#even if i understand wanting to punish drunk drivers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vamossainz55 · 2 years

Text

Moonlight Ch. 9 | Carlos Sainz Jr. x Reader

hey guys!! so chapter nine is here. not my proudest moment but i think it's cause it's mainly filler except the end. i wanted to include more about carlos' perspective and how he feels about y/n (lmk if you liked it!). if i'm being honest this is the first time i am writing something long so i'm still trying to figure out continuity, timelines, etc. i am usually a one shot gal. i hope you all enjoy though!! the next chapters will be more interesting <333.

warnings: a bit of toxic reader and toxic carlos, and swearing, but apart from that pretty tame (esp. in comparison to the last chapter oops).

moonlight masterlist here.

link to chapter eight here <3.

Chapter 9 (5.3k)

Carlos would describe himself as a man of logic, always taking a step back and looking at the facts before making a decision. He loves breaking every little thing into parts to understand it all, loving the way he could know something from the inside and out.

He prided himself on how level headed he could be, how even in racing he would get into the nitty gritty. The balance of the car, the temperature, the thickness of the tyre. He loved how every single thing had an explanation, giving him a sense of security that in fact, he knew what was going on and why things unfolded the way they did. Whether he was performing extra well, or why he was losing pace, everything had a reason.

And that's how he carried himself in every aspect of his life, looking at everything logically and making sense of it before making a decision.

Everything except for you.

Most times Carlos is with you it’s like he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He would almost say he’s on auto drive but instead of his mind guiding him he’s following every single pull his heart gets. It’s like he’s a puppet on strings but instead of a puppeteer it’s you. But it’s also so easy with you that he doesn’t need to think, always taking a step forward without planning out the path before him.

Logic never failed him, but no matter how hard he tried, logic just never exists when you’re around. He can’t think, every single important fact thrown out the window.

Did it make sense to invite you drunk into his room in Barcelona? No.

Did it make sense to sleep with you knowing you were staying with Bastien? No.

But nothing ever made sense when it came to you.

He’s gripping the steering wheel tight, so tightly that his knuckles are turning white. The sight of you down on your knees for him is still imprinted in his mind, and to make matters worse, the sounds you were letting out were still ringing in your ears. He’s chewing at his bottom lip so hard that he can swear he almost tastes blood. The memory of you both is relentlessly replaying as he keeps on driving. It almost felt like a punishment.

He’s not even home yet, still driving from your apartment with the shirt you had given back to him sitting on the passenger seat.

He knows he shouldn’t have done it, regardless of how big of an asshole your boyfriend was it was still wrong. There’s no ounce of guilt in his being though, the sense of satisfaction of having you in front of him, ready to do anything defeats any possible remorse he had.

Call him selfish but if that was the last time he ever had you he would do it a thousand times over.

It’s only when he’s back at the apartment that the conversation you both had in the car settles. He’s holding onto the shirt you’ve given back, and he’s about to throw it to the wash when he realises it smells like you. He hesitates for a second, wondering whether he really wanted to wash it or not. He gives the pile of dirty clothes a look before he’s turning on his heel, deciding to put the shirt to the side for now.

He tries to distract himself from thinking too much, even sets up the simulator and texts Lando in hopes that the younger driver was available for a quick session. He’s already seated on the chair, leaning his head back but he’s impatient, scrolling through his and Lando’s texts as if it was going to get Lando to reply faster. His thumb hovers over the call button for a second before he lets out a soft sigh.

He was getting antsy and he needed to calm himself down, but he couldn't stop thinking about your words. He never knew the break up affected you that much. Or maybe he never wanted to admit that to himself.

The memory of the morning you both broke up is still crystal clear. Despite it already being two years Carlos still remembers the moment perfectly.

You were laying on his chest, cheek pressed against his torso as you were fast asleep, taking deep and tired breaths. Carlos as always was the one to wake up first, always being a better morning person than you. His fingers trace your bare back and he can’t help but shift a bit to give your head a gentle kiss.

It didn’t go according to plan. He had wanted to end things at your door, to rip off the band-aid as quickly as possible but he couldn’t refuse you with the way you had looked at him when he had turned up unannounced.

It’s not that things were going bad back then, they were just not going great. No matter how hard you both tried to make things better and to work things out you would both go into small petty arguments that had you both upset for a far bit too long.

Frankly you both weren’t ready yet to be so far apart, and the busy schedules were only making things harder. More than anything Carlos couldn’t stand seeing you wear yourself thin. You were staying up late for him, making sure to adjust to his timezone, his schedule, anything to get you both to still talk. It’s not like Carlos wasn’t trying, but deep down he knew you were trying harder, and he couldn’t give you his one hundred percent when in reality you were giving him your one hundred and five percent.

He didn’t see how it was fair.

Which is why when you were both having breakfast that morning Carlos gave the final push.

“Y/n, listen.” He had started off, and he remembers the way you had wrapped your arms around his waist, looking up at him with stars in your eyes.

You hadn’t expected it at all.

“What?” You had asked, stepping away from him quickly, he remembered reaching for you but the only thing that did was get you to move further away. “You want to break up?”

And looking back, Carlos should have heard it in your voice, seen it in your face. The way your entire body tensed, tight lipped and suddenly cold.

“Look, I just think we need some space.” Carlos says and he’s leaning back on the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “I just think we’ve been having a rough patch- and it’s been going for a bit too long no?” Carlos asks, looking over at you.

“Aren’t you tired y/n?” It’s a question that he thinks would be easy for you to answer but instead you’re staring at him. There’s a beat of silence in between and for a second Carlos doesn’t think you’re going to answer.

“Yeah, I guess.” You mumble once you’ve looked away and Carlos doesn’t question the way you turn a bit from him.

“I’m tired too, and I just need to focus on my racing, you know?” Carlos says and again you just nod. The air in the room is thick and Carlos needs to clear his throat a bit. You’re suddenly unreadable and he doesn’t know what to say.

“But we can still be friends.” is what he tries next and he remembers waiting for you to respond. You finally turn after a moment and there’s a small smile on your lips but the longer he remembers it the more he realises it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Okay, yeah. That sounds good.” Your voice is shorter than he’s used to but he’s soon wrapping his arms around you when you reach for a hug.

The hug felt weird and distant and he remembers that as soon as you both pulled away you were going to grab the plates for breakfast, ending the conversation all together. Breakfast went by eerily normally- to the point that Carlos thought yeah, it was all going to be fine and that was that.

You both didn’t really talk after that, the communication between you two being cut off on the get go. He wasn’t going to lie, there were a few drunk calls here and there, where one of you was sputtering about missing the other but apart from that he barely heard from you and you barely heard from him.

Stupidly enough he thought- well he told himself that you needed space. That maybe you just needed some time to just figure out how your dynamics could return back to normal, when you were both just friends.

He wasn’t ready to admit to himself that he had probably hurt you- and he couldn’t bring himself to face you. It was best for you after all for you two to break up.

He’s staring at the main screen of his simulator, mind wrapped around the memory of you two breaking up. Had he really made the right decision back then? Why hadn’t you put up a fight?

He’s soon brought back to reality when his phone buzzes on his thigh, Lando’s text coming in and saying that he was turning on his system. Carlos lets out a sigh before turning his settings to multiplayer.

_______________

Melbourne is weird. It’s like you’re not on bad terms- but you’re both not on good terms either. You all arrive early within the week in hopes to adjust to the time zone difference. From the moment you were both at the airport Carlos’ eyes were searching for you and to his disappointment from the second you arrived you were busy talking to others.

It wasn’t different to what he expected though, he remembered you telling him that you needed the space, that you both shouldn’t- no, couldn’t be friends, but his fingers are aching to touch your skin. He feels a bit insatiated, but you look so busy and there are so many people around that he knows better than to approach you.

Maybe not in the airport he decides, but he definitely hopes to catch you in the hotel.

It only becomes worse because seeing you around the hotel was nearly impossible. The airport still had allowed him to catch short glimpses of you and he had managed to approach you once or twice, although you had managed to slip away before he could really catch you.

The hotel is a different story though as he doesn’t even manage to catch you once. It’s driving him mad knowing that you’re so close but somehow still out of reach. He still manages to catch Tom every now and then, and he tries his best to sneak in a curious question or two about you but you’re always out and doing something. He even considers just asking for your room number but he realises that’s too much and that he in fact needed to respect the boundaries.

Before he knows it the media day is starting and he’s busier than ever, jumping in between interviews with Lando, and trying his best to stay focused on the race ahead of him. If he was being honest- he was never really the biggest fan of media days, but he found himself relaxing a bit more around Lando, unable to hold his laugh whenever the younger guy made a joke. He also found himself messing around more, relaxing and having fun with his teammate. He was thankful that regardless of what was going on he was still buzzing, ready to get in the car.

He finally sees you after a long media day, having run around the track for the last hour or so, recording some content for the McLaren youtube channel. You’re with Tom in the newly set garage, clipboard on your hand.

Carlos greets a few of the engineers, looking over the car and letting out a nervous yet excited sigh. He really couldn’t wait to kick off the season.

He can faintly hear your conversation with Tom, talking about how practice was going to go the next day. He’s trying his best not to look over to not catch your attention, but he can feel your eyes already on him.

“Carlos,” It’s Tom that calls him over and gets him to turn. You’re still standing next to Tom when he walks over and he’s nodding at you both.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Carlos asks and he forces himself to look at Tom instead of you.

“It’s going well, we're just planning the strategy on how to run practice. You’re done with the media hm?” Tom asks and you’re all soon walking over to sit down and discuss what the day would look like tomorrow.

As soon as you all sit you speak up, asking Carlos if he was comfortable with testing on the hard tyres first. Your voice almost startles him and he wonders whether you knew the effect you had on him.

Apparently the set up is still extremely similar to Barcelona but with the difference in temperatures there were a few things that you all had to take into account coming into the practice.

Carlos listens intently, chipping in some suggestions here and there on what to change in the car if needed along with Tom who mostly agrees.

“Y/n, can you summarise all the points and send it out to the team before the end of the day? Just so everyone has everything on hand and ready for the briefing.” Tom suggests as he gets up.

“Okay, okay, will do.” You say before Tom is walking away. You’re going to get up when Carlos nudges your foot, getting you to pause and look at him instead.

“How was the flight?” Carlos asks and he almost cringes at how formal the question sounds. It’s a pretty awful way of trying chit-chat but he just wants to talk to you.

You give him a small smile, and Carlos doesn’t know if it’s forced or if it’s a pitiful look you’re giving him. At this point he’ll take anything.

“It was good.” You answer, “how was yours?”

“It was nice. Lando did annoy me the whole flight though, but I guess I need to get used to that.” Carlos jokes and you let out a small laugh.

“I can imagine.” You say before smiling again and this time Carlos really looks at you and he realises something. You look exhausted.

“If you need some help with some recapping of what we discussed with Tom I can help.” Carlos offers and to his surprise you’re nodding, getting up. He gets up with you, soon following you to the meeting room.

“I should send it in at least an hour before the briefing hm?” You ask him as you sit yourself down, opening your laptop that you had gotten along the way there. Carlos gives you a nod, resting his hand on his chin as he watches you open a blank document.

It feels eerily normal, the way you both are just discussing the strategy, going through numbers, codes, it almost makes him forget how you were both three days ago. He’s getting distracted though as he sees you move your hair to the back, and his eyes can’t help but look over your neck, soon catching a small glimpse of the mark he had left behind, creeping so beautifully under your collar. He wonders if they were all still there.

“Carlos,” You call out and he realises he’s zoned out.

“What? Sorry.” He says and you’re nodding at the clipboard, asking him to read something for you. He picks it up quickly, reading your writing out loud.

“Uhm- that should be it.” He says once you’ve both proofread the document. He lets you send out the email, shifting a bit to better face you once you’re done.

As soon as you press send he’s clearing his throat. “So, are we really not going to talk about what happened,” He says and you’re already shaking your head.

“Carlos, I told you what I had to say about that already.” You murmur already closing your laptop. “Let’s not rehash it.” He’s about to argue but you’re already getting up.

“I need to help some people around before the meeting, so I’ll see you later, yeah?” You say and Carlos lets out a heavy sigh, feeling himself get frustrated.

“Fine.” Carlos murmurs, getting up as well. He doesn’t know what he expected, you had been clear with what you wanted, but a part of him still hoped differently. You both head out of the meeting room silently before splitting ways.

Free practice goes well, the car feels good and Carlos feels confident throughout all three practices. The balance is just right, and despite the slight understeer Carlos knew he could push with the car. The midfield looks competitive, and he hopes that he and Lando can climb up the times.

He barely talks to you, keeping his conversations with you brief and short, limiting it to what was needed for work. It’s not like he likes the arrangement- but you had made it clear that that’s what you wanted and he was starting to feel tired of being the one to try harder.

It’s fine, it’s not like he didn’t have other things to worry about. He’s training every morning, pushing himself to his limits as he tries to keep his mind focused on qualifying and the race in front of him. He finds some time to mess around with Lando too, the both of them doing some workouts together before Carlos does his pre-qualifying training with Rupert.

“Come on Carlos, focus.” Rupert says, raising his mitted hands for Carlos to punch. Boxing had become a quick warm up and training that Carlos had grown fond of, focusing his mind on throwing the punches as well as he could before quickly dodging the swings Rupert returned. His eyes and mind are zoned into Rupert, following his instructions as he tries to control his breathing. It’s all fine until an unexpected voice.

“Carlos?” Your voice startles him and he almost misses the dodge from Rupert’s swing. He’s panting, hunching himself over with his hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath.

“That was close,” Rupert says, looking over at you this time before nodding at you to continue.

You look at Ruper apologetically, “Sorry- we just realised a few things with the car and we need to make a change or two and I know it’s right before qualifying but- we think it’ll help.” You state, looking at Carlos who is slowly standing up straight. He’s in his racing suit, and his fireproofs are clinging a bit more onto his body from the warm weather Melbourne was gifting them with. His outer is tied on his waist, and your eyes are discreetly looking over him.

Carlos notices but he doesn’t mention it.

“Give me a second yeah? Can you tell Tom I’ll be there in a bit.” He says and you’re nodding, quickly thanking him before turning on your heels before you’re heading back to the garage. You were always a bit nervous around Rupert, knowing he knew about you and Carlos’ pre-existing relationship. Rupert had been with Carlos the year you two had broken it off, and although he had been very welcoming to you you still liked to keep your distance.

“What are you two up to?” Rupert asks as Carlos is slowly undoing his boxing gloves. Carlos rolls his eyes at Rupert’s question. If he was being honest, he was quite surprised that he had taken Rupert this long to bring it up. The older lad had asked him once about you and when Carlos had stated that you two just wanted to keep your history to yourself, Rupert had agreed and dropped the conversation.

“What do you mean?” Carlos asks, trying to act clueless but if anything, Carlos Sainz did not know how to act.

“You think I’m stupid?” Rupert chuckles. “You think I didn’t piece one and two together?” Rupert asks and Carlos scoffs a bit defensively.

“Just because we dated before doesn’t mean there’s something going on.” He says, handing Rupert his boxing gloves.

“So nothing is going on between you both now?” Rupert asks and Carlos shakes his head.

“We’re just working together. All professional.” Carlos says, giving Rupert a shrug but Rupert has a sceptical look on his face. “Seriously,” Carlos says, “She has a boyfriend.”

Rupert shrugs, as if that meant nothing to him. “So what I’m hearing is that the only thing that’s stopping you is her boyfriend?” Rupert asks.

Carlos looks over at Rupert, stumped. He hadn’t thought about it. Until now all he wanted was to get closer to you again- but he hadn’t thought that far. “No, I don’t see her that way anymore. We’re not even friends really,” Carlos says and Rupert rolls his eyes.

“It looked like you two were getting along there for a few weeks.” He says and Carlos shrugs.

“Yeah, and?” Carlos responds. He looks at Rupert for a bit and when Rupert doesn’t answer he just turns to the garage.

“I’ll see you later, thanks mate!”

_______

Qualifying turns out to be awful. He finds himself fighting the car at every corner and despite how much he was pushing the car it just wasn’t fast enough. He’s frustrated, eyes zoned towards the finish line as he tries to put his time up.

“Tom, where are we?” He asks just after he crosses the finish line. There’s a small moment of silence before Tom buzzes in.

“As for now P12.” Tom says and Carlos can’t help but grit his teeth before letting out a frustrated sigh. It was high enough to be out of Q1 but he knew there were many cars following close behind. It’s when he’s almost at the pits that Tom dials in with another update.

“P18 Carlos, we are P18.” Tom says and Carlos holds himself back from swearing, letting out a deep breath instead as he slowly parks the car towards the crew.

“Sorry- ah- sorry guys. I really tried.” He says as the team slowly pulls the car. “And Lando?” Carlos asks.

“P8, we will talk after.” Tom says and Carlos can’t help but clench his jaw at that.

He’s happy for his teammate, he really is, but a part of him is frustrated with his own performance. What was he doing wrong? Why did the car feel so off?

As soon as he’s getting out of the car he’s letting out a sigh. He’s taking off his helmet, letting out a frustrated breath as he goes around the garage with an apology before he goes to the pitwall. He catches a glimpse of you from the corner of his eyes but he doesn’t stop, deciding to sit at the pitwall, giving everyone a quick side hug before settling down and putting on the headphones. He spends his time there until the end, watching Lando climb up and into Q3 and lets out a breath when he watches it happen. He’s not jealous, but disappointed in himself.

It’s only later in the debrief that he sees you again, and this time he notices that you are wearing a small frown yourself. As always you were the first one there, having set up most of the meetings. Your eyes are focused on your screen typing some things out as you pinch your bottom lip in concentration.

He doesn’t plan to sit next to you, still slightly annoyed at how you had cut the conversation short but before he notices the rest of the team is piling in and taking seats. He shuffles around before he realises the closest empty chair is the one next to you so he decides to pull it out before sitting down.

“Hey,” He says softly, sighing as he leans back. There is still chatter amongst all the team and Carlos expects you to just give him a short answer back. But to his surprise you’re turning a bit towards him.

“You okay?” You ask, and he looks over to you before nodding. He feels the tension in his shoulders relax slightly.

“It was a shitty qualifying.” Carlos murmurs, crossing his arms over his chest.

It’s your soft laugh that has him furrowing his brows. “It was yeah, but hey at least we know there’s something wrong now than in the race hm?” You say with a small smile. “It was rough but I’m sure we can manage to fix it by tomorrow.”

Carlos huffs a bit at how nonchalant you’re being but he finds himself smiling as well, letting out a small breath.

“Yeah yeah, you’re right.” Carlos smiles back at you, soon looking over Tom who was also taking his seat.

The debriefing goes a bit too long for his liking, but he knows it’s necessary. All the changes that were made in the car somehow felt worse but after some digging around you all manage to figure out what to do to fix it. If he was being honest it was highly discouraging to start from the back, but he knew that this only meant one thing: it was time to climb up the grid.

Oddly enough, throughout the meeting Carlos could feel you stealing glances at him, and whenever he tried to catch your eyes you were looking away. He doesn’t question you, not until you’re both leaving the briefing room and he catches you by your elbow.

“Why were you looking at me all the time?” Carlos asks and it’s almost adorable the way your cheeks turn a bit red, creeping all the way down your neck.

“Nothing, I was just worried and wanted to make sure you were good.” You say before shrugging. “I need to go before the team leaves without me.” You say but Carlos can’t help but stop you from walking, shifting to block your way.

“I can always drive you home.” He says and he rolls his eyes when you let out a soft laugh.

“Carlos,” You say and despite you shaking your head the answer isn’t enough for him.

“Y/n,” He jokes back and this time it’s your turn to roll your eyes.

“No matter how many times you ask, the answer is still no. And with the media and all the fans here? No way.” You say before you reach over to him to get him to move. Instead he pulls you to his driver’s room, shutting the door behind him.

“I hate this.” Carlos says and you’re looking over at him, now frowning yourself.

“Hate what?” You ask and Carlos lets out a sigh.

“This, how we are.” He murmurs. “I want us to be okay- I know what we did was wrong and I understand Bastien not wanting us to hang out or whatever. I wouldn’t like it either if I was him. But I hate it.” Carlos says and he’s not entirely sure why he’s telling you all of this, but the words are already out, floating in the space between you.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what you want me to do about it” You sound a bit annoyed.

“That’s it?” He asks but he’s met with silence from your end. “Look- I don’t know what to do or how to act around you.” He continues. “We’re acting like everything is normal- but we’re not friends either- but you know we’re not just colleagues. I don’t want to just be colleagues.” Carlos says in slight frustration.

You look tired too, and he doesn’t understand why you’re doing this not only to him but to yourself. If you had told him to fuck off, to turn around and not look back he would listen to you, but you didn’t, and he knows you won’t.

“Can we just have a conversation without this needing to be brought up?” You ask again and this time you sound exasperated. Carlos wants to tell you no he doesn’t want to stop bringing this up, he’s sick of you both acting like nothing was going on. Before he speaks though, your phone is ringing and you’re quick to check your screen. You spare him a quick glance.

“It’s Bastien.” You say and you’re pressing your phone to your cheek. The way you call him darling has Carlos rolling his eyes.

“I’m still on track but I’ll be back in the hotel soon.” You say into the phone and you’re turning your back to Carlos, covering your other ear to hear Bastien properly. Carlos has to piece your conversation together, but he hears his name thrown into the conversation.

“I’m going home with a colleague from the media team,” You say and Carlos doesn’t know what comes over him. Whether it’s how annoyed he is at the car, qualifying, at you, or just so downright jealous that he finds himself leaning over. At first he thinks about whispering it into your ear, but he’s soon leaning towards the phone instead. It would be funny, no?

“Hm? I thought you were going back with me.” He says and before he knows it he’s feeling a hard shove to his chest. He stumbles back this time but he catches himself on his feet only catching the sight of your back.

“Babe- that wasn’t him. It’s just a friend that was messing with me.” He hears you say as you’re leaving his room, slamming the door behind you.

He can hear you talk right outside the door and he lets out a sharp breath, running his fingers through his hair. There’s a part of him that feels satisfied, and he knows it’s wrong, but if he cared about Bastien’s feelings he wouldn’t have put himself in this situation in the first place.

There’s a bit more arguing coming from you before it just becomes silent and for a second he thinks you might have just walked away to talk to him somewhere else.

He opens the door to peek out and instead he finds you in front of the door, and he swallows thickly at the sight.

“It was a joke,” Carlos murmurs when he sees you holding your head in one of your hands. He can hear you let out a small sniffle and he reaches for your arm.

“Is there actually something wrong with you?” Your voice is laced with venom and it’s so cold that he needs to take a step back, surprised at your tone. “That wasn’t fucking funny Carlos. Jokes are meant to be funny.” You’re livid and as soon as your eyes meet his Carlos knows he’s really messed up.

“Look- he shouldn’t have gotten pissed at a joke like that.” Carlos scoffs defensively.

“Fuck you Carlos, honestly.” You say before stepping closer towards him. The words you say next stick with him. “Just cause you fucked up your own weekend doesn’t mean you should fuck up others hm? Try not to make others miserable too.” You say and it hits too close to home for Carlos not to say anything back.

“Well, if you cared so much about your relationship you shouldn’t have let me fuck you no?” Carlos bites back and he doesn’t know where the words are coming from, but he has all this pent up anger that he just needs to let out. “You’re miserable already! I can’t believe you’re going around blaming me for your relationship problems. Get a hold of yourself.”

“Just fucking stay away okay? Unless its about work I don’t want to fucking hear it. I mean it this time. Fuck you.” You say before you’re turning back around, already pressing your phone against your ear to what Carlos assumed to be calling Bastien again.

You leave him alone in the room and as much as he tries to clear his head he can’t. He’s pissed.

And the next day when you both cross paths without uttering a single word to each other after his power unit failure, Carlos really wonders if it was really worth it.

fin.

link to chapter 10 here

a/n: hope y'all enjoyed and i would love some input !!! didn't like the chapter, but i wanted to add a bit more of the other perspective but maybe that's why i struggled a bit hehe. hope it was nice to also include a bit more of their breakup. i am planning to add more snippets from the past as it progresses more (courtesy of the idea to @ihearttheoriginals)

as always i would love to hear what you think <33.

moonlight taglist: @loverboysainz-interacts @mossafiato @animesimp2 @gridmetrowriting @iamasimpingh0e @ihearttheoriginals @wildflowertaste @hammyknight @im-an-overthinker @serialkillertbh @pierre-gasssllyy @organasith @azenpal @sukunasrealgf @dr3lover @nsprinx @hayleyy-l @xheera @idkiwantchocolatee @turningxstrange @thelightnessofthebeing @zoobabystation @dutifullyyoungdream @glame @she-shines-brightt @im-an-overthinker @luluuxoxo @axxumur43 @sammy0908 @lovelynikol16

f1 taglist: @sgkophie @lostinketterdam @troybolton-14 @panicforspec @storysf1ferrari

want to be added to my taglist? please let me know in the replies or send me a message/slide into my inbox :) xxx

208 notes · View notes

sunkern-plus · 2 years

Text

street fighter pmmm au. but it’s centered on a teenage saikyo trio and a middle school aged sakura. think of the Possibilities

of course blanka wishes to be Normal like everyone else (but blanka in this au has a learning disability instead of just being like. a green creature and kyubey probably doesn’t cure him but instead gives him a horrible karmic punishment for...internalized self hatred because kyubey is kyubey and Isn’t This What You Wanted Blanka?)

dan wishes for his father to come back but at first he thinks of a BUNCH of different wishes but can’t decide if he wishes to kill his father’s murderer (who instead is just sagat but as a drunk driver and dan REALLY has fucked up black and white thinking issues) or if he wants to bring his father back to life. he decides to bring his father back to life after he meets with sagat during some therapy sessions and thinks he’s nice but A Nice Guy Doesn’t Bring Your Father Back so he wishes kyubey to bring his father back and kyubey is going to kyubey. so. he’d probably make gou a zombie or some abusive dipshit or not even REMEMBER dan

sakura wishes to get the high schooler she has a crush on to notice her and then kyubey after that lectures her on How Selfish Her Wish Was An Adult Would Never Do That but then sakura is like “yeah, but i’m still gonna fight the witches anyway because witches hurt people and i’m not gonna become a witch just because i got a little sad!”

sakura is, understandably, going to end up this universe’s godoka

#francis' aus

1 note · View note

nx-communicato · 2 years

Text

“Hunh, it’s rich and tangy, like old coins…”

I thought I was just supposed to somehow rent a car (without a driver’s license and no insurance) to get down to ______ Valley in ____ to meet up with everyone, my friends & family, and maybe some 71357325 or 170224765 or 8428325. (…of course I don’t have 3 keys or any other potential requirements, I found no gold coins or hidden treasures, and solved no riddles.) But….

Nope, now I’m just sad and broken again, because I’m pretty sure this is just the most elaborate April Fool’s prank on the biggest fool ever and everybody is laughing at me always… I don’t understand what the fuck is going on. I don’t understand why the things I was most proud of about myself… my favorite qualities about me as a person, are the weaknesses that everyone else is trying to cure me of. I have silently questioned every single aspect of my life… every memory dissected to see if it was real or illusion. Everybody out in public I hear whispering about me as I pass. I no longer am able to trust anyone. It doesn’t help that I see messages written encoded on every surface I see (every surface - of everything). Every post I see, every text, every article… all have encrypted messages directed to me. I found a note this morning written years and years ago from my now deceased grandfather to my dad that seemed to indicate a willingness to contact some old veteran friends to eliminate the unholiness that is me if he (my father) didn’t feel he’d be able to take care of me himself. Every book I pick up, somehow now describes me or my life in ways I never noticed before but now cannot ignore.

I have a new permanent lurking fear that I have forgotten something I have done that was so bad that it would warrant this punishment… but I don’t know what, so every person I meet I have a quick panic moment where my brain flash-forwards through all the horrors I may have inflicted on their family: did I sideswipe a relative off a bike while drunk? …or maybe they were in the van with me when I crashed, …was I a bully? …did I try to financially usurp your family business? …did I rape you or your sister? …I can be really imaginative when I’m destroying my psyche.

Am I a god, a demon, a computer program? Am I Kargeros or Neo, Loki or Pinocchio, Jesus or Alice? Am I even alive? Was I ever alive? I never in my life thought that I would have this problem, but now I sometimes question whether or not I am even alive or real or not… how fucking low does your self-confidence have to get to question the relevance of your own existence? But, the cheapest (and therefore most likely) solutions are that either I was a hated deadbeat who now resides in hell because of a debt owed, or I am a naive and gullible fool and I’m getting punked! These are my two best guesses for what is happening except for when my stupid-ass ever-hopeful heart blinds me into thinking I would somehow ever get a happy ending to this story that is my shitstorm of a life.

So if you are wondering why I haven’t finished the game, or why I keep relapsing, it’s not because I don’t love you or I don’t want to be with you forever. I want nothing more. In fact, that is really the only thing I want in life anymore. It’s just that I have no reason to believe that it is possible that it even could happen - that there is even the slightest chance of that being a possible future is most likely the reason I’m still here (well, that and the fact that Tiger hasn’t passed on yet). But fighting against that tiniest fraction which exists only on baseless hope, is an entire lifetime of experience (probably?) saying that’s not how things go for me. Usually at this point in my constant internal argument silently ongoing is when I get triggered into wearing myself out physically for no reward or maybe stumble across another tormenting post or sometimes just have a chat with the angels and demons and elementals and 4D energy leeches that I get to see in a weird overlay of the reality that everyone else perceives… lucky me for gaining a spiritual level-up (or a mental schism - call it how you like it makes no difference to me). Regardless, my concern at this point is not so much, “…am I disappointing loved ones”, as it is, “…gee, I wonder how my rifle tastes?”

#y #impossibledream #nothingelsematters #£y617736uv #sharpen_saw

0 notes

gatheringbones · 2 years

Text

[“The rooms where we worked were often windowless, with drab green walls and hard chairs. Along with rotating teams of one or two other board members, there would be a court reporter and institutional staff who brought boxes of files from the local facilities and sat in on the interviews. Each file would be labeled, “Commissioner 1,” “Commissioner 2,” and so on. That’s how you knew which interviews you were responsible for leading that day.

I started to call what we were doing “conveyor belt justice,” because you’d be busy preparing to lead the next interview instead of watching and listening closely to the one taking place. Then you might be writing an opinion during the next interview.

And the paperwork was a huge challenge. There was a lot of it, and since it wasn’t digitized, you’d have to wade through dozens of pieces of paper. The files included prisoners’ COMPAS risk-analysis scores and the programs they completed. Then there might be letters from victims, judges and prosecutors. If the crime involved a police officer, the police union would gather hundreds of letters, saying, “Do not release this person.” We had to physically sign each victim impact statement. More paper.

The files for the most heinous offenses — the ones where the prisoner was denied parole umpteen times — were the worst. They were hundreds of pages, so you could end up relying on a top sheet that summed up how many years the person had been in prison, what their sentence was, and what the pre-sentence investigation said at the time. The problem is that these investigations were fixed in time; they could be from 30 some-odd years ago.

The purpose of parole is not to focus on a static event; that is the purpose of sentencing. Parole should consider primarily who the person is today. But New York parole laws have a “deprecation” clause, which basically means that the seriousness of the crime justifies keeping you in prison. This gives commissioners an easy out, even when someone has been before the board three, five or seven times, or they committed the crime at 17, and they’re now 70. If you can always have the seriousness of the crime as your hook to keep people in prison, that’s what you’ll do. This is particularly true if there’s political pressure from the governor, police commissioner or a mayor. It gets pretty ugly. And commissioners are really risk-averse if they are up for reappointment. If you need the job, why would you let somebody out who’s controversial?

My colleagues also heavily considered the role of the victims in their decisions. I did not think that was particularly appropriate. Our country just needs a better system to address the harms that victims and their families face. They have no other recourse besides retribution and punishment. They are angry and want to keep people in prison, but we need a process to help them heal.

My own mother was crushed by a drunk driver when I was 5, and she was 35. He was a U.S. sailor who was drunk on July 4. She lived, but had 96 bones broken. She was in the hospital for two years. That’s what got me interested in these labels we use — “victim,” “perpetrator,” “offender” — instead of “people.” I grew up with redemption and forgiveness.

So I tried to do things differently. Some of my colleagues were very terse with the people we were interviewing. These people were already nervous. Instead of starting my interviews with, “Name?” I would say something, like, “Hi, Mr. Smith, how are you feeling today? I’d understand if you’re nervous. Maybe we should take a deep breath.” I would lead with questions about what they felt positive about. The idea was to be asset-oriented as opposed to starting with the crime they committed.

