitting different tonight. "Yeah? You should come over then baby" You wanted to tease him but he went silent, almost as if actually considering it "I’ll be there in 10" "Jungwon no i was kidding." "I want to see you" You‘d never called him anything like that before. He was hopeful you weren’t kidding "No you‘ll get in trouble... last time you tried to sneak out you got caught before you even had your shoes on. Don’t be dumb wonnie" "Okay okay.. just stay on the phone with me baby" "Deal" "Good. Iv missed you" "I know wonnie, you‘ve told me like 5 times" "It‘s true though…" "…I can’t go this long without talking to you. It feels like i haven’t seen you in forever, i’m having withdrawals" A sleepy chuckle leaves your mouth "You‘re so clingy wonnie.." "Mm only for you." His voice was deep and quiet Something about him tonight is driving you crazy "Don’t know how much longer i can go without touching you" Why‘d he say it like that.. I know what he means but why did he have to say it like that. "Hearing your voice.. staring at you in class." "That‘s why you‘re failing english." You thought maybe, just maybe, changing the subject will get him to stop making you feel like this "That‘s okay. English isn’t as important" He brought it right back "Jungwon…" You let out a small whine of his name, making him smirk "What? It‘s the truth" "You should get some sleep wonnie" "You said you‘d stay on the phone" He sounded almost offended "You sound so tired though" "Mmm i am but that doesn’t matter, i wanna talk to you.. Just stay on the phone okay? Keep talking to me, i’ll fall asleep eventually" "You can’t fall asleep if i’m talking to you the whole time stupid" "Of course i can, your voice is so soothing baby." Hes so flirty tonight, more then usual. "Okay, fine. But only if you promise to actually get some sleep." "I promise." "Good. Goodnight wonnie" ---- "Goodnight my pretty girl"

His pretty girl? If only

@ featki

[driftwooddestiel]

get to know me ‼️

thanks to @dear-space-cadet for the tag :-)

1. Do you make your bed? not really, but i do tidy up my bed a little

2. Favorite number? probably 7, i know its a popular favourite number but thog dont c aare its a good number

3. What's your job? don’t have one 💪 🔥 💯 i plan to apply to some like. shelf-stocking and similar type jobs soon when i get round to it

4. If you could back to school, would you? haven’t left it yet so i dont have much choice in the matter here lol

5. Can you parallel park? never tried but i doubt it considering i cant drive lmao

6. Do you think aliens are real? i believe theres bound to be other forms of life somewhere out there but idk if i believe in aliens in the traditional sense

7. Can you drive a manual car? once more i cannot drive any car

8. Guilty pleasure? watching true crime videos and then getting paranoid, getting into stupid arguments in youtube comment sections & getting way too invested in niche internet discourse

9. Tattoos? none atm and i dont think i plan to get any . but that could change

10. Favorite color? dull-ish blue (similar to the colour of my blog)

11. Favorite type of music? truly i cannot pick one

12. Do you like puzzles? jigsaw puzzles im ambivalent towards, logic puzzles i usually enjoy

13. Any phobias? no full-on phobias but i do kinda freak out at the idea of swimming with jellyfish

14. Favorite childhood sport? climbing!

15. Do you talk to yourself? all the time 👍

16. Tea or coffee? to be fully honest i drink neither but i’d have to say tea . ive had more tea than coffee in my life and i enjoy tea more generally

17. First thing you wanted to be growing up? when i was like 3-6 i would always say i wanted to be a dog (bc i did) and when i eventually came to terms with that not being a career option, i would usually say artist (but i also somewhat wanted to be a comedian from like ages 7 or 8 to age 10)

18. What movies do you adore? saw (2004) is my absolute fav, i also love donnie darko, american psycho, zoolander, ten inch hero & anything directed by jordan peele. + horror movies in general are my favs

im gonna actually continue a tag game for once SOOO. tags (no pressure ofc 👍): @nintendont2502 @gorillaxyz @s-ccaam-era-crepe @paranormalglass @dykesism

[snitchcrimsonwrites]

Maybe pt. 7

Pairing: Norm MacLean X Female Reader or OC if you squint

Former friends to a relationship?

Life is pretty easy in Vault 33 until you're trying to rekindle a former friendship and Raiders attack. Now, our main characters are trying to navigate newfound feelings, all while undercovering the mysteries of Vault 33. Stay tuned. Follows the main storyline of season 1; some events may be reordered for plot.

Norm navigates his decision to aid Lucy's escape from the Vault with help from his friends, finding comfort and another demotion on the table.

Part 1 Here. Part 6 Here Part 12 Here

Part 2 Here Part 8 Here

Part 3 Here Part 9 Here

Part 4 Here Part 10 Here

Part 5 Here Part 11 Here

Norm had quite the day and was ready for it to end. The post-events of the raider attack and his sister leaving the Vault to find their dad had left him physically and emotionally exhausted. He didn’t know how much more he had left in him. So when he heard a soft knock at the door of his outer living space, he wasn’t sure if he was in the headspace to deal with a visitor inquiring about his dad… or sister, for that matter, as it wouldn’t be long before the word on her rescue mission got out. 

When the pressurized door unlocked, he was relieved to see it was you standing at the threshold. 

“Hey, I don’t mean to bother you,” you started, but he waved off your apology. “No, it’s alright. What’s going on?” He asked, genuinely curious. 

“I came by to check in and see if you needed anything or wanted to talk—or not talk,” you added quickly. “I can do that too if you want some company.” You fidgeted with your hair, not quite knowing how to word the next part. “I just know how weird going from a full house to an empty one can be,” you trailed off. 

Norm perked up at the thought of spending time with you; maybe he had a little more social battery left. “Yeah, actually, that sounds nice,” he mused, stepping aside to let you in. “Though, I don’t think I have it in me to do much talking. I can put something on if that’s alright with you?” 

“Sounds perfect,” you reply, moving into the MacLean’s living room and claiming a spot on the couch. 

Norm flipped on the Radiation King television set, the box coming to life with grey images of cowboys fighting gunslingers from an old copy of “The Man from Deadhorse,” his dad’s favorite already queued up. Immediately no. “Let’s try something else. Any requests?” Norm asked, not feeling like dredging up any emotions associated with putting on a Western. 

“Dealers choice.” 

“Communists from Space! It is,” Norm decides, grabbing the next available tape, popping it in, and joining you on the couch. 

The two of you start off silent, attempting to enjoy the film with the limited social interaction Norm requested, but before long, neither of you can resist adding your own color commentary to the events on the screen. 

“I’m confused,” you interrupt. “Doesn’t a communist invasion from space imply that the containment policy failed in Europe, Asia, and now space? They’re suggesting America is losing on all fronts.” 

Norm snorted. “I appreciate that your suspension of disbelief stops at American geopolitics and not at the fact that those space helmets aren’t connected to any source of oxygen.”

“I’m asking the real questions here, Norm,” you giggle back. 

“I think the bigger question you need to ask is how the communists even managed to get the alien forces on their side? Cause there’s no way there’s a shared language.”

“I’d guess propaganda and the universal promise of American government secrets,” you deadpan.  

That sent you both into a fit of roaring, sidebusting laughter. 

As the laughter subsides, Norm announces, “Thank you for this. I didn’t realize how much I needed it until now.” He was grateful for the company but also for your ability to make him feel whole after the events of the last couple of days. No obsessing over the concerns about his family or what you two saw in 32, just time he was able to be Norm. 

“Of course, if you haven’t noticed by now, I really enjoy our time together,” you say, unable to control the blush rising to your cheekbones. 

“I do, too, and I hope I’m not being presumptuous by saying I would like to continue spending more time like this together,” Norm stated, trying to gauge the status of where the two of you stood. Was this friendship, or were you moving into the “something more” territory?    

“Not presumptuous of you at all,” you affirm, taking the opportunity to position yourself closer to Norm on the couch. He stiffened slightly, surprised by the contact of your vault suit against his, but took your repositioning as a sign to wrap his arm around your shoulders, “Is this alright?” he questions, ever the gentleman. 

“Perfect,” you respond as you lean in to rest your head on his chest and watch the rest of the movie. 

Something more, alright, noted. 

________________________

Norm is awoken by the sound of static on the television set and is momentarily disoriented when he realizes one, this wasn’t his bed; he was out on the couch, and two, the weight on his chest preventing him from sitting up was you curled up under his arm sleeping at his side. The two of you had fallen asleep on the couch sometime during the second movie you put on. He eased back down onto the sofa, intent on enjoying the moments before you both woke up.   

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

He feels you stir at the sound of your alarm and begin to reach over him to shut off the device. No, just a few more minutes, he wished. 

“Sorry,” you manage sleepily, rolling the upper half of your body over Norm, grabbing the Pip-Boy, and quieting the beeping. Norm does his best to suppress his imagination from running wild over the nature of your position hovering over him as you turn off the alarm. In another swift motion, you move to sit up and stretch away some of the sleep. Norm does the same, hoping you won’t notice how much your simple actions affected him this morning. “I didn’t mean to stay the night and keep you out on the couch,” you continued, unsure if you overstayed your welcome. 

“If it means you staying over, I’d gladly take the couch,” Norm replies, causing both of your cheeks to redden. 

You linger, not wanting to leave but knowing you’d be late if you dawdled any longer. After checking the time on your Pip-Boy, you decide it’s time to get up from the sofa and move to the front entryway. “I’ve got to run and get cleaned up for work, but we can meet up after my shift if you’re up for it.” 

“Definitely,” Norm assures. Everything else in his life might be turned upside down, but this was his one piece of solace.

“Okay, it’s a date,” sealing your statement with a kiss on Norm’s cheek before pressing the release button on the door. As the door slid open, you both were surprised to see Chet waiting outside, arm raised, ready to knock on Norm’s door, and he looked equally as surprised to see you leaving the MacLean residence so early in the morning. You decide to play it off as nonchalantly as you can. 

You greeted Chet with a wave and a sweet, simple “Good Morning, Chet” as you hurriedly exited the hallway and headed toward your place. You trusted Norm could navigate a conversation with his cousin without your help. 

Chet didn’t wait for Norm’s invitation to enter. He rushed into the MacLean domicile, making sure you were out of hearing distance, before he exclaimed, “Now, what’s going on with that?!” Gesturing wildly towards the direction you left from. “You had (Y/N) stay over? When did that start?”

Norm sighed and closed the door behind him, not eager to try to explain himself to his cousin. “It’s not like that,” he said, emphasizing the suggestive “that” Chet implied. “Nothing happened; she came over to watch a movie, and we fell asleep. Nothing to tell,” he wrapped up with a shrug. He wasn’t optimistic about his chances of ending the conversation with that explanation.

Chet looked at him and said, “Come on, Norm. You and I both know that when you invite a girl over to watch a movie, you’re not actually doing much movie-watching.” 

“Gross,” Norm rebutted, knowing who the girl in question was. “Is this what you came over for? To traumatize me and dissect my relationship with (Y/N)?” 

Chet frowned, not because of Norm’s taunting but because he was reminded of why he was here in the first place. Norm’s love life was a welcome distraction from the news he had to share. “No, I was supposed to inform you that the Vault council has summoned us for a hearing this morning. I’m starting to  think they’re not pleased we helped Lucy.” 

“Of course, they’re not. Did you think they were going to be? That we’d help her escape the Vault, and they’d give us a thumbs up and a sticker?” Norm asked. There was no way he was that naive.

_____________________________

Norm waited outside in the hallway while Chet took his turn meeting with the council. Suddenly, the silence in the corridor was broken by the sounds of sobbing and hyperventilating from behind the door. He guessed the council had made their decision. 

The council room door slid up slowly, and Chet exited. His face was puffy, and his eyes were red from the bouts of crying behind closed doors. He wondered if they were particularly tough on him. 

Norm decides to do the polite thing and asks him if he’s okay, even though his emotional state clearly displays the answer. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m being reassigned,” he replied with a strained thumbs up. “ You were right; the whole “opening the Vault door for Lucy” thing didn’t sit too well with the council, so I guess I’m not gatekeeper anymore,” he said, trying to hold his composure. 

 “It’s not a big deal.” Norm could see right through that lie. This was a massive deal. For most people in the Vault, their identity was intricately intertwined with the position they held in the Vault. Take that away, and you’ve got all the material for a full-blown identity crisis. 

“I’m just not really sure who I even am anymore. Sorry…I. Mmhm.” Chet couldn’t hold himself together any longer, excusing himself from the conversation. 

Woody appeared in the doorway, summoning him into the meeting.  “Norman, you’re next.” 

Norm finds his familiar seat in front of the council, and Reg wastes no time kicking it off. “You know why you’re in here?” 

“Cause I helped my sister escape the Vault.” Cause I couldn’t just ignore my family in trouble. 

“Escape?” Woody laughed. “ You and Chet put your sister in incredible danger by helping her out that Vault door. The rad levels up there alone….” 

“Worse,” Reg interjects, trying to highlight a larger point,” you could have killed us all. What do you think started all this? These Vaults are impenetrable, meaning that those raiders could have only gotten into Vault 32 because some bonehead opened the door to the surface.” He wasn’t like they didn’t take this into consideration, but some things are worth the risk.

Betty, who had been quiet until now, shooting Norm a glare that threatened to burn through him, piped up. “A single bad decision put everyone at risk, not just Vault 32 but 33 and 31 as well. I telegrammed with the Overseer at Vault 31. Thank goodness, they’re unscathed. But you could have destroyed the last vestiges of civilization.” 

“It was Lucy’s idea.” Maybe playing the dumb coward could work in his favor. 

“And you didn’t think to at least try and stop her?”

“No.” 

“What are we going to do with you?” Betty asked. He wasn’t quite sure if it was rhetorical.  

“You were going to reassign me a couple of weeks ago; move forward with that, I guess,” Norm resigned, but he was growing tired of the council’s hypocrisy, and the next lines just slipped out. “I’m just glad to hear that we punish people down here for breaking the rules. Is that just for Vault dwellers or people who come down here and murder vault dwellers?” He made his position on the matter as clear as possible. 

Betty smirked at his statement, “Now that I think of it, we’ve got a job for you, after all,” as if she had been waiting for a chance to punish his insolence. 