We were given templates to frame our potential decisions in ways that would stand up in court if the prisoner appealed. But I hand-wrote mine with a pen and paper and gave them to the court reporter, who would type them up and have me sign them.

I also started to write dissents when my colleagues wouldn’t let people out of prison who I believed should receive parole. This was frowned upon because they didn’t want prisoners who appealed their cases to have a board member talking on record about how they’d changed their lives and deserved to go home.

After a while, I realized that I was dissenting more than agreeing with my colleagues. It's really hard when you’re always against everybody else. Even though they may have said, “I respect your values,” there was this idea that I should try and be a team player. Often I’d go into the bathroom to cry, upset because my colleagues didn’t recognize that a person had transformed and deserved to go home. I just couldn’t make a difference in the way I thought I could. Work was an uphill battle, and I was Sisyphus. This was just not a healthy place for me to be working anymore. I had a five-year term, but only made it through two.”]

#wasteland radio

154 notes · View notes

rcksmith · 3 years

Text

Lust — Kaz Brekker

Gif by @kitsyoung

Request: “Hey. I really like your writing and I was wondering if you would consider writing a Kaz piece with the smut prompts 76, 1 & 33. Obviously with your au rules. If it’s too much I completely understand tho”

“7, 17, 36, and 73 from the smut list for Kaz Brekker please? If not, no worries! 💖 Thank you!”

“Holy shit that last kaz brekker smut- AMAZING. Was wondering if you could write another smut with smut prompt #6? Of course if this bothers you just ignore it. Thank you so much 🥰”

Smut prompts:

1. “You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat.”

6. “Do you think of me when you touch yourself?”

7. “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.”

17. “after that little stunt? you’re not getting off that easy”

33. “Maybe I should get you a collar so you don’t forget who you belong to.”

36. "If I have to pull over, you won’t be able to walk for the next week.“

73. “You know, you look real pretty when you cry.”

76. “Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you.”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, explicit smut, dirty thoughts, dirty talk, nsfw, jealous, mention of fight.

Word count: 5k

A/N: All smut requests for Kaz must follow these rules.

Thank you so much for the requests and for all affection 💖 I decided to compile these requests, since they were the same central plot. I added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down. I hope you like it and good reading.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

— — — — —

There is a theory that always, somewhere, there will be a person capable of making you lose your breath, and your reasoning, whenever he appears on the scene. Someone who robs you of your breath, your heartbeat, your ability to think clearly and your control to keep your hands not shaking.

And Kaz Brekker would always be that person for you.

From the first time you laid eyes on him, it's been a feeling of dying and going to heaven. Except that Heaven was, in reality, a hot, burning hell. Where your greatest punishment was being forced to watch his tall figure, who exuded masculinity by every inch, walking in front of you like a Renaissance painting very superb.

Nothing that Van Gogh, Da Vinci, and Picasso created has bordered on the personification of beauty that he was.

Kaz was beautiful in a very mysterious, dangerous and chilling way. You would describe his aura as the height of midnight in an enigmatic city, his hair the color of the core of sin and his features as lines that the god Ares would have drawn. Everything about him reeked of the fog of suspense stories, with a touch of lust.

All the looks he directed at you were caustic, flickering and intense as a candle flame, reverberating through your veins like angry eels and always make the room feeling charged with electricity, like the ground after the fall of a lightning. Everything between the two of you seemed to be filled with something fiery and arcane. From the gazes, the rubbing of shoulders, the times when the skins touched. Everything was a compilation of sensations that make you catch your breath whenever Kaz Brekker appeared.

He was your kryptonite. In all senses.

And that was exasperating in the extreme, at staggering levels. You felt your center of your sex vibrate whenever he directed you that voice whit baritone intonation and predatory looks, whenever the button-down shirts were tight enough for you to revel in the contours of his body, or sometimes when he wore the cane to signal or stopper something. This was the worst of them. His cane.

Have you lost count of how many times Kaz stopped you as counting money, by putting the tip of the cane over your hands, or stopped you from going somewhere by blocking your path with the cane, lifting the object horizontally in front of your belly. And every time you felt your legs tremble, your breath fade and a very dirty part of your brain whisper that you wanted him to use that object in you in more fun ways.

Your body was so responsive that there were times when you knew, with every fiber of your soul, that Kaz was able to read the paths in which your thoughts wandered. He lowered his gaze to you, in that breathless connection that promised to contain the most nefarious paths of sin, and maliciously curved the left corner of his lips in an arrogant, oblique expression. At such times, you could feel in your soul the words he did not say:

I know the perverted things that you are thinking.

And the truth was, he really knew. Kaz memorized every change in your breathing, every blush on your cheeks, every trembling of your hands, every your trembling look whit a frightened girl who had been caught thinking of something impure. He knew how your body was responsive, needy. And he himself had to control himself not to push you over the desk in his office and fuck you like an aggressive animal, bringing all your perverted thoughts to life.

It wasn't his physical reactions that kept him from taking action, but an even more visseral reaction than the pulsing desire he felt for you. Mine. The primal, determined, burning sensation of possession. That it ran through his veins like hot, bubbling lava. The desire was familiar, but this statement, not. Like the jealousy he felt for you, he quickly recognized the danger he was in.

If Kaz touched you…he knew he would never be able to let you go.

Mine. A statement that resonated spontaneously whenever he saw you, a testament to the reactions the two of you triggered in each other. However, not even the awareness of the dangerous game that was between you was able to dispel the climate of provocative sensuality that pulsed in the places whenever the two of you were together.

It was like playing with a powerful drug. One slip and he would be addicted forever.

On days like this, when Kaz had just come out of an exasperating meeting with Peka, a businessman and mobster who was always looking for ways to try and bring Kaz down, his already bad temper turned to terrible. He felt compelled to break something, drink a whole bottle of the best English whiskey in that club, and punch someone. Kaz felt the anger pulse through his veins, in a pure and perfect way.

He left the office, turning off his cell phone so he wouldn't be disturbed and descending the stairs to the center of his Crow Club, mind buzzing and anger seeping in his blood. He needed to unwind, maybe get into the car and head home. Maybe actually drink that whiskey bottle. Maybe both.

Kaz was about to take another step down, running a gloved hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes, when his gaze met your figure. And that was when the already terrible temper rose to the very badly.

Normally, a vision like that would have just bothered him, a compulsion to do something. But that day, Kaz was at the height of his angriest feelings. And seeing you, bold as a goddess in that little black dress, next to Jesper at the gambling table and flirting with a guy to your left, did things with every last bit of patience and self-control he had.

His eyes never left you as he took another step, running his hand through his hair again to contain the unruly strands. You were laughing, downing another drink and placing a card on the table. You turn back to the man to your left, your eyelashes fluttered gracefully in a promise to allow him to guide your rein tonight.

But there would be no goddamn rein for that fucking guy to guide.

Kaz gripped his cane tightly, descending the other short stairs and advancing toward your with dangerous, determined, and angry steps.

"...in this part of the year, criminal law cases drop a lot." The damn guy was telling you, his boring blond hair falling over his blue eyes in a way Kaz found annoying.

To fucking hell with that blond-haired Dande.

“Y/n, Jesper!” Kaz tapped the end of his cane on the table, stopping the cards under the polished wooden end.

Everyone at the table looked at him startled, their actions frozen. He saw you swallow hard, a soft tremor sigh in your shoulders.

Good!

“Shouldn't you be at the door?” Kaz turned to Jesper, his eyes sparks with annoyance.

“Right now, Boss.” He stood up, giving you a strained smile and heading towards the door.

“Kaz…” You started, voice softly intoxicated.

You knew you weren't supposed to be at the gambling table, let alone so late at night and drunk, even if Jesper was by your side. You had the ability to win every play, in any game, and that ended up not only driving the others away, but leaving the men, already drunk and irrational, aggressive and with an extremely bruised ego. And they almost always wanted to retaliate physically. As much as there were security guards and cameras everywhere to keep something bad from happening, Kaz couldn't stand the thought of someone hurting you. Not even blinking insultingly in your direction.

He sent you an icy, sharp, steady look. A clear warning for you to stop there any excuse you were about to give. To be careful with the next words you would say. You swallowed hard, looking away and getting up from the table. Slightly wobbly from the drink, you fished your coat from the chair next to you, giving a strained, apologetic smile to the guy you'd been flirting with so far.

“I better go home and call an uber and…” You started, but Kaz cut your sentence.

“I'll driver you.”

His tone exuded annoyance and impatience, giving no opening to any objections, demonstrating that he was in no mood for games. Much less defiance of his orders. You knew him too well to recognize that that night had pulled his nerves beyond what he could handle, the strain and irritation in his eyes told you something had happened beyond what you knew. His jaw, straight and strong as glass, was clenched tightly, his night-colored hair was disheveled in an overwhelmingly attractive way, and his black robes sinfully marred every line of his body.

You should have become wary of the dangerous energy that he exuded through every pore at that moment. However, to your inebriated and excited brain, Kaz Brekker has never looked so fucking hot! Your underbelly vibrated in response to the personification of sin that Kaz was, your heart racing at alarming levels as you followed him out, walking over to his car.

Like every piece of Brekker's clothing, his car was sleek black, with big black wheels, tinted glass and dark leather seats. Hades' chariot. You felt your breath catch when Kaz opened the passenger door for you, his eyes avoiding yours, his jaw still clenched and dangerous energy exhaling through every fiber of his tall, lean body.

Holy Mother of God, this man was a perdition!

Kaz contained an instinctive desire to go back inside and tell that aspiring Dande that you weren't available. Instead, he closed the door when you got in and turned around in the car, closing his own and squeezing the steering wheel harder than he would have liked.

Midnight height light streamed in through the darkened car windows and gently illuminated the curve of your cheek, highlighting your skin that Kaz might have named the color of the gods. So much attention was too seductive. Emotions and reactions still bubbled through each his vein like scandant water, mingling with months of frustrated desires and burning sexual tension.

At that moment, jealousy laced him. Mine. Amazing and at the same time propelled by dangerous strength, Kaz tried to trap that feeling back into the dungeon of his soul. He controlled his fury, yet he couldn't completely tame. Annoyance turned to anger. Starting driving the car forward, Kaz tried to think of anything but how you looked like the Goddess Aphrodite on that dark bench. Splendid as a heat ray in a winter day.

“Kaz…” You started, that gentle, repentant tone that stirred every spark in his soul.

He hated how his name on your lips sounded so sensual, so right and so delicious. He would give everything he had to hear you moan his name.

“Don't start” he warned, now not because of latent annoyance, but because he didn't know if he could stop himself if he heard your voice.

However, you didn't make things any easier for him.

"You don't have to be so angry." You go "I wasn't even using all my intellect on the game, I wasn't trying to win."

Kaz didn't even know if that was the core of the problem anymore. Was he angry that you went to a table where it was dangerous? Yes. But the waters were much deeper than that, much more dangerous. The way your smile, sweet and sensual, was directed at that guy, reeled in Kaz's mind, impregnated with the plague. He felt the blood burn in his veins just remembering how melted you looked for that man. And as much as he couldn't blame you, because you were free and single, the primal, irrational part of him screamed so much louder now.

Mine.

“This does not matter anymore.” It was the only thing he managed to say, the very sensations drowning him.

“And it wasn't even that dangerous.” But unlike him, you were obliterating the burning emotions that Kaz exuded. “There were only a few players drunker than a door, and Jesper was on my side, and also James, who was very charming and...”

Kaz almost lost direction, making the car bounce smoothly. He staked his eyes at you, puzzled and bubbling.

“James?”

“Yeah, the blond guy who…”

"I don't want to know, Y/n." He cut you off "I don't want to hear about the guys you allow to drool around you like mangy dogs."

The distilled rage was impossible to contain, and before Kaz knew it, the words were out. He turned forward again, his hands tighter on the steering wheel.

“Wait…” Your tone was slightly smug, and the way you rubbed one thigh against the other was impossible for Kaz to miss.

The grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“You are jealous?” Your intonation dropped to a low, sensual, provocative level.

Suddenly, Kaz's entire body became very aware of your body inches away. He could feel the heat that you radiated and the lyrical, sweet and sinful scent of your perfume flooded all his senses. The air grew thin, puffy and stuffy, and if it had been December cold outside, Kaz would still feel the height of summer in that car. Flashes of excitement and danger rippled through the car, and the brief silence grew even more charged with sexual tension and lustful anticipation that stirred every fiber of Kaz's being.

He made the mistake of looking at you again, and your softly mischievous smile that promised a lifetime of satisfied desires only served to incite his madness. Kaz had never understood how a man could want a woman so badly that he acted irrationally and carelessly. But now he understood. And when he realized you tried to stifle a sensual sigh from the way he was looking at you, his body won the fight against his mind and Kaz stopped abruptly the car at the red traffic light.

The sexual tension between you had become unbearable. In one moment, Kaz was fighting the series of overwhelming and disturbing emotions that dominated his entire being, and in the next moment, he had taken your mouth with his in a fiery, fierce, animal kiss. Stealing all the air from both of you, his thoughts, and his sanity.

He held your face firmly in his hands, his fingers going down to the strands of hair at the nape of your neck, turning everything into something more caustic and desperate. Yours hands went to his arms, moving up to his shoulders and cupping the sides of his neck, pulling him closer. Kaz's tongue inched into your mouth without waiting for permission, conquering and claiming every fiber of your body, of your soul, in a continued of kisses you couldn't tell where one ended and another began.

The moan of satisfaction you let out gave him a lust and desire unlike anything Brekker had ever felt. Like hot, addictive honey down in his throat. He was still gripped by jealousy, annoyance and possessiveness. With the desire for you pulsing in his body just like his heartbeat.

Kaz pulled back millimetrically, his blue eyes overshadowed by the heat of the moment, his lips red and swollen from the sinful kisses he gave you. At that moment, Kaz Brekker looked like an angry young God, and you've never felt more attracted to someone in your life than you are now.

You looked at him, panting and needy, wishing with all your might that he repeat the same actions. And you knew he realized that. Perfectly. You saw the spark of male satisfaction ignite in his eyes as he absorbed your desire. He was so close... so very close, and you couldn't stand the enormous anxiety for a caress, a kiss, anything.

His cocky smile intensified as you put more pressure in your touch his skin, your fingers trailing down his neck and back to his shoulders, silently pleading for him to do something with you. Anything he wanted.

Kaz lowered his one gloved hand to your jaw, thumb and forefinger squeezing your chin and making you look at him directly, you staring into the deep, shrewd blue of his eyes. He pulled you closer by the grip on your chin, the husky, erotic words hitting your lips like a promise of sin as he said:

“Maybe I should get you a collar so you don't forget who you belong to.”

It was impossible to control the loud, needy sigh that escaped, your center throbbing in despair and wetting the thin cloth of your panties. You wanted he to touch you more, pull your body against his until there was not a single sigh left, claim your soul and your body as his. You had parted your lips to say something, most likely a plea for him to continue, but the traffic light turned green and Kaz took his hands off you, straightening up on the bench and putting the car move.

In the absence of his warmth, his body, you felt cold, empty and frozen. As if Kaz were your sun and you were Icarus. Feeling the compulsion to need to get closer, complete its magnitude and bask in his rays. Every cell in your body begged for him, in needy and submissive requests, telling you to accept anything he told you, that he gave you, as long as it touched you.

“If I knew that to make you kiss me I would have to flirt with someone else, I would have done it a long time ago.” You teased, a satisfied, malicious smile on your lips.

Kaz looked at you in annoyance. In a clear warning that you should never more do that again.

"If you wanted me to kiss you like the brat you are, you just needed to have asked." He countered your game to the full.

"But if I want more than that?" But just as he knew how to play, so did you.

You swiped the tip of your tongue across your lips, kicking off your shoes and pulling your legs over the dashboard of the car, exposing your nearly bare thighs through the thin black fabric of your dress. Your actions instantly caught Kaz's eyes, and his grip on the steering wheel grew stronger and his breathing heavier.

The air inside the car became more ardent, burn, charged with eroticism and lust that left both of you breathless. An electrifying energy coursed through their bodies, as if they had been struck by a bolt of fire. You wanted him in a way you never thought you could want anyone.

Kaz took a deep breath, and looked at you with dangerous predator eyes as he said:

"If I have to pull over, you won't be able to walk for the next week."

The words made your body tremble. But if Kaz was trying to dissuade you, that was the last thing he should have told you. Instead of taming the fire inside you, it threw gasoline into the aggressive fire. You pressed your thighs together, your body sensitive to his words filled with burning promise.

In five minutes of insane courage, you took your feet off the dashboard, leaned toward Kaz, and brushed his neck with your lips. In slow, burning, hot kisses, you traced a path to the pulse in his neck, opening your lips slightly to brush your tongue over that pulse point.

“Please.” You beg.

Kaz's moan was low, but loud enough in your mind. You were being his undoing and you knew it. Suddenly, the car veered to the right and came to an abrupt stop. You would have lost your balance if Kaz's hands hadn't clung to your waist, pulling you in one movement to his left thigh, pressing your soaked core into the black fabric of his pants.

You gasped loudly, or he, or both. And in the next moment, his mouth was on yours again. The kiss was more aggressive, possessive, angry and ardent. Kaz kissed you as if he wanted to decree you his, proclaim his possession. You didn't see when he removed his gloves, but the touch of his skin with on your thighs was all you could think of.

“Kaz…” You moaned into his mouth, and the grip on your thighs moved up to your hip, digging his fingers into your thin dress-covered skin with such force it was sure to leave marks tomorrow. "Please."

You knew what you were begging for, but the moment Kaz forced your waist to move against his thigh, rubbing your pulsing core against his thigh, you forgot even your own name. And Kaz knew it. Then, like dominant man who wanted to see you surrendered to him that he was, his mouth went to your ear as he whispered:

"Do you want me to fuck you?" Kaz wiggled his thigh against you, making your clit roll against the soggy fabric of your panties.

You moaned loudly, your hands tightening on his shirt, your face hiding in his chest as an overwhelming, aching pleasure invaded your system. It felt good, but unbearable for being so little, churning something in your belly that made you despair for more.

"Y-yes." You whimpered, rolling your hips on his thigh.

Kaz's bare hand crept up the slit between your thighs, your dress already balled up at the top of your waist, and dipped his fingers into the juncture of your pussy and his thigh, pulling your panties to the side and making you feel the fabric of his dark pants against your wet, hot flesh. You moaned louder, your grip on his shirt tighter and your hips rocked harder for have any friction.

“Do you want me to fuck you like the little slut you are? Is that what you've wanted all this time?” His words, husky and strong, in that intense, dominant intonation, sent all your self-control to hell.

"Yes." You sobbed. “I-I need you."

But his hand in your panties went up to your chin, and he forced you to look him in the eye once more. The electric intensity of that look turned you on even more, making you gasp as his thigh still rocked against your throbbing clit.

“After that little stunt? you’re not getting off that easy” It was very hard to think with all the stimuli he was giving you, but the thunderous blue eyes warned you to pay attention to his words “Do you think you deserve me to fuck you?”

His gaze invaded you so deep and so warm and intense that you wondered if he was trying to leave a burning imprint on your soul. All over your body, overwhelming desires resonated, and you gave in to the compulsion to roll his thigh further, whimpering from the pressure on your clit.

"I'm s-so sorry." You whimpered, eyes pleading with he "It won't happen again."

"Won't happen what?" He tightened his grip on your chin, not painfully, but firmly to get your attention.

"It won't happen again, Sir."

The reward for your obedience came in an aggressive, hungry kiss, his hand in your chin dropping for your hip and wiggle his thigh at your needy pussy.

"Do you want to cum?" He teased you.

"Yes, S-sir."

"The only way you're getting off is on my thigh."

Then, as if to reiterate his statement, his mouth clutte to yours once more, his thigh swayed with more vigor and his bare hands moved up to the neckline of your dress.

His warm palms and long fingers lowered the straps of your dress and released your braless breasts, your nipples hard with pleasure and your breasts swollen with arousal.

Your moan was muffled by Kaz's, and he just released your mouth to lower his lips to your left breast, capturing the innocent nipple with his mouth and rolling his tongue across your flesh. You moaned louder, your waist twisting desperately against his thigh as your hands tangled in the strands of his black hair.

Kaz delighted in every inch of you, his hands going back to your waist as his mouth attacked your other breast, leaving a trail of hot saliva on his tight, needy nipples. Brekker was consumed by a fierce hunger and need, so overpowering that he pressed his fingers to your skin as if you were his last meal. He'd wanted for so long to do all that, to dive into your body like a starving man, savoring every inch of your warm skin.

Letting out a loud, delighted moan, Kaz increased his thigh movements as he suckled on your nipple, feeling flung to hell heaven as you squealed softly and collapsed onto his thigh, smearing his black fabric with your hot cum. But Kaz couldn't care less about the fucking pants. His cock hard and rigid as a sword hilt throbbed desperately, commanding him to sink into the heat of your slippery walls.

"This is much better than I dreamin." You whimpered softly, your face still buried in his neck, your waist wiggling slyly in his thigh.

"Do you think of me when you touch yourself?" He teased you, taking his hands to your panties away from the center of your pussy and pulling them between your legs, tucking them in his pants pocket.

You nodded, your mouth dipping into his neck in broken kisses as your hands went to his pants belt, trying to get rid of any barrier between the two of you as quickly as possible.

"Please, please." You begged, flustered as Kaz stopped your hip movements with his hands "I need to feel you inside me."

Your plea was sated with an arrogant kiss as Kaz reached for his pants, pulling the fabric of the boxer together and letting pop out his dick throbbing, pulsing and his swollen head, brushing in your pussy with lazy strides.

"S-sir!" You cried, trying to earn more.

"Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you."

The strong, long arm wrapped around your waist, pressing your chest against his chest as Kaz guided his dick to the entrance to your pussy, with one hand. He play whit you, pressing his head into your entrance just enough to make you feel the pressure, recoiling when you swayed frantically for more. The painful pleasure sent tears to your eyes, and you sobbed loudly as you were just toy in his hands.

A few hot tears ran down your face as you whimpered, helpless in his arms to get what you wanted.

"You know, you look real pretty when you cry." Kaz pressed his mouth to yours.

In that second, he completely sank his dick into you, swallowing your loud scream as the thickness of it widened you and hit the bottom of the well. The grip of his arm around you tightened, and Kaz lifted you and brought you let down badly, drown his dick even more deeply inside your hot, wet, desperate walls.

"S-sir!" You moaned loudly, his mouth leaving yours, but not pulling away enough and letting you feel his hard breath hit your lips.

You followed his thrusts, bouncing your waist up and down hard and letting his dick beat frantically inside you, robbing you of your breath and your ability to think. Your moans mingled with his, the pornographic sounds of their bodies crashing together were loud and you thanked God the car windows were black and the street was deserted.

"So fucking good slut!" Kaz growled against your lips, one hand leaving your body to snake down to your throat, maintaining a firm, dominant grip.

You moaned his name and his title between loud moans and broken sobs. Yours hands closed around the shirt off his shoulders and the waist shimmied between the thrusts, making sure his dick was completely inside you.

“You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat!” Kaz tightened his grip on yoir neck, watching you tilt your head back and expose your entire body to the delight of his eyes.

He growled louder, spurred on by that sinful sight, and increased the rhythm that pounded inside you, filling every inch of you and sinking down as anatomically as possible. Kaz felt possessed by a wild beast, insatiable and euphoric, and each thrust he gave you was more force he inflicted on you, marking you as his.

Kaz pulled your neck to him, pressing your mouth to his as he growled against your lips: “Mine.”

You nodded frantically, the apex bursting in a burst of pleasure as his dick came out and sank in hard, desperate, urgent strokes.

“Yours”

You promised, kissing him urgently and swallowing a low cry as his dick shuddered inside you, flooding you with the hot liquid until your walls overflowed, giving you a feeling of being incredibly full. You whimpered into his mouth, exchanging a sloppy kiss as Kaz gave you a few more thrusts, making sure his cum would fill your every inch, not letting you dare waste a drop.

“Mine” he repeated through the kiss.

so, the weather??? HAHAHA, anyway friends, i hope you enjoyed. Don’t forget consult the rules if you want to request for some Kaz smut. Love u. O

#kaz brekker fluff #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz x kruge #kaz brekker au #kaz brekker smut #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker could break my legs with his cane and i would say thank you #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker #shadow and bone smut #inejgayfa #jesper fahey #kaz x jesper

2K notes · View notes

neonponders · 2 years

Text

I’m still staring at the femme!Steve edits from @plistommy ( here and here ), and am super intrigued by the idea of Steve having a twin sister.

• • • • •

Billy had a problem. A problem that started on Day 1 of his arrival at Hawkins High.

Stacy and Steve Harrington.

Yes, they were one problem, because they were joined at the hip any chance they got. It was eerie, how they were the spinning image of one another, but also that they were so close. Billy had known twins before, but they had always seemed to be the same gender, or lived very separate lives.

When he first got to Hawkins, he laughed, “Those two really play up the twin thing, huh?”

But he was soon corrected. Just because Stacy had the same voluminous, brunette hair and large doe eyes as her brother, did not mean she was some doll. And if she was a doll, her brother was living marble; the prettiest statue Billy had ever seen walk out of an antiquity book.

A brother who got called King Steve behind his back for a keg stand record and talent in bed.

Talents they both shared, considering Billy got to witness a fight his first week in Hawkins. King Steve defending his sister’s honor. Ha.

“The hell’s your deal, Harrington? She’s just some slut. I’m your friend - ”

Billy hadn’t thought Steve had it in him. He carried himself like a rich prep who hadn’t met a stiff hand in his life. But he threw Michael Peterson against his own car and watched him fall onto the asphalt. “Half our grade and then some has sampled your girlfriend. You don’t hear anyone bragging about it. You’re not special just because you got with my sister.”

Billy had a front row seat to watch said sister stroll right up to the fight. She nudged Steve out of the way and spit on Peterson’s hair. “He can brag all he wants to. Doesn’t change the fact that he’s a cheater. I won a bet with that girl of yours, by the way. Now behave or I’ll share the bullshit you like to say during sex. Mr. Mommy issues.”

In short, the Harrington twins ruled the school, and King Steve was just a pretty lacky to his sister. Stacy was valedictorian of her year, making her immune to any real punishment from the school. The kind of scary smart that Billy could respect -

If she wasn’t in. The. Way.

“What’d you win?” Steve chirped as they strolled toward his car. He sounded like the younger sibling even if they were minutes apart.

“To sleep with Peterson? Her mom’s diamond earrings.”

“Holy shit.”

“He came without penetration, but he was too drunk to remember and she doesn’t need to know that.”

“Neither do I,” Steve grimaced before matching eyes landed on Billy. Steve looked vacant for a millisecond, and then curious. He looked to his twin for a cue but she cocked an amused brow right back at him. “Hey, Hargrove. You okay?”

Billy smiled. “I saw your commercial. When does your job start?”

Stacy let her brother answer. Steve failed to hide how much he hated that damn commercial. “Next week.”

“Hell of a send off for the semester,” Billy crooned, glancing at Peterson sulking over to his car.

Steve only sighed and folded himself down into the driver’s seat. The less he thought about the impending summer job, the slower it arrived.

Stacy took her time, sizing Billy up. He lifted his brows at her. “Yes, Other Harrington?”

Her pretty mouth shut like she had come to an understanding. “Mall grand opening is at 9am. Come in your lifeguard shorts.”

• • • • •

Robin had a problem.

Because she was stuck working the summer with the Harrington twins.

One of whom, was...maybe not as bad as she’d previously thought. Now that the three of them were as good as locked in a room together, she witnessed how he was really sweet to his sister. The sister...

“Robin, did you already get a base burn for the summer?” she both asked and teased. Robin did not have a sunburn. “When you go on break, take the sunscreen out of my bag. That glass ceiling is going to be the end of us.”

The sister was a very, very pretty problem.

#harringrove #it's going to be one hell of a summer #twins!au #stacy and steve harrington #ficlet #neonponders #billy shows up in the spring instead of the autumn here

136 notes · View notes

healpeony · 3 years

Text

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐒 | 𝐄𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐭. 𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐈. 𝐈 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; After having that little talk with Armin in the party, Y/n just have to remind Eren who he belongs to.

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 + 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠; mature, 18+, series, fanfiction.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; Profane, reader gets called mistress, slapping, degradation, vaginal penetrative sex, hand job, edging, pet names, alcohol, sub Eren, dom reader.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 3.5k

Notes; this took longer to write than I expected, I wanted to try and use new words and not the same ones each time so it was a little difficult xd. I hope you guys enjoy reading it. sorry for any mistakes.

THE RESTING BITCH FACE THAT YOU HAD wasn't caused by the loud music that was going on in the party busting loud through the speakers, it was the fact that Armin was speaking to Eren making those lovely (and lust) filled eyes that the brunette failed to notice. You hated how the blonde looked at Eren, couldn't Armin understand that Eren was yours?

"Y/n, are you listening?"

The sudden sound of your name coming out of Eren's mouth took your attention away from Armin — who you realize was making eye contact with you returning the same look you were giving him — Eren of course not noticing. Turning towards the teal eyed boy, you stared at him with an apologetic look for not having heard him.

"Sorry, what was that, love? I didn't quite catch it"

"Armin was asking if you would like a refill of wine?" Eren asked putting an arm around your smaller frame

"Sure, Armin!"

You smiled, a little too sweet. Armin returned the same smile before looking at Eren "What would you like?" his voice as soft as a feather

imbecile.

"I want a glass of whis-"

"I think that is enough Eren, you have drunk way too much already"

Eren was about to protest, but when you gave him a stern look it made him shut up immediately. Armin didn't fail to notice this, softly humming at the realization — Eren was submissive towards you despite his stubborn and dom energy infront of others.

"I'll get the drinks for us then" Armin said before leaving the you both alone

"Y/n...." Eren whined "Why can't I drink?!"

"Because I said so, don't get started with that bratty attitude"

"But I just had two glasses of whiskey! That is not even a lot.." he continued "You can't always tell me what to d—"

You didn't bother to look around to make sure nobody was watching — before you grabbed both side of Eren's cheeks squeezing them with one hand. You were already angry enough and here Eren was making that emotion grow with that attitude of his.

"If you don't stop right this instant, you're going to be punished right here" you told him through gritted teeth

Eren immediately shut up, only opening his mouth to let out a submissive "Sorry mistress" hanging his head low when you let go of his face

"Good boy" you murmured, taking his face in both of your hands more gently than before and kissing him sweetly on the lips

"I'm going to check if Armin needs any help"

You were absolutely not going to let that happen. The thought of Eren alone with that man made you feel something so pathetic and childish, Jealousy why would you feel that, when the blonde can't never take Eren away from you.

Eren did not feel the same for Armin. That was what you kept telling yourself.

"I'll check, you stay here"

You stood up walking towards the kitchen passing by a lot of the drunk young adults. The smell was disgusting, you obviously expected that since the party have been going on since the afternoon and it was already night outside. Sasha sure loved planning long lasting parties, it has happened two times this month.

As you neared the kitchen you caught a glimpse of the unmistakable blonde man, he was pushing people out of his way with just a glare to get to the cabinet where the wines were located, the sleeves of his button up shirt were pushed up to his elbows.

Armin Arlert was an attractive man, anyone was lying if they said he wasn't, including you. Most of the time half of his blonde hair was pulled up in a ponytail, some strands falling on his face making his beautiful — yet intimidating to some — ocean eyes stand out, his signature colors being black and dark blue, those colors did made him more handsome then he already was, always making even the smallest of his features stand out.

"Are you going to stand there and glare at me forever or what?"

You rolled your eyes at the man, walking around to the other side of the kitchen counter where he was pouring some whiskey for himself while your already filled glass of wine seated in the counter. You took it bringing the blood red drink towards your lips while looking right into Armin's eyes.

You loved drinking wine, you had always liked the bittersweet taste it had and no matter how much glasses of wine you drank, it never made you that drunk. You were used to it by now.

"So what are you doing here?" he rested his hip against the counter, one arm crossed around his chest with his whiskey in the other hand

"To help, well Eren wanted to come. We both know you didn't need help bringing Whiskey and wine"

You knew exactly what Eren really wanted, you know your brunette lover like the back of your hand. For you he was an open book, It was stupid on his part to assume you didn't know why he wanted to go into the kitchen.

When the boy wanted something he was way too stubborn to let anyone tell him no, including you. He wanted to come and drink the whiskey in the kitchen while you waited for them to return in the living room couch.

Armin studied you while you were lost in the sea of thoughts, you were so easy to read even when you thought otherwise, he knew how much you disliked him and how you wanted him far away from Eren — that obviously wasn't going to happen, he knew Eren first, if anybody had to leave it was you — sometimes he would notice how you would get scare of his intimidating aura, and then cover it up with a comment.

That couldn't make him more satisfied, knowing how he can easily get a reaction from you.