[jhilsara]

I Can See You

Pt. 1/ Pt. 2/ Pt. 3/ Pt. 4/ Pt. 5/pt. 6/Pt. 7/Pt. 8/Pt. 9/ Pt. 10/

Pt. 11/ Pt.12/Pt.13/Pt. 14/Pt.15/Pt.16/Pt.17/END

Mariana Jimenez-Watson or MJ works in a normal pub living life paycheck to paycheck. Nothing exciting happens to her except the occasional drunk getting thrown out. She's 24 working away and finds a wrench thrown into her very boring life. His name is Hobie and she thinks maybe, a little excitement isn't awful. In fact she might start to crave some change for once.

Small moments of Hobie meeting his world's MJ. AKA I made an MJ variant and I think she's neat.

Chapter 13

Hobie’s over and they’re both just lounging on her couch. It’s a rare day she has off and so far, nothing crazy has happened to set off Hobie’s police scanner. He had been coming over more often. When he's not at her flat, she’s managed to wiggle her way onto his house boat a time or two. It’s nice for them to hang out and it not be at her place of work. Not that she doesn’t enjoy the pub, but she can’t have any intimate moments with Hobie.

Not that she’s trying to be intimate with Hobie, but they’ve definitely been touchier as of recent…

By touchy she means actively kissing her friend, who she doesn’t think she’s dating and doesn’t want to ask if they are. Mostly because she doesn’t know how she would even want him to answer.

Which is why instead of over analyzing her feelings for her best friend she’s instead choosing to push it under the surface and try to just enjoy the moments she does have.

She’s laying on the couch but her legs are drapped on top of Hobie’s. One of his hands sits in between her thighs, just holding her in place. His other hand is lazily drumming a soundless tune on her leg. His attention only half on the television playing in the background. His full attention is really on her as she tries to curate a perfect playlist for them.

“Should I organize it in a specific order or just let it shuffle?” She asks mindlessly as she’s scrolling through her music.

“It’s a classic mixtape if ya plan it out yea? Make the order matter right?” He hums to her in suggestion.

“Mmm I didn’t think about it like that. Oh!” She has an idea and sits up to look at him better. “What if we did it like a real mix tape? Side A and Side B, but like we curate one side each.” She says with a bright smile.

He nods in agreement, “I like that. So that’s ten songs each yeah?”

She makes a small noise of satisfaction and plops back down. “Let’s put them on a separate playlist and we can share them together when it’s done, it’ll be a surprise.” She suggests.

They had been doing this for the past couple of hours, just sharing music. MJ suggested they make a playlist to share with each other. It’s escalated into this mixtape.

She’s tapping away on her phone scrolling through song after song, “I don’t know if it’s harder or better that I only get to pick ten songs…” She murmurs to herself.

Hobie’s just watching her with a small smile tugging at his lips. It’s a real peaceful moment between them.

“Choices, choices, choices.” He whispers back leaning toward her.

She looks up from her phone to see him hovering over her with a smile. She pulls her phone against her chest.

“No cheating! It’s not fair if you look before I’m done. That ruins the point of sharing music.” She says giggling.

He rolls his eyes but backs away, keeping his hands on her thighs. “Fine fine, I won’t look.” He leans back into the couch and starts tapping an unknown rhythm against her leg.

Her face scrunches up as she looks through her songs, trying to find the songs she relates to. She is nervous about sharing her stuff with him though… Hobie actually writes and performs music. It’s a small added pressure she wasn’t expecting.

Hobie moves one of his hands to grab her cheek, making her look up at him.

“Relax, you’re thinking too hard about it.” He tells her in a soothing voice.

She rolls her eyes but gives him a soft smile, “I know but, I don’t know, I feel like I’m thirteen and you’ll be hyper critical over my music taste.” She mumbles.

He looks at her with a straight face, “I will be hyper critical.” He says in faux seriousness.

“Oh, piss off!” she laughs shoving him away. She readjusts herself to sit up and face him. “That’s not helpful.” She jokes.

He rolls his eyes, “MJ it’s fine. Whatever you put on there won’t change how I feel about ya. Relax.” He gives her a toothy smile and musses her hair.

She bats his hands away and frowns, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

He grabs her waist and pulls her to his lap, wrapping his arms around her and slotting his head on her shoulder. “It’s fiiiiiiiiiiine promise.” He presses a kiss to her cheek drawling out his words. 

She turns to look at him relaxing into his hold. She hums in satisfaction at his response.

“Okay, I need to get up or I’ll get sleepy like this.” She tells him starting to wiggle.

He groans in response and locks his arms around her, “Too late, I’ve trapped ya with my superior spider strength.” He tells her jokingly.

She laughs and tries to worm her way out of his hold. “That’s not fair!” She groans in response pushing down on his arms. Which are definitely not budging.

He just grunts as a reply and keeps his hold on her, his laugh vibrating down her back. It sends a chill through her spine.

She opens her mouth to respond to him but before she can they both hear the buzz of the police radio. Hobie sighs and shoves his face into her back, groaning in annoyance.

They both listen in and catch something about a break in down a block of locally owned storefronts.

He releases his grip on her, “Can’t steal from the giant corporations like the rest of us, gotta be the mom and pop shops.” He mutters under his breath.

She just chuckles in response and turns to face him, giving him a soft kiss.

“Guess you better go then tiger.” She says softly.

His face heats up, “That’s new.” He chuckles a bit looking down at her.

Her face burns red, “Do you not like it?” she asks now a little embarrassed.

“No, no, no! I liked it, just different is all.” He chuckles nervously.

“Oh my god, okay, go go! Moments over.” She covers her face in embarrassment.

He smiles and tugs her hands away pressing a soft kiss to her, “It’s cute, like it.”

He pulls away quickly and backs up to her balcony, pulling on his spider mask, “I’ll be back, promise.” He tells her shooting a web and diving off her balcony.

She rushes over to door and shouts after him, “You better come back!”

She sees him wave back to her before he’s gone from her sight. She sighs and fidgets for a moment before walking back to her couch.

She opens her phone and starts shuffling through her music.

Hobie comes back to her flat, tired and with a sore back. Upon entering he notices she’s laying on the couch. He tries to not make much noise and peaks over the couch to see her passed out, phone in hand and music softly playing.

He gives a soft snort and gently pries her phone from her hands. He opens it and sees she’s been meticulously crafting her portion of their shared mixtape. He grins to himself and starts the playlist from the start. He’s too enamored by the thought of her sitting here the whole time fussing over what songs she was going to pick, it has him grinning from ear to ear.

He sits and listens to the playlist in order, it only take around forty minutes, give or take. He sits on the edge of the couch running his hand lazily through MJ’s hair, she doesn’t move except to turn over once.

She’s a deep sleeper and he’s thankful for that right now. He’s crafting his half of the mixtape as the music pours from her speakers. He’s jotting them down in his head. It’ll be a pleasant surprise when she finds it.

Once he’s done listening he takes her phone and adds his own half. Some songs are easy to add, others he had to think on a little bit. One just makes him chuckle a bit and he doesn’t hesitate to add it.

He finishes adding his half and looks over it, checking it one last time to see if he wanted to make any changes.

He nods to himself and sets her phone down. He looks over to MJ on the couch and decides she should probably be in her bed, it was late.

He picks her up gently, nestling her in his arms. She makes a small noise but doesn’t wake up. She squirms for a moment pressing her face into his chest, searching for his warmth. He presses a soft kiss to her forehead and walks her to her room.

He lays her down and she rolls off of him easier than normal. She sighs and nuzzles into her pillow, getting more comfortable.

He covers his face turning away for a moment, finding the moment too sweet. He leaves her room and goes to take a shower. He knew he was going to stay at her place the moment they were lounging around all day. Her flat was just so comfortable…she was comfortable.

When MJ wakes up she’s in her bed and she feels strong arms around her waist. She turns to look over her shoulder and sees Hobie pressed against her. He’s wide awake and grins as he sees her looking at him sleepily.

“G’mornin’ sunshine.” He murmurs.

“What time is it?” She asks, her words slurring together groggily.

“Probably around one in the morning. Maybe later?” He whispers to her.

She sighs and nods her head. She wiggles herself so she’s facing him and wraps her arms around his waist bringing him closer to her. She shoves her face into his chest and mumbles something under her breath.

“What was that?” He asks amused.

She mumbles again, voice still too low and words mushed together for him to know.

“Missed you.” She says more clearly, looking up at him, face red.

He grins and moves one hand to pinch her cheek. “That’s cute, say it again.” He teases.

She groans and puts her face back into his chest, “Not happening.”

“Aww c’mon? You’re so cute when you get like this.” He grips onto her waist and rolls them so he’s on top of her. He looks down at her, with an amused smirk.

Her face is flushed as she looks up at him. “Stoooooop you’re so-” she rolls her eyes.

“So charming? Funny? Delightful?” He lists off with a chuckle.

She groans, “More like annoying.” She replies.

“Ouch!” He holds his hand over his heart in fake pain. He drops his weight onto her pinning her in place. “Ya wound me! My ego, it’s crushed!” he groans in pain.

She’s laughing but also shoving him off of her, “You’re the one who’s crushing me!”

“Guess I’ll just delete my half of the mixtape then, if I’m so annoying.” He goads grabbing for her phone.

She sits up and snatches it away from him. “What?! You added to it?” She’s immediately opening up her music and looking through what he’s added.

He’s smiling at her and shrugs his shoulders, “Ya had it open when you passed out.”

She whips her head to look at him, “Did you listen to it?” her eyes are wide as she looks at him, almost embarrassed.

He scratches the back of his head, “I did, couldn’t resist.” He leans forward to look at her closer, “Came back and you were napping phone in hand, music playin’… All I could see was your scrunched-up face trying to find the perfect songs.” He grins cheekily at her.

She shoves his shoulder lightly. “Can we listen to it together?” She asks softly.

He throws his head back and groans playfully. He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her back down to lay in the bed. Nuzzling his face into her neck.

“So cute…” He mumbles into her. His breath fanning her neck, sending a shiver down her back.

“Hobie…” She drags out his name, almost in warning.

He hums and peaks up at her, “You’re just so cute, can’t help it.” He presses a kiss to her neck.

He pulls back and plucks the phone from her hand and presses play on the playlist. He moves her phone to her bedside table and drags her under the covers with him to snuggle. He slots his head back against her neck, arms clinging tightly to her waist. She in turn wraps her arms him and interweaves their legs together into a knot of limbs. Their breathing evening out as they listen to the music together.

They fall asleep to sound of each other’s hearts and shared songs.

Spotify Playlists can be found here: Mariana / Hobie

Please do not come for the music choices I made, I spent way to long on them and I stand by them. I will not take criticism on this, I will cry. I will add art to them later, but collectively this is about an hour of music.

Tag List: @missshelleyduvall

Message if you would like to be added to the tag list!

[sevenpoyo]

school headcanons for because i only got 3 more weeks

margo’s is so long even tho she got like 2 minutes of screen time bc i love her so much and she’s my gf

Margo Kess, 1610Miles, 42Miles, Gwen Stacy, Pavitr Prabhakar

margo kess / spiderbyte

ain’t shorty on zoom in the movie?

my girl dont attend class, she once shut down the entire blocks power so she would have an excuse to not be in class

eats in class all class everyday, only shares with you

takes really good notes and never studies them

like???? ma’am??? share???

all her electives are programming related and she pretends to busy while playing centipede all day

sends you 50 links to stuff you might like while ur in math

she got papers that let her opt out of gym

no matter how much you beg ur gonna be alone in gym and she doesn’t feel bad about it

popular with no friends type

like everyday 50 ppl stop you both and say hi

she only knows like 5 of their names she can’t stand half of them niggas

empty ass backpack like she got one notebook and one binder

all a’s and b’s like bitch how

her memory is absolutely ass but she can remember every story you told her or stuff that happened when y’all hang out

don’t ask her what she did in her class

don’t ask her if her class also has a history test

she don’t know

she don’t care

but she do know that when you were 8 your cousin burned ur thigh while y’all were playing iron vs knife fight

(u were dumb as hell for picking knife everyone knows iron always wins)

i looked it up on her word everybody uses those virtual avatars

she’ll shit on your class choices so damn hard

she just likes making fun of your choices fr

like half of ur conversation go;

damn i’m tired

u was up doing stupid shit last night you don’t get to complain

stfu that’s why ur a bitmoji

that’s why ur granny beat ur ass for something your brother did when you were 9

i hate telling u shit

then stop telling me shit

(i have no clue how accurate this is to her character but i need to write about her i’m in love but damn it’s long)

1610 miles / spider-man 2 lmao

book bag full locker full but never has a pencil

writes notes assignments and homework in paint pen ink don’t ask this nigga for notes

(he gets nigga treatment but not my queen margo bc i got favorites)

he miss mad classes but somehow still solid attendance record???

somehow always present in the record he miss 40 days and get caught on like 6 of them

unless his mom make breakfast and lunch on her day off for him he eating the most random shit from the bodega closest to visions

like what do you mean you got a cosmic brownie and a cold chopped cheese from last night ? it’s literally 7 in the morning no i don’t want none

makes you hype him up every time he slap boxes people and he’s so ass at it

he be ashy with no lotion atleast 5 times every month it’s embarrassing

he calls visions his white people school to his parents and his friends

once he said it to gwen and they sat in literal complete silence for like 10 minutes

prolly took music theory because he thought it would be easy and switched out of that shit so fast

i’d be so mean to him for enjoying physics

like this nigga trying to make something of him self

lil einstein ass nigga

he understands color theory but can’t explain it

12 half full sketchbooks but at school he literally draw on computer paper he don’t let the sketch book leave his bag

i know he’s ass at watercolor, he always spills shit, the colors always end up brown

try’s to be interested in your class choices bc he wants to know stuff he can talk about with you

when you first meet he can’t take meaner jokes bc he thinks that you mean them

but one day he’s gets comfortable, and brutal

no one in your life is safe when he looses a video game

except your mom

rio taught him better than that

42 miles / the prowler

comes to school with no school related supplies in his bag unless you count art stuff

finds a pencil on his way to class

has a change of clothes, rat tail comb, 3 bottles of water, a camera, a flashlight, lotion and cocoa butter.