"Yeah, pretty smart guy huh?" Armin said sarcastically, a chuckle coming out of his throat before drinking from his whiskey and continuing with a taunting look while gazing at you "tonight he looks really handsome, don't you think?"

He had done this many times before, he would wait until you both were alone and would tell you what he thought of Eren's looks. It was irritating and made your jealousy grow, but you always kept yourself as calm as you could just like in this situation.

"Yeah, he really is. I'm pretty sure a lot of people are jealous that I have him. Don't you think?" you smirked at him, mocking his tone

"Yeah, I'm sure. But Eren isn't an object, you don't own him and you don't have him. He's a human being" this time his voice had gone back that innocent one that made your blood boil and the intimidation seem to have disappear from his eyes

"Please tell me you two aren't fighting again"

You felt stupid. of course that was the reason of his sudden change of demeanor, Eren was there. Armin did this frequently, be talking to you in his “true self” then put up the timid and good boy facade whenever the brunette walked into the room.

"I thought I told you to stay in the living room"

Your voice was low and Eren could clearly hear the anger behind it, you didn't do this often, you would always keep your cool and never let him know about your negative feelings. It was like you wanted him to hear the anger in the tone you used, and that did nothing but scared him.

"Yeah, but you took too long..."

Eren was beginning to regret coming to the kitchen, the glare he was receiving making his knees weak, he wanted to drop down on the floor and humilate himself by apologizing to you over and over like you were his god, but his pride was too big. You mentally smirked in satisfaction when you noticed this, but your eyes remained in a glare, you loved the effect you had on him.

"I think it's getting late, we should go back home right, baby?" you had walked closer to you poor baby, playing with his key necklace

"Y—yeah, I think we should" he anxiously said, Eren knew he couldn't say no to you anyways

"Armin, it was a pleasure to talk to you" you said turning to the blonde and hugging him, whispering in his ear "Don't worry about Eren, he's going to have an incredible time for the rest of the night" you pulled away giving him a smile

You grabbed Eren's arm not giving him a chance to properly say goodbye to Armin, walking him out the kitchen and living room, making sure to avoid any of your friends on the way.

Armin stood in the kitchen holding the glass of whiskey tightly, his lips pressed hard together. Words couldn't describe how much he disliked you, from the moment he met you — since Eren had already told him, he had a crush on you before you two met — to this moment now. But there was something about you that was intoxicating, he found himself doing things that annoyed you on purpose, innocently flirting with the oblivious Eren for example.

The blonde couldn't deny the fact that he felt an attraction towards you, he wanted nothing more than to fuck that attitude out of you, to see you falling apart on his arms — moaning, screaming, crying his name while he fucked submissiveness into you —he wanted to see you begging for him. But he also wanted Eren, the boy looking at him with his teal eyes full of tears, needing his cock, just imagining the boy following his every command made him go hard.

But again, Armin could only imagine what you were going to do with Eren tonight.

Meanwhile you and Eren were already in his car, you in the passenger seat while the latter was in the drivers seat. The ride as been filled with a silence in it, so far only the soft music coming from the radio — which Eren was too nervous to change — made the car ride comfortable, but the tension was still there.

That was until you started humming, which you only did when you needed to calm yourself down.

The two hands Eren had in the steering wheel tightened their grip on it.

"Do you know why I'm mad Eren?"

Your voice was firm, no emotion detected in it. That trait of yours never failed to make him feel small, but he loved the sound of you voice, he found it soo graceful, he felt so lucky to have you as his girlfriend. The fact that he knew what was about to come after they have this conversation, where he explains what he did wrong — made his cock stand up for attention in his pants, he was so ready for you.

"Armin."

"What about Armin?"

He had no idea on how to answer that correctly, you would always complain about the blonde accusing him of acting differently when Eren wasn't there even to the point of saying Armin wanted to fuck him. Of course he didn't believe that, Eren was aware that Armin was an adult, but the blonde would never think of doing that with him — his best friend — he was sure that it was only your overpossesiveness and jealousy.

"He made you mad" the brunette said truly hoping you would like his answer

"How did he made me mad?" you kept pushing, leaning back on your seat vicious eyes looking right at him ready to jump at him at any second while his knuckles became white

"He made you feel jealous, mistress" he elaborated, although he didn't quite understand how him speaking to Armin made you jealous

"Yes he did, what else did you do?"

"I disobeyed a direct order"

"That's right. Now tell me Eren, what happens when you break my rules or make your mistress mad?"

"I get punished."

"You have been such a bad boy, Eren."

"I thought I told you that when I came back from the bathroom that I wanted to see you naked"

You had your hands on your now unclothed hips, a lingerie being the only thing you had on. Eren was laying back on the bed with his underwear still on before he heard your voice and rapidly sitting up.

"I'm so sorry, mistress!"

You tisked shaking your head "What's wrong with you today? You're being soo disobedient..."

Eren stood up from the bed, walking towards you and dropping to his knees, tears in his eyes, he didn't want you to not let him cum tonight.

"I promise to be good for you, I'll do better!"

You bend over grabbing his chin softly stroking it with a sadistic smile, "I'll be soo happy the day I see you being a good boy"

Your teeth made contact with his bottom lip pulling it, Eren moaning at the feeling and smiling up at you when you let go.

"You're so pretty. I love having such a pretty looking thing all to myself.."

"All yours, Eren"

That was the end of the little moment, because of the slap sound coming from your hand making contact with the brunette's cheek.

Eren felt tears already forming in his eyes, but he wasn't going to give you the satisfaction of crying too fast. Hiding his teary eyes from you was useless though, since you took a hold of his hair squatting down behind him.

"Don't think the that would've gotten you a way out of your punishment. You're pathetic" you whispered in his ear, your hot breath fanned over his skin making shivers go down his spine "Take those off for me, kitten" you told him motioning to his underwear while getting back up

Eren stood up taking off his underwear as fast a he could, his cock slapping his pelvis, excitement shooting through his veins for what was about to come.

You looked at him up and down making his cheeks go red, even though you have already seem him like this many times.

"Aww, is my baby blushing?" you pouted taking a hold of his cock making him let out a surprised gasp

"Y—Y/n" he moaned when you started moving your hand up and down, from his tip to his balls

"What was that? What did you called me?" you asked, the pace of your hand being painfully slow, glaring daggers at him while pushing him towards the bed making him sit down

"Mistress, I'm sorry..."

He wished your pace would be faster, you of course continued to torment him keeping the same pace for a while.

"Why are you being like this, Eren?"

"I don't — ahh — understand, mistress."

"Breaking rules, letting Armin flirt with you, everything that you have done today..."

With each said word the pace increased, your hand moving faster making Eren let out loud groans that echoed on the walls of your bedroom.

"Quiet! I have heard your stupid voice more than enough today."

Eren nodded, if you wanted him to shut up you obviously didn't want him to answer verbally.

You were the love of his life, the one person who knew how submissive he actually was. Someone who could give him the relief he needed, but also the one who could add more pressure to him. Someone who showered him with kissed, but also punished him for his bad actions.

You were his balance. The reason behind his now stable life. No matter what happened or how much you two argue, you were always there for each other.

Just like he was there for you to take out your frustrations, by obeying you and comforting you.

Your hand were still on his cock, and your lips were now rather occupied. Biting, sucking and kissing the soft skin of his neck, making sure to leave the marks on places that were noticeable.

Eren was a whimpering mess, gripping your left arm trying to pull you closer, but you ended up freeing your arm and pulling his hair to make him stop from doing it again.

Even though he was a sub, he never submitted completely, always tried to have some control over you thinking that he can just do whatever he wants whenever you're punishing him. He knew it was a lost battle, you never let him feel any power over you. You had the control of his entire body — you decide when he cums, you decide what he calls you, you decide when he should or shouldn't masturbate, you decided what he was going to be looking at, you decided what he should wear.

You were his mistress and he was there to obey you.

"I'm close.." he moaned, his head thrown back

You immediately pulled away, standing up with your tongue licking your fingers taking the remaining of pre cum into your mouth. Eren led out a whine, looking up at you, now he had let the tears fall down freely.

You chuckled shaking your head.

"You seriously didn't think it was going to be that easy, kitten"

"please" he begged "I'll do anything... I will be good, I promise!"

"sure, sure. I don't believe that words speak better than actions crap, Eren. You have to show me that you are going to do better"

You smirked before saying "In the mean time, you should face the consequences of your own actions, don't you think?"

Eren let out a sob as you edged him for the fourth time of the night, his hands and legs were shaking. Tears were running down his faces, some were dry, and some were being kissed away by your lips.

You were now sitting on his cock your hips moving at a agonizingly slow pace, one of your hands was on his cheek caressing the soft skin under his eye with your thumb.

"It's ok now, baby. You can cum” you smiled down at him while the pace of your hips kept getting quicker

“Thank you, mistress... thank you...” he breathlessly keep murmuring the two words while his cum painted the walls deep inside of you

You threw your head back moaning getting off at the feeling of his cum in you. slowly you came down from your high letting out little pants, while Eren did the same trying to catch his breath.

“Are you ok?” you asked pulling yourself off of him, missing the fullness of his cock in you as you did

“Yeah, thank you.” he lazily smiled, his voice husky and eyes fighting to stay open

“Eren, you won't sleep with all that sweat and cum on you. I'mma run you a bath, don't fall asleep” you commanded before standing up from the bed feeling his cum tripping from inside of you and onto your thighs

You look back towards the bed and chuckled when you saw that Eren had closed his eyes most likely already sleeping.

You of course weren't going to allow him to sleep like that still.

Armin looked at the blonde girl under him, the movement of his hips making her boobs jiggle. He didn't even remember her name, he had seen her talking to you a couple of times, she was soo feisty and not easy to get, refusing to even flirt back with him — his manipulative persona did wonders on people, and that's what changed her mind — in some way it reminded him of you, that might be the reason why you two have spoken before.

Maybe that's one of the reasons why he choose her to get his dick wet.

Her pussy was tight barely letting him move and he could only guess that she didn't do this often. He was unsatisfied.

However everytime he looked down at her it wasn't her face he was seeing, it was yours, the moans of his name that she led out were replaced with your own moans — the ones he created in his head when trying to imagine how you sound like — when she scratched his back all he could imagine was your pretty hands and nails doing that to him. And that made him feel good enough.

This has happened before, but what he said next has never occurred and it shocked him as much as it shocked the girl.

“y/n...”

he had moaned your name.

©healpeony 2021

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠; @mallang @namrekcaivel if you want to be added or removed let me know!

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #aot x reader #aot oneshots #armin arlert #aot #eren yeager #eren smut #eren jaeger smut #eren x reader smut #eren jaeger x reader smut #eren jaegar x reader #armin smut #armin arlert smut #armin arlert x reader #eremin smut #eremin

308 notes · View notes

jasmine-the-fox · 4 years

Text

Pusher... Is pushed and punished

OK so this salt fic is very dark... There will be severe bullying and threats and demands of suicide, there will be blood too but please understand that this fic will be explained at the end... Also I got the idea from watching some meme’s to the song pusher.

Lila Rossi never thought she would go down like this... All because of her attempt to kill Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

It was all going well, she had made the class hate her... Except for Chloe and Sabrina, they followed her to the back and glared at them when they spoke bad about Marinette but she didn’t care! The girl was getting what she promised, then she took Adrien from her, once Alya gave up on helping Mari dating Adrien as she didn’t want to “Stop bullying Lila for being jealous of her connections” Alya turned to help Lila date him... And his father was forcing him to date Lila.

She didn’t get a reaction, Marinette just shrugged and walked away... That pissed her off, so to get back at her, each time Mari was alone, Lila would attack, a punch here, a kick there, a bucket of water poured on her here, trash dumped on her there she even tore her clothes once! And each time she got away with it because the class claimed she was being clumsy! Even better Adrien looked upset with Mari for causing a scene!!!

Now that was fun... But she wanted the girl gone, Marinette was still smiling, each time she harmed Mari, Chloe would tell the principal she called the police to investigate because “Mari couldn’t have been clumsy like that! These bruises were done to her!!” she then ordered her father to get cameras set up because it didn’t make sense for the girl to be soaked with water or covered in trash... Once Lila had grabbed trash from her place since the day she would do it had been trash day and Chloe figured it out.

So Lila couldn’t do much more now, but the class did and they were getting punished... Even accused of being the ones who attacked Mari when it was Lila, they denied it but there actions matched the ones Lila did... So they were suspended or given detention, Lila felt a little bad for them but it kept her safe though... But Marinette was still here and Lila Rossi didn’t like that one bit as she sighed while in her room.

She would need to get her hands dirty once again.

It wasn’t the first time she caused a death, in Italy she moved to 5 different schools before moving to Paris because she had caused three classmates to end there lives... While she had to kill two and were believed as suicides, and she didn’t mind that because it was easy, just claimed she being bullied by the student, her classmates claimed the same and then claim you think they ended there lives to say sorry... Simple right?

Well... Not with Marinette Dupain-Cheng it wasn’t... For she was very clumsy.

Mari was heading to visit Kagami for a sleepover, Lila knew this because Alya overheard them and told Lila how she was certain Mari was just trying to get money or something... Lila didn’t listen, so after school, Lila ran home and called her mother to tell her she was going to be a little late when heading home as she had to go do something, leaving her bag behind but taking her purse, Lila rushed over to the bakery and waited for Marinette to leave and walk over to the Tsurugi house.

Once she saw her leave, Lila waited a bit before following... It went easy on that part now she had to wait for a car to get a green light for her to push Mari in the street, they were just getting to the corner of the Tsurugi home when the light turned green, cars began to move and as Lila saw Mari get to the corner... She ran, Lila ran as fast as she could without making a sound and just as Mari turned around... Lila pushed her into the street.

She wished that was true for once.

As Mari was falling, her nails pierced into Lila’s close as Mari tried to gain balance to keep standing... And as she pushed up to stand to get the police on what Lila tried to do... Lila fell into the street just as a car was moving in... And everything went black on the Italian.

When Lila woke up, she found herself in a hospital... Handcuffed to the bed, a nurse had just walked in, her mother standing before her with a furious look... And a police officer in the room, turns out there were cameras who filmed her stalking and following Mari to the Tsurugi house, then at one point Mari had texted her parents and Kagami about someone following her so they called the police, they got there just as Mari was trying to save Lila’s life, she was covered in blood that Lila was losing and had even used her jacket to try and stop the bleeding, while Kagami was calling for an ambulance and her mother was keeping the drunk driver there with them.

But when they brought her to the hospital... Things were discovered on Lila, she was found out... It turns out that the three students she pushed to end there lives left a dying message to there parents about Lila and her actions but sadly by the time they got the police involved... Lila had changed schools, as for the other two, they had left either a journal entry or a video claiming how they felt like Lila was planning to do something to them... Something to make them disappear actually, and since they had just witnessed Lila about to cause Marinette to die... They had the proof Lila was dangerous.

Two weeks after being in the hospital, Lila was for three months in court stuck before a judge to decide her fate on the three suicide cases, the two murder cases and the now first attempted murder case, Lila’s family lawyer told her that the other lawyers were refusing a plea deal... Because all the people she had lied about also put her to court and the judge agreed on no plea deal, so whatever was decided... She wasn’t getting out of it no matter what.

She ended up being put into juvenile detention until she was an adult where she would then be transferred to jail in Italy... And there was no way she was going to be able to get out, of course to her luck her lawyer got the judge to agree she does her last year of school at least... But that didn’t mean she was all over the news with what she did all this time.

When she arrived on Monday... The whole class turned on her, called her a monster, a demon, Adrien broke up with her, Gabriel terminated her contract, the Agreste family put a restraining order on her, the class was being fined for what they did to Mari, Alya was being fined for all the lies she posted about Lila on her blog... On and on the class went at her, while Mari walked in with Chloe and Sabrina who trying to give her some comfort on what she went through... And then Mari spoke “You know Lila... I really would have wanted to be your friend if you hadn’t threatened me in the bathroom, or started to attack me and getting it accused on the class” she said as Lila’s eyes widen as she looked back to the class.

While Chloe grinned like a maniac, Sabrina comforted Mari and Marinette sobbed quietly... The class got violent on Lila for what they just found out about Lila, all this time she caused all of this to them... And they wanted justice, the principal had been brought in by Caline as the class revealed that Lila was the one who attacked Mari from the start at school and not them, they demanded justice now.

By lunch, Lila was expelled and failed her last year of high school.

She was placed into juvenile detention the next day, they did allow her to retake her school years yes I said years... Turns out Lila got her classmates to do her homework for her and other things, when she couldn’t she lied to Caline and never turned anything in... So she had to retake three years of high school, at least she was busy with that, during that time the class struggled in trying to figure out there lives, Lila had lied to them about all kinds of opportunities she had opened up for them... But they were all lies in the end, not only that but they all tried to fix things with Marinette.

They believed that sweet Marinette would forgive them and be there friends again... Even helped them with there dreams, but she refused everything, she was done being a doormat, done bending herself in different angles to help them all, done with giving them free things which she billed them for and sent copies to all there parents where warned that there kids had only a month to pay her back before she adds increasement charges of 10% for each week they don’t pay her back, they tried to escape this... Even tried getting Adrien to help but Chloe helped her too not break and had Sabrina take care of refusing them there request.

They were doomed with how much they owed her in the end.

For three years, they have pushed her to make them baked goods and didn’t pay her for them... She paid for the ingredients from her pockets, then there was the free clothes they got... Also paid for fabric and yarn from her pockets, but not once did they think it was expensive, turns out that Ivan has an allergy to sheep wool so Mari had to order and get shipped alpaca or llama wool to knit him certain things that he asks her, or the Mylène asks to make so she can gift to Ivan, what’s worse is that Alya discovered the alpaca wool and demanded Mari knit her things with it, and if it wasn’t the alpaca wool she would get pissed, go to Mari’s room and destroy it in front of her before yelling at her to make it again “with the correct wool this time”

Mari always cried after Alya was gone.

Her parents even banned the class from the bakery, with how much they owed there daughter they told there parents that there kids were banned until they paid back Mari and learn that they need to ask in advance and pay her in advance in full when they want something from her... Then they would be unbanned, Nino was the first to fully pay her back, it cost him his pay from his recent gig but at least he could now have the eclairs they make again... Just needs to pay for them, then it was Rose and Juleka, the two had pawned a few of there things to pay her and got the whole amount on the last day of the month.

Sadly Alix and Kim only paid her a small part so they had to get jobs each, it took Alix a month before she could pay her back in full... Kim took two and a half, Max paid her in half of the month he had to pay her, same for Mylène while Ivan had to sell his drum set and get a job to pay her back due to the whole she had to order for him all this time, Adrien didn’t need to pay her since he still didn’t know the scarf he wears she made for his birthday and Alya... She was still paying her back after a year, a month, two weeks and four days later.

Nathaniel also never ask for anything of the sorts, he was the only one who never thought Mari would bully Lila, but he believed Lila... He also always paid for the things he asked for her to make and he asked her months in advance so she had a bunch of time, but she sadly couldn’t forgive him yet since he did believe Lila over her, but he was working hard to be forgiven and he wasn’t going to give up.

Gabriel found out about everything from the news, once he saw what Lila did in Italy he worked hard to cut all ties to her and then demanded that Adrien tries to date Mari with the claims of “She will make the brand rise higher then miss Rossi ever could, she will even be able to restore the shame miss Rossi brought upon us with what she has done” so Adrien tried to contact her... But his number was blocked, also she had a new phone and number so he couldn’t speak with her, he then tried going up to her but Marinette’s friends always got to her first and pulled her away before he could get close.

Then came Valentine’s day, he decided to leave her gifts and cards around for her, at the bakery, as she was leaving for school, in her locker, on her desk, secretly placed in her bag... Anywhere right as she wasn’t looking, then as school was ending he left her one last note in her locker, asking her to wait for him at the school doors, and she did wait, he walked up to her with a bouquet of roses and asked her on a date.

But she rejected him... Claimed she didn’t have feelings for him... And was dating someone else.

That someone else being Luka Couffaine, Juleka’s big brother, had walked over at that moment to ask Mari if she was ready to head to The Liberty where his mother had prepared for them and Mari’s parents a dinner for them to meet, she agreed and then left Adrien there... Alone without the girl he had tried to have date him... Him, Adrien Agreste the most beloved model in Paris, the one girls went to there knees trying to ask to date them... And he was rejected by the first girl he ever asked out on a date... And was beaten by a quiet guitar player.

When he returned home, his father was disappointed in Adrien, said he would fix his mistake and have Marinette Dupain-Cheng to not only agree to work for him but agree to leave Luka to date Adrien in the end... He knew his father was right, Gabriel Agreste always got what he wanted when he decided on it, so why would this be any different?

But it wasn’t.

Marinette refused the deal, said that what Adrien did to her when Lila had harmed her at school traumatized her and she didn’t feel safe with him, she feared that if she did something, he would act like she was “causing a scene” again when she wasn’t doing anything wrong in the end so she ordered them to leave her alone and to never speak to her again.

After that things staid like that, Lila was taken to prison in Italy, Nathaniel at last was Mari’s friend again, Chloe, Sabrina, Kagami, Marc, Aurore and Mireille found success in life, Mari and Luka got married and then had a daughter named Melody, the class still suffer to this day for believing Lila and Adrien ended up dating a model his father picked for him to be with, he got her pregnant with a boy and was being planned to marry her without him being able to put in his opinion.

This was there life now... All because they believed Lila Rossi.

What did you think about this fic? Sure in the meme’s the victim is pushed by the bully to fall and almost die and then something happens making them jump for real to there death... But please try to understand the message i’m putting in here.

People are being bullied... And they did nothing wrong to deserve it. They just went to school, tried to get good grades, made friends and maybe even got in a relationship.

But then someone ends up bullying them, and sometimes no one helps the victim.

Take this story for example, imagine your either Lila or Marinette alright?

If you pick to be Lila, how would you feel if you were being bullied all of a sudden? How would you feel when your attacked but the bully claims you did it to yourself or harmed them? How would you feel when you leave behind a message to your parents and you end your life? How would you feel just going home or something and the bully causes you to die and they get away with it by claiming you bullied them and you ended your own life?

How would you feel?

Now if you picked Marinette, how does that make you feel? What Lila did to you? Making you classmates pull away from you? The guy you had a crush on look at you like what your doing is wrong? Your classmates attacking you because Lila claimed you hurt her? Lila lying that your clumsy after she attacks you? Lila getting away with what she did by getting your classmates punished for it? Lila trying to kill you only for her to end up almost dead?

What about Lila being punished for everything she did to you and people from her past schools? The class being punished for what they did to you? The class finding out what Lila did all this time in the past and to you? You not accepting your classmates in the end? And then you living the happy life while your classmates are still suffering to this day because of Lila?

Do you see where i’m going with this? If you don’t then that’s fine cause at least you tried to understand and at least read this right? So thank you for that at least and for reposting this fic to your page so others can read it and understand that bullying is wrong and needs to be stopped.

#miraculous ladybug #lila salt #lila gets exposed #Attempted murder #suicide #bullying #attacks #lies #School transfer #proof #Dying message #Marinette gets lucky

470 notes · View notes

midnightmoonkiss · 4 years

Text

Painful Stings & Sweet Apologies

Yandere! Izuku Midoriya X Fem! Reader

Summary: Rage fueled by failure, Izuku finds comfort in a bar, only to come home to a broken promise and a furious darling. He didn’t mean for this to happen.

WARNINGS!: blood, violence, alcohol (Izuku under the influence)

Category: Angst, one-sided fluff

Word Count: 9k+

A/N: This is my first yandere fic! I’m nervous as hell, I have no idea if I got this right lol. Though I did spend months perfecting it to the best of my abilities! Hope you enjoy~

Just To Clarify:

You’re both adults

It’s Friday

It’s cold and rainy (naturally--)

Izuku’s bedroom has a walk in closet and a bathroom

the kitchen is off-limits

THIS IS A YANDERE FIC!

Izuku is an obsessive yandere~

Cold, burning liquid rushed down the male’s throat as he gulped at the drink within the short glass.

Whiskey, or more specifically - a Jack Daniels, the honey-brown alcohol that delivered a bitter slap to all those who drank its refreshing nectar.

It wasn’t his usual drink, and certainly not one he’d ever guzzle like a parched beast.

Hell, who in their right mind would do that? Even with a single sip, it left your chest burning with its heat.

But desperate times call for desperate measures, right?

Or, more of, self-loathing times call for a quick, one-way ticket to Forget-Me Ville and Cringe Island.

The bar he sat at was lively, filled with drunken laughter and slurred speeches of men and women who have been out for far too long.

But it was Friday night, so who cared?

A rainy, cold, sucky, depressing Friday night, one of which his friends tried to make a bit better by taking the pissed off, green-haired hero out for drinks.

They certainly hadn’t expected Izuku, an innocent little guy who couldn’t handle his liquor for shit, to shoot down an entire glass of whiskey.

At first, he ordered a simple beer - a starter drink if you will.

It didn’t take but ten minutes for him to gulp that glass down, and he was onto his next drink - a sangria wine cooler. His typical drink. He always was more of a fruity guy, after all, preferring the sweet tang over the bitter bite.

But as the night raged on, and so did his inner turmoil, he kept ordering stronger and stronger drinks, until he got to the whiskey. You could say he lost his sense of reason a while ago.

He was still seething with rage, not as much as before but the mixture of anger and frustration swirled hotly with the alcohol pumping through his veins and sitting in his belly.

You could say it was keeping him warm in this lifeless atmosphere.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t think of you, his precious little darling. He could barely think straight, mind occupied with too many thoughts to be able to understand any of them. It was all a garbled mess, one he chose to ignore.

Was that a good or a bad thing? He’d find out later.

But for now?

He needed another drink.

In the beginning, this Friday seemed like it was going to be one of the best he’ll ever have.

For months this pro hero has been working alongside detectives with catching a murderous villain known by the name “Ghoul.”

They were sick and twisted, their motives unknown, their trail hard to tract.

He had only one encounter with them, but he was too late to catch them.

That’s the day he was brought in to help aid the case.

But, that day haunted him for weeks. He knew that if he had arrived at the bloody scene sooner, he could have captured that cannibalistic fuck, brought justice to those who had already died by their mangy hands.. and prevented the deaths that would ensue after.

He’d known horrible villains before, but this one was different. Their teeth were sharp, blood permanently stained their clothes, and they gave off a wolfish vibe. Yes, a hunter. One who tore flesh from human bones and munched on it until someone screamed in terror for help.

For months he helped gather intel, piece puzzle pieces together, aid with location predictions and stakeout missions, until finally - they found that bastard.

It was more of a hunch than anything really, that Ghoul would show up to that site.

Ghoul, while hard to track, left a pattern in their wake. They avoided certain areas, thrived where the poor were at their weakest. The murders always seemed to happen at the exact same time behind run-down fast-food restaurants.

It was unclear if the sicko liked a hearty human meal with their victims own stomachs filled with greasy, fattening food, or if it was just convenient to them, either way - the perp was too damn sloppy.

To regular ol’ police personnel, the murders would just always happen there, behind restaurants.

But after Deku’s team began tracking where each and every murder occurred, it was quite easy to tell they were drawing, funnily enough, a circle around the city’s map.

It was stupid, childish, and downright idiotic, but damn if that didn’t lead the team to find the cold-blooded killer.

Adrenaline and pure hatred for the villain fueled Deku’s onslaught of attacks, each seemingly more powerful and less calculated. His mind was muddled.

He was filled with rage, finally being able to see the shitty excuse of a human again, but it affected his movements. He was being hasty, careless, not his usual calculated self.

And that’s what brought him his demise.

His shoulder was harshly bitten, razor-sharp teeth tearing through the fabric of his suit and shredding up the skin on his shoulder. Their quirk pumped through his blood instantly, making him collapse onto his knees, paralyzed. He hissed in pain as the sickeningly warm liquid flowed down his arm, unable to stop himself from face planting onto the dirty gravel of the alleyway.

He had lost, and Ghoul got away.

He still remembers it, after all, it was only hours ago that it happened.

The sun had long since set, the crescent moon hung high in the sky as her stars shimmered around her. His wound was stitched up and healed by doctors, leaving only a bitter scar to remind him of his failure.

He failed not only himself but those who counted on him.

God, he sucked.

And so, he ordered another drink.

He wanted to forget. He didn’t want to feel the failure sting at his fragile heart anymore.

It was too much to take.

What type of hero let the villain get away, knowing full well that they would kill again?

They couldn’t track Ghoul’s trail anymore, for the circle had been completed - and they were left with nothing with the numbing feeling of brutal loss.

Hours blurred together as his mind went hazy. His speech slurred together, dull, green eyes unfocused and mouth blabbering out nonsense to his friends that he couldn’t even really hear. It just- came out.

Soon enough, he was being dragged out of the bar by his annoyingly sober friends.

The night had gotten colder since they first entered the warm bar, rain pelted down like freezing bullets flying from a machine gun. A dirty old awning kept them dry as they stood still at the front of the bars entrance, the loud music bouncing off the walls inside echoed down the empty streets.

Heavy streams of salty rainwater poured off the edge of the awning, splattering down into a mud puddle that emptied into the sewer grate below.

Who doesnt love the musty stench of rain on asphalt?

Hell, the smell itself, combined with the strong yet savory scent of the Korean barbeque joint across the street was enough to make him nauseous. He had drank far too much, and his stomach was suffering the consequences. He should have eaten more before drinking. How foolish.

“It’s pretty late, you should head home.” Reasoned his best friend, Todoroki, puffs of condensation leaving his mouth as the warm breath met cold air, pressing a freezing hand to the back of the freckled boy's sweaty neck to jolt his drowsy, drunken self into a more alert state. Nothing but time could sober you up, but damn if that hand didn’t help slap some energy into him.

“Yeaahh, ye-yeahhh.. I gooht you Todooroe.” God, he sounded like someone high on anesthesia after being awoken from a surgery - which he definitely would be able to compare this experience to. Being a hero meant at least a few surgeries a year. Comes with the job.

Plus, this wasn’t the first time he’s been drunk.

He sure as hell hated the aftermath, but some nights it felt as if the hot burn of alcohol was the only thing that could keep him sane.

This was just one of those nights - or perhaps it was multiple nights slammed into one from just how stupidly drunk he was. The world was blurred, and Izuku doubted he could even walk straight at this point.

The half and half hero waved down a stray taxi, street water splashing up onto the sidewalk as the yellow vehicle came to a screeching halt.

“Get home safe.” Todoroki sighed out his nose at seeing his friends out-of-it state, helping the giddy and jelly-like hero into the back seat.

Izuku pouted, grabby hands clinging onto his friend's shirt in protest.

With a half-hearted chuckle, Todoroki pried himself free from his grip, handing the cab driver more than enough yen to get the drunk boy home.

He gave the taxi driver an address, and soon the car was rolling off down the street, Izukus flushed face pressed against the cold, fogging glass and staring with eyes full of tears at his friend.

Though, it seemed as if he had forgotten a promise he made to someone very important to him. Someone who he devoted his entire life to.

Someone who he risked everything for.

You.

His princess who had been locked in a small, dark room all day, wrists tightly cuffed to loose chains on the wall. The only light provided was a rusty oil lamp Izuku had gotten at a yard sale one day. The flame was dull, and left the room covered in shadows.

The tile below was as cold as it had been since the morning when Izuku had forcefully chained you there for misbehaving the night before.

You had deserved this punishment for disobeying him.

That’s what he tried to convince, anyway.

He was only trying to keep you safe! He hated punishing you, hated the way you thrashed and screamed at him in protest - that only meant he had to be rougher with you. You had broken into the most dangerous room in the apartment, afterall.

The kitchen.

There were far too many harmful objects in there!

Knives that could slice your delicate skin to shreds, forks that could jab into your body, hot stoves that could leave you with a nasty burn, and canned food stored too high up on the shelf that could fall and hit your head.. It was for your protection that the kitchen was off-limits to you!

Plus, Izuku, your oh-so kind and sweet boyfriend, had no problem with cooking you meals to eat together. In fact, he loved it!

He felt accomplished whenever you'd hum in approval at his cooking, or even turned on if that slutty mouth of yours just so happened to moan around your utensil.

Those were the nights dinner was forgotten.

But you had been foolish, entering the kitchen for a midnight snack whilst Izuku was out on patrol. Your sneaky little self thought you were clever, leaving no trace of your betrayal.

Until you were awoken hours later by a green glow, blood running cold as a pair of murderous neon eyes stared into yours.

It had to be one of the scariest sights to date.

His pupils were shrunk, green electricity buzzing around his large body. He hovered over your trembling body, a wrapper in between his two gloved fingers.

He was so close, your noses brushed together.

You swore he could see into your soul, as well as see the fear in your (E/C) eyes.

“What is this, (Y/N)?” He had asked innocently, hurt coating his words.

“I-” you wanted to make an excuse, protest, say it wasn’t yours, but every single letter died on your tongue as his face pressed closer, a sadistic smile overtaking his features.

“You didn’t.. You didn’t go into the kitchen, did you?”

His hot, minty breath blew all over your face as he spoke, and you shriveled back in fear as insanity crossed his expression in that way you were far too familiar with.

The giggles bubbled in his throat as he tried to fight logic with delusion, “It wasn’t you, right? Someone broke in, didn’t they? You wouldn’t break my trust, would you?”

His voice was cracking, fingers digging into the flesh of the bed beneath you as his eye began to twitch.

He stared down at you, curly green hair brushing against the sides of your face, waiting far too long for an answer he would never get. His bottom lip wobbled, feat tears welling up in his eyes and falling onto your pale cheeks as his body shook with anger and sadness.

He was already stressed about the following mornings mission, and to come home to his princess betraying his trust was not something he enjoyed.

And so, you were punished.

But he had promised you wouldnt be locked in there for long, he knew how you feared the dark. He had conditioned you to fear it, after all. It was his greatest accomplishment.

You were always so willing to cuddle into him when the lights were off.

A few hours turned into nearly an entire day, the only indication you had of this was past experiences, skin around your wrists rubbed raw from the metal cuffs, and the unusual sting of your ass and bare legs burning from the freezing tile beneath you.

That was the least of your worries, though.

Worst of all - the flame, which was holding you together and keeping you from crying out for help to those who might hear you in this soundproof room, which would no doubt get you a harsher punishment, was about to die out.

That flame, albeit small, was your only hope of surviving this.

Izuku was typically a very reliable person, it was strange for him to not keep his word to you. He devoted his being to you, worshipped the ground you regrettably walked upon, why would he break his own promise?

The thought of being trapped in the dark, the echo of your chains taunting your delirious mind had you close to tears. You didn’t want to be alone here anymore.

You watched in horror as the flame got smaller and smaller, tears now rolling down your cheeks as you pleaded under your breath for it to last longer.

The air vents around you provided enough oxygen for it to survive, but that damn oil..

Where was he?!

Suddenly, the door to his apartment flew open, giggles seeping through the house and teasing your ears.

Then, there was no more light.

A screech tore from your throat, a desperate call of his name as you thrashed around, tears pouring from your eyes.

You felt as if you couldnt breathe as your head whipped around the space, desperate for more air and light as your lungs seemed to scream.

You couldnt feel the cold chill of the floor anymore, body numb as adrenaline pumped through your veins.

What was in the dark?

How big was this space again?

Rather, how small was it?

What was that noise?

Did something just touch you?

There was wind, there was wind, no. A cold chill?

Oh god what was that-

Loud, clumsy footsteps made their way closer and closer to the locked metal door. You sobbed as your heard the jingle of keys, metal scraping against metal as he fumbled with inserting them into the lock.

Until finally, you were basked in the honey-dew glow of the bedroom.

You fought to control your breathing as he dropped to his knees, taking far too long for your liking to get the cuffs off.

But at least now you know why he took so god damn long.

You could smell the putrid miasma of alcohol wafting off him the moment he stepped into the darkroom, tainted with the salty effluvium of rainwater as it dripped onto your skin from his damp, messy hair.

Rage bubbled inside you as he giggled once more at your tear-stained cheeks, “D-did yoou miss mee?” He slurred, a giddy smile on his face as the stale stench of what he had been drinking all night circled around your head like a rotten wreath.

Instead of answering, like you knew you should have, you turned your head towards the door, soaking in the light you were previously deprived of. Even if it was just a mere minute.

At your silence, his smile quickly turned into a frown. Big, forestry green eyes welled up with sadness, bottom lip trembling, “(Y-Y/N)?” He couldnt help but reach out, scarred fingers wishing to wipe away those stray tears from your face.

You missed him.

That’s why you were crying, surely.

He wanted to comfort you, say that he was there now and that you could both cuddle until twinkling dawn.

You weren’t alone anymore.

He was all you needed, and he was right beside you.

He’ll always be there for you, and you’ll always be there for him.

Because you love each other.

“D-Don’t cry-”

His cold hand was smacked away, and his usually sturdy body was shoved back so that you could scramble out of the freezing closet.

You needed space.

More room to breath.

To be on flooring that didnt feel like ice cutting into your flesh.

Hell, you were sure the skin that had the unholy misfortune of touching the floor were burned red at this point from how long you had to sit there.

Not to mention your poor wrists, you couldnt even bear the sight of them being so raw. You were pretty sure they would bleed if you even touched them. Your body was screaming in pain, stomach growing for food, mouth parched from not being given water so that you wouldnt make a mess on the floor.

You were weak, shaking, and afraid.

That bastard had the gall to say not to cry, to look concerned when he knew damn well how much you absolutely despised the dark.

At first it was a childish fear, but the moment he snatched you from your regular life, that fear became a reality. There were countless nights you’d be punished by being left alone in the dark.

He didnt want to hurt you, no, and he never has, but damn if he hasnt conditioned you to be afraid.

Storms were the worst.

What was once a peaceful white noise turned into a terrifying nightmare once the moon rose in the sky.

There were times you were locked in that closet during violent storms, screaming and begging to be let out.

Sometimes you were, other times you werent as lucky.

Though it was only raining right now, each pitter-patter of the droplets against the window or balcony made hairs on your neck stand up. The sound was previously muted in the closet, but now it was hitting you like a freight train on a track that never seemed to end.

You heard him scramble to his feet as you wiped your tears away, the creak of the floorboards as he stumbled towards you.

A subtle bang made you jump, his foot no doubt hitting the chest at the end of your bed. Everso the clumsy one, even in an illuminated room.

Suddenly, he was right behind you, arms wrapping tightly around your middle as his head dropped to your shoulder, nuzzling his cheek against your neck.

Perhaps it would have been pleasant, comforting, even, if he wasnt soaked to the bone. The cold water from his dark grey, long-sleeved sweater was now seeping into your own thin clothes, freezing wet hair sending shivers down your spine and it presses against your heated, sensitive skin. Some drops even went down your back, ripping a gasp from you.

This wasnt comforting at all.

This was suffocating.

You squirmed in his grasp, desperate to get the hell away from him.

You were already pissed, and him wrapping around you and squeezing you tight like a snake to its prey was the cherry on top of your disastrous sundae.

With a grunt, you used the rest of what little strength you had left to rip yourself free from his ‘hug,’ nearly tripping on your own two feet as you rushed away from him.

He pouted at you as you shoved yourself into a corner of the room, finding comfort in being able to see all around you, no surprise attacks from behind, only what was in front of you.

Your breath was heavy as you glared at him, nostrils flaring and jaw clenching.

Truly, you had some nerve.

But it was hard to help it.

He broke a promise.

He never does that, and yet in your time of need- he wasn’t there for you.

For once.

He knew damn well you were locked up, scared shitless, expecting him to return home in a few short hours, yet here he is - looking absolutely clueless as to why you were suddenly so angry at him.

Tears streamed down his drunkenly flushed cheeks, hurt by how you shoved him away again.

All he wanted to do was snuggle you, his body exhausted yet numbed by the alcohol still burning in his tummy.

“Where..” you started, voice low, scratchy, and dripping with venom that reached deaf ears. “Where have you been!”

Just as he was about to open that mouth of his, no doubt about babble nearly incoherently - form logical excuses with evidence to back him up, say he lost track of time which you know damn well he never did, you shut him up.

You hated dealing with him when he was drunk, hell - you hated dealing with his obsessive ass most days.

But drunk? Drunk he got worse. He was clingy, more emotional, and worst of all? He didn’t have a filter.

He always managed to hide those more sinister desires under that sweet mask of his - until alcohol brought it out.

God, the smell of it made you sick to your stomach, but luckily you didn't have any food to throw up.

No thanks to him.

“What the fuck, Midoriya?!” You leered at him, noticing quickly the way his eyes darkened in that way they always did when you referred to him by his family name - the name he hated being called by you of all people.

“I’ve been trapped in that room all goddamn day! You said it’d be a few hours? What the hell happened to that! Look at the fucking time! Nine hours! Nine hours I’ve been stuck in my own personal hell! I can’t feel my fucking legs because of you!”

“I-” he attempted to start, the firm grip he had on his sanity quickly loosening with every shout you threw at him.

You cut him off, again, pent up rage now overtaking your sense of reason and fear, “What the hell happened?! You know what! I don’t even care! Not only did you,” You pointed a trembling finger at his stilled body, “break a promise! Something you swore you would never fucking do, you also had the nerve at laugh at me as I was trembling in fear!”

You looked like a mess, body shaking and bent over itself, one arm clutched around your waist as if to hold yourself together as that accusing finger stayed trained on him. Your hair was messy, frizzy, soaked with sweat and oily as hell from being denied a shower. Your clothes, thin and girly - much to your utter distaste, but to his satisfaction - now damp thanks to his carelessness.

All of this was because of him.

It always was.

Every single thing that went wrong in your life always seemed to be because of him nowadays.

You couldnt believe you let yourself fall for that misleading smile all those years ago, only to end up like this.

A mouse in a lions den.

But hell if that would stop you from squeaking your heart out till his razor-sharp claws ultimately caged you back in.

“Do you see my wrists?!” with a strangled sob, you held up both of your arms to show him the mess he already knew was his fault, “look at them! They hurt so fucking much because you left me in those disgusting handcuffs! This is all your fault!”

Your knees were wobbling so bad you swore your legs would give out at any second, but you’d be damned if you didnt hold your ground to this lunatic.

True, some days he was nice, normal, even. But days like these, or days much worse, you were reminded of just who he really was.

A monster was stretching it. He never intentionally tried to hurt you, your friends, or even your family.

No, he just stole you from your apartment in the dead of night, convinced the reason you were crying was because of the thunderstorm and not because some psycho snatched you from your window like some sort of 1970’s movie trope. That night he cradled your thrashing body to his hard chest with his strong arms, cooing at you and whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you begged to be let go. You were just scared of the storm~ He would keep you safe~ He is the number one hero, afterall~

That was all utter bullshit, straight from the beginning.

And even now he was still wrapped in the delusion that you loved him as much as he loved you.

A fated pair.

Please.

But you still held on to the pathetic hope that one day he’d snap out of it, return to the Izuku you knew from the beginning and not the person who now stood a few feet in front of you, staring with cold, emotionless eyes.

“I’m sorry.” he says impassively, face as blank as a new canvas - unreadable and dangerous in every way imaginable. It was hard not to feel as if he was just waiting to strike, already calculating his next moves like he always seemed to do. It was far easier to deal with an angry Izuku than one where you couldn’t read his already complex emotions, thoughts, anything. He was the definition of expressive, and it truly took a fuckin bullet to the back of his head for him to be like this.

So clearly, you hit a nerve.

Wonderful.

“Oh?” Despite knowing the implications of the situation you found yourself in, it was impossible not to laugh at such a pathetic fucking apology.

Knowing him, he probably was sorry, deep down inside. You knew he didn’t like seeing you hurt, especially if it was because of his doing, and yet- you pressed on.

Pent up anger was a nasty thing to deal with, especially since it’s been brewing inside you for so long.

“Are you now? You don’t fucking seem sorry! If you were really sorry, you wouldnt have done it! But look where we are! You’re such a fucking-!”

“Shut up.” he growls out borderline maliciously, stumbling slightly as he turns to walk out the door. He was clearly fed up, his strong hands clenched into threatening fists, but so were you. Even if you were undeniably frightened to confront him, you wouldn't let that stop you from pushing yourself off the wall - your safe space - and wobbling after him.

“Look at you! You can’t even walk right! How drunk are you, huh? Washing away your feelings again, are you? What about my feelings! Huh?!”

You were pushing it.

You really were.

The entire house felt it, the air chillingly still as Izuku had to grind his teeth together so as to not lash out at you.

He didn’t want to.

That was the last thing he wanted to do, but all that stress and self-hatred previously washed away was coming back up to the burning surface that cages his discretion.

Heavy breaths blew out his nostrils as he made his way to the living room, desperate for you to get the hint from his hunched over body that he wanted you to fuck off.

Yeah, he messed up, deep down he knew he did but currently his mind was far too clogged to even begin to comprehend it.

You were like an annoying mosquito, your words morphing into a persistent buzz.

He was ignoring you, and that made you livid.

He always ignored you when your problems were deemed irrelevant, or when he found you were being far too vexatious.

He always did this, always.

You were trapped in a cell with some asshole who didn't even want to listen to you.

Obviously, you had enough.

Typically you’d back off, go fume in another room or punch the wall till the skin around your knuckles tore open and dripped blood everywhere, making him snap out of whatever state he was in just to suffocate you in his toxic love.

Oh how life proved to be full of surprises.

A low growl of your own slithered passed your teeth, eyes practically burning red as if you prayed you had a quirk that could do something against him.

“You’re a selfish bastard! You fucking piss-poor excuse of a hero-!”

SLAP!

A shrill scream tore from your raw throat, the echo of skin burning against skin dizzying you as you were thrown back onto the floor.

Boiling hot tears streamed down your face as you sobbed out of pure fear, body shaking uncontrollably and you shuffled backward, desperate to get yourself as far away from him as you could currently manage.

It had all happened so fast, you didn't even have time to register it as it occurred.

One moment his hands were gripping the back of the couch with such strength you could see his knuckles turn a ghostly white, and the next, crackling, neon-green lightning surrounded his body, illuminating the dim apartment in a slimy glow. Before you even had a chance to register just what happened, he whipped his head around, his eyes, typically blown wide with sickening love and sparkling under delusional illusions, were narrowed and glowing in a way that sent shivers of immense regret down your spine. His arm whipped back with his hand, the very hand that delivered a painfully paralyzing slap.

He always spoke with his hands, and you just happened to be too close to him at that moment.

The reddended skin of your cheek burned, and you swore you could feel more than just tears streaming down it.

You were stuck shaking on the floor, imaginary bile rising in your throat, and all you could do was stare at him with wide, bloodshot and terrified eyes.

He had never laid a hand on you like that before, you didnt know what to think.

He always promised to do you no intentional harm, to never lay a finger on you with intentions of making you cry out in pain.

He had never acted so feral and out of line before.

It.. it scared you in a way you never felt before.

The gap between you grew, you really were just a mouse trembling in a lion's den.

“P-princess-” he shakily called out, voice weak and uneven, quirk diminishing into thin air like it never was there in the first place.

His own eyes were wide and filled with immense regret, tears already pouring down his flushed, freckled face.

He took one step forward, and you scrambled back, hand coming up to touch at your cheek, shock making you feel faint at the sight of blood coating your trembling fingertips.

You felt sick once again, empty stomach feeling as if it was collapsing in on itself to push even the tiniest bit of nonexistent food out.

You didnt know what to do.

Choking on your own sobs, you tried desperately to shuffle away from him, but he only came closer.

You cried out the moment he dove at you, your hands clasped together tightening against your chest as if to hold yourself together as this bear of a man wraps his arms cold, soaked arms protectively around you, his large shoulders violently shaking as he buried his snotty, tear stained face deep into your unruly tresses.

The stench of alcohol burned your nostrils, edging you on to try and push his heavy chest away. You tried, but you failed miserably, resulting in his arms pulling you even closer to his sweaty and damp body. It was disgusting.

“L-let go of me!” you wailed, your own tears stinging your eyes as your vision blurred and you could no longer tell just what you were staring blindly at, the dimness of the living-room paired with the suffocating embrace of your captor swallowing you whole.

You couldnt take it.

You could barely breathe at this point.

“p-p-ple .. plea-s-se..!” your cries intertwined with his own desperate ones as he babbled nearly incoherently on about how sorry he was, how he never meant to do something so horrible.

“I’m not a monster!” he howled out, desperate words seeping with ululation.

He was desperately trying to convince himself of that.

He wasn’t talking to you at all.

He was talking to himself.

He wasn’t a monster.

He’s not like him.

He’s not like that piece of filth.

No, he’s so much better.

He’s a good man.

No, no, he’s not a monster.

He’s your hero.

He could never purposely harm you.

No.

It was an accident.

An accident.

You’d understand.

He knew you would!

You always understood him.

You were like two peas in a pod!

You forgave him, surely.

Yes.

Yes!

You did the moment he hugged you, the moment he started comforting you.

He was a good man.

How could you not forgive him?

He loved you so, so, so much.

You knew that-

You knew he would never do such a thing.

His breathing was even, eyes wide and straining as he stared at the floor, a crooked smile on his face as he repeated the words over and over again in his twisted mind.

He never met to hurt you.

No.

He didnt.

“Plea-” you tried once more, biting your wobbling lip as he squeezed you even tighter.

“No, no, no, no, no, no..” he heaved out, hand coming up to gently pet your oily hair as if to calm you. His head shook back and forth in your hair, “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m so sorry, honey.”

There was nothing you could do.

You were stuck alone in a mouse trap, the cold, metallic bar snapped down on top of your frail neck.

There was no escape.

There never was.

His form of ‘love’ far too strong for you to even attempt to.

And so, you gave up.

Just like you always did.

There was no point in resisting him.

Sticky blood trickles down your raw cheek, dripping down onto the chilled bare skin of his neck, still cold from the damp clothes he wore, instantly catching his wondering attention.

“You.. you’re bleeding?” he whispered guiltily, already feeling a new wave of salty tears building up in the corner of his eyes.

His large left hand trailed up the skin of your neck, idly collecting the thin trail of red liquid onto his fingertips and smearing a path up to your jawline, stopping the moment your shivering form flinched.

He frowned at the red mark taking up half your beautifully innocent face, a small cut resting in the middle of it where no doubt the ring he foolishly wore as an accessory swiped.

Guilt made his stomach churn, the familiar burn of acid rising in his throat.

A deep inhale, and he swallowed it down, arm still wrapped around you, languidly rubbing your back as he stared with nothing short of pity at your wrecked state.

Your lips wobbled, holding in a reply as you force yourself to look into the vast abyss of darkness that was the hallway of your apartment instead of his orbs gleaming with concern.

Concern.

Concern for something he caused.

At least he had a heart, but you were still scared shitless and wanted nothing more than to run away. You were still fighting to regulate your breathing.

His thumb suddenly pressed against the slap mark, ripping a yelp from your throat as your head flung back to avoid any more contact. It was then that you noticed a pounding headache echoing inside your skull, yet another reason to aid in the water running down your face. Pain consumed your body, and you wanted nothing more than to escape this shell you were trapped in.

Openly chewing on his lip, both of his arms went back around you, cradling your delicate form to his chest.

Without a word, he stood up, practically forcing you to have to wrap your bare legs around his waist to keep yourself steady, something you were trained to do by him. He loved it when your legs were around his waist whenever he picked you up.

It became a regrettable second nature.

Heavy foot steps brought you back to your bedroom, and then into the bathroom connected to it.

Your fears crept up your spine at the pitch black room you were forced into, remembering how you were in a similar position just a few minutes ago.

When would this cycle end?

Ah.

It wouldnt, would it?

You were set delicately down atop the cold marble counter as if you were a fragile piece of glass, which, in many ways, you were. The tears had at least stopped, but your body continuously shook like a chihuahua, your breathing still hard to control as fumbled around mindlessly with your fingers to serve as a distraction.

He flipped the light on, momentarily blinding your sensitive gaze with its bright light.

Sniffing, you wiped at your nose, watching as he walked about the bathroom, grabbing a wash cloth just to run it under cool water. The rain was still heavily pouring just outside the wall mixed with the loud splatters of the stream against the white sink. It would have been calming had cold water not splashed up onto your bare thighs, making goosebumps prickle along your skin. Your thighs were nearly numb at this point.

After ringing most of the water out, he held it up to your cheek, staring at you.

Taking the cue, you hesitantly took the cool, wet cloth from his grasp and gingerly pressed it to the swelling skin on your face. You hiss out in pain, dry sobs wracking your body at the stinging pain and the fact that he was still far too close for you to currently handle.

The pain on your cheek paired with the numbing cold was a good distraction.

You chewed on your lip as you squeezed your eyes shut, freehand gripping tightly at the hem of your shirt as you listen to him fumble around in the cabinet hanging over to the left.

You jumped the moment you felt his larger fingers ghost over the ones holding the cloth to your cheek, cautious (E/C) eyes opening ever so slightly as you looked over at him.

You couldnt help but feel idiotic as you suddenly felt flustered at the intense gaze he was giving you, eyes now gleaming viridescent in the white light of the bathroom almost staring right into your soul.

It was like he was reading you, pulling words off your own frail pages just so he could recite them to you.

He did this often.

Keeping silent, staring for long periods of times as he tried out scenarios in his head of the words he was going to say.

It gave you chills, but yet, it made you feel like you were the center of his drifting attention.

The sun his planets revolve tirelessly around, repeating the same cycles like a record forever skipping on repeat.

In these moments, though, he became an enigma.

Not exactly something your fragile state of mind entirely needed right now.

You shivered when his palm came to cup your soft jawline, thumb absentmindedly tracing over your parted lips.

His mouth opened, ready to say something, but he stayed quiet.

Mouth shutting, he leaned forward, tentatively bringing you into another hug.

“I’m sorry.” he repeated, the words nearly as quiet as your stilled breath, but you had nothing to say to it. And he knew it.

He was used to you staying silent.

He would prefer it most of the time.

So he could sink into his fantasies, the deluded fantasies that you loved him wholeheartedly, that you chose to stay silent as to not hurt his feelings, and always forgave him no matter what.

That you would forever and always be his.

He wouldnt give you the choice not to be.

He wouldnt let you leave when you’re his favorite person in the whole wide world.

The only one he needed.

And he was the only one you needed.

Yes.

Of course.

You didn’t need anyone else but him.

And he didn’t need anyone else but you.

So what if a few more people died because of his mistake, he would capture Ghoul eventually. Regardless, he would always come home to you.

Always.

And that’s all he needed.

He chucked against your neck, having buried it in the crook as his mind slipped through his shaky fingertips.

The Big Bad Wolf and his Little Red Riding Hood.

God how he loved the comparison.

Perhaps he was addicted.

Addicted to you.

Even now, as he inhaled your sugary sweet, natural scent stained with the metallic smell of dried blood.

Pulling back, he gazed into your hesitant eyes, delicately resting his forehead against yours.

His hair, now dry and no longer dripping with salty rain, tickled your skin, making you involuntarily take in a deep breath.

Closing his eyes once more, he soaks in the moment of your warm body in his frigid embrace, nothing else mattered to him.

Just you.

Only you.

“L-let me see your cheek,” he asks softly, words not as wobbly as before, afraid that if he spoke too loudly in such a thin atmosphere, everything would shatter abruptly like glass.

Your body moved on instinct as if you were used to doing as he asked immediately no matter what, pulling the cool cloth away from your burning cheek.

Resisting the urge to sniffle and flinch away, you allow him to rewet the cloth, holding still as he dabs lightly at the small wound.

“I know it hurts,” he breathes out, “shh, shh, it’s okay.” it was always so strange how his voice still managed to calm your nerves even after all you’ve been through.

Deep down, you knew he was still that loving and energetic boy you met back at that coffee shop.

If only you knew how sinister and twisted he could really be.

Perhaps.. perhaps you wouldn’t be in such a situation now.

But there was never any point in pondering the what-ifs.

All you could do was fight your mind from seeking normalities in such a relationship as this, if you could even call it that.

You wouldn’t succumb to his desires like you always did.

You wouldnt lose yourself.

No.

You couldn’t let that happen.

Or was it too late already?

You hissed when you felt the stinging seer of rubbing alcohol dotted onto your cut, cleaning the wound.

“It’s okay.” he repeats, cooing to you with a reassuring smile that should have made you feel sick all over again.

You let him apply antibiotic ointment and a small cheek bandage, his hands shaky yet careful. You could say he has experience in applying bandages.

It was uncomfortable as it sat on your raw skin, but it’s not like you were going to go and rip it off. That would feel like ripping off a wax strip on a sunburn.

Humming, he gingerly wipes away the dried blood on your neck with the same washcloth, not minding how blood-stained the innocently white fabric became.

Next came your still aching wrists. There wasn’t much he could do for your legs, but at least he had roll-on bandages on standby.

Turning the cold tap on, he lets you run them under cool water before gently dabbing the stray droplets away, careful not to press too hard.

He really needed to invest in softer handcuffs, it’s just- those were the only ones he had, and he didn’t use them often. Besides, it never got this bad before. But that wasn’t a good excuse.

He’d have to order some online tomorrow..

Applying more ointment around the area, the kind that offers instant relief, he wraps your smaller wrists up as best he could, cringing himself whenever you’d flinch.

He’d make it up to you.. Pancakes in the morning, perhaps?

Izuku then begins to sluggishly put away everything he brought out of the cabinet, tossing what needed to be tossed into the trashcan.

He was slow, almost as if he was trying to keep his balance, which he no doubt was.

Standing in front of you once again, he wrapped his arms around you, whispering “up” in your ear.

It was something he would always say when he wanted you to wrap your arms and legs around him so he could carry you like a baby.

But who were you to refuse?

It wasn’t as if he couldnt pick you up without your limbs wrapped around him, it was more for your comfort rather than his convenience.

So, tentatively, you wrapped your still shaking arms around his neck, doing the same with your legs around his bent waist.

“Good girl.” he praised as he began walking back into the bedroom, stopping just at your side of the bed to place you down at the edge.

Numbly, you let him remove your rain-soaked clothes from all the hugging, sitting on the bed in just your panties as you watched him toss the clothes in the hamper by the door

It wasn’t the first time he insisted on treating you like a child who needed help changing, but at least you didn’t have to walk.

It was hard to remember if it was a good or a bad thing that you didn’t care about being nude in front of him anymore, not even bothering to hide your chest as he came back over with a fresh set of clothes - the strawberry patterned pajamas he always seemed to adore you wearing.

You always looked so innocent in them. The shirt is far too large for your frame, the sleeves hanging off your hands and the large v-neck exposing your collar bones and parts of your shoulders. The bottoms were the regular run of the mill pajama pants, soft as cotton and comfy as hell.

The top truly was the part of the look that tied it all together.

He couldn’t help but smile as your arms immediately raised as he pulled the shirt out of the pile, making quick work of slipping it over your cute head and helping your arms into the sleeves.

He liked to take care of you.

You needed him to, after all.

You were his innocent, helpless little darling, after all.

Pulling your pants up, he guided your body down into a resting position, dragging the thick, grey, and black patterned comforter over your stilled body.

Such a good girl.

He tucks loose strands of messy (H/C) hair that fell across your face behind your ear, being mindful of the wound.

He stares at it for a moment, his expression holding that of worry and regret.

Pushing off the bed, he stumbles his way to the kitchen in the dark, having turned off the light as he went, the layout of the apartment burned to memory so he could easily avoid furniture.

In the kitchen, he opened the freezer and grabbed an ice pack, one he would commonly use on his own sore muscles and bruises. It hurt his heart knowing he was the reason you had to use it for the first time.

After wrapping it in some paper towels, he trudges his way back into the dark bedroom, eyes wracking over your balled up form, covers bunched over you like a shell.

“Put this on your cheek..” he whispered, placing the pack just in front of your face.

He would love to be the one to hold it to your cheek, but his mind was still hazy, and his words were still slurred. Events could sure as hell sober you up a bit, but damn did that nausea always come back crashing in through the brittle window full force when you’d least expect it.

Rummaging through the drawers once more, he picked up some of his own fresh clothes and made his way into the bathroom again.

All he wants is to sleep, but he also didnt want you to smell dried sweat and rain on his being throughout the night.

He knew you missed him, him and his warmth, you always did, right? No question about it. You must be longing for him even now.

Wanting him to hold and comfort you just like always.

Numbed adrenaline pumped in his veins as he stepped into the shower, letting the warm water wash away his filth and regrets.

God, it felt so good to be able to somewhere warm for once.

The entire night he’s felt nothing but cold.

Not even the fire in his belly or the breath stolen from his lungs could’ve warmed him up.

He was mad at himself. Mad that he lost control and hurt the one thing that mattered the most to him.

Mad that he let himself get disgustingly drunk.

Mad that he walked in the rain like a dumbass just to soak your clothes and make you feel as cold as him.

But at the moment, too many thoughts were flying in his mind for him to properly think, no, he couldnt really even say he was thinking at all.

He was just letting the water splatter on the back of his neck, forehead resting on the cold shower tiles and he watched as water swirled down the drain like a whirlpool. His hair stuck to his cheeks like glue, but he couldn’t find himself caring.

Absentmindedly, his fingers brush across the fresh scar on his broad shoulder.

He swore the longer he stood there, watching the clear flow of water, the looser his grip on himself became.

He couldnt really say he felt anything at all anymore.

When did he lose himself?

Was he ever even really found?

Ah.

With you.

You were the missing piece in his complicated and skull biting puzzle, the one who made him whole and lit up his dull life. You were the reason he felt things anymore, you were the reason he still managed to get up and save people with a clear conscious.

You always had such a positive impact on his life, and he knew he had just as good a one on yours.

A wobbly smile tore his flushed face in two, you both really did need eachother.

He was so happy to have you in his life.

Knowing you’d never leave him.

Turning the boiling hot water off, he stepped out, the plushness of the bath-mat embracing his wet feet as water continued to pour down his nude body.

It felt, it felt so hot suddenly.

His breath came out in exaggerated pants, hands sweeping his hair from his face as the burn of bile rose in his throat.

Lunging for the toilet, he emptied his stomach into the glistening white bowl.

Gasping for air, Izuku whipped his mouth on the back of his hand, still trying to catch his breath as he fumbled to flush.

God, he needed to sit down.

Shakily turning the bathroom faucet on, he washed his hand, making quick work of brushing his teeth before lazily drying himself off.

Ignoring the other clothes he brought in, the toned hero simply pulled on a pair of black boxers before walking out of the bathroom.

Green eyes immediately looked at your form, just to see the soft rise and fall of your chest as you soundly slept, the ice pack sitting comfortably on your cheek.

You looked so adorable.

You always did.

Smiling once more, he walked over to the bed, pulling back the sheets just to slide his larger, warm body in and next to your own.

He sighs blissfully the moment he tugs you into his embrace, relishing in the feeling of your soft body against him.

Removing the icepack from your cheek, not wanting you to awake to a cheek burning from the cold, he places it on the nightstand before snuggling closer to you.

You always fit so perfectly in his big arms.

You were meant to be by his side.

And you loved it, didn’t you?

Eventually, he fell asleep, soft snores echoing around the quiet room filled with the downpour of rain still pouring down outside the large glass windows,

But you were still wide awake.

It was hard to remember the last time you got a good night’s rest, especially when the room was spine-chillingly dark..

Hard to remember what life was like before you even met your own personal nightmare.

You were used to the exhaustion, the dark circles kissing at the skin under your eyes becoming normal the day you were brought here.

Oh, how foolish you were.

You should have locked your window that fateful night.

But heroes are quite stealthy, aren’t they?

Was this even reality at this point? Or all just a figment of your imagination, protecting you from the true horrors before your very eyes.

Either answer wasnt one you wanted.

But you never had a choice.

Tears slipping from your eyes like they always seemed to do, you stared longingly off into the distance, the warmth pressed against your back pulling you further into your own bubbling madness.

All it took was a signal thought for this to all become normal.

For the pain to wash away with your tears.

‘Maybe this is ok.’

752 notes · View notes

brilliantt · 4 years

Text

A Father’s Job

Summary: Tommy discovers that his daughter, Y/N, lied to him in order to meet a boy. He takes his role as a father too seriously and tries to protect Y/N, resulting in her getting mad at him.

Request by Anon: Tommy’s reaction to his daughter going on her first date maybe?

“Why does my daughter look like a girl?” It wasn’t often that Tommy Shelby saw his daughter not wearing her usual blouse tucked into oversized trousers. Her hatred of skirts started at a young age.

Growing up with Finn meant that the pair would spend their mornings racing around Small Heath playing tag and their afternoons climbing up trees.

Y/N had been quick to realise that the reason Finn was always the fastest to catch her and to climb to the top of the tree was because he wasn’t restricted by the stupid skirts. One day, after becoming fed up with Finn's mocking of her being too slow, she dragged him from the tree and forced them to swap clothes (how she managed to do it Tommy never knew). Now suitably dressed in Finn’s trousers she managed to climb the tree with ease while Finn stumbled up in her skirts grumpily. She had raced home that day, (punishing Finn for his previous taunting by leaving him to return home in her skirts) and begged her father to let her wear trousers like Finn.