like bro ur going to Ap Art not a camping trip

once he pulled out a griddle and and pancake mix and y’all started making pancakes in class

forgets his metro pass every day and gets so pissed ab it

runs into people in the hallway bc he’s never paying attention

idk if he goes to visions but if he does he calls it his white people school with his full chest to anybody even if they’re white

he be leaving halfway through the day all the time like bro you miss algebra 2 every damn day

uncle arron always talking him out of school with some bullshit reason

bro’s had his tonsils out 8 times on the school’s records

He will get ur parents to put his uncle on ur pickup list and you will be out of there with him

he will YELL if someone step on his shoes no matter what the situation like the school could be on fire and he fighting in the burning building

also his uniform is so pristine

his pants stiff

that button down is bleached ironed pressed and allat

this mfer is an online shopping addict u just know he be on amazon in class

will offer you the weirdest food combos like no i don’t want to put tajin mangoes on my beef patty i’m sick of you nigga

not school related but he’s super good with kids (both miles fr) but he’s the #1 little cousin defender and apologists

he ride for them always one of ur little cousins could sucker punch u and he be like

‘they just want u to play with them’

he takes a preforming arts class for fun prolly

loves sports but doesn’t play one understands the stats well and would help if you played one

wakes up at the asscrack of dawn on weekends

SICK ASS COSTUME FOR HOLLOWEEN IK THIS NIGGA LOVE HOLLOWEEN

plans costumes for school spirit weeks but always checks to seen if he’s gonna be the only one wearing a costume for it

never eats lunch unless his mom makes it he be hungry all day and be complaining

his socks are never in uniform (yes some uniform schools have sock rules)

gwen stacy / spider woman / ghost spider

idk what to call her

she has every snack you could ever want in her lunch bag

hates her music theory teacher

she literally has the most pristine locker with a calendar and a mirror and all that shit will write down test for you and important dates for the both of you

goes to school plays and shits on the story, like she ain’t pay 5 dollars to be there

some of her teachers hate her

like ma’am ur beefing with a whole 16 year old rn

she hate english teachers but love creative writing teachers

she keeps all her books in her locker never brings them home never brings them to class

always comes through with an extra pad no matter what

she also always has hand sanitizer

in like 4 extracurricular after school things and complains so bad

ur starting to hate that shit to ur sick of hearing it like girl quit then

10/10 cameraman she has every fight and every drama in 10khd and she will share them if you ask

she chews her pens and nails

has her drumsticks out always teachers have banned her from taking them to their classes

can watch tv on her phone but look focused you think she’s paying attention but then you look over and she’s watching good luck charlie

pavitr prabhakar / spider-man india

always late for class never in trouble

always eating and sharing food and never in trouble

how is he blessed like this? it ain’t fair

eats from the school vending machines or begs other ppl to share

will always have and share the homework answers no matter what he’s an angel

his sock always have holes in them like sir please get that shit together

gym try hard ik goes insane in football/soccer

very encouraging for shit u don’t wanna do he believes in you

you him and Gayatri talk so much shit but are somehow all well liked

he tells you what teachers are dating (he can just tell)

he has toothpaste in his bag for some reason?? i can just feel this one

his aunt will let you come over after school she’s so sweet to you.

always got a job at school assemblies

he’s reading poems or shaking hand or leading in the school pledge or something

Pav’s is short because i have no fucking clue if school in India is different form america and Barbados

[brainrotdotorg]

The skills ranked by how nice they would be to cuddle

Logic: does not know how to un-tense even a little bit. His lack of physical stability makes him difficult to put any of your body weight onto. 2/10.

Encyclopedia: will probably read you something or just read out loud for his own enjoyment while you hold him. So his hands are gonna be occupied by holding the book— but he will always lean his head on yours if you put it on his shoulder, and that’s nice. His palms are a bit clammy anyway. 7/10.

Drama: I feel like he takes all the sheets for himself. And he can tell if you aren’t comfortable, and he’s gonna take it personally. Physically, his texture is lumpy but not unpleasant. 4.9/10

Rhetoric:will talk the whole time. If you listen to one sided political debates as ASMR, this may be a comfortable experience for you. Otherwise, I’m sorry he’s taking up a solid 89% of the bed. 3.4/10

Conceptualization: tries to get creative with it. Who gives a shit about spooning. Let’s invent “the tongs”. Definitely not boring to snuggle up with! 6.7/10 sometimes you don’t need to get experimental with it.

Visual calculus: knows exactly how to make the geometry of your bodies fit together in order to maximize comfort. The light coming off of him can lower down to an ambient dim. Very kissable lips that will give you a gentle smooch goodnight. Look, his eyes are half closed anyway, he wants to relax. Probably actually the best choice! 10/10.

Volition: matter of fact about it. Will stroke your hair until you fall asleep and is very valiant in making you cozy. However the moment you do start sleeping he slips away. 7.5/10 for cuddle experience itself but minus points for leaving : (

Inland empire: the starry bits can be fun to watch like one of those projector lights. Very skinny so not a lot to hold onto. Their heads weird shape means that you’ll have to get interesting with pillow formations but I think it’s worth the effort. 8/10

Empathy: knows exactly how you’re feeling but they feel obligated to listen to your innermost thoughts and opinions that really don’t matter that much, but they insist they want you to be SO comfortable. Dude, I don’t mind that you have sweaty hands. Keep them wrapped around me. 8.7/10

Esprit de corps: officer we’ve got a code 113, snuggle emergency, let me get up in your body gap and wear you like a blanket thank youuuu 9/10

Authority: he has to be big spoon or death. Does not give you the option to get up and turn the light off. No. Stay here and don’t you dare move. 5.2/10 it’s nice that he at least cares.

Suggestion: sure you can snuggle, but he convinces you to be in the position that he really wants to be in. The twisty bits are configured weird and when you figure out how to make it comfy you will not be able to adjust. 4/10

Endurance: will never be the first to get up. Almost turns it into a competition— look man, I’d love to lay with you all day, but I’ve got things to do. Super wide so he can be slept on like a bed though 6.1/10

Pain threshold: OW THERE ARE FUCKING SPIKES!!! Girl I love you but 0/10

Physical Instrument: too much of a jock to display any real tenderness. Holds you like he’s trying to suplex you horizontally. 5.2/10 for the muscle but he’s flexing the whole time.

Electro chemistry: how does it feel to be hugged by a dozen horny pythons? 9/10 if you’re looking to cuddlefuck 3.7/10 if not

Shivers: probably will not be able to fit on your futon. ??/10

Half light: if you can ignore the claws you won’t be able to ignore the teeth. Kicks and thrashes in her sleep. You can feel her heartbeat and it’s really fast. 4.2/10.

Hand/eye coordination: gives you a head rub and a back rub and a shoulder massage and a belly rub and . 9/10

Perception: will absolutely remark on ever sensation coming from you that she is experiencing. I’m glad I smell nice and I feel good and you can hear my breathing. She is also if a smoke machine was a person. 7/10

Reaction speed: speed is not an important component of cuddling. Can’t stop shifting around. Impossible to get comfortable with someone who wants to change positions every two minutes. If the remote falls off the couch, she will catch it. 2.8/10

Savoir Faire: six arms to hold you but he’s not gonna stop talking about his hustler bullshit. No head does make for some innovative cuddling positions though. 5.3/10

Interfacing: he would rather be holding a machine. If you wear anything with buttons or loose threads he’s gonna pull at them. He’s also for sure gonna talk about how ballpoint pens work. Maybe put on some how it’s made to watch in order to keep him entertained. 6.3/10

Composure: take composure’s portrait. Now turn it 90 degrees. That’s how composure cuddles. 1/10

[angelsdevils]

Debt of the Heart

Tag List: @reiners-milkbiddies @maraya-007 @shelly-ya @galactict3a @bontensbabygirl @thisbicc

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Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chaper 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 |

“So… I do have an answer for you,” you said, your emotions were running haywire. Fear, sadness, but determination. Ran set his glass down, his eyes locked with yours, they suggested that he already knew what you were going to say.