“It’s Ada’s old one, fits me perfectly!” Tommy eyed the dress as Y/N smoothed over it, looking in the mirror above the fireplace. It was a deep maroon dress which thankfully was one of Ada’s more modest dresses, albeit a little short for his liking.

Tommy frowned at his daughter and his Aunt Polly, who was fussing with Y/N’s hair, “And where are you going dressed like Ada?” He almost missed her eyes widening and sending a nervous glance to Polly.

“It’s her friend's birthday party Thomas, we told you just a few weeks back.” Tommy’s eyebrows rose trying to recall this. He just shrugged at Polly’s disappointed tut, he had been away on business last week- of course he would have forgotten, “I’m taking her to Mary’s house and she’ll be back before it’s dark.”

Tommy sighed knowing there was no room to argue, “You got her a gift?” Y/N nodded and smiled, slipping into a fur lined coat. “Right, well have fun then. No getting drunk, you’re helping me with the horses in the morning.” He pointed his finger at his daughter who playfully rolled her eyes, hugged him goodbye and followed Polly out of the house.

It had been less than an hour after Y/N had left that Tommy received a phone call. “Tommy, there’s a Mr Peterson asking for you at the Garrison, says it’s urgent. You able to come by?” He had called for the housemaid to watch Charlie while he was gone and left for the pub. After dealing with Mr Peterson he was about to leave the Garrison to return home when he saw something, or someone, which piqued his interest.

At a table, close to the door, he found Mary sitting and drinking with a group of friends. He looked at the seats- all six of them filled and his daughter nowhere in sight. He walked over to the table, Mary detaching herself from the boy next to her once she saw her friend’s father striding over.

He nodded his head in greeting to the group “Evening Mary, how are you?” The girl became shy as always when Tommy was around but uttered through red cheeks, ”Hi, Mr Shelby, I’m alright thanks.” She fidgeted in her seat as Tommy continued to stare. He narrowed his eyes at her before wishing her a ‘happy birthday’. His eyes then danced over Mary’s eyebrows furrowing and the confused stares of the rest of the group. “It is today?” He asked.

“Um, it was actually last week, but thank you anyway!” She smiled nervously watching his eyes roll to the side as if in thought before returning on her figure.

“Harry,” He clicked his fingers at the barman, “Another round for the group, a belated birthday present from me.” He walked out of the pub, only just hearing the excited whispers and thanks coming from the table. The drive back to Arrow House was occupied with questions on the whereabouts of his daughter, who clearly was not at Mary’s house.

---

He tried to spend the next couple of hours distracting himself with work but after the clock passed eight thirty he had taken to watching the drive from his office window. It wasn’t too long after that, that a car came rolling up and parked. He watched as a smiling Y/N exited the vehicle, glanced up at the house and rushed round to the driver’s side. He saw her lean in through the window and give, what looked like to Tommy, a masculine figure a hug.

Tommy saw Y/N’s eyes widen in shock as he threw open the front door and sauntered down to the car, a hard look on his face. She jumped away from the driver, “Dad! This.. This is Mary’s brother, he was just giving me a lift home.”

Tommy watched the redness rise up his daughter’s neck, like it always did when she knew she was in trouble. He leaned in close to the girl and made sure she was looking into his eyes before saying, “Mary doesn’t have a brother, Y/N.” She winced and swore under her breath. Tommy pointed to the house, a clear signal for Y/N to go inside. She sent a worried look to the boy in the car, deciding it was best to listen to her father and not anger him further. Of course this didn’t stop her from peeking at them through the curtains of the living room. Although she couldn't hear them, she could very well feel Tommy’s threatening words from where she stood, her own annoyance growing at the sight of her father.

Tommy clenched his jaw as he stared at the young boy in the car. The boy lifted a hand out of the window for a handshake, which he then used to scratch his head after Tommy pointedly ignored it.

“Hi, Sir, I’m He-”

“What are your intentions with my daughter?” He spat, tone hard and angry.

“Well-”

Tommy didn’t really know what overcame him and made him feel so mad. Was it Y/N lying to him? The fact he had never seen her romantically linked to a boy before? Or the images of a pregnant Ada, who would always sneak around the brothers to see boys? He wasn’t sure which one it was but the ensemble rushed around his head as he tugged at the boy's collar, lifting him so their heads were level.

“You are not to see Y/N again.” Tommy sensed the protest coming. “If you even look her way, I’ll cut your eyes out and display them on the mantelpiece, do you understand?” He smirked when the boy gulped, waving sarcastically as the boy drove away.

----

He had just stepped into the living room when Y/N stomped up to him, “You had no right to do that! I can’t believ-”

“Go to your room, Y/N.” He left her standing to sit on one of the sofa’s, taking a cigarette out.

“What?” She glared at her father who began puffing smoke from the cigarette.

Tommy clenched his jaw and gave Y/N a hard stare. “I had some business at the Garrison tonight and guess who I saw? Mary.” He saw Y/N gulp. “She told me that her birthday was last week. Not only did you lie to me to meet up with a boy, you also got Polly to go along with your fucking scheme.”

His daughter stood at the doorway like a punished puppy. She rubbed her hand up and down her arms and muttered, “You didn’t have to threaten him like that.”

Tommy leant forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “You are an impressionable girl with a successful and wealthy father, that boy does not love you.” He heard Y/N gasp and saw her frown “He’s using you for money and power. I won’t let that happen.”

“Using me?” She whispered under her breath. “Am I that repulsive,“ She snapped, “That you think a boy can’t like me?” His daughter had the same look as Polly when she’s angry and Tommy could clearly see it in this moment.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” He sighed and fell back onto the sofa. He wiped a hand over his eyes.

“Henry is not using me.” Y/N said confidently, her arms crossed defiantly across her chest.

“Then tell me, what side of you does Henry like? Does he care when you are covered in mud and bruises or does he only like you when you’re pretty and dressed like that?” Y/N let her arms drop to her side, her cheeks red at the sneering tone of her father.

“If you took the time to know him instead of just threatening him, you could answer that yourself.” She shouted at her father, pointing an accusing finger. Tommy stood up in shock and anger at her attitude. She moved to the door, creating more distance between them as he walked over to her. “I didn’t dress up for Henry,” She tugged at the bottom of the dress self-consciously, trying to make it longer. “I did it for me.” She sighed, “I just wanted to feel pretty for once, like Ada.” Avoiding Tommy’s gaze she quickly left the room racing up the stairs. Tommy winced as he heard the door slam shut. Rubbing his forehead he muttered about teenage girls, shutting himself away in his office.

---

Tommy gently pushed open the door, stepping over the dress which had been carelessly chucked there. He stood there and stared at the bed, a big lump in the centre where his daughter was hidden under the covers.

“Y/N.” He coughed. The girl jumped at the sound of her father but remained silent. Tommy sighed and looked around the room, smirking when an idea came to his head- something he’d always do when she was younger.

“Hey Y/N there’s a spider in your room.” This time he heard a sharp intake of breath which motivated him further. Stretching out one of his hands, he rested it on the desk beside him. He tapped his fingers menacingly across the wood, moving his hand like a spider. He did this around the room until he reached the headboard of the bed. He tapped his fingers again and then waited for the attack.

“Don’t. Do. It.” Y/N warned under the covers. He grinned and all of a sudden his spider fingers danced over her stomach as he tickled her. He listened to the screams of his daughter and couldn’t help but laugh along when she couldn’t contain her giggles.

“STOP!” She gripped at Tommy’s hands, trying to regain her breath. Tommy listened to her this time and laid down on the bed next to her, both facing the ceiling.

“I’m mad at you.” She whispered.

“I know.” He replied, glancing at her. “I don’t like it when you lie to me. Don’t you trust me?” Y/N looked at him nervously and he nodded his head and brushed her hair behind her ear to let her know he wouldn’t get mad at what she had to say.

“When you act like that, no.” She fiddled her thumbs together. “I knew you’d get mad so I didn’t want to tell you.”

Tommy sighed, he titled Y/N’s head so she would look at him. “My job as a father has always been to protect you. I don’t want to see my girl get her heart broken by a fuckin’ boy.” He looked back up to the ceiling and felt his daughter's stare on him. They were in silence for a few moments until Y/N used her finger to tilt Tommy’s head down to look at her. “You’ve got to let me decide these things for myself now. Henry is really nice and I really liked him.” Y/N rolled her eyes when Tommy huffed. “Maybe he would have broken my heart but that’s okay. Your job isn’t to protect me and shelter me, not from boys at least, it’s to be there for me when I need you and not judge me.”

“When did you get so wise?” Tommy smiled and pulled her into a side hug.

“Polly says i get it from you.” He smirked but then narrowed his eyes when he saw Y/N’s teasing grin. “I don’t believe her.” Shrieks filled the air once more as Tommy viciously tickled his daughter.

That night Tommy had tucked his daughter into bed like he used to, like he does with Charlie now. Just as he was about to leave, he turned back to Y/N and winced while saying “I guess if you want to see that boy..friend of yours,” He sighed and scrunched up his nose, “Then you may do so.”

Y/N smiled sadly, “I don’t think he’ll want to see me again, your threats are pretty scary.”

Tommy stared at her for a few seconds and nodded. “Get some sleep, I’ll see you in the stables in the morning.”

---

Y/N yawned that morning as she walked into the stables wearing her usual trousers and one of Finn’s shirts she stole. While she loved being with the horses, she hated waking up early to be there. Once she reopened her eyes from her yawn, her mouth dropped again and she froze in shock. Standing before her was her father and Henry brushing down a horse… together. Her mouth stayed wide open until Tommy noticed her presence. He smirked at her before walking over and pushing her mouth shut, “You’ll be swallowing some flies if you’re not careful.”

He smirked once more as his daughter continued to be in a state of shock. He pinched her stomach which made her jolt back and pushed a pitchfork in her hands. “I decided that you two can clean up the shit together, a little punishment for lying to me yesterday.” He nudged Y/N forward. The pair decided under the stare of Tommy not to embrace but their red cheeks and mumbled greetings made Tommy roll his eyes, a soft smile playing on his lips.

It was safe to say that perhaps Thomas should listen to his daughter more often because after spending the morning getting to know Henry and watching the two wrestle around in the mud together (whilst trying and failing to tackle Tommy to ground) that he realised his daughter was pretty good at making her own decisions. It was also here that when he saw Y/N give him a wide smile and a little Charlie running through the stables into his arms, he realised that being a father was possibly the most rewarding job there was.

A/N: My dad used to do that spider tickle with me, so this was very reminiscent for me! Thank you for sending in the request, if anyone wants to send me something to write feel free to message me! Thanks for reading :))

Taglist for all fics:

@stressedandbandobessed7771

MASTERLIST

#tommy shelby x daughter!reader #peaky blinders imagine #daughter!shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby

584 notes · View notes

silverlightqueen · 4 years

Text

Filter

‘I can be whatever you want me to be, babe.’

fratboy/jock!Jimin x cheerleader!reader (bc apparently I don’t know how to not write university aus) - e2l, smut, angst, humour, a teensy bit of fluff if you squint

Part of ficswithluv’s Bulletproof Bingo!

Rating: 18 (graphic sex and mature themes)

Word Count: 14.9k+

Warnings - there’s a lot (because this is absolute filth) so please read carefully! discussion of drugs and consumption of drugs, alcohol consumption, mention of rape, brief mention of murder and violence, brief mention of STDs, extremely bad language, extreme sexual tension (like on another level guys), brief mention of stripping, Jimin is a total dick, a lot of arguing and insulting, y/n has way too much pride for her own good, Jimin is too arrogant for his own good, mention of Namjoon being naked (you’ll understand when you read it), explicit sex, unprotected sex (use protection guys!), hate sex, (really) rough sex, very slight dubcon (she doesn’t explicitly say yes but she does give him consent), dom!Jimin and sub!y/n, y/n is the brattiest bratty stubbornest brattiest brat, very explicit dirty talk, asphyxiation, mention of spitting during sex, marking, y/n does a little striptease, nipple play, finger sucking, cum licking/swallowing, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, edging, begging, spanking, hair pulling, punishment, pussy slapping, degradation, mild sadism and masochism, very brief exhibitionism, fingering, oral sex (m receiving) and mention of oral sex (f receiving), face fucking, gagging, thigh-riding, overstimulation, Jimin has a big fat huge monster cock, teasing, manhandling, slapping during sex, penetrative sex, squirting, cunnilingus, (I’m sure that’s it, but please let me know if you notice that I missed something!)

a/n: hey guys! please enjoy this absolute filth lmao (blame black haired Jimin for being the sexiest person in the world). the biggest thank you to the love of my life @silverlightprincess for proof-reading this two nights in a row and hyping it up so much, you’re the best and I love you. lmk what you think and hmu if you’re interested in a part two x

silverlightqueen masterlist

‘Please come with me. I can’t go by myself,’ I whine at Jennie who sits on her bed, watching me in amusement like she’s watching a film or TV show.

‘Nope, and I already told you why; I don’t want to see him, not after what happened,’ she says, and I roll my eyes as I order an Uber. ‘So you’re really gonna make me go by myself? What if I get drugged, or beaten up, or raped, or murdered, or-’ ‘y/n!’ she exclaims reproachfully, and I shrug, ‘it could happen.’ ‘Well, it won’t. Loads of our friends are there. Wendy and Irene and Seulgi, Yeri and Joy, loads of people,’ she lists off. ‘Yeah, and they’ll be there, too,’ I sigh. ‘Well, I mean, it is at their house,’ she says, holding back a laugh, and I stick my tongue out at her.

‘You know what I mean. I hate them – jocks are so unbearable. It’d be better if you were there,’ I say, pouting. ‘You’re a liar, you don’t hate them. Just him,’ she points out. ‘Well, what if he tries something? He’s so strong, he could literally lift a car if he wanted to-’ ‘Bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?’ she says, and I roll my eyes again. ‘You know what I mean. The point still stands that he’s strong – you’re the one that saw him at the gym lifting more than your body weight. And remember when he knocked one of the players on their opposing team to the floor in that match last year, and he was literally twice his size. If that guy couldn’t take him on, how can I?’ ‘And you think I can? I’m smaller than you, you idiot.’ ‘But you’re scary.’ ‘You’re scarier than me,’ she says mildly, and I sigh. ‘Please, Jen. It’s not even that big of a deal, what happened. If anything, it’s more embarrassing for him than for you,’ I say, trying so hard to persuade her. ‘It is a big deal. It only happened yesterday – I at least need to give it a couple days before I can face him again.’ ‘Fine, I’ll go by myself. If I’m not home in the morning, it’s on your head,’ I say dramatically, pulling on my heels.

‘Don’t be like that,’ she reprimands before launching into a speech, ‘you look absolutely gorgeous and the boys will be all over you, so don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, and if you do, please use a condom. I don’t need you bringing an STD back with you. If there’s an emergency, or you need me to pick you up, call me. Make sure you keep me updated on what’s going on. Don’t drink anything anyone gives you – pour your own drinks. Make sure you’re always with one of the girls.’ ‘Okay, okay! I’ll see you later, mum!’ I exclaim, and she laughs, pulling me into a hug. ‘Be careful, y/n,’ she says gently, and I nod. ‘When am I not, Jen?’ I say, and she raises an eyebrow. I leave our dorm and head down the corridor, opting to take the lift instead of the stairs – these heels aren’t that high, but I don’t want to take any risks.

My Uber’s already there by the time I get outside, so I jump straight in. The journey there is short (not short enough to walk in heels, though) and within five minutes, we’re pulling up in front of the house. I climb out, the driver instantly zooming away, and I look up at the house in front of me. It’s much bigger than and further away from the rest of the houses on the street, and it has its own little pier out onto the university lake, perfect for drunken skinny-dippers at the end of the night. I head up to the porch, the Greek letters for Alpha Sigma Phi hanging above my head, and push through the slightly open door. The party is already in full swing, loud bass-heavy RnB pulsing through the house, people already drunk and dancing, the smell of drugs thick in the air. I push through the throng of my classmates into the kitchen where I know my friends will be. The lowered volume in the kitchen is brief; only the moment before my friends notice me is quiet. ‘y/n!’ they all shout, and I jump in surprise. ‘y/n, you made it!’ Wendy shrieks, throwing her arms around me. ‘Of course, I wouldn’t have missed it,’ I say, hugging her back. ‘y/n, you look good!’ Yeri exclaims, holding me out for her to admire. ‘Thank you, Yeri, but look at you! Absolutely gorg!’ I don’t get to hear her reply before the rest of my friends greet me, all of them dressed up and drinking. ‘Let me get you a drink. What do you want?’ Irene asks me, and I scrunch up my face in thought. ‘I’ll just have Diet Coke for now – I don’t want any alcohol,’ I say, and I feel a hand appear on my waist. ‘Lightweight,’ I hear his teasing voice, and I can’t stop the big sigh I let out, accompanied by my signature eye roll.

‘Where are your pom-poms today?’ he asks, and I turn to look at him, the smell of vodka strong on him. ‘I was wondering how long I’d have without you bothering me,’ I say, fixing him with a dirty look. I’ve always thought of him as tiny, but he really isn’t – I have to tilt my head back slightly to look at his annoying face because of how close to me he is (he most definitely has lifts in his shoes). And it’s not just his face, that’s annoying, let me tell you that. It’s everything about him. And shall I tell you why? Because it’s all perfect. Everything about him, physically, is infuriatingly perfect. His legs are long and toned, his waist cinched and his frame slim, with vascular hands adorned in silver rings, matching with the silver earrings hanging from his ears and the silver Chanel necklace around his neck (how he can afford Chanel jewellery whilst at university, I don’t know). His lips are plump and glossy, like a Bratz doll, and his eyes are a deep chocolaty brown, framed with dark lashes. His jaw is sharp, his cheeks chubby, and his black hair is soft and fluffy, swept back to reveal the tan skin of his forehead and dark, bold eyebrows. Long story short, he’s beautiful, on the outside. The inside is a whole other story.

‘Bothering you? More like gracing you with my presence. Remember, this is my party, and there are plenty of other, more… willing girls I could be spending my time with, but I chose you. You should be honoured,’ he says with a grin, and I scowl at him. ‘Honoured?’ I echo as Irene hands me a red solo cup with the Coke in it, ‘it’s not your party. It’s Alpha Sigma Phi’s party.’ ‘And what does everyone think of when they think of ASP? This handsome face and the perfect dick that comes with it,’ he says, preening, and I roll my eyes again. ‘Can you not be so annoying and full of yourself all the time?’ ‘I can be whatever you want me to be, babe,’ he says lowly, thumb swiping across his plump lips, and I blink, heart jumping which pisses me off – my own body betrays me when I’m with him. ‘Well, whatever. I don’t think of you when I think of ASP. I think of a bunch of douches,’ I shrug, changing the subject back, and he grins even wider, obviously amused that he managed to make me flustered. ‘Now, now. Is that any way to speak about your friends? I’m sure the other boys would be offended to hear you speak about them like that,’ he says, plucking the cup from my hand and taking a sip. ‘Well, let me correct myself. You’re the douche,’ I say tiredly, and he grins. ‘You won’t be saying that for long. You’ll be eating your words when you feel how good my cock is,’ he forebodes, handing me back my cup, completely empty. ‘I don’t think I’ll be able to feel anything,’ I mutter, throwing away the cup, and he chuckles. ‘Oh, y/n, you do amuse me,’ he grins. ‘Oh, Park, the feeling is most definitely not mutual,’ I say in a bright tone, a fake smile plastered on my face. ‘Good talk, y/n, I’ll see you later,’ he says distractedly as he moves away from me, watching a sophomore that’s just walked in with her friends, wearing a skimpy dress. She’s pretty and looks nice, but I can’t help but dislike her instantly, surprised at myself for being so bitchy.

‘Who are you shooting lasers at?’ Joy asks. ‘Park Jimin,’ I spit out, turning my dirty looks to him instead. Or rather, his back, as he’s now facing away from me, speaking to the sophomore. ‘Cradle robber,’ Joy observes, and I laugh. ‘I wouldn’t quite say cradle robber – we’re only a year older than her,’ I point out, and Joy waves my words away. ‘Still. Anyway, are you drinking?’ she asks. ‘Well, I did have a drink, but he took it and downed it,’ I say, motioning to Jimin who’s now got a hand on the girl’s arm. She looks up at him with a sweet smile, her eyes wide and big, and I almost want to go over and warn her away, knowing he’s just looking for someone to fill his bed for the night. ‘Well, Seulgi brought Malibu, and I know you like it, so here,’ she says, pushing an unopened bottle into my hand and disappearing back into the throng of people. ‘Thanks,’ I say to the spot where she was just stood, plucking a clean cup from the packet, pouring out some of the rum and mixing it with coke (an unopened bottle – I’m no rookie). I also find some straws and pick out a pink one, dropping it into the cup. Just as I begin to take a sip, a pair of big hands clap down onto my shoulders, making me jump and I choke on my drink.

‘Oh, shit, sorry. You okay, y/n?’ I hear Namjoon’s voice as I cough again and again. ‘Do I look okay?’ I ask once I’ve stopped choking, my eyes beginning to water and my face warm. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to,’ he says reproachfully, holding back laughter. ‘Idiot,’ I mutter, taking a seat on one of the stools around the kitchen island (these trashy dirty frat boys don’t deserve such a nice house). ‘Sorry. Anyways, how are you?’ ‘I was fine before you tried to kill me. What about you?’ ‘Um, good, yeah. I saw you speaking to Jimin,’ he says, triggering an eye roll. ‘He’s such a pain in the ass. I’m gonna file a restraining order.’ ‘Go for it, I’ll file one too. So, you, um… did you come by yourself?’ he asks, rubbing at the back of his neck, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘Don’t be a pussy – say it with your chest,’ I say in a bored tone, and he sighs. ‘Did Jennie come with you?’ he asks quietly. ‘No, she wasn’t feeling too well, so she stayed back at our apartment,’ I grin, and he puts a hand to his forehead. ‘She’s avoiding me, isn’t she? Urgh, I’m such an idiot.’ ‘I can’t argue with you there,’ I reply, and he scowls at me. ‘Sorry. But, it’s true, you are an idiot. I mean, what on earth were you thinking?’ I say, failing to hold back my laughter. ‘I didn’t know that she would be out there. If I’d known…’ he trails off. ‘You wouldn’t have run across the pitch butt naked?’ I ask, and he slaps a hand over my mouth, looking around to see if anyone heard. ‘Keep your voice down! I don’t want people knowing. I lost a bet, and I did it at night-time so no one would see. How was I supposed to know she’d be out there?’ he says defensively, and I shake my head at him in disgust. ‘You’re a mess. And, anyway, yes, of course she’s avoiding you. How can she look you in the face again properly having seen you completely naked?’ I say, struggling to hold back laughter as I think back to Jennie’s face when she walked into our apartment after going somewhere quiet to speak on the phone to her sister, Rose – there was a party going on in the apartment next door, so she went on a walk, conveniently running into (a naked) Namjoon. ‘Oh, go suck Jimin’s dick,’ he says half-heartedly. ‘Go flash Jennie again,’ I retort, and he flips me off before disappearing.

I stay in the kitchen the majority of the night, catching up with all my friends. It’s been a while since I had a chance to socialise; settling back into the Uni schedule after a long summer is tough, especially when you have an entire cheer team to lead. And cheering isn’t easy! People think we just run around in skimpy outfits, chanting and waving pom-poms, but there is so much more to it than that – I’d go as far to say that cheer is one of the hardest sports you can do. I spend so much of my time choreographing and working out to keep fit and planning routines and deciding positions for the team. It requires a lot of dedication and time to get everything done before the season starts. But obviously, a lot of my peers don’t have to dedicate their time to things like that and are used to partying, opting to get black out drunk at these frat parties instead of socialising with their friends. Only three hours after my arrival, there are people passed out all over the place, bedrooms occupied, and drunken students dirty dancing in the living room. Sat in the same stool as three hours ago, I watch Yeri flirt with a senior, feeling proud of my girl. She catches me watching and I put my thumbs up to her, giving her a big encouraging smile, and she quickly looks away for fear of laughing out loud.

‘Ah, y/n. Alone?’ I hear Jimin’s voice from behind me before he takes the seat beside me. ‘Yes, and I was enjoying it,’ I say pointedly, despite knowing he won’t go. ‘How have you been? Still dancing away?’ he asks with a grin, and I roll my eyes. ‘Cheer isn’t the same as dance.’ ‘I’ve seen you on the side-lines while we’re playing – sure looks like dance to me.’ ‘And anyway, why do you have to say it like that? I’m not a stripper,’ I say exasperatedly, completely ignoring his stupid interjection. ‘What’s wrong with being a stripper?’ ‘Nothing, I consider it at least nine times a day.’ ‘Let me know if you decide to pursue that as your career – I’d be more than happy to support you. Maybe even join you if football doesn’t work out for me.’ ‘Oh, I don’t doubt you’d support me, you pervert.’ ‘Now, you know that’s not true. I only flirt with girls that want me back. If they don’t, I leave them alone.’ ‘So why don’t you leave me alone?’ ‘Because it’s clear to me that you enjoy my flirting. You might act like you don’t, but not once have you ever explicitly told me to stop, or to go away,’ he says, and I struggle for a comeback, knowing it’s true. He might be a total dick and I might hate him, but the flirting and the attention, it makes me feel good. It’s a nice feeling, knowing that a boy who could have anyone… wants me. ‘See?’ he points out with a smirk, and I roll my eyes as he takes a sip of the vodka in his hand. ‘You need to deflate your ego a little.’ ‘You need to pull that stick out your arse.’ ‘It’s stuck up there, with your head.’ ‘Touché,’ he laughs, and I shake my head.

‘So, as I was asking before we got side-tracked, how have you been? How are you finding junior year?’ he asks, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘Why do you care, Park?’ I ask, and he grins. ‘Why wouldn’t I care?’ ‘Because we don’t like each other.’ ‘I like you,’ he smirks, head resting on his hand, arm leaning on the countertop. ‘No, you don’t, and I sure as hell don’t like you.’ ‘Why do you keep lying to me, and to yourself, y/n?’ ‘I’m not lying. Just because you’re attracted to someone, it doesn’t mean you like them,’ I say, regretting the words as soon as I see the mischievous light in his eyes. ‘You’re attracted to me?’ ‘That’s not what I said.’ ‘It pretty much is, y/n. But it’s okay, I knew that already. It’s just nice to hear it out loud. Well, I hope that’s what you were referring to, and not to me being attracted to you, because that certainly isn’t true,’ he says, my body going cold at hearing his words as my jaw drops. I turn to look at him, a shit-eating grin on his face, and I want to slap it off.

‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,’ I say, and he just gives me an infuriating grin. Now, let me make something clear. Park Jimin isn’t that bad. Annoying, flirty, egotistic? Yes, exactly, and everyone loves him for being the star player on the team, which makes it worse. But I can deal with him. He’s not really… the bane of my existence, or anything like that. But he is the most irritating person I’ve ever met. He’s like a chipped nail on a fresh set, or a bird chirping outside your window at 4am when you have an exam. But this? This is on another level. How, how on earth, has he managed to turn the tables onto me like this? ‘What d’you mean?’ ‘What do I me- I mean that you flirt with me every opportunity you get!’ I say, voice getting a little louder with annoyance, and he raises an eyebrow, still looking annoyingly laidback, his smirk and my anger growing at the same rate. ‘So what?’ ‘So… if you’re flirting with me that often, you’re attracted to me. You’ve made it clear you’re attracted to me,’ I say slowly, starting to wonder if I’m missing something, and his grin grows impossibly wider. ‘Just a bit of fun, isn’t it? Doesn’t mean anything,’ he says with a little shrug, and I try to hide the way his words hurt.

‘Fine. Go have a bit of fun with someone else, then,’ I say savagely, facing away from him and crossing my arms over my chest, and yet, he seems nothing but amused. ‘Don’t be like that, babe,’ he says easily, reaching for me, and I slap his hands away, ignoring the pet name. ‘No, leave me alone,’ I say sulkily, and he raises an eyebrow at me as he rests a hand on my thigh, lips twitching when I don’t brush it off. ‘Come on, baby, I was just kidding,’ he smiles serenely, and I turn a scowl to him. ‘Well, I didn’t find it funny, so go find some other girls who will,’ I spit at him, and he’s holding back a laugh, which infuriates me even more. ‘But those girls are boring. You aren’t. So stop being bratty,’ he says, and my mouth falls open slightly, my eyes fixed on his stupidly handsome face. ‘Bratty? I’m being bratty?’ I demand, and he nods, lips slightly quirked up at the ends with amusement. ‘Yes, angel, you are.’ ‘Well… you’re being a dick.’ ‘Real mature,’ he says with a roll of his eyes, and I scowl. ‘Says you, you fucking manchild.’ ‘Wow, you really are a brat. I’ve apologised, like, twice. Get over it and stop being so stubborn.’ ‘I’m not being stubborn! ‘You are.’ ‘Am not.’ ‘Are too.’

‘Wow, you two are children,’ Jungkook’s voice comes from beside us, and we both turn to look at him. ‘How long have you been there?’ Jimin asks moodily, and Jungkook grins, dropping me a wink. ‘Long enough to see that you two need to stop fucking around and… fuck,’ Jungkook says, and I scrunch up my nose in disgust, leaning away from Jimin. ‘Don’t ever say that again. I hate him,’ I spit out, putting emphasis on the word so he understands that I truly mean it, and he rolls his eyes again, taking a sip of his drink. ‘You don’t have to love each other. Hell, you don’t even have to like each other,’ Jin’s voice comes from behind me, and I turn to him with a hard stare. ‘Seriously? Who fucks someone they don’t like?’ I say, both Jungkook and Jin laughing. ‘Lots of people, actually. Honestly, y/n, I promise you, it’s better when you don’t like each other. No strings attached, no obligations afterwards, and you don’t have to think about whether it feels good for them,’ Jungkook explains, and now my entire face is scrunched up in disgust. ‘That’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard anyone say. You men are disgusting,’ I say, giving Jimin a pointed look, and he gasps. ‘Don’t look at me! I’ve never done that!’ Jimin exclaims defensively, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘Yeah, right.’ ‘He’s telling the truth,’ Jin says, and I turn my raised eyebrows to him. ‘Sure.’ ‘No, seriously, he never has. Everyone Jimin fucks adores him, so he’s never known the joy that is hate sex,’ Jungkook says, he and Jin laughing as I give them a disgusted look, Jimin suspiciously silent. ‘Jin, Jungkook, Jimin, come dance with us,’ a high-pitched female voice calls from the living room, all four of us looking to see a group of skimpily dressed freshmen beckoning the boys over. Jin and Jungkook waste no time, practically leaving us in their dust as they rush to join the girls.

I look to Jimin, who hasn’t moved a muscle, still with a stormy expression on his face. ‘Well? Go dance with them,’ I prompt, and his features smooth out before a small smirk curls his lips up. ‘I’d rather stay here, babe, with you,’ he says, and I grit my teeth, trying not to swing for him. ‘You didn’t hesitate to leave me earlier for that sophomore,’ I say despite myself, knowing I sound petty, and he chuckles. ‘Jealous, baby?’ he asks, and I let out a sigh, having had enough. ‘If you’re not going to go, I’ll go,’ I sigh tiredly, getting up from my stool, and heading towards the living room. He grabs my hand as I pass him, turning me around to face him, and I want to pull my hand out of his grasp, but the second I turn to see those big brown eyes on me, I freeze. And I hate it. How can he be such a dick to me all the time, so flirty but then so cold, and I forgive him every time because he’s handsome? How? ‘What do you want me to say, y/n? That you’re prettier, way prettier than the sophomore girl, and those drunk freshmen dancing in the living room? That you’re prettier than every girl in this damn house? Is that what you want?’ he asks, actually sounding sincere for once, and my heart jumps at the compliment. I hate it. I hate him.

‘No. I want you to leave me alone,’ I spit, wrenching my arm from his grasp, and he lets out an amused chuckle. ‘Good, because I hate lying,’ he says with an easy grin, and that little voice in my mind just says, ‘oh’ as I stop still. ‘You know what? Fuck you,’ I whisper, feeling tears in my eyes as I turn away from him, ready to go home. ‘You should be more polite, angel,’ he calls after me, and I can’t help myself, turning to look at him. ‘What?’ ‘I said,’ he replies, getting up from his stool before downing his vodka (I hope it’s mixed with something because he doesn’t wince at all), making me wait until he says, ‘you should be more polite. A request like that? You could at least say please.’ My blood boils, anger actually consuming me as all I can see is red, and that stupid fucking smirk on his stupid fucking face. ‘You’re such a fucking dick, Park. I don’t know who the fuck you think you are,’ I rage, stepping closer to him, and he just carries on grinning at me. ‘Go on, babe,’ he says when I’m silent for a moment, jutting his chin out to prompt me, and I want to actually slam his head into the wall. ‘Just fuck off. I can’t deal with you right now, go find someone who adores you so you can stick your tiny dick down her throat,’ I spit at him, his face twisting with anger at me using his friends’ words against him (or at calling his dick tiny – I’m not sure which), and I stomp towards the back door.

I push open the door, storming through and narrowly avoiding colliding with a group of boys passing around a joint. ‘Oh, hey, y/n!’ Taehyung exclaims when he sees me, a big grin on his face. ‘Hi, Tae,’ I say quickly before rushing up towards the road, pulling my phone out of my pocket to order an Uber. ‘You’re leaving?’ I hear Jimin call after me, and I let out a scream of rage, whirling around to face him. ‘How many times do I have to tell you to leave me the fuck alone?’ I shriek, the few people outside watching us with interest, Jimin marching up towards me. ‘No, you don’t get to say your piece and leave,’ he spits out, jaw clenched in anger, and I look skywards, throwing my hands up in despair. ‘Say what you want to say, then. Go on,’ I prompt, voice shaking with anger.

‘You’re such an uptight little bitch, y/n. You fucking mope around in the kitchen at parties, don’t touch the drugs and barely drink, thinking you’re so high and mighty and above the rest of us. You can’t even take a fucking joke and you turn it into something serious by fucking insulting me!’ he shouts, and I’m a little shocked and a lot hurt, the people around letting out little noises of embarrassment on my behalf. ‘Are you kidding me? Just because I don’t turn into a messy fucking disgrace at parties, doesn’t mean I’m uptight!’ I shout back, taking a step towards him, and he lets out a humourless laugh. ‘See? There you go again! It’s called having fun, y/n, you should fucking try it some time!’ ‘I have fun, you dick!’ ‘Yeah, okay, sure you do. You were sat by yourself at a party. Do you know how sad that is? And me, being the nice guy I am, come to sit with you to talk, and you’re just fucking rude to me!’ ‘Nice guy? You have to be joking! You’re not a nice guy, and you never have been! You’re entitled and egotistic and can’t keep your dick in your pants! You can’t take a hint, and even when I tell you explicitly to leave me alone, you don’t!’ I shout, both of us moving closer and closer to one another. ‘I’m trying to be nice, for fuck’s sake! I don’t understand why you tell me to leave you alone!’ ‘I don’t understand why it is so hard for you to accept the fact that I. Don’t. Like. You,’ I say in his face, emphasising every word, hoping he finally gets the message.

‘You fucking liar,’ he says lowly, taking another step closer to me, centimetres apart from me. ‘Excuse me?’ ‘I said that you’re a liar. You do like me,’ he says, eyes dark as he looks at me, and I scoff, trying to ignore how tense I am now that he’s this close to me. ‘I promise you, I really fucking don’t,’ I laugh, our voices much quieter now, everyone around us still watching the exchange, straining to hear our words. They must be confused to see a girl not falling at the feet of great Park Jimin for once. ‘Stop lying, for once, y/n! Discard your pride, for fuck’s sake! You think I’m stupid?’ he asks, getting even closer to me, so close that his chest brushes against mine, my skin igniting at the touch, and I curse my body for betraying me. ‘You think I don’t see you literally fighting the smile off your face when I compliment you? You think I don’t feel the way you shudder when I touch you? You think I don’t notice how you lean towards me when we’re sat together? You think I don’t see the way your breath catches in your throat when I talk about the things I’d do to you? And it’s sexy, it’s really fucking sexy, and it’s so fucking hot when you play hard to get,’ he whispers, his tone harsh but his words making my entire body feel like it’s on fire because, yes, I fucking hate him, but God, he’s hot as hell. And then he makes me want to strangle him by saying, ‘but you ruin it by being so fucking uptight and taking a stupid little joke to heart.’

I let out a disappointed sigh, opening up the Uber app on my phone. ‘y/n. What the fuck are you doing?’ he asks, an edge to his tone, and I ignore him completely. ‘Are you ordering a fucking Uber?’ he demands, sounding incredulous, and I continue to ignore him, knowing it’ll piss him off even more. ‘I’m trying to fucking speak to you and you’re ordering an Uber? Can you stop being so fucking immature and, like… talk to me? Put down your fucking phone, y/n,’ he says slowly, and I can practically sense how he’s trying so hard to keep a hold of his temper – I can see him clenching and unclenching his fists, the vessels in his hands more visible than ever. And then he snatches my phone out of my hands. ‘Wha-’ I start to say, looking up at him, but I’m startled into silence when my eyes meet his. I’m good at riling him up from time to time, but I have never seen him this angry, not even when he’s playing football. His eyes are dark, cheeks flushed with rage, jaw and fists clenched so tight that I’m worried he might shatter a bone, and I actually feel scared. ‘Give me my phone back, Park,’ I say tiredly, and he lets out a mirthless laugh before turning away from me and heading back towards the house, tucking my phone into the back pocket of his tight black jeans.

‘For fuck’s sake,’ I say before following him – I’ve got too much pride to run after him, especially in heels because my clumsy ass will fall over. ‘Park, I swear to God,’ I call after him, the onlookers laughing. I’m glad they find it funny – I’m just tired, fed up and I want nothing more than to go to bed. He disappears into the house, and I speed up a little, knowing if I lose him, it could take ages to find him in that huge ass house, packed full of people. ‘y/n, babe, wait,’ I hear Yoongi say as I pass their group again, feeling him grab onto my hand. ‘Yoongi, not now. He’s got my phone.’ ‘I know. He told us to distract you,’ Yoongi admits, and I let out a noise of frustration as I pull my hand from his grasp, rushing into the house before another of them can grab me, narrowly escaping Tae’s reach. I see him disappearing into the living room, and rush through the kitchen, pushing through the few people stood around the counters, but I freeze when I reach the living room door. A load of ASP boys are lining up coke on the coffee table with their credit cards, Eric Nam who lives in our accommodation block is passed out at my feet, and a group of girls from the sorority up the road are grinding on each other in the middle of the room, Jungkook in the thick of the throng with his hands on Nayeon’s waist. My eyes scan the room, and I spot jet black hair disappearing into the front hall. I seriously consider just leaving my phone and getting Namjoon to call me an Uber, but my passcode is basic as hell (123456) and I don’t need Jimin snooping around my socials. Or worse – my camera roll.

I step over Eric, narrowly avoiding Momo’s hands stretched out to grab me and dance with me, and sidestep the table covered in coke, bursting into the front hallway where Seulgi stands with Kai, one of the spotters on our cheer team. ‘Hey, babe!’ Seulgi exclaims when she sees me, and I grin at her, momentarily distracted from Jimin. ‘Hey, Seulgi. Hi, Kai. Have you guys seen Jimin?’ I ask, both of them looking at me in confusion. ‘Park Jimin?’ Kai asks, and I nod, a little impatient. ‘He just went upstairs. Why?’ Seulgi asks as I begin to run up the stairs. ‘He stole my phone,’ I shout over my shoulder, ignoring Kai’s shout of, ‘Use protection!’ At the top of the stairs, more of my friends are sat in a circle on the landing, handing a bottle of vodka around. ‘Hey, y/n,’ Mina says when she spots me, the others all greeting me too. ‘Hi, guys. You seen Park Jimin?’ I ask, all of them exchanging a glance. ‘You two about to resolve the sexual tension?’ Dahyun asks with a wiggle of her eyebrows, and I roll my eyes. ‘No, he’s got my phone.’ ‘Ooh, worried he’ll find your nudes?’ Jackson asks with a smirk, and I fix him with a hard stare. ‘He’ll never guess the passcode for ‘My Eyes Only’ so I’m not worried,’ I say evenly, and I have to hold back a laugh when the boys all exchange a glance. ‘Anyway, did you see where he went?’ I ask, getting even more impatient now. ‘He went upstairs – his room’s up there. Second door on the left,’ Jeongyeon says, everyone’s eyes turning to her now. ‘How do you know?’ Jinyoung demands, and I take the moment of them being distracted to sprint up the stairs. With every step, I feel the anger inside me grow, all of the times he’s pissed me off over the past couple years building up within me. I hate him, really fucking hate him, and this is just the last fucking straw.

When I reach his room, I don’t even bother knocking, bursting in. And when my brain registers that he’s lying on his bed, with the pretty sophomore from earlier on top of him, all I can see is red, my hands shaking with fury. She looks up at me in surprise, Jimin completely ignoring my presence and continuing to press kisses to her jaw. ‘I swear to fucking God, Park, I’m going to murder you,’ I say slowly, voice wavering with anger, and the girl has enough sense to get off him. ‘I’m really sorry, I didn’t know he was in a relationship,’ she says, sounding truly apologetic, and I feel bad for her. ‘He’s not. You’re welcome to get back to your thing in a minute – I just want my phone,’ I demand, eyes flitting to the bed where he’s leaning back on his elbows, watching our exchange with amusement. None of us say anything for a few moments, the poor girl caught in between mine and Jimin’s feud.

‘I’m being serious, Park. Give me my fucking phone before I cut your dick off,’ I threaten, knowing I’d make good of it too, but he doesn’t move a muscle, just watching me with eyes sparkling with mirth. ‘You know what? I’m gonna leave you guys to resolve whatever the hell this is,’ the girl says, heading to the door. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I say, truly feeling bad, and she turns back to look at me, stood in the doorway. ‘Don’t be. I think you’ve helped me dodge a bullet. If anything, I’m sorry for you, being involved with him,’ she says quietly, making me laugh, and she laughs too. She really is a nice girl. ‘Thank you. I’ll see you around. I’m y/n, by the way,’ I say, and she nods. ‘I know. I’ve been thinking of trying out for cheer, and everyone I’ve spoken to said to go to you,’ she says, and I let out a little noise of excitement. ‘Oh, my God, you should! You look like you’d be a good flier, and we’re running short of fliers at the moment!’ I exclaim, completely distracted, and she grins. ‘I used to fly at high school, so I’d definitely like to give it a go.’ ‘That’s great. Try-outs are next Saturday, at 12, and I’ll keep an eye out for you. What’s your name?’ ‘Park Jiwon. Do I have to sign up or anything?’ ‘Well, you missed sign-ups, but I’ll put your name down. Just show up,’ I say with a grin, and she smiles back. ‘Thank you, y/n. I’ll see you on Saturday.’ ‘See you, Jiwon,’ I smile, the girl heading towards the stairs with a wave.

When I turn back to look at Jimin, he’s right there in front of me. He pushes the door shut and then slams me up against it, knocking the air out of me before pulling my shoulder bag off my arm and throwing it across the room, the chain strap making a loud clanking noise when it hits the wall. He’s so close that all I can smell is him – the vodka he’s been drinking, his expensive aftershave and… something that’s just him. ‘You’re so fucking hot when you’re jealous, and angry with me. Love getting you all worked up, baby,’ he spits out, voice so low it sounds like a growl, and I’m speechless, literally speechless, his words igniting a fire low in my stomach. ‘You had plenty to say earlier, babe – why so quiet now?’ he asks, eyes dancing with amusement, and I look to the side, unable to hold his heavy gaze. ‘Don’t even think of turning your head away,’ he spits out, my stomach turning when he raises a hand to my chin, moving my head back to face him so my eyes can’t escape his. He holds my head in place, and the feeling of his hand resting loosely around my neck sparks arousal deep within me, my mouth drying. But I have too much pride to submit to him. ‘Give me my phone,’ I demand, and he lets out a chuckle, dark eyes not leaving mine. ‘I don’t know about that, angel. What will you do for me in return?’ he asks, pressing his body against mine so I’m trapped up against the door, and my eyes widen. ‘Nothing. It’s my phone,’ I say slowly, unable to believe how entitled he is. ‘It’s mine now,’ he grins, my mouth falling open. ‘Close your mouth before I spit in it, baby,’ he says, my mouth falling open even more in shock, stomach churning, arousal burning hot in my veins. ‘Don’t tempt me,’ he growls, pushing my mouth closed.

‘Get on your knees for me and I’ll consider giving you your phone back,’ he grins, and I can’t even say anything because he’s holding my mouth closed. ‘Is that a yes?’ he asks teasingly, and I make a noise of frustration, looking down at his hand to try and get him to move it. With a sigh, he removes his hand, and I snap, ‘get your hand off my neck, and give me my fucking phone, Park.’ ‘I always thought you’d be into choking. You seem like a dirty little slut,’ he grins, hand still not moving, my underwear flooding at his words. ‘I swear, Park, I will fucking kill you.’ ‘So you really, truly want me to let go of you? You really want to just get your phone and go?’ he asks, words dripping with amusement, testing me. And I can’t, I just can’t discard my pride – it’s too painful for me to concede to him. ‘Yes,’ I spit out, and his face twists with anger.

‘What is wrong with you, y/n? Why can’t you just fucking let go of your pride for once? I know you want me, I’m not fucking stupid! We’re both attracted to each other so why can’t you just stop fucking around and let me fuck you? I’m not going to do anything without your fucking consent, y/n, I’m not a fucking rapist! Why are you making this so fucking hard for me?’ he demands, rage making his voice shake, and I don’t know what to say. ‘I…’ ‘You what? Go on, fucking speak,’ he prompts, jaw working overtime as he waits for me to answer, hand still resting around my neck, his silver rings cool against my burning hot skin. ‘I do like choking,’ I breathe out, giving the only form of consent to him that my pride will allow, his face blank for a moment. ‘What?’ ‘I said… I do like choking,’ I whisper, his eyes lighting up slightly. I hold a finger up against his lips to stop him explicitly asking, hoping he’ll understand from my gaze. ‘Sure?’ he asks, plump lips moving against my finger, my heart warming at him double checking, and I nod. ‘I’m sure,’ I whisper back, and that’s all he needs to hear.

His hand tightens at my neck as he leans down, lips landing on mine. He kisses me, harshly, forcefully, his tongue sliding into my mouth within moments, turning my mind to slush and emptying my head of any thoughts other than how good he is at kissing. His free hand grips my waist, bruisingly tight, as my hands run through his hair, the soft and fluffy black locks tangling between my fingers, and he tastes like the citrusy vodka he was drinking, with the sweet undertone of my coke (the soft drink – not the drug). ‘On your knees,’ he growls, and I laugh against his lips. ‘No.’ ‘No?’ he asks, sounding amused. ‘No.’ He breaks away from me, looking down at me, heavy breaths escaping through his swollen lips. ‘Wanna say that again, babe?’ he asks, his gaze intimidating, but I don’t let myself break. ‘I said ‘no’. I’m not getting on my knees,’ I say forcefully, matching his serious stare with one of my own, and he lets out a little chuckle. Hand still around my neck, he grabs my arm with his free hand and pushes me towards the middle of the room before letting go of me and sitting at the edge of the bed he was lying on a few minutes ago, another bed on the other side of the room empty. ‘Strip,’ he commands, and I cross my arms over my chest, raising an eyebrow. ‘I swear to God, y/n, do not fucking test me. Take off your fucking clothes,’ he spits out, the rage from earlier reappearing, and I decide to follow his instructions, but have a little fun while I do so.

I grin at him before I slide my hands across my torso, slipping my fingers beneath my top and pulling it up over my head, slowly as I possibly can, leaving me in just my black lace bralet (my top was too thin to wear a padded bra). Once it’s off, I throw it to him, and he deflects it with a quick hand, just about stopping it from hitting his face. He sends me a hard glare (though I can see that he’s trying to hold back a laugh behind it) but it disappears the second I flick open the button of my jeans, pulling down the zip too, his gaze darkening. He’s so intimidating that I can’t help but feel self-conscious at undressing in front of him, but then I spot the growing bulge in his jeans, and it makes me feel a little better. I turn away from him, kicking off my heels, pushing my jeans down my legs and bending over to give him a view of my ass, covered by my black lace pants, and I know there’s probably a slightly darker patch between my legs. I straighten up again, stepping out of the denim pooled at my feet, and turn back to face him. He runs a hand through his hair, a smirk on his lips as he beckons me over with the curl of a finger. I step towards him and he reaches out, grabbing me by one wrist and pulling me onto his lap. He tilts his head back to kiss me again, my fingers tangling into his hair and nails scraping against his scalp as he digs his hands into my back, our bodies pressed together almost painfully. He pulls my bottom lip between his teeth before laving his tongue over the sore skin, making me let out a whimper against his mouth.

‘Feels good?’ he asks cockily, and I want nothing more than to take him down a peg, so I ignore him, just continuing to kiss him. ‘I asked you if it felt good,’ he says against my lips, hand reaching behind me to gather up my hair and pull my head back, exposing my neck to him. ‘And I ignored you,’ I reply, voice shaky, as he kisses up and down my neck, pulling the skin beneath my jaw between his teeth, marking me. ‘Petty… stubborn… uptight… bratty… little bitch,’ he says between marking my neck and skin around my collarbones, shaky breaths and little whines falling from between my lips every few seconds at the feeling of his tongue laving over the bruises caused by his perfect teeth and plump lips. ‘I’ll break you, y/n. You’ll be begging for my cock by the time I’m done with you,’ he says, lips curled into a smirk against my skin, and I let out a laugh. I lean down, my lips against his ear, and whisper, ‘less likely than you scoring a goal in the first match of the season. Which we all know is very unlikely.’ He scoffs, lifting me up and putting me down over his lap, my ass sticking up the air.

‘Safe word?’ he growls, sounding almost reluctant, and I feel a thrill at the thought that he’s planning on doing enough to me that I might need a safe word. I think for a moment, and his grip on my thigh tightens before he spits out, ‘hurry up.’ ‘How about… small dick?’ I ask, biting my lip to hold back laughter (I really do find myself funny), but my amusement quickly disappears when his hand delivers a solid slap to my raised ass, making me let out a small squeal of pain, and I look back at him with a glare. ‘Small dick it is,’ he says cheerfully with a grin at me before reaching out to turn my head away from him. ‘You’re being punished, bitch, you don’t get to look at me,’ he spits out before his hand lands down heavily on my ass again, in the exact same spot as the previous slap, making me yelp in pain. I begin squirming in his lap – this spanking is not it, but he holds me firmly in place, landing another slap on the same cheek, and another, and another, and-

‘Park, cut it out!’ I shriek, my ass stinging with pain, and I just know he’s grinning. ‘Safe word?’ he asks, and I bite my tongue, knowing I can’t give in this easy. ‘That’s what I thought,’ he says cheerfully, before wrenching my pants down just past my ass, his hand, spread wide, to land across both cheeks with every slap. I squirm on his lap, still trying to escape, but he’s strong, holding me still and spanking again and again. And then the pain begins to ebb away into pleasure, my yelps of pain becoming desperate whimpers, my pussy practically drenched. With one slap, his skin is inches from the place I need him most, and I can’t stop the moan that escapes my lips. ‘Enjoying being spanked like a dirty little bitch?’ he asks, stopping the tirade of slaps on my ass, but I stay silent, too proud to admit to it. The spanks continue with my silence, my ass burning with the pleasurable pain, and when he’s finally deemed it enough, he rubs a hand over my cheeks, the metal of his rings providing relief for my stinging skin.

‘You okay, y/n?’ he asks, momentarily breaking from his hard demeanour, my heart warming despite myself. ‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ I reply, sounding breathless to my own ears, and he chuckles. ‘You took your punishment well, for a little brat. What do you want now, babe?’ he asks, and I’m silent, too proud to tell him. ‘Well, you’re obviously deciding to be a stubborn little bitch, so we can sit here like this all night,’ he says, and I look up to see him with his arms crossed over his chest, looking relaxed and smug. I let out an annoyed huff, looking back at the ground, and I wait a few moments to say, ‘touch me.’ ‘What was that, angel?’ he asks, hand beginning to rub over my sore ass again, reliving some of the pain, and I sigh. ‘Touch me.’ ‘I am, baby,’ he replies easily, hand continuing to skim over my stinging skin, and I let out a frustrated whine. ‘You know what I mean, Park!’ I exclaim angrily, and he chuckles. ‘I’m not sure I do, babe. Spell it out for me,’ he prompts, endlessly amused, and I clench my jaw in anger. ‘Can you touch my pussy?’ I snap, and he chuckles, making my blood boil. ‘Can I touch your pussy…?’ he asks, and I let out another angry noise, not wanting to be polite to him at all. But he’s completely silent, waiting for me to speak, and I give in, spitting out the word, ‘please.’ ‘Good girl,’ he compliments, voice soothing, but his hand doesn’t move from my ass. And then he says, ‘but it took too long.’

‘Are you fucking kidding me? If you’re not going to fuck me, Park, I’m leav- oh! Oh, God,’ I moan out, my angry tirade cut off when he pushes two thick fingers deep between my folds, stretching me out almost painfully. My walls clench around him as I whimper, my slick coating his hand. ‘So fucking wet for me, oh, my God. Does being a bitch to me turn you on, angel?’ he asks, but it seems he doesn’t require an answer, pushing one of my legs off his lap to give him better access to my pussy, my foot on the floor to stop me from sliding off him. He begins to thrust his fingers in and out of me, fast, and my head falls down as I let out a loud moan because, God, he’s good, better than I could’ve imagined. ‘So tight,’ he groans, as I throb around his thick fingers, my hips rolling back unconsciously to meet the thrusts of his hand. I can feel my high nearing quickly, the spanking and teasing making me desperate, and his fingers are so fucking good. And then his thumb begins to rub at my clit harshly, forcing a startled moan out of me, and I’m so close, twitching around him as my entire body tenses.

And then he pulls his fingers out. I let out a frustrated whine, eyes prickling with tears as he chuckles, leaning down and holding his slick covered fingers in front of my face. I refuse to take his fingers into my mouth, lips sealed shut, and he sighs, before his other hand lands a harsh slap onto my swollen pussy. I let out a shriek of pain, but he doesn’t relent, landing more heavy slaps onto my sensitive folds, pulling pained moans from my mouth. ‘Stop making this so hard for yourself,’ he says through gritted teeth, and I reluctantly open my mouth, his fingers instantly slipping between my lips, the slaps ceasing as I lick his fingers clean of my arousal. ‘Look at you, being a good little slut for me,’ he says with satisfaction, making my blood boil, and I can’t help but bite down on his fingers, not hard enough for it to hurt, but hard enough for it to shock him. He jumps, making me grin in satisfaction, before ramming his two fingers back between my folds. I let out a loud moan as he pumps in and out of my pussy, the pleasure rolling over me in waves. The rough pads of his fingers brush against my walls, thumb nudging at my clit as I let out moan after moan, feeling my orgasm build back up. I clench around him even tighter, twitching against his fingers, and it’s like he’s already managed to identify when I’m close, pulling his fingers away at the last second.

‘No, please,’ I whine pathetically, bucking my hips up in frustration, and he chuckles. ‘It’s a bit late for ‘please’ now, babe. You can beg better than that,’ he prompts, and I want to cry, so desperate for a release that I give in, swallowing my pride to force out some desperate words that might persuade him. ‘Please, Park, please make me cum. I need it, I need it so fucking bad, need your fingers or your mouth or your cock, anything. I just need to cum,’ I beg, and he’s silent for a moment. ‘God, that’s fucking hot, y/n. But…’ he says, making me tense at the thought he’s not going to give me what I want. ‘Your begging means nothing – you’re just saying what you think I want to hear. You need to earn it, angel,’ he says, making me whine in frustration and thrash on his lap. I’ve had enough now – my vibrator can probably do a better job than him, and Jennie will be fast asleep now (she could sleep through an earthquake). ‘Call me by my name,’ he says, breaking through my anger, and I freeze. ‘What?’ ‘I said to call me by my name. You’ve only ever called me Park. If you swallow your pride and call me ‘Jimin’… I’ll make you cum as many times as you want,’ he says, and it sounds simple enough, tempting enough.

But I’m not giving him what he wants.

‘No.’ ‘No?’ ‘No.’ ‘Okay,’ he says simply, his fingers sliding back in easily, making me shudder. His fingers pump in and out of me, furiously fast, as his thumb rubs against my clit, my mind numbing with pleasure as I let out moan after moan, unable to stop myself, and I know I must be so loud right now, loud enough for my friends on the floor below to hear, but I don’t care. He curls his thick fingers, brushing against the soft spongy spot inside me, and I let out a loud whine. ‘Listen to you being nice and loud for me, like a good little bitch. You’re so close, aren’t you? Can feel your tight pussy clenching around my fingers. You’re gonna cum soon, right?’ he murmurs, fingers fucking into me relentlessly. ‘Call me Jimin. Swallow your pride, call me my name, and I’ll let you cum all over my fingers, as many times as you want, baby. Just call me Jimin,’ he says, voice so soothing that I’m almost persuaded, but no. I’m too proud, too stubborn. I bite down on my lip to stop myself, and he sighs. ‘Such a stubborn little bitch,’ he says, almost disappointedly, pulling his fingers out from me, and I let out a shriek of frustration.

‘Fuck, please, Park! Please let me cum, please! I’m so fucking desperate, need to cum so bad!’ I cry out, words slurred as my eyes fill with tears, vision blurring. He’s silent, just listening to my desperate begging, before plunging his fingers back into me, making me moan. And then he stops, fingers stilling inside me. ‘Park, please, feels so fucking good, please!’ I beg, his fingers continuing to thrust into me when I begin to speak, but stilling when I stop. ‘Please, Park, I need it, need it so fucking bad,’ I whine, and it’s an endless cycle, his fingers only moving when I speak, and stilling when I fall silent. I fall into a repeated cry of ‘please’ again and again until my throat is hoarse, his fingers bringing me close to the edge before he pulls out, yet again. ‘Oh, my God, Park, please make me cum! Please, I need it so bad, need to cum so bad,’ I beg pathetically, and he chuckles. ‘Not until you break,’ he says, pushing his fingers into my swollen pussy again. And he’s ruthless, relentless, fingers fucking into me so fast, so hard that it hurts, hurts so good, and I’m moaning out, loud and desperate. ‘Say it, baby, swallow your pride and say my name like a good girl. I can make you feel so good, angel, so good. Fuck you all night, eat this pretty little pussy until you’re begging me to stop. Just say my name, swallow your pride. Come on, babe, say my name,’ he murmurs, soothing voice mixed with how good his fingers feel fucking into me and his thumb rubbing at my clit that the prospect of not finishing, makes my eyes fill with tears. And I’m so close to breaking, so close. But his fingers disappear.

He lifts me up, moving my weak body to straddle one of his strong thick thighs, the material of his jeans against my pussy making me whimper. My hands grip onto his shoulders to support myself, and when my eyes meet his, I nearly cum from that alone. His eyes are so dark, impossibly dark, blown wide with lust, his hair a mess from him running his fingers through it, his lips swollen and shining in the low lamplight, skin flushed and hot. He looks so fucking hot. ‘Ride my thigh,’ he whispers, and it takes every last bit of my willpower to shake my head, no. ‘Such a fucking brat,’ he spits before he begins bouncing his thigh. I let out a strangled moan when my pussy rubs against the sturdy denim of his jeans, head lolling back, and he quickly grabs my waist to stop me from falling off his leg. He doesn’t stop, and I’m bouncing on his thigh, moans falling from my lips with every jolt, his eyes latching on to my breasts which bounce right in front of his face. ‘Fuck. So fucking hot,’ he says, hand wrenching down the centre of my bralet so my breasts fall out, straps digging into my shoulders. His plump lips attach to one of my nipples, waves of bliss washing over me at the mixed sensations, heightened when he reaches a hand down to rub my clit slowly. ‘Look how good I’m being to you,’ he says against my nipple, his saliva sliding down my breast as he speaks, ‘making you feel so good, angel. And you can’t even say my name. It isn’t that hard.’

I ignore him, focusing on keeping my orgasm at bay – I’d rather feel the pleasure of now for hours than have one more orgasm denied. ‘Say it,’ he says, moving to the other nipple, flicking his tongue over the bud before sucking it. ‘Fuck, please, Park.’ ‘Say it, angel.’ ‘Oh, God, feels so- oh! Fuck.’ ‘Come on, y/n. Just say my name, baby, and I’ll make you feel so good. You’re so close, I know you are. You’re gushing all over my thigh, can feel it through my jeans. Just say it, babe, and I’ll let you soak my thigh with your cum. Say it, angel. Swallow your pride for me, baby, and I’ll make you feel so good, fuck you all night long if that’s what you want.’ And I feel my high nearing, feel the knot in my stomach tightening, and I’m so close, so fucking close that I just can’t, I can’t lose it.

And I break.

‘Fuck, Jimin, please, make me cum, I need it,’ I cry out, a shit-eating grin spreading across his lips as I moan his name again and again, unable to stop because of how fucking good he feels. ‘Cum for me, angel,’ he whispers, and the second I hear him give me permission, I’m falling over the edge, crying out his name as I cum all over his thigh, shuddering as he continues bouncing his leg, thumb rubbing at my clit to prolong my high. ‘Such a good girl, so fucking good for me, angel,’ he whispers soothing words as I come down, his hands on my back gentle and comforting. The exhaustion that comes after my orgasm is heavy, making me fall into him, and he chuckles, holding me as I try to get my breath back, hands on his shoulders.

‘Are you too tired? You wanna stop?’ he asks, and I push myself off him with effort, trying my hardest to stay upright when I land on my feet. I pull my pants back up, and my bralet too before dropping to my knees (I hate being naked while I’m sucking someone off – it’s weird, but I hate being… on display). His eyes darken the second I hit the floor, and he can’t stand up quick enough, unbuckling his belt in record time. I pull his black jeans down to his ankles and he steps out of them, and he pulls his white t-shirt up over his head, throwing it over his shoulder as he steps out of his jeans, kicking them away. And then I pull down his boxers, leaving them bunched up at the top of his thighs, and my heart skips a beat, my eyes widening and my mouth watering at how beautiful he is. His legs are long and toned and his skin is tan and clear, pulled over hard muscles and a full six pack, his abs rippling as his long, thick length stands up against them, rock hard and leaking with precum. I spit on his dick, his breath catching in his throat at the contact, before I use my palm to spread my saliva over his length, his hips bucking. He’s so sensitive, reacting to my every touch, and I almost feel sorry for him, thinking how long he must have been hard. And he’s so big, so thick, with a beautiful fucking curve, that I actually wonder how the hell I’m supposed to get more than just the head of his cock in.

Without wasting time, I lick the tip, revelling in the shaky breath that falls from his lips, his salty precum spread across my tongue. I decide to give him a taste of his own medicine, kitten licking his tip, occasionally swirling my tongue around the head, exhales and gentle groans escaping from his lips. He soon gets impatient, gathering my hair up in one hand and trying to push my head further down onto him, but I resist his force. ‘Stop fucking teasing, y/n,’ he spits out, making me grin to myself, and I don’t waste another second before sinking down onto his length until he hits the back of my throat, the boy letting out a strangled moan as I begin to bob my head up and down. I can’t get my lips to the base of his cock, and my jaw quickly begins to ache, because he’s just too damn big, gags being forced from my throat every few seconds. I take him out of my mouth, placing my tongue at the base, licking up to his tip against the vein on the underside of his cock to relieve myself of having him in my mouth, but he’s quickly bucking his hips, desperate to have my lips around him again. I look up at him through my lashes as I swirl my tongue around the tip before slowly taking him in as far as possible, gagging around him, and when he hits the back of my throat, his head falls back, a desperate moan of my name falling from his lips, the sound rushing straight to my core.

I slowly build up my pace, steadily bobbing my head up and down, taking him in further each time. ‘Fuck, y/n, you’re so fucking good at this, oh, my God. So fucking good, angel, such a good little cockslut for me,’ he groans, hips bucking and making my eyes water, not to mention how hard he’s tugging on my hair, but his moans spur me on through the pain. And I just as I’m beginning to adjust, nearly getting him into my throat, he loses his patience. He starts thrusting into my mouth, controlling my head movements with the hand he has fisted in my hair, and all I can do is grab onto his thighs as he fucks my mouth. ‘Fuck, you’re so good. My perfect little whore, letting me fuck your mouth, and taking it so well. Love hearing you gagging,’ he says, thrusting particularly hard and prompting a gag from me, the noise making him moan. ‘So sexy,’ he whispers, and I moan around him, the vibrations making him thrust faster. Tears stream down my face, saliva bubbling around my mouth and dripping down my chin and neck.