“And that would be…?” he asked, he leaned forward on his hand. He had a small grin on his face, and for some reason it really irritated you. You never wanted to punch someone in the face as much as you wanted to punch him. Maybe he did take pleasure in your misery.

“I will be your wife on two conditions, my parents’ debt is really forgiven, and you let me keep my freedom to do what I want.”

“You have my word that your parents debt will be forgiven. I will give you your freedom, within reason. As my wife, it’s my duty to protect you. And if something is wrong, I won’t let you do it.”

“But…”

“No buts, I’m not restricting you, but you being my wife means you will be on the radar of some very powerful and very dangerous men.”

You balled your fists up, biting your lip. You hated this, so much. You hated him, but you had no choice but to comply for your parents’ sake. Becoming Ran’s wife meant stepping into a much darker world than you never even dreamed of. A true night, are. You sighed softly, biting your lip. 

“I understand,” you said finally, your voice softening. “I just want to make sure I can still live my life, pursue my dreams.”

“You will, that I promise. Of course, until you pursue your dreams, I can’t have my wife working in some crappy cafe. I will fund whatever you need for whatever dreams you want. I make enough to take care of you and your family if I need to,” his voice was gentle, almost loving in a way. He reached over and pushed your hair out of your face. “I want you happy, (Y/N). But as your husband, it’s my duty to make sure my loved ones are safe. In a world as dangerous as the one I am part of, love isn’t just a feeling-it’s a promise. Marry me, and I vow to protect you from every shadow, no matter the cost, even if it means losing my life.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down, this… this isn’t love, I would call this a transactional marriage to protect my family, so they don’t die,” you said, seriously. 

Ran frowned slightly, and he sighed but his eyes held hope. 

“That will change, when I laid eyes on you, I fell in love instantly. I know you may need time to return my feelings or even accept the fact that this is really love I feel for you.” 

You met his eyes and saw how he looked at you, but you weren’t one to believe in love at first sight or the fact you could ever love a criminal like him.

“I highly doubt I could ever love you, but either way. I will marry you out of necessity for my parents.”

“Well, that is a start in the right direction, you won’t regret this. I promise you,” he said. “I won’t have you sign the marriage documents tonight; we can do that tomorrow.” 

Soon after the food came, and you ate in silence. The topic of marriage was avoided throughout the rest of the dinner because Ran really wanted you to enjoy yourself tonight. You were silent, and didn’t meet his gaze once, mainly because you were lost in thought. 

Once dinner and dessert were done, he stood up and buttoned his suit jacket before offering you, his hand. You took it, and he leaned close to the waiter’s ear whispering before leaving with you.

“You aren’t going to pay?” You asked, and he flashed you a charming smile. 

“It’s paid for, don’t worry your pretty little head.”

“Right,” you mumbled. 

He led you to his car, which was a black Lamborghini Diablo. He pressed the button and the doors opened upward, but you didn’t get in.

“Something the matter?”

“The other car isn’t taking me home?”

“No, I will be taking you home. But before that I want the date to continue on, just a bit longer.” He motioned you in, and you sat down in the car, your hands in your lap.

“I would much rather go home, I am pretty tired,” you tried to reason. He looked at you, searching your eyes before sighing softly.

“Very well, I will drop you off at home. You should spend more time with your parents and pack. Since you will be moving in with me.”

“In… with you?” You asked, for some reason, you thought you would still be able to stay home. Ran turn to you, eyebrow raised.

“You will be my wife; it only makes sense you live with me. You thought otherwise?” 

“I- I guess, you would let me live with my parents still.”

“No, that house is run down, and you are my wife. Or soon to be wife, so you have to live with me.” 

You slid down the seat, looking out the window. You were already regretting the choices you made.

Ran stared at you, before driving you home. He had a small frown on his face, but he kept reminding himself that it would work out in the end, and you would change your mind about him. As he drove, his gaze would occasionally trail over to you. You haven’t looked at him the entire ride.

He parked outside of your house, and you went to get out. Before you could open the door, he grasped your wrist gently.

“I promise, it won’t be as bad as you think it is.” 

“Right, good night, Ran.” You said pulling away and going into your home.

© [@angelsdevils] all rights reserved. none of my posts or stories should be modified, reposted, etc. I do not own the character or the fanart, but I own the plots of these stories. All fanart goes to their appropriate owners.

[theclairvoyage]

Centrifugation: Chapter 9

Series Masterlist

The first psych appointment since the incident.

Chapter Warnings: psychological trauma, therapy, mentions of overdose, mentions of medications, mentions of depression and nightmares, allusions to previous traumatic event, fluff, smut, anal play (f receiving), oral (f receiving), face riding, unprotected p in v, a spank or two, more self-doubt.

WC: 3.4k

Monday, October 25th | 1000

“Call me when you’re done and I’ll come get ya, alright?” Joel requests as you prepare to hop out of his truck and enter the behavioral health facility.  You turn to him, nodding and fake smiling.  He catches on to your façade quickly.

“C’mere, baby,” he says, motioning you to come in for a kiss.  He holds your chin softly with his free hand, other hand glued to the steering wheel.

He’s nervous, too, you can tell—fidgety, white-knuckling nervous.  He spent the entire drive over here raking his hand through his stubble and hair, glancing at you almost every other minute.  It’s odd.  Normally, Joel is the stoic one, remaining ever calm to make you feel safe.

Slowly, you lean in closer to him, propping your elbow up on the middle compartment and tilting your head slightly right.  Your gaze is locked on his—worried amber irises scan your face as he scoots forward to kiss you.  He stops right before your lips meet and exhales audibly, puffing warmth on your face.

“Hey,” you say softly, reaching to stroke his grown-out beard.  He hasn’t trimmed in a while, but he looks good—small patches of gray are popping up near his mandible and chin, much to his dismay.

He closes his eyes at your soft touch, inhaling deeply and slowly.  He cups your hand to his face and reopens his eyes, which are tranquil now.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he replies, half-smile crinkling his cheek.  He kisses you softly and sweetly for a few moments before deepening the kiss.

Most of your kisses escalate like this.  Passion and desire overwhelm both of you, no matter the time or place.  You pull back from the kiss, teeth pulling Joel’s lower lip with you before you let go.  He groans.

“Fuck.  Y’do this to me every time,” he huffs, eyes pointing downward at the erection fighting the zipper of his jeans.  You smirk and peck his lips one more time before opening the door and hopping out.

“Thank you, Joel.  I mean it,” you say earnestly, suddenly feeling shy.  He stares at you for a moment with that look before shaking his head and waving you off.

“S’nothin’, you deserve it.  I’ll see ya in a bit.” You blow him a kiss and shut the door before ambling your way to the entrance.

It’s gloomy in Omaha today.  Overcast sky, little gusts of cold wind ripping through the trees and shaking the streetlights.  Winter is creeping her way into Nebraska, frosty fingertips swiping ice along the ground overnight—much like the Nutcracker fairies in Fantasia.  You don’t mind winter, though—long sleeves and pants, hot coffee, chilly air grazing your bronchioles—it’s a nice contrast from the muggy, excoriating summers here.  And no bugs.