And then there’s a knock at the door, followed by, ‘Jimin, you in there?’ Jimin stills completely and opens his mouth to reply, but I get an idea, deciding to get my revenge for all the edging. I bob up and down on his length, furiously fast, hands playing with his balls, and a strangled groan falls from his lips, panic in his eyes when he looks down at me. ‘y/n,’ he says, almost pleadingly, and I look up at him innocently, as the door opens. I take his dick out of my mouth, looking around Jimin to see Hoseok stood in the doorway, eyes widening at the sight with Namjoon stood behind him, quickly clapping his hand over his eyes when he sees us. ‘I…’ Hoseok says, Jimin sighing before looking at him over his shoulder. ‘Yes?’ ‘Sorry. But I did ask if you were in here,’ Hoseok says, eyes flitting to me, and I can see him holding back a laugh when I grin at him mischievously. ‘Please, Hobi, just get what you need, and go,’ Jimin says tiredly, Hoseok nodding as he darts in, grabbing a charger from what must be the other bed which must be his, before darting back out, dropping a wink at me before he shuts the door.

And Jimin looks down at me, his gaze making my stomach turn. ‘Get up. Now,’ he spits out, and I rise up from the floor as slowly as possible as he pushes his boxers off, leaving him stood in all his glory. He’s so fucking beautiful, an absolutely Adonis – his body is perfect, like it’s been carved by the Gods. He rips my pants off as he reaches around me, unclasping my bralet with unmatched expertise, pulling it off my arms, and throwing both items over his shoulder. He grabs me by the neck, forceful but not violent, and walks me backwards to his bed, pushing me down and climbing over me. ‘You think you’re funny, huh?’ he demands, no regard for how tight he’s gripping my throat, and I grin, enjoying how pissed off he is. ‘We were doing well, and you just had to fucking ruin it,’ he spits out, entire weight on me, and I struggle for air, the lack of oxygen making my head spin pleasurably. ‘You like being caught in the act, huh? Like being a dirty little bitch and being on your knees for me in front of my friends? Or d’you just like pissing me off?’ he demands, eyes dark with anger, veins in his neck corded tight. ‘Like… pissing… you off. Thought… we could… try… hate… sex…’ I breathe out between deep inhales, desperately trying to take in enough air, and he smirks. ‘Thought you’d piss me off, so I’d hate you?’ he asks, and I grin as best as I can, eyes watering. He reaches down and grips his cock in one hand, running his length along my folds teasingly, sending little waves of pleasure through me. ‘Don’t make me beg,’ I whisper, my hoarse voice making him loosen his grip slightly, a smirk stretching his lips out. ‘That’d be mean, right? After how good you’ve been for me?’ he says sarcastically, eyebrow raised, and I fix him with a glare, his hand tightening again, rings digging into my skin. ‘Beg, bitch,’ he spits harshly, and I’m silent, our eyes locked together. ‘I could cum just like this,’ he says, still running his cock across my folds, and I sigh, the thought of him not fucking me making me snake my hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down to press my lips to his ear and whisper, ‘Fuck me, Jimin, so hard I can’t fucking walk, for as long as you fucking want. Fill me up with your big fat cock until I can’t breathe. Don’t care about me – I’m just a slut for you to use for your own pleasure, a whore for you to fill with your cum until your balls are empty.’ My words make him gulp, eyes blown wide with desire, and I press my lips to his, speaking against his mouth:

‘Fuck me like you hate me.’

He plunges all the way into me, both of us moaning, ‘fuck’, drawing the word out until he bottoms out, and it’s so fucking good. He’s so thick, the stretch burning deliciously, the curve of his cock having him fill me up perfectly, brushing up against my spongy spot without even meaning to. He doesn’t give me even a second to adjust, pulling all the way out before slamming back in, both of us letting out moans at the feeling. He sets a bruisingly fast pace, the bed hitting the wall with each strong thrust of his. ‘So fucking tight. Gonna stretch you out with my fat cock, gonna ruin you for everyone else,’ he growls, forcing the words out with effort, his energy being taken up by thrusting into me, and it’s euphoria, absolutely euphoria. ‘I’d… like to see you… try,’ I breathe out between moans, and he chuckles, hammering into me, heavy balls slapping against my skin. ‘I already broke you, angel – don’t make me embarrass you by doing it again,’ he growls, hand still tight around my neck, my hands on his back, nails digging into his skin, hard. He grabs one of my legs, lifting it to rest on his shoulder, and he goes even deeper than before, my eyes rolling back into my head at the feeling of his cock dragging against my walls.

Obscene squelching and the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room with my moans and whimpers, his groans and grunts, the smell of sex thick on the air as he abuses my pussy, pounding into me like there’s no tomorrow, and all I can think is, ‘why the fuck haven’t we done this already?’ ‘Fucking gushing around me, soaking my bed like a good little slut. Gonna smell like you for days – my other bitches will know I’ve had a cock-hungry whore in here,’ he moans against my ear, rage filling me at the mention of other girls, and I can’t help myself. I slap him around the face, and he just grins at me, cheek reddening, not ceasing his thrusting. ‘Jealous? Don’t worry, baby, you’re the best I’ve ever had. I’ll ruin you, but you’ve ruined me. Only want your pussy from now. Want you to be my good little bitch, my sex toy,’ he grunts, cock hammering into me relentlessly, my walls clenching around him. ‘Only if you eat my pussy with those pretty lips,’ I whisper with a grin, and he chuckles, smirking. ‘Can’t wait to taste your pussy, angel. But let me fill it with my cum first,’ he breathes out against my neck, making me moan, before he practically pushes me down into the mattress, cock pounding into me bruisingly hard.

‘So fucking tight around me, baby, like you’ve never been fucked. Your cunt was made for me, huh? Scream my name out, babe. Let everyone in the damn house hear how good my cock makes you feel,’ he prompts, and I can’t help but do as he says, head thrown back into the pillow as he repeatedly hits my g-spot, crying his name repeatedly like a mantra. And I can feel my orgasm approaching, my walls clenched around him, my nails raking down his back, moans falling from my mouth again and again. ‘You gonna cum for me, baby? Come on, want you to soak my cock like a good little slut. Cum for me, angel,’ he whispers against my ear, hand snaking down to rub at my clit, other hand still tight around my neck, pushing me down into the mattress, and I feel the knot in my stomach tightening, head full of bliss. And then he hits the spot inside me head-on, and I reach my high.

I scream out his name, so loud it feels like it’s being ripped out of throat, my own voice ringing in my ears as I cum around him, gushing out release, walls clamped around him so tight he can’t move, and so he rubs at my clit to prolong my orgasm. Never have I felt an orgasm this intense, never felt pleasure like this, and my vision becomes blurry as the tears run down my face, mouth hanging open, eyes rolling back into my head and nails raking down his back, breaking the skin. And when I begin coming down, my walls loosening around him, he starts chasing his own high, with no concern for me at all. He slams into me, again and again, the bed probably leaving dents in the wall every time it bumps against it, and the overstimulation is too much, making me sob. But he doesn’t care, one hand pressing into the mattress, the other one still around my neck as he fucks into me, grunts and groans falling from his lips, and when my vision clears, I nearly cum again at the sight of him.

His black hair is pasted to his head with sweat, his skin completely drenched and glistening with perspiration, mouth wide open and letting out whispers of my name, lips swollen and shining. His eyes are dark, impossibly dark, completely blown wide with lust, and his face is flushed and contorted with pleasure. His muscles ripple with the effort of fucking me, desperate whines escaping his lips as he chases his high, body tense and strong. He looks like sin incarnate.

And I can feel him nearing his orgasm, dick twitching inside me, and I tighten around him, digging my heel into his back to hold him place, his hips stuttering with erratic thrusts. ‘Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum. Gonna cum in this tight little pussy. So good for me, so good,’ he moans loudly, making my lips curl in satisfaction before he lets out a cry of, ‘fuck, y/n, gonna cum!’ He buries himself deep inside me, head falling to rest in the crook of my neck, biting down on my skin as he cums, thick and hot ropes of his release painting my insides. And there’s so much of it, an endless amount of cum flooding me, and my sensitive walls fluttering around him prolongs his high, milking his cock for all he has.

Once he’s done, he pulls his softened cock out of me, moving down the bed with a grin, wanting to see his masterpiece. ‘You squirted, you know?’ he says nonchalantly, eyes momentarily flitting up from my pussy to meet mine, and I can’t mask the surprise quick enough, a satisfied smirk stretching across his lips. ‘Thought so. I’m the best you’ve ever had, right, babe?’ he asks, eyes trained on my folds, waiting for his cum to leak out of me, and I don’t reply. ‘God, after such a good fucking, you’re still a stubborn little bitch? Well, whatever. If it makes you feel better, that was the best I’ve ever had too,’ he says, and I’m silent, attempting to ignore the thrill that runs through me – he’s fucked that many girls, but I’m the best. ‘Your moans are so pretty, angel. My name sounds good on your lips,’ he grins, and I roll my eyes, dropping my head back to rest on the pillow – I’m absolutely exhausted, physically and mentally (and of him). ‘Do you always talk this much after sex?’ I ask, and he chuckles. ‘Nope. I usually give them a kiss on their cheek and send them on their way. You should be honoured you’re getting pillow talk,’ he says cockily, and I scoff. ‘Fuck you.’ ‘I just did,’ he says, voice dripping with mirth, and I roll my eyes.

And then I feel it. His cum beginning to drip out of me. ‘God, I really did cum deep, huh? Look how long it took,’ he says, words lined with fascination as he watches my pussy intently. ‘Remember when you said I’ve got a tiny dick?’ he laughs, and I let out an annoyed noise. ‘Shut up,’ I say half-heartedly, before he collects up some of his cum on his fingers, making me let out a shaky breath as I look down at him. He holds his fingers out to me, and I don’t bother waiting this time, licking them clean, and his cum is actually... not bad. Sweet and almost… fruity. But I’m knocked out of my thoughts about his semen when he licks a bold stripe up my pussy, a broken moan falling from my lips. ‘I… didn’t think my cum would taste this good. Or maybe it’s just your pussy,’ he says casually, as though discussing the taste of cocktails. ‘I think it’s your cum.’ ‘Let me test it,’ he says before delving back down for another taste of my juices, making me moan before I thread my fingers into his hair, pulling him away. ‘I’m too sensitive,’ I say gently, and he nods, moving to lie beside me. ‘It’s you, by the way. Your pussy tastes amazing. You gotta let me eat you out in the morning,’ he says, and I turn to look at him, raising an eyebrow and trying to ignore how handsome he is. ‘In the morning?’ ‘Well, if you wanna stay the night, that is,’ he offers indifferently, but I can see that he’s a little nervous underneath the casual demeanour, and so am I, panicking at the prospect of this… not being just sex.

‘Where’s my phone?’ I ask, and he laughs at the swift topic change, before reaching his hand under the pillow my head is on, pulling out my phone, and handing it to me as I thank him – though I shouldn’t have to say thanks for getting my phone back. But whatever. I start to get up, slowly sitting up and swinging my legs over the side of the bed. ‘Are you leaving?’ he asks, almost panicked, and I laugh. ‘I gotta clean myself up, and go to the toilet – I don’t want a UTI. Where’s the bathroom?’ I ask, and he pulls a face. ‘It’s the last door in the corridor,’ he says, sitting up to watch me as I collect up my clothes, legs shaky. ‘You’re not gonna put those tight ass clothes back on, are you?’ he asks, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘It’s not like I brought a spare change,’ I say, and he laughs, getting out of bed. He goes to his wardrobe, getting out a loose black long-sleeved top of his, and then to his chest of drawers, delving deep into one of the drawers and pulling out a pair of black Nike socks and a pair of black cotton pants, holding them out to me. And I look at him, looking back at the clothes, before looking back up at him, and then back at the clothes. ‘I hope to God you’re not expecting me to wear those random pants,’ I say with disgust, and he laughs. ‘They’re brand new, I promise. Rosie bought a pack to keep here for when… hers weren’t suitable to wear anymore, and these are from that pack – they’ve never been worn. I swear. And the top and socks are mine – freshly washed,’ he says, and I nod, still suspicious, sniffing the pants when he hands them to me. They smell clean, and I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt – I’d rather not be underwear-less in a frat house. So I pull the pants on, and then his top, trying to ignore how it smells exactly like him, the nice scent filling my senses, and it’s long enough that it covers my ass completely, hem brushing against my thighs. I pull on the socks, soft material nice against my tired feet (I don’t know why I wear heels – it’s literal torture).

‘Make sure you knock – there might be someone in there,’ he says meaningfully, and I scrunch my nose up in disgust. ‘Who fucks in the bathroom of a frat house?’ I ask, and he’s silent, looking a little sheepish. ‘That’s gross. Please, don’t. I don’t want to know,’ I say when he opens his mouth to explain, and he nods, holding back a laugh. I open the door, looking down the corridor to see if it’s empty before rushing towards the bathroom. Thankfully it’s empty, so I wee and clean myself up, trying to ignore how much of a state I look. Once I’m done, I look a little more presentable, but it’s clear I’ve just been fucked, my eyes a little heavy and lips swollen, and my skin glowing. My makeup (which was a full face) is minimal now, my mascara slightly smudged around my eyes and my foundation patchy around my mouth and chin, so I blend it out as best as I can, and it doesn’t actually look that bad. The most noticeable thing is the purpling marks from his mouth, his hand and his rings around my neck and under my jaw, the ones on my collarbones hidden by his top. I run my fingers through my hair, and have it hanging around my face, not really covering the marks, but it’s the best I can do. I head back into Jimin’s bedroom, and I stifle a laugh at seeing that he’s fast asleep. And he looks really fucking cute, lips pouted, hair messy and face relaxed with slumber. How can he go from being the most annoying person in the world, to being sin personified, to being adorable? It’s obvious he was expecting me to stay the night with him – he’s on one side of the bed, the other side with two pillows, my phone sat atop them with the blanket pulled down for me to climb in.

But I can’t. I can’t stay the night and pretend like everything’s okay. Yes, he just gave me the best fucking of my life, but I’m not sure if it makes up for all the times he’s been a dick to me over the past couple years. And now, he’s expecting me to climb into bed with him, to act like we’re more than just two people who hate each other, and acted on our sexual tension and attraction to one another. Because that is all we are. But then he said things like me being the best he’s had, and that he wants to eat me out in the morning, and he’s expecting me to stay the night when he never lets anyone stay the night – everyone knows that about him. So maybe he doesn’t hate me, which is terrifying, because I cannot deal with Park Jimin not hating me.

So I have to make him hate me.

Quietly, I grab my phone, and he moves in his sleep, stirring, making me panic and run out of the room, leaving behind my clothes and shoes. I venture to the end of the corridor, ordering my Uber before looking down the flight of stairs, spotting the group of my friends still sat on the landing, Chaeyoung sat closest. ‘Chaeng, I whisper, but she doesn’t hear me. ‘Chaeng!’ I hiss a little louder, and she looks around before spotting me, opening her mouth to speak before I hold a finger to my lips. She gets up, pretending she’s going to the bathroom before rushing up the stairs. ‘Are you okay?’ ‘Yeah, but I need to, like, escape. I’ve ordered an Uber, but I left my shoes in his room,’ I say, and she instantly slides off her sparkly silver sliders. ‘Don’t you need them?’ ‘Yoongi said I could stay the night,’ she says shyly, making me squeal with excitement for her, a little smile on her face. ‘You know there’s no way you’re gonna be able to leave without everyone seeing you?’ she says, and I sigh, slipping her shoes on. ‘I know, but I can’t stay. I can’t share a bed with him,’ I say, and she raises an eyebrow. ‘Girl, we heard everything. Everything. But staying the night is where you draw the line?’ she asks, and I nod, absolutely humiliated that they could hear. ‘Yes. I still hate him,’ I say as though it’s obvious, and she just nods, holding back a laugh. ‘Come on, then,’ she says, leading me down the stairs, and I’m so embarrassed when my friends spot me, jeering and laughing. ‘Walk of shame!’ Bambam shouts, before the boys all begin chanting it, and I cover my face in embarrassment. ‘Bye, girls!’ I call over the racket, the girls all bidding me goodbye before Chaeyoung leads me down the next flight of steps.

She turns the handle of the front door, pushing it open for me, and I quickly rush out before I can run into anyone else. ‘Thanks, Chaeng, you’re the best. I’ll drop these off tomorrow,’ I say, motioning to the shoes, and she waves my words off. ‘Just bring them to try-outs next weekend. Text me when you get home,’ she says, and I nod, my phone buzzing to let me know my Uber’s a minute away. ‘See you, Chaeng,’ I call over my shoulder, heading up to the pavement. My Uber pulls up, and I turn to wave at Chaeyoung, instead seeing her being pushed out of the way by Jin and Jungkook who are cheering and shouting at me, running over. I quickly jump into the Uber before they can reach me, telling the driver to go quickly, and he does so, leaving Dumb and Dumber in our dust. I’m silent the entire journey back, trying my hardest to stay awake, and I can feel him looking at me in the rear-view mirror, probably wondering why I’m dressed the way I am, getting into an Uber at 4am. Or maybe he knows exactly why.

When we pull up to my accommodation, the sky is already beginning to lighten with morning just around the corner, and I thank him, climbing out of the Uber and heading into the building, entire body aching. I take the lift, having to lean one hand against the wall as I walk down the corridor towards our door. And then I realise I left my bag, with my keys in them, in Jimin’s bedroom. I’d hoped to sneak in whilst Jennie was asleep, but I’ll definitely have to wake her up now. I knock on the door, not too loud because I don’t want to wake anyone in the neighbouring rooms up, but it works, Jennie instantly opening the door. And she doesn’t look like she’s been sleeping, wide awake and fixing me with a hard glare. She knows.

‘How the hell do you know?’ I ask tiredly as she moves to the side to let me in, looking me up and down. ‘Namjoon phoned me after your conversation with him, to clear the air. And halfway through our reconciliation, I can hear shouting in the background, and he kindly informs me that you and Jimin were having a screaming match on ASP’s front lawn. And then he texts me around an hour and a half later to say he’d just seen you on your knees in Jimin’s bedroom with his dick in your mouth,’ she says, voice harsh but eyes sparkling with amusement. ‘I know, I know, I’m an idiot. But I’m really fucking tired and achy so can I sleep first? I promise, I’ll let you lecture me all you want in the morning,’ I say as I collapse into my bed, and she just stares at me for a moment before nodding, a small grin on her face. ‘It’s about time you got laid.’ ‘Oh, thanks.’ ‘I want all the details in the morning.’ ‘I’m not sure you do.’ ‘Ew.’

476 notes · View notes

kimberly-spirits13 · 4 years

Text

Right Hand Man (Loyal to the End) Pt. 1

Pairing: Damian Wayne x reader

Synopsis: You were like Talia’s daughter. The only thing was that you weren’t and instead, you had grown up in the foster care system and at a young age were taken by and personally trained by Talia. Along the way, you meet Damian and the two of you start to work side by side and eventually, after some time become closer and closer. However, when disaster in the league strikes, you face balancing an old, forgotten life as a normal child and the burden of right hand to the demon heir.

Note: I know that this is long and that there are a good number of time skips, but I didn’t want to make this into a series and just wanted it as a long fic because .... well because I can lol

Also, I didn’t want to have Damian so young in this so just go with it. I’m thinking maybe early 15 or almost 16 at the most. Idk I just don’t like writing for young Dami.

Warnings: mentions of murder, blood, brief mentions of torture but not for long

Word Count: 2393

Growing up was a lot different for you than anyone else. For the first part of your life, you grew up in a perfect little family with a stable living condition and happy atmosphere. What happened later was easy to explain in all theory. There was a drunk driver and it didn’t end to well for your parents. With no remaining family, you were thrown into the foster care system and rotated around homes until finally one day, a strange woman came in with a smiley demeanor and was walking around the orphanage that you were in looking around when her eyes landed on you. You stared before she approached you. During your time in the system, you met tons of different people. Most were good, but some were bad. Those bad people had two different personalities around different people and you recognized it easily. This time however, it was different. You knew she was bad, but not anything that you were really scared of.

“You’re not who you say you are.” You whispered to her softly.

She smiled in a way telling you were right. A few months after that encounter, she came back again. This time however, you were going with her. She took you to a hotel room after a short and quiet drive. That was when she finally started talking.

“My name is Talia, you will address me as such.” She said, “I’m going to take you to a place far away from here where you will train to become one of the most lethal of your kind.” “I expect only obedience. If I do not get this, you will be punished. Now, do you understand?”

“Yes Talia.” You replied carefully.

“What is your preferred name?” Talia asked.

“Y/N.”

_______________________________________________________________________

From then on, you were trained and taught with the best tutors alive. Not that they wanted to without a bit of persuasion and after your lessons, along with Damian’s, Talia’s birth son, they mysteriously disappeared. You knew what happened to them however. It was pretty easy to guess even for the most stupid person. Besides, you had to kill one yourself in the past.

You were a quiet person and took well to Talia. She saw you as one of her own. That was high praise coming from someone who wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone at a wrong glance. Your training came from her and only the top members of the League. Anyone else was seen as too easy or below even your own level of skill. That’s how it always was. You always avoided too much conversation with Damian when you were young and merely tolerated him for the most part. You saw him as a begrudging equal in power and standing. You were liked more secretly since you weren’t one to be overly proud or bold in talking about where you stood. In fact, the most you did was command and fight. You saw no point in boasting on positions of power. It was a useless waste of time and a means to get yourself killed.

On days you got time off, even if It was for a few minutes, you were always found in the quietest parts of the base. Whether that was your room or any kind of gardens, you would be found there. Talia always knew where you were because of this.

“I expect you are prepared for the next mission Y/N?” She asked walking to you one morning after training.

“As always Talia.” You said standing to greet her.

She sat down with you for only a little bit and the conversation was brief.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been lost in thought recently.” She noted, “What matter is this over?”

You were shocked. It wasn’t everyday Talia showed any kind of emotion like this. Maybe tiny, tiny gestures after successful missions that you had led, but not much other than that.

“I’ve just been thinking of the success of my upcoming mission. I need to know that these certain recruits are not going to jeopardize the mission. While they aren’t new, I have an instinct they will prove unfit for this kind of work.”

“I understand. Measures will be taken if they prove useless.” Talia assured, “All concerns aside, you are needed prepared and ready. If not, the roll of leader will be given elsewhere.”

“You should not concern yourself with me, I will be fully capable of leading a squad myself.” You stood, “it is time for me to leave however.”

_______________________________________________________________________

The mission was going fine until now. You were right about the recruits. When they messed up, you immediately jumped into action killing who they missed. In this process, you were drenched in rain water and blood. No one had ever seen you this furious. This is why you were leader, you were the only one that knew what to do in times of stress and how to punish those who wronged the goal of the missions.

“You fools!” You shouted in the ship, “You had the perfect chance and did not take it! Your assignments were simple for a reason and you almost jeopardized the entire assignment over a bit of rain!” “I have finished missions nearly dead and you incompetent idiots couldn’t kill four people.” “When we get back to the base, you should be expecting punishment accordingly.”

The rest of the ride was dead silent but for your second in command and yourself discussing matters of the mission in a different language. It wasn’t a long flight and by the time you were back, you were still soaked. Brushing a piece of wet hair that was just now starting to curl once more, you approached Talia, who was being trailed closely by Damian who almost stepped back by the look you had on your face.

“What happened?” Talia demanded glaring for a quick second at the questionable recruits.

“The mission was almost jeopardized by the recruits that I raised concern about. They put unnecessary risks onto the table and missed the simple instructions they were assigned.” You narrowed your eyes some, “I took care of what they couldn’t.” “The mission was successful.”

“Very well. Hit the showers and meet me in the briefing room in 40 minutes.” Talia said.

“Understood.” You walked passed her and Damian, only stopping to acknowledge him for a few seconds, “Damian.” You said nodding.

“Y/N.” You were the only one that could address him as his first name besides Talia and The Demon Head and you were the only one he’d use a first name for.

You continued down the hallway and a few more before making into another sector of the building that you stayed. Those in high ranking had their own bathrooms such as you and Talia. It was seen as a sign of respect and designation from the rest. You walked into your bedroom, smaller as they tended to be and grabbed your change of clothes. This is what you normally wore around the complex if you weren’t going on missions. It was as simple as a black suit with straps for weapons and a place for your swords. Other than that, it was nothing special. It was against code to wear any kind of sleep wear outside of your room.

_______________________________________________________________________

While on your way back from the briefing room, you decided to take a detour to the roof tops where you stayed sometimes. The view was incredible at night and the stars shown brighter than you’d seen anywhere else. There was a cool breeze up there and the occasional glimpse of the nightly patrol off in the distance. You were alone for most of the time and became captive to your own thoughts running wild. That didn’t mean you didn’t hear the footsteps behind you though.

“What brings you to the roof?” You asked to the figure not even turning around.

You knew it was Damian just by how he walked. It typically took a few minutes for the two of you to drop your guard, even in the slightest, however it was the only time you could.

“I wanted some fresh air and figured you’d be here. I am pleased to find that I was not incorrect in my thinking.” He replied sitting next to you.

“I’m flattered.”

The sarcastic tone of your comment led a smirk onto Damian’s face.

“You looked abnormally angry after today’s assignment.” He commented, “I was surprised to see you so...”

“Covered head to toe in blood and rain?”

“Precisely.”

“Well, that would not have happened if there was not a reason for it to. By all means, sometimes, I expect there to be mistakes. I also expect there to be repercussions. But if you cannot even finish off the simplest of tasks, you are by all means an absolute incompetent fool.” “I could have done that as a young child.”

“I noticed you seemed to be less than pleased when recruits were assigned on Monday.” Damian said, “I presumed it was something to do with those individuals.”

“Correct.”

There was some silence between the two of you. Some night up on the rooftops, there were no conversations. You two acknowledged each other’s presence and continued on your way, minding your own business, and ultimately being comfortable in each other’s company. However, tonight you had something else in mind.

“Has Talia been acting strangely more... emotional? In a positive way I think.” You asked him, “I thought it might have just been me, but with some more conversation with her earlier this morning, I suspect something must be wrong.”

“I have noticed that. I am sure that there is nothing too terribly wrong to fear. Grandfather has had no change in his demeanor... That said, he is more seasoned to conflict.” Damian remarked, “You do get more information on matters on occasion with your status.”

“I know, that’s why I’m concerned.” “I don’t want to be caught in the middle of some war or whatever the case may be. Besides, I have my real assignment which is watching over you. I don’t need anything getting in the way of why I’m supposedly really here.”

“You are aware that your “only job” isn’t just to be my protector or however my mother worded when we were young children. You’re also one of most commanding and powerful people I’ve ever met. Your position was well placed in your hands and it is well taken care of by you.” Damian commented.

“High praise coming from the grandson of The Demon Head.” You almost let a smile slip onto your face at what he said.

“I don’t remember a day where you weren’t there in some way.” He said, “Whether that was to scold me for being too proud of my bloodline or just making sarcastic remarks about anything you could.” He smirked, “Not that I didn’t fire back.”

“Mhmm. Talia, as much as she doesn’t want to admit it was extremely amused when I used to talk like that to you. Although, she denies it every time now.” You thought back to the days when you and Damian used to bicker about everything. You were always secretly the more serious one no matter how much he wanted to keep that up. For you, there was no family line to fall back on. You only had your reputation and especially here, that was easy and dangerous to damage.

“What do you think is going on?” He asked, “If there is anything wrong, one of us, if not both will know within the next few weeks at most.”

“I don’t really know. I think that it might be something internal. The Demon Head and Talia might be about to sweep the lower and middle ranks for traitors or those less competent. They might even take the upper ranks. Just watch your back.”

“As always.”

You looked back out at the view looking at the mountain tops, inspecting each and every one that you could see. The snow gleamed in pale moonlight and every once in a while, you’d possibly see a shooting star go by. When training wasn’t underway and most everyone was asleep, the compound was one of the most peaceful places you’d ever been. You caught yourself yawning and suddenly a wave of exhaust washed over you.

“How long has it been since you slept properly?” Damian asked noticing right away your shift in demeanor.

“Maybe four days at best. It was just the mission preparations. I’ll be fine, besides, training for me in the morning is not until later. I’ll have time to sleep longer.” You stood back up, “I am going to head back to my room now. However, I do expect to see you at sparring tomorrow?”

“I will be there.”

With that, you hopped down the roof top and left back for your room. You knew he’d follow shortly after you, it was customary for him to after some alone time. That always helped with anything he was dealing with since he rarely ever got it. That’s the unspoken worst part about being in the positions you two were in. There was never any time to yourselves.

#damian wayne x reader #Damian Wayne #damian wayne #Damian Wayne x y/n #robin x y/n #robin x reader #robin #dc comics #dc x reader #dc characters #batfam x reader #batboys x reader #batfam #teen titans x reader #teen titans #teen titans x y/n

179 notes · View notes

worldwidemochiguy · 5 years

Text

Reticence (soft! Yandere Hoseok)

Summary: You were always terrified of getting kidnapped when you were younger, and now that you’ve been taken by a man who claims to want to take care of you, you recede within yourself so far you refuse to even eat... but Hoseok is determined to let nothing hurt you, not even yourself.

Warnings: Kidnapping, kind of Stockholm syndrome, mentions of not eating so if you’re sensitive to that kind of stuff pls be careful <3 Yandere behaviour, though I am kind of romanticising it in this fic, please remember that that is all it is: Fiction. Obviously in real life this behaviour would be unacceptable and horrifying.

Word Count: 2.2K

Masterlist :)

a/n: my first hobi fic!!! this is for @kpopgirlbtssvt from a request made about a billion years ago (sorry :/ ) for made-for-each-other verse! Yandere Hobi with a shy reader who wouldn’t talk even though he begged her to, and then him coming home from work to her telling him she missed him and was glad he was home. this was a lil less fluffy and a lil more angsty than i intended, but its still a ‘happy ending’ bc im a weak bitch with simple pleasures, what can i say lmao

Reticence

“What do you want for breakfast, sunshine?”

Silence.

Hoseok sighed, then straightened up again, walking over to the refrigerator. You remained sat by the kitchen island, empty gaze fixed on the marble countertop.

“Omelettes it is, then!” He exclaimed with artificial excitement, trying to be cheery in the face of your taciturnity, but even the sunshiney optimist that was Hoseok was finding it more difficult than he expected. He had hoped that by now you would’ve accepted him, but you remained as quiet and unresponsive as the day he brought you home. Not that you thought of it as ‘home’ yet, but he hoped you would eventually. Hoseok was not a patient man, but he was willing to wait forever for you.

You didn’t even blink when he set the plate down in front of you. It didn’t seem like you were going to attempt to eat it either. Hoseok sighed. He could understand if you didn’t want to talk to him yet — even though it had been months and he’d been nothing but kind to you — but he drew the line at refusing to eat.

You had lost weight. The cute cheeks he loved to watch bunch up as you smiled were now sunken. Your beautiful figure which he had admired from afar was starting to become worryingly waif-like. Hoseok frowned, a crinkle between his brows forming for the first time as his usually exuberant features warped with agitation.

“Listen, Y/n-” Hoseok sat down at the kitchen island across from you, bracing his forearms against the table and leaning forwards. “You have to eat. I promise there’s nothing in it that could hurt you. Look, I’ll even eat it myself!” Hoseok carved out a small piece of the omelette and popped it in his mouth, exaggerating his chewing and swallowing. “See?” You offered no reaction, and Hoseok felt his disappointment join the omelette on its way down to his stomach.

“I can understand that you maybe aren’t so happy with me right now, but that doesn’t mean you have to punish yourself. Just, please, please stop shutting me out.” His pleading tone did nothing to move you. You just sat there like a ghost, and a groan of frustration slipped out of Hoseok.

“Please! I’m begging you! Just eat! I don’t understand, all I want to do is take care of you! All I want to do is love you, why won’t you accept me? Why won’t you even talk to me?”

The only sound was Hoseok’s harsh breaths after his outburst. If he couldn’t see the slow rise and fall of your chest, Hoseok would think you weren’t alive at all. He slumped in his seat, allowing himself to wallow in self-pity for a moment, before forcing himself to get up and ready for work. When he passed through the kitchen again on his way out the door you were still sitting there, staring at the countertop.