You’re a little late, which is unlike you—Joel was running behind this morning after spending much of it on the phone with Tommy and the high-maintenance Council Bluffs client, whose shrill voice you could hear from across the room.  She’d been complaining about the boat dock needing redone, which wasn’t part of the original agreement she’d made with Miller Contracting.  Tommy was at her house this morning working on the house remodel when she sprang it on him, bickering with him about cost and materials before he decided the older Miller would be a better choice to put her in her place.

You approach the front desk, an older woman with thick-rimmed glasses, crunchy blonde and gray-rooted curls piled on top of her head.  She looks up and smiles at you, red lipstick-stained skin peeling from her chapped lips, before giving you a singsong hello, dear.

“Hi.  Appointment for 10:00,” you say much less enthusiastically, spelling your first and last name as she searches for you on her computer screen.

“Great!  Your doctor sent over all your notes, I just need you to answer some questions and sign a few release forms before we take you back.  Have a seat right here and bring them up when you’re done,” she coos, pointing at a puffy green armchair facing the front entrance.  She hands you a clipboard with several forms, pen attached by chain.

You scribble quickly on the forms, trying not to inconvenience the psychiatrist too much.  The questions regarding recent sexual activity make you blush, fantasizing about your last few days with Joel.  Yesterday, he’d perched himself between your legs and licked you to orgasm for what felt like hours—just the reminiscing makes your core tingle.  Hopefully there’s more of that today—you have a feeling you’ll need it.  You clench your thigh muscles and focus on the rest of the forms before taking them back up to the receptionist.

Shortly thereafter, a skinny nurse calls your name from a door beyond the front desk and takes you back into a hallway.  He takes your blood pressure and weight before introducing you to the psychiatrist, Dr. Mandel.  She’s quite petite, maybe five feet tall, with fiery red hair and freckles dotting her pale skin.  She’s beautiful, almost elven.  She shakes your hand warmly, pale green eyes taking you in as she ushers you into her office.

“Have a seat here.  Do you need any refreshments?” she asks, pointing toward a comfy, orange chair facing the window in her office.  She walks over to her desk to grab a few things before sitting in an identical chair opposite you.  You shake your head.

“Thanks for being here.  I know this is difficult—most patients do what they can to avoid these appointments,” she says matter-of-factly.  You nod.

“I feel like it’s better for me to do this sooner rather than later,” you say, rubbing your arm nervously as you scan the room.  It’s warm, accented with rich orange and red hues and natural light spilling into the space.

“Some doctors would agree with you, like myself.  Most think social support is the best thing for healing after a traumatic event.  Would you say you have that?”  You nod, thinking of Joel, Keri, Trina, and the rest of your work group that would drop anything in a heartbeat for you.

“That’s good.  My professional opinion is that social support and therapy have the best prognosis for healing and returning to a somewhat normal life, though you won’t be the same as before,” she says eloquently.  She’s very animated, hands complementing her words and tone expressive.  You feel comfortable around her, like she’ll tell you the truth no matter what.

“Have you experienced any suicidal thoughts, nightmares, or other troublesome mental episodes?” Your eyes sweep the ceiling as you recollect the nightmare you had the other day about Cedric.  Picking nervously at the calluses on your palms, you nod.

“Just nightmares.  I had a panic attack the day after it happened, but nothing else.”  She jots some notes on a legal pad perched in her lap, nodding as you speak.

“I’ll prescribe you some pills for the nightmares and we can get something for the panic attacks, if you feel it’s necessary,” she informs you, gauging your reaction.

“The nightmares, for sure.  I don’t think the panic attacks will be a problem until I have to go back to work,” you tell her, anxiously imagining walking through the front doors of the plasma center, picturing Cedric’s lifeless body splayed on the cold floor.

“I’ll prescribe something for that just in case—you might think right now you’ll be fine, but seeing the area where something traumatic happened can reopen psychological wounds.” You nod grimly and admit to yourself that you were worried about that when you do eventually have to return to work.

The remainder of the appointment consists of her asking questions for her assessment and teaching you coping strategies.  She diagnoses you with acute stress disorder, though mild.  You’re not surprised—you were stabbed and somewhat witnessed a homicide.  You’re worried how much worse you’d be if you didn’t have Joel taking care of you—would you have even made it here today?

Dr. Mandel prescribes you a benzodiazepine for nightmares and an antidepressant for panic attacks.  She warns you about taking the nightmare medicine with your pain pills. 

“Don’t drive after and make sure you’re in a safe space until you know how your body will react to both,” she warns, tone serious.  “I’ve had one too many patients overdose while taking both—please be careful.”  You nod.  You don’t want to join Cedric anytime soon.  She shakes your hand as she guides you out to the front, where you set up your next appointment with the cheerful receptionist.  Two weeks out, right after you come back from Chadron.  You might need psychiatric help after dealing with your mother for a week.

Perched on a bench outside the clinic, you call Joel.  He answers after the second ring.

“All done, baby?  How’d it go?” he asks.  You can hear the echo of his truck door shutting in the garage.  You stare at the puffy gray clouds traversing the sky, wind pushing them along faster than normal.

“Pretty good, actually.  She gave me some medicine for the nightmares, so we’ll see if that helps,” you say, trying to make your voice more cheerful than you feel.  Blah best describes the way you’re feeling today—much like the weather.

“I’m glad.  Don’t like seein’ ya upset when you should be havin’ happy dreams,” he says, turn signal clicking in the background.

You smirk as you think of a witty response.  “I have happy dreams all the time, like today when I was filling out the forms and remembered what I was doing yesterday around this time,” you murmur coyly.  A deep, devious chuckle escapes his lips.

“We can arrange that again, y’know,” his syrupy Southern voice croons, dipping an octave lower and making your stomach flip in excitement.

“Please,” you say, almost whining.

“Mmm.  Can’t wait.  S’my favorite dessert.  I’ll be there in 5,” he says before hanging up.  Your pussy aches.  You love that he loves tasting you—no man in your life before has ever lapped you up the way he does.

Right on time, Joel pulls up in the circle of the clinic.  He eyes you as you walk up, getting out so he can open the passenger door for you.  You throw your arms around him and pull him into a hug unexpectedly, which makes his heartbeat quicken for a few seconds.

“Miss me already?  Was only an hour or so, baby,” he chuckles, kissing your hair.

“Just my way of saying thank you.”  He pulls back and kisses your nose before swatting your ass.

“Can’t to show you how I say thank you,” he murmurs into your ear before trotting over to the driver’s side door.  You shudder.  You won’t make it home if he keeps this up.

Monday, October 25th | 1235

“Oh my god, fuck, Joel,” you cry, nails scraping his scalp as he sucks on your needy clit.  You’re writhing, squirming in his iron grip as he works you into a fit of ecstasy.  He moans into your core.

“Love hearin’ ya talk, baby.  Tell me how good it feels,” he urges you, shaking his head side to side as his mouth latches onto your folds.  His middle and index finger prod at your entrance teasingly.  You roll your hips toward him, urging them closer, but he moves back ever so slightly.  You groan in frustration.

“Hold on for me, darlin.’ I’ll give ya what ya need.”

Your nerves are in overdrive, his warm tongue and vibrations of his voice creating a steady stream of arousal that leaks from your pussy slowly.  He knows just when to decrease the pressure of his licking and sucking, trying to keep you from coming until the very last second.  Not being able to reach your high is driving you insane, but you know it’s worth it.

Suddenly, he pulls mouth off you and rolls onto his back.  Confused and irritated, you sit up and cock an eyebrow at him.

“C’mere,” he says.  “Want you to sit on my face.”

Your eyes enlarge as you register what he just said to you.  Arousal pools low in your belly, and you don’t hesitate to straddle his shoulders.  He loops his arms around you, one hand gripping your ass as the other spreads your lips apart.

He looks up at you, mystified at seeing you from this angle.  You’re blocking the light, casting a shadow on his face, and allowing him to see everything.  The underswell of your breasts topped by taut nipples, head tipped back in anticipation, hair swept over your shoulder, one hand gripping the curls on his scalp for dear life.  A brambly growl escapes his throat at the sight.

Needing to taste you, he pulls you down onto his warm tongue and feasts.  You cry out loudly, involuntarily grinding your hips onto his face.  This spurs him on even more, soundwaves from his muffled groan vibrating into your pussy.  You lean back with a moan, the pleasure taking away what stability your thighs have left.  Shaky legs encase Joel’s head.  A few more swipes of his tongue send you over the edge.  You come hard and with a hoarse moan on Joel’s face.  He drinks it up like his favorite whiskey, getting drunk off you.

Using the headboard as leverage, you lift your hips off his face and collapse onto your stomach.  Panting, you hear Joel get off the bed and walk over to your side.  He brushes your hair off your back and kisses the back of your neck and moves down further, teeth scraping the skin of your scapulas and midback.

“Ready f’me, baby?” he asks in between kisses.  You hum in approval and get on all fours, sticking your ass out for him.  He growls.

“Fuck.  I love your ass,” he tells you, cracking a hand down on one cheek.  You yelp in surprise, followed by a playful giggle.  He grips your cheeks and lifts them up, squeezing them together as he admires you.

“And this pretty fuckin’ pussy.  God damn.  Can’t believe you’re mine,” he croons.  At some point he ditched his boxers, now sliding the head of his cock up and down your wet folds.  He pauses at your entrance and folds his chest over your back to murmur in your ear.

“Tell me, baby—are you mine?” his gravelly voice trickles into your ear, giving you goosebumps.

“Yes, Joel—fuck, I’m yours,” you whine back.  He pushes himself off your back and prods himself at your wet hole, pushing in slowly.  You squeak, voice unable to respond any other way to the stretch of him.  He bottoms out and waits for your muscles to relax before moving again.  After a few beats, your walls loosen their death grip on his cock ever so slightly.

“Good fuckin’ girl, just relax for me,” he soothes, pulling out of you slowly.  He pushes into you with finesse, wanting to work you into another orgasm slowly and carefully.  He picks up his pace after a bit, gripping your shoulder for leverage as he digs into you.  You almost scream at the depth he’s hitting but find that your voice is still unable to make any sounds—you’re so full, each thrust compressing your lungs and pushing what little air you have out in heavy pants.

Joel removes one of the hands from your back and sucks on his thumb before pressing it lightly near the tight entrance of your ass.  He slows his pace, needing your permission before he continues. 

You crane your neck to look at him, and god damn, he looks fucking good.  Salt and pepper curls bedraggled.  Sweat beading on his tan forehead.  Looking at you like you’re Venus reincarnated.  He lifts an eyebrow at you.  “It’s okay if you don’t wanna, baby.”

“It’s okay,” you promise him, giving him permission.  You’ve never done this before, but this is the right person to try something new with.  You know he wouldn’t push your boundaries without your consent.

“Tell me to stop if it’s too much,” he says, swirling his thumb around your ass.  It feels good—it’s foreign, but it’s pleasurable.  You instinctively tighten around his cock as he prods his thumb further, making him hiss.

“Fuck, darlin’—gonna squeeze me to death,” he moans.  You try and relax, but the anticipation of what’s coming has your muscles in protective overdrive.  He leans over and spits on your asshole, the warm liquid making you jump a bit.

“Alright, baby, you just say the word if it hurts,” he reassures you.  You nod, ready to experience this with him.

Sharp pain shoots through your spine at the first push, and you clench your muscles in response.  A soft cry escapes your lips.  Joel pauses, unable to tell if it’s from pain or pleasure.

“Keep going,” you urge him.  He pushes his thumb just a bit further.  Pain ebbs into achy pleasure as your muscles adjust, then white-hot pleasure as he picks up the rhythm of his thrusts again.

“Oh fuck, that feels good,” you moan.  The tandem of pleasure and pain pull a new kind of orgasm from you, ripping you to pieces from the inside out.  You collapse onto your elbows as you quiver, both holes contracting around Joel.  He curses your name and collapses over you, emptying inside you with a ragged groan.  He’s heavy, but not enough to suffocate you.  His torso is warm, draped over your sweaty back.  With a groan, he pulls himself out of you and stands up, rolling you over and grabbing your hand.

“Shower?” he says, pulling you into his chest.  He doesn’t let you respond before he starts kissing you.

“Yeah, you stink,” you tease, scrunching your nose at him as you lead him into the bathroom.  He chuckles and rolls his eyes as he follows you.

Monday, October 25th | 1421

You’re in Joel’s kitchen, sipping some water as he makes a late lunch for the two of you.  He decided on some chicken fried rice after you told him about a thousand times that he could pick what to eat this time.  You’re staring at him absentmindedly and he catches you.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, baby?” he quizzes you, pushing the rice and eggs around the sizzling wok as he stares at you.  You let out a big sigh.

“I think I need to go back to my apartment tonight and try to be alone, to see if I can do it,” you say quietly, somewhat worried about his response.  He sets the spatula down and turns to you, expressing concern, but not upset.

“I’m not gonna push ya either way, but what made you think that?” he asks, tilting his head toward his shoulder and leaning against the island as he evaluates you.

“I just… don’t want to be too dependent on you.  I’m so happy when I’m with you, and y-you’ve done so much for me.  I just don’t want to spend all this time with you and then get to a point where I can’t be on my own,” you say, exasperated.  You’re picking at the callouses on your palms again, gauging his response through worried eyes.

“I understand, baby.  This is a weird situation for both of us.  I’d prefer it if you stayed here tonight since you’re tryin’ your new meds, but you’re the boss here,” he reminds you, putting both hands up.  He’s right, it wouldn’t be a bad idea—you just haven’t been at your apartment in what feels like forever and have this sense of dread returning there, like it’ll pull you back into the past.

“That’s smart.  I’m not sure why I feel like this.  Just a lot in my head right now,” you say, looking up at the kitchen light as your throat starts to tighten.  He pulls you in for a warm embrace, rubbing your back lightly through your shirt.

“Told ya, this healing is gonna take a while.  I’m never gonna tell ya to leave—I’ll come stay at your place, ‘f you want me to.  Just want you to be okay, baby,” he murmurs into your hair.  God, he’s too good to you.  You’ve made up your mind.  Pulling back, you kiss him chastely.

“Okay.  I’ll stay here tonight, and then tomorrow I’ll stay at my apartment by myself, just to make sure I can do it.  And then you can stay the night after.  Cool?” You lift a thumbs up and raise your eyebrows at him.  He mirrors you.

“Absolutely, baby.  Good call.  Let’s eat, huh?”

“Please.”

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