The front door banged shut, the sound echoing in the apartment. Then, silence. And then, very quietly, the noises of cutlery moving against a plate and chewing.

~~~~~~

“I don’t know what to do~” Hoseok whined, his head buried in his hands. Around him, his shocked friends were gathered in an informal circle. Each of them had an expression with varying degrees of surprise and confusion — they had never seen Hoseok, the literal personification of sunshine, so dismayed.

“It’ll be ok, Hoseok. I know it’s bad at the moment, but you just have to wait until she trusts you. Once you achieve her trust, you’ll both be the happiest you’ve ever been.” Taehyung reassured him. Taehyung was obviously the source of authority, since him and his wife were basically the perfect couple.

“But what if she never trusts me?” Hoseok fretted, before groaning again. “She won’t even eat! I don’t know what to do, I’m just watching her slowly starve in front of me and she won’t even look at me!” The rest of the group paused as they digested this new information. It seemed this girl was particularly stubborn.

“Force feed her then.” Jin shrugged and Hoseok’s head shot up in outrage.

“No! I could never hurt her like that!”

“You’re hurting her by letting her starve.” Jeongguk pointed out, and Namjoon smacked the back of his head, chastising. Meanwhile, Hoseok looked like he was about to cry.

“Listen, Hoseok, are you sure this girl is the one?” Jimin questioned, bracing his clasped hands on his knees.

“I know she is.” Hoseok replied with a conviction he rarely used. “The second she came into my life, it was like I was born again and she was the first thing I saw. The only thing I could see. Her face- God, it just… glows. She’s like sunshine. She’s an angel. She’s so beautiful and kind and fragile and I want to protect her from everything, and I don’t deserve her but no one else does either and I know we’re meant to be together. If I thought I could’ve let her go, I would have. But I can’t. I have to have her, she has to be mine.”

The circle of men was quiet for a second, before a quiet chuckle broke the silence.

“Well then,” Yoongi rasped, “if she’s all that you say she is-”

“She is.” Hoseok interjected fiercely.

“Then all you can do is have a little patience.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It was incredibly boring being kidnapped. Especially when your kidnapper did nothing interesting except make bad food and dance along to music from the TV surprisingly well and cry sometimes when you wouldn’t look at him. Frankly, it would have been easier if he were more of the torturey-type, because it was really hard to stay stubborn in the face of his sparkling eyes and radiant smile.

When you were younger, there was a poster up on the wall of your homeroom at school. On it was an old man with an ugly sneer and a beige trench-coat, with the slogan ‘DON’T TALK TO STRANGERS’ superimposed in glaring red letters. You used to stare up at the poster and wonder how anyone could be so stupid as to talk to someone who looked like that.

You were never afraid to yell ‘STRANGER DANGER’ at the highest decibel your little lungs could manage whenever a person brushed too close to you in the mall. It was almost a habit — you were avidly fixated on your own personal safety, much to your mother’s chagrin and public embarrassment. Being banned from all the surrounding stores within a 20 mile radius had two consequences:

You had to drive forty minutes for a new pair of socks.

You stayed at home a lot more than you went out.

You became a homebody, and it was certainly not something you were unhappy about. Staying safe in your room meant there was less risk for someone to kidnap you. The comforting layer of your blanket was a shield from everything bad in the world. When your parents were arguing constantly, screaming at each other every other night, you would just tuck yourself in and read a bedtime story on your own since they were both occupied. When your parents eventually divorced, you buried yourself under your duvet rather than answer their questions about who you wanted to stay with, and what your preference was. When your mom died in a car crash, and your dad started drinking, your mattress was the shoulder you could cry on, your blanket was a warm arm holding you close. You had always felt safe in your bed. Perhaps that was why you were having such an averse reaction to being taken from it.

Hoseok was not a man with an ugly sneer and a trench coat. He had an impeccable sense of style, and his smile was breathtaking on the few occasions that it appeared. You more often saw his face twisted into a pained grimace. For a kidnapper, he was awfully sensitive. You were pretty sure it was reasonable for you to be holding grudge, and it’s not as if you were actively fighting against him or anything. You were just refusing to acknowledge him. You were highly skilled at repressing things, or ignoring them, and you were resolved to do the same now.

By 7 o’ clock, your resolve was slightly eroded. Hoseok always arrived back at half-past 5 on the dot. He was a very punctual person, and you felt an unwelcome sense of worry curl along the edges of your mind as the clock counted away the seconds of him not being there. You remembered feeling the same way when you waited for your mom to pick you up from your dads, watching the clock hand sweep past the numbers, increasingly taunting. Of course, you hadn’t realised that she was at the time caught in between a lorry with a drunk driver and a very steep incline. You wondered if you were being similarly clueless now.

When the door clicked open at quarter to 9, you had to restrain yourself from exhaling in relief. Hoseok came in looking slightly disheveled, his collar undone and his hair mussed as if he had ran his hands through it over and over again. He gave you a quick once over to see if you were alright, shot you a small, forced smile and then went straight to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

That was odd. He never closed the door to his bedroom. He had always left it open in case you needed anything, despite your refusal to acknowledge him. First, his late arrival and now yet another uncommon action? You felt curiosity bubble within you. That was it. Curiosity. It’s not that you were at all worried about him, you were just being nosy. Of course.

You tiptoed towards the door, tracing a finger around the door frame lightly. What if he didn’t even come out again for dinner? You doubted he had dined out without you, he had been eating his meals sitting across from you while you refused to touch yours since the day he stole you. You really should check on him, if only for the fact that if he dies then you’re trapped here with a high chance of starvation.

Before you could convince yourself not to, you opened the door and stepped inside. The only light-source came from the moonlight filtering through the window, casting Hoseok’s form lying on the bed in a deep blue. His eyes, which you assumed had been closed previously, shot open to observe you as he propped himself up on the backs of his forearms.

“Y/n.” He rasped, and a pleasant shiver ran down your spine. “D-do you need anything?” His tone was both excited and confused, probably because you had literally never directly interacted with him before.

You didn’t speak, and for the first time your silence was due to speechlessness, rather than a conscious desire.

“I-I, uh,” You stuttered, and Hoseok sat up ramrod straight, hearing your voice for the first time. “You… were late home.”

Hoseok felt like he couldn’t breathe. Your voice was so soft and pretty, fuck, and you were actually looking at him, you were actually talking to him, holy shit- and you called the apartment home. You said he was late ‘home’. Hoseok somehow managed to keep his shit together.

“I was?”

“Yes.” You confirmed with a small nod of your head. Fuck, you were so cute. “You normally come back at half five. It’s almost nine now.”

“I’m sorry. I was working late.” He was staying at the office because he felt guilty for not taking proper care of you and wanted to avoid seeing the proof of your unhappiness, but you didn’t need to know that.

“It’s ok.”

You remained standing at the foot of the bed, locked in his gaze. The bed looked so comfortable, moulding to support his body, and his warm body was exactly the comforting presence you were searching for all those years ago and you found yourself asking,

“Can I sleep in the bed with you?”

It was a quiet, timid suggestion but Hoseok reacted to it like a bombshell. His eyes practically popped out of their sockets and his entire body tensed. You were about to rescind your offer when he reached out a tugged a corner of the blanket down, welcoming you into the warmth.

You awkwardly sat on the edge of the mattress, nudging off your house slippers with your toes before slipping under the covers. The relief was instantaneous, shrouded in comforting and familiar warmth, and you couldn’t stop yourself from plastering yourself against his side, arm reaching out tentatively to rest on his chest. You felt his muscles jump under your touch, before his arm slid under you and tucked around your shoulders, drawing you into him closer. You closed your eyes, letting out a quiet little sigh, and you let yourself say the words you wish you could’ve said all those years ago when your mother never returned.

“I’m glad you’re home. I missed you.”

#yandere bts #soft yandere bts #bts hoseok #bts jhope #bts hoseok x reader #jhope x reader #yandere hoseok x reader #bts imagines #bts fanfiction #bts fic #bts fanfic #jung hoseok

1K notes · View notes

enby-hawke · 3 years

Text

For I Have Sinned Chapter 9

Read on AO3

Ship Malcolm/Leandra

Chapter 9: The Nightmare’s Wrath

TW for graphic violence, racist talk, exploitation of mages, and child abuse. I hope I'm not forgetting any. The Nightmare is not a happy guy.

Word Count: 11682

Leandra held her family’s rosary, counting the beads between her fingers as she sang the Chant silently to herself. She knew she was at the Maker’s mercy at this point and she had no idea what kind of god he would be right now. Was Isaac innocent enough to be spared His wrath? Sometimes she knew not even that mattered. She had to be strong for her cousin and yet she could find no more strength within her. She needed to make that phone call, inform Revka and yet how could she?

She felt frozen by death, he had come for her again. With her grandfather at least it was peaceful, in his sleep in his old age. But when the Hartlings were taken by an irreverent drunk driver who survived it himself, it shattered Mara, and she never quite recovered all the pieces.

Leandra remembered Mara’s dark days. She stopped eating as if she had to punish herself that she still lived. Leandra would bring over meals from her favorite restaurants just to get her to take a few bites. The grief made Leandra awkward. She was so used to leaning on Mara when it came turn to lean on her, Leandra found she could only give old advice, that Mara would see her family again at the Maker’s side.

But Mara asked a question that still scared Leandra to this day.

“What if the Chant’s all bullshit and that’s just something people say so we don’t get sad?”

Leandra didn’t know how to answer that. Mara was angry at the Maker and had lost her faith. Leandra didn’t know how to give it back to her when she had too many questions herself.

The conversation ended awkwardly, with Leandra trying to get Mara to eat again. A sidestep. A misstep.

Eventually Mara started pushing Leandra away and everyone else. She partied dangerously, experimenting with anything that could take the pain away for a few moments. Leandra dragged her out of plenty of seedy Lowtown houses and backwater bars with Mara fighting her every step of the way, only Gamlen able to calm and steady her.

He saved her when Leandra couldn’t. He brought brightness back to her life and Leandra had never felt so helpless. Shallow. Useless. Like her faith was.

She tried to make it up to Mara however she could, it was a regret she’d always hold.

Now she was praying even as the shreds of her faith were left in tatters? Isaac barely turned nine. Revka had already lost him to the Circle, but to lose him to a demon, she didn’t think Revka would survive it.

How could the Maker be so cruel?

And as much as her nephew’s death scared her, there was another regret Leandra found bubbling up that made her feel vulnerable, like she knew this would break her. Her eyes flicked to Malcolm, his presence so calming and assured. His honey eyes looked so resolute as he signed his death waiver without even a flinch.

“Do you want to write out some last words to anyone? Any confessions you’d like to make to a priestess?” The First Enchanter asked, tiredness in his voice.

“No need, I’m not dying,” Malcolm said in the same self-assured manner he always had.

Leandra bit her lip, his hubris making her panic more than feel at ease and she said, “we should at least bring you to a Sister to give you the Maker’s blessing.”

“Don’t need that, either,” he gave her that sexy lopsided grin that made her breath stutter even as his words dripped with blasphemy.

Leandra opened her mouth, her words caught for a second, her cheeks hot. “A-are you really so arrogant that you think you don’t need the Maker’s protection?”

Malcolm’s face then turned serious meeting her eye. “I’d rather skip the rituals. Isaac’s timeline is more important.”

Leandra’s mouth dropped but found no argument. He made sense and yet to think he would go in the Fade again without the Maker’s hand guiding him. Her heart clenched frightened at how badly it ached at the thought of his loss. That he could die without her knowing what his touch felt like. This feeling felt too premature to be called love but it was so close, it scared her. Too soon, she thought, and yet she wondered now if she was also too late. Would the Maker see Malcolm’s arrogance as a slight and take both Isaac and him from her this day?

She didn’t know what else to do. She took the rosary from her fingers, and draped the cord around Malcolm’s neck. “Then take this. It’s protected my family for generations.”

She had held that rosary during every Mass, blessed her family every night with it, and though she hoped it would protect Malcolm she couldn’t see it as anything but a pretty trinket she carried for comfort. Maybe it would protect him, or maybe he could just wear it and think of her. She found she had no more use for it.

Malcolm dangled the golden sun chain between his fingers as if he had caught the tail of a dead animal. “I do not need to be accused of stealing this.”

Both the First Enchanter and the Knight Commander seemed surprised by Leandra’s gesture and was unsure what to make of it. “Hawke is right,” the Knight Commander said for the first time, “he’s too irresponsible to handle something so valuable.”

Malcolm bristled at the implication in the Commander’s tone but Leandra was ahead of him. “Well then I’ll give it to him with all you as witnesses so now you can’t accuse him of thievery.” Her eyes glistened, as she looked at him, imploring him to accept this small token if not the Maker, of herself. “You need it more than I do.”

Malcolm’s shoulders dropped, letting the amulet fall against his black robes. He bowed his head in respect, his dark curls falling in his face. “Thank you for your generosity, my lady.” He then added with a wry chuckle, “though something with Isaac’s essence would help me more.”

Without missing a beat Leandra said, “I have that, too.” She dug through her purse bringing out a children’s book with different automobiles with faces on it. It looked too rudimentary to belong to a nine year old but Leandra said, “This is Isaac’s favorite book. If he has trouble sleeping he might want you to read this just front to back again and again.” The Knight-Commander’s thin lip completely disappeared as she dug out a small cloth bag. “These are his building blocks. He might not warm up right away but if you start building something he’ll absolutely want to join in if you ask.” She closed Malcolm’s hands over the items as she handed them over, the smell of his clover musk soothing her frazzled nerves. “Would any of these help? He hasn’t held these in months.”

Malcolm nodded, opening the bag with interest. He held a small bright red tile between his fingers. “No, I can tell these mattered to him. They are coated in his essence.” He dropped it back into the bag, the blocks clattering together as he closed it and he gave a reassuring smile. “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to have these back.”

That’s when the Knight-Commander finally intervened, “I can’t allow these. This goes against regulation.”

Leandra’s shoulders snapped back in fury. “A child cannot have toys?”

The First Enchanter leaned in. “Lady Amell, there are many mage children whose family cannot send them toys. It causes jealousy. It is better that he learns that the Circle is home.”

Leandra couldn’t accept that. “And what home can it be if you’re so harsh that a child cannot play. Is it any wonder my nephew fell prey to a demon!?”

The First Enchanter gathered the large stack of forms they had wasted time on between his gnarled fingers looking completely uncomfortable with Leandra’s temper that only seemed to be rising. “Lady Amell, please be civil. I understand you are stressed due to these events. Go home. Rest. It is in the Maker’s Hands now.”

Leandra crossed her arms, planting her feet firmly. “Excuse me? I’m not going anywhere until Isaac is safe.”

The First Enchanter tensed sharing a look with the Knight Commander. “My lady,” the wizard’s mustache twitched, “we don’t have the facilities to house a noble. Your safety must be maintained.”

Leandra scoffed so hard it blew the bangs from her forehead. “For 10,000 sovereigns you’d better figure it out!”

A snicker escaped Malcolm’s throat drawing the glares of both the Knight Commander and First Enchanter and that’s when Carver stepped in, an uncomfortable bystander to a convenient rescuer. He bowed his head to the Knight Commander offering a peaceful smile. “I believe the chapel can be isolated for the lady. There she can pray for her nephew’s recovery.”

The Knight Commander pinched the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache and with a wince he said, “Fine.” His eyes then leveled his most intimidating glare to Leandra as he said, “but the Circle is a military institution, not a day spa. Don’t expect to be entertained.”

Leandra met his glare with one of her own, though it looked like a chihuahua going after a pit bull. “Oh I’m entertained enough by the fact that you used my family’s misfortune to fatten your coffers. Dare I ask what happens to the mages whose families cannot meet your outrageous price?”

And like a chihuahua, she went right for their knickers.

They dropped their eyes from Leandra’s accusatory stare, their faces twisting into uncomfortable grimaces as the silence answered her question.

Leandra’s heart hardened with more anger. What a barbaric place this was. She tightened her grip on the strap of her purse as she readied to dismiss herself. “Do your duty, gentleman, and know I will be watching.” Even if she had no powers of her own, she could at least hold them to that.

---

Isaac was fine this morning. Malcolm still recalled the huge smile on his face and the boy was practically vibrating at breakfast. Ever since Leandra told him of their connection he made more of an effort to speak to the boy, though the conversations were mostly them making truck noises at each other. Today, though, when Isaac came to bus his tray for Malcolm, Isaac actually spoke words.

“My mama’s coming,” he bounced up and down.

“That’s awesome, little dude,” Malcolm offered him the usual friendly high five but the boy was so excited he ended up head bumping the flat of his hand shouting,

“Beep!”

It kinda hurt but Malcolm laughed regardless. Then Isaac turned to Taylor with the same excited smile, “My mama’s coming,” he repeated with the excited tone.

“That’s wonderful, Isaac.” And when he got his praise from Taylor he turned to Charlie.

To think so much could change in a few hours.

The Harrowing Chamber still smelled like death and everything was as horrifying as Malcolm remembered it. The Fade here was thin, like a film and Malcolm could hear the faint echo of screams that still carried within the stone, thousands of deaths layered upon the other. If he closed his eyes he could see the last moments of mages meeting their ends.

Lanterns lit the walls making the room dark and the shadows bounced off each other as the ground was discolored by various stains that they failed to scrub out. In the middle of the chamber was Isaac strapped down to a table, sweating profusely, his bangs sticking to his forehead as his body fought the demon the only way it knew how. A bright red barrier surrounded Isaac, keeping him in place in case the transformation completed. He whimpered as he thrashed in his nightmare, his voice still chanting in an echo that repeated itself;

“My mama’s coming.”

Along the walls lined the Templars surrounding Malcolm, their guns gleaming in the threat of his failure. The helms hid the Templar’s faces but he could feel the eager energy in the air, ready for slaughter.

Malcolm’s hands were sweaty with nervousness as he waited for Senior Enchantress Karena to finish her spell.

Malcolm fiddled with Leandra’s rosary, well his rosary now, but it was coated in her spiritual energy, almost making it feel like her arms were wrapped around his neck. It made him breathe easier in the nightmare of being back in this room. Gave him hope that there was some kind of future for the two of them after this.

Enchanter Karena hunched over an ancient spellbook reading over the instructions, her glasses giving her fish eyes as she stirred different animal and plant parts into the lyrium brew. She seemed to be taking a long time, cutting things down into the smallest batches and scraping only the tiniest pinches into the mixture.

Malcolm sat on the gurney that they had wheeled in for him, feeling antsy. He gazed over the over at the cauldron, the mixture foul and pungent and heady. “Do you need help?” he offered genuinely.

The Enchantress scowled, “Excuse me, young man, I have made this spell hundreds of times.”

Malcolm wasn’t sure how he offended her this time but he gritted his teeth, biting back his usual snark. “Look, I'm just trying to speed things along. Isaac doesn’t have a lot of time.”

��Don’t rush me! If the ratio is off there can be dire consequences,” she snapped but then she turned back to the brew with a frown, “but I’ve never made such a weak concoction. With only one vial of lyrium I’m not sure there will be enough strength to pull you into the Fade.” She glared at Malcolm, her squinted eyes enlarged in glass. “If you were boasting, young man, that child will pay the price.”

Malcolm scoffed. How many times must he prove himself? “I don’t need to boast.” If only he could slip into the Fade right now and skip this charade. He still had a tile from Isaac’s toy bag, even though Carver had to ‘confiscate’ everything else Leandra brought which also included some sour gummy worms, a phone and a drawing his sister made for him. Still, the tile would be enough to track his dream. He didn’t need this witch’s brew.

Then Enchantress Karena pulled a vial from a case that was especially red, viscous. As soon as she uncorked it an iron smell filled the air.

Malcolm didn’t like the way it tingled the hairs in his nostrils. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he drank that. He had never ingested lyrium before but he was sure it would make taking care of whatever demon assaulted Isaac a piece of cake. Malcolm wrinkled his nose in recognition. “Is that what I think it is?”

Enchantress Karena stiffened as she poured in the vial. “It’s the essence of life and will help tether you to Isaac.”

Malcolm shook his head. In other words, Isaac’s phylactery.

He watched as a portion of blood was mixed into the blue shimmery concoction causing it to bubble, the whole cauldron taking a purple sheen as she stirred. It thickened the air with a copper rain-like smell.

“Soooo, how is this not blood magic?” Malcolm wrinkled his nose. Sure blood would be the easiest way to find his essence but he never expected the Chantry to actually resort to it.

The Enchantress snarled. “This is nothing like blood magic, blasphemer!”

Malcolm held up his hands in mock innocence. “Hey, I’m just asking a question. Don’t bite my head off.” Still he couldn’t help but feel like the Chantry were a bunch of hypocrites.

An armored hand clapped his shoulder, gripping slightly in a warning to be quiet. “Let’s let the Senior Enchantress concentrate,” Carver’s voice echoed from underneath his square imposing helm.

Malcolm sighed, dropping his shoulders as he relented. Of course the Circle sanctioned blood magic under the circumstances they deemed fit. He wasn’t sure why he was even surprised, but it made Malcolm wonder what other secrets the Circle was hiding.

Carver bent over his eyes gleaming from the darkness of his helmet as he said in a low voice. “Don’t take any stupid chances in the Fade.”

Malcolm scoffed, whispering back, “This isn’t my first hunt. I know what I’m doing.”

“Still,” Carver drew his shoulders together, “it never hurts to be careful.” He lowered his helm to Malcolm’s ear and whispered, “what if it’s that terror demon?”

Malcolm stiffened. He had considered that as a possibility, and his leg swung impatiently from his seat. “Isaac’s managed to hold on this long. Have a little faith.”

Carver nodded, the tension not releasing from his shoulders.

Soon the purple brew darkened a few shades and the Enchantress took her spoon tapping off the extra liquid back into the cauldron, the sound echoing like a dull bell through the chamber. “It is done.” The Enchantress poured the concoction into a goblet and passed it to Malcolm. “Now drink every drop and lie down immediately.”

Malcolm gagged as he stared at it. Thankfully there were only a few mouthfuls to swallow but along with blood he had seen animal organs and poisonous mushrooms ground in. His skin turned a shade greener as he held his breath, unable to take the raw odor.

But then he remembered he could change the flavor and took a moment to weave the spell over his tongue before he knocked it back into his throat. He tasted strawberries again, but the texture still made him gag and there was still a distinct coppery taste that overlapped the flavor and burned into his nostrils. He forced himself to swallow before he coughed wishing he had soured something else. The liquid numbed his mouth and his throat and he found himself unable to say anything as he tried his best not to throw up.

“Lie down,” she reminded him curtly, pressing his nails into his shoulder and back into the gurney.

His head knocked against a firm cushion, the swirling feeling overtaking him as the room started to discolor and spin.

She then snapped her head at Carver as she took Malcolm’s arm and strapped him down with the leather bindings. “Bind him firmly, Knight Captain.”

Carver obeyed, his helm obscuring his expression, but his fingers shook as he bound his friend’s limbs tightly to the gurney.

The ceiling melded into indescribable colors but then Malcolm realized it was because the Enchantress had activated the containment barrier they had drawn around Malcolm. The room was swirling as his skin prickled with energy, the lyrium buzzing in his blood so it seemed to be singing.

The pull was immediate, the room melting away and replaced by images of a green sky, the stone walls growing into jagged hills as a road stretched before him, unpaved and uneven the hills glittering with the darkest obsidian. The Fade felt so real, the air smelling like the sea, the gravel crunching beneath his body as he pushed himself upright from the ground.

Usually traversing the Fade felt like walking through a memory, details not always in focus, but he could see every whorl on his fingers, feel the breeze wafting through his hair, smell the dirt coming from his clothes. He looked behind him and saw that he was trapped on an island, a sharp fall into a bottomless chasm that stretched out like the sea. The island stretched upwards and upwards into a tower so high that the clouds obstructed the view from the top. The other islands lay barren and pulverized, every path destroyed except the one forward.

Malcolm thought for a second that he had been deposited to the gates of the Black City but when he gazed over the chasm, there it hung in the sky, looking closer than ever. He plucked the Fade strings with his fingers, reaching out to Compassion.

She didn’t answer him.

In fact nothing did.

That’s when Malcolm noticed there was something strange about the way the Fade here was constructed. For one the usual hum of spirit chatter was nonexistent, the Fade strings seemingly gnarled and cut up. He could sense no connection to any spirits like he was a shorting circuit, and it gave Malcolm a sense of unease. He couldn’t read the terrain like he usually could. It just seemed like the whole area was frozen in a silent scream. The memories of the Fade had been stripped completely blank somehow.

“Somniari?” Compassion’s voice finally rang out in his mind and he flinched like he had been burnt, but the feeling faded into discomfort. The hair on the back of his neck stood at end as the voice coated him, primal fear seeding in him, but he was quickly reminded of his previous conversation with Compassion and bit down the feeling as best he could so he would not warp her.

“A child is in danger of being possessed,” he said aloud, the connection starting to feel more familiar each second, the unease subsiding as he chalked it up to being in the middle of a demon’s web. “I could use the backup.”

“A child? Oh dear, I must come immediately,” her voice said with more enthusiasm than usual. Malcolm thought it odd, but before he could think much on it she appeared before him, her robes more fitted than before. Her eyes burned brightly, but the azure color a shade more lilac than he remembered, but no sooner than he thought that in a blink, the color looked more familiar, and Malcolm chalked it up to a trick of the light.

“Thanks for getting here so quickly,” Malcolm kept polite, but his eye never left Compassion studying her as she took in her surroundings in interest.

She gazed down at the abyss, her braid dangling almost like a snake with how it moved.

Forcing down uncertainty he said, “I think I sense Zefuckwad here, but I’m not completely sure. Something’s wrong with this place, right?”

Compassion’s eyes flashed as the corner of her lips quirked in a smile for once not correcting Malcolm’s mispronunciation. “This realm is sundered, memories swallowed, but whether it is the work of Zelophehad remains to be seen.” Her voice tripped over the terror demon’s name, and for a moment it seemed like the Fade stirred, as if it flinched.

Malcolm could agree with her assessment. There was no memory in the stone, no whispers telling him of secret knowledge. “I’m certain,” he suppressed a shiver. “Only felt like this once before. And the fact Isaac was taken doesn’t feel like a coincidence.”

The spirit pricked up at Isaac’s name. “I sense your connection to the boy. He is precious to you?”

Malcolm’s gut twisted. “Not to me,” he admitted. He suddenly wished he had made more of an effort to build a connection. The boy seemed lonely. He never seemed to hang out with anyone his own age, but clung to his teacher’s skirts.

“Ah,” Compassion cocked her head in sudden understanding. “The connection is to the one is Bound to your heart. My mistake.”

Malcolm suddenly felt uncomfortable, unsure what was relevant about this conversation, though to hear Leandra was Bound to his heart did strike a sense of joy in him. He could sense the Compassion spirit watching his reaction in interest and he decided it was time to change the subject.

“I can track Isaac,” Malcolm said, feeling the block that still was tucked in his physical hand. He pinched his fingers, feeling the ridges, and soon the little plastic red tile formed shining brightly. He let the tile go, letting it take life. It blinked in it’s yellow light, flitting around in a circle as if it was trying to get a sense of direction.

“Impressive,” Compassion nodded, “and so what do you need me for?”

Malcolm touched the tile and it spun, glowing like a star in the murky Fade. “To keep me alive.”

The tile floated like a wisp, droplets of light leaving after images of where it flew. It darted up the rocky path bouncing up and down as it waited for it’s master to follow. Malcolm sighed, dropping his shoulders as his feet crunched up the rocky steps.

The castle hills were craggy that slid down and threatened to plummet them into the chasm below. The walls of the castle crowded them against the cliff, as if they were reaching for Malcolm. Some of the steps crumbled beneath his feet, the rocks clattering down to the bottom and into the pit. The beacon stayed in sight flitting just out of reach leading Malcolm higher and higher until they reached a deserted courtyard. Ruined rubble filled the area, the grass dead brown and dry. Two beheaded statues guarded a dark murky portal that served as the castle’s door. The beacon floated between the crossed axes of the statues spinning in place before it sucked into the hazy rippling portal with a bloop.

Malcolm looked to Compassion. “Isaac’s inside but I don’t like the idea of just charging in blindly.”

Compassion looked between the cracks of one of the large walls that caged them in, her lips in a small thin line. “What are you suggesting?”

Malcolm thought for a second. He had never had to be so careful on a hunt before and he wanted to do this as stealthily as possible. “Can you coat me with your essence? I can hide my physical form but if the demon can track my aura it would be pointless.”

Compassion looked hesitant, even though the request seemed simple enough. “Your aura is so powerful I’m not sure mine will do much to mask it.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

She smiled. “I do,” she then opened her hand and in a flash of white light a staff of dark gnarled twisted wood with long purple thorn spikes appeared in her hand. “This is Thornheart. Use it in the coming battle.”

As Malcolm’s fingers wrapped around the shaft, his hair raised up in alarm. He had never felt so much power in his hand, and he suddenly felt stronger, faster, more alert. He balanced the staff, feeling the ridges of the bark beneath his fingers, an unsettled feeling sinking inside him. “Not sure if a branch is going to help me.”

“It is my soul in solid form. It is the greatest aid I can offer.”

Malcolm felt her power seeping into him, her foreignness feeling like a leather glove over his skin. The way the magic melded together made him slightly nauseous, like he had gorged on too many sweets. The energy gave him a buzzing feeling, and he felt like he needed to run a few laps to burn it off. He ignored that and waved the staff instead, trying to pull parts of the Fade into himself to help mask his presence. By the second turn of the staff he was completely invisible.

“I’m right behind you,” Compassion spoke in his direction though it offered no comfort.

Malcolm gritted his teeth as he looked at the portal, feeling that familiar darkness lurking within. The demon could have wiped Isaac out at any second, but Isaac was alive, being toyed with. And Malcolm felt responsible for putting him there. If he was smart enough to use the boy as bait, then this changed everything.

With a steadying breath, he steeled himself for the worst and stepped inside.

Suddenly he was in a mansion, grander than he had ever stepped in before. Kids' drawings filled the walls and toys were everywhere, servants surrounded them in a flurry as they brought down luggage from a grand staircase. A tall brown man with a silky mustache that connected to his beard and a wide nose was walking down the stairs as two screaming children held his legs, one a little girl with long brown hair and bright brown eyes, and the other boy he recognized as Isaac.

“Daddy please,” the little girl held onto his pants leg as if she was holding onto her life. “Daddy please don’t go.”

Isaac just kept repeating the same phrase over again like a mantra. “I’m sorry.”

The man practically kicked his children off. “Get off me! I’m not your father. Your mother’s a cheating whore.”

Malcolm clenched his fist, ready to clock the man, but moving in dreams was not like moving through life. Each part was played by a different demon, only Isaac the true player. Malcolm stepped closer to the family, waiting for his moment to strike.

The man headed for the door, Isaac dragging on his heels. “Daddy,” he sobbed, snot bubbling down his nose. “Daddy. I love you.”

The man recoiled as if he had been hit. He bared his teeth, “You are a thing. You don’t even work right. There is no way I am your father.”

That’s when Malcolm almost swung, but before Malcolm could, another demon came from one of the back rooms and started throwing clothes at the man. She was a plump woman with warm caramel skin and a long satin dress. “Get out!” she screamed. “Say no more words to my children and leave before you infect them with more poison.”

The man’s nostrils flared. “Gladly. Just don’t come running after me for coppers to feed these creatures.”

She huffed, angry tears in her eyes. “As if I ever needed your money.”

The man slammed the front door in Isaac’s face, almost smashing his fingers. “Daddy,” he said in a broken voice.

His mother scooped him up as he cried on her shoulder, Malcolm breathing a sigh of relief. Now he just needed to find a way to speak to Isaac to wake him up without alerting the rest of the demons. He tried to find where Compassion was in the nightmare but she had gone oddly silent ever since he stepped through.

The boy sobbed into his mother’s chest, the other little girl reached for her with outstretched hands as she joined in the family cry.

“I’m sorry, loves, I’m sorry,” Isaac’s mother wiped her children’s eyes. “We’re cursed. We’re a cursed family. This is all my fault.”

Malcolm tensed as Isaac renewed his wailing.

The little girl stopped crying and said. “Mama, how do we break the curse?”

The woman smiled through her tears as she cupped the little girl’s face. “It’s simple. We die.”

Isaac took fistfuls of his mother's skirts . “Mama, no. Mama, no.”

The woman took hold of his chin with a razor smile. “Oh, my sweet child, I should have drowned you at birth. It would have saved you so much suffering.”

That’s when Malcolm finally revealed himself, slicing the demon’s hand with a wave of his staff. He gra

“Mama!” A frightened Isaac elbowed Malcolm in the face.

Malcolm gave him some more room but didn’t let him go.

“That’s not your mother, look at her more closely,” he struggled to keep the boy still. He was surprisingly strong for his small size.

The boy reached out for his Mother, her arm not bleeding as much as it should. Her teeth and eyes looked sharper but it didn’t seem to matter to Isaac. He couldn’t see past his nightmare.

The woman waved with her unhurt hand. “Isaac. Mama’s leaving now. And she’s never ever coming back.”

“No, that’s not your mom. Your Mom is waiting for you to wake up, little dude,” Malcolm forced the boy to face him but Isaac's eyes couldn’t leave his mother.

Isaac’s Mother grabbed his sister’s hand and with a sly smile turned her hand on the doorknob. And then Malcolm realized his mistake. He had forgotten to protect the portal.

As soon as the woman opened the door every corner of the room filled with blackness, the only slits of light now emanating from the goat's eyes splitting from the darkness. The servants and Isaac’s family started to warp as the nightmare changed into more sinister shadow forms. Isaac’s outstretched hand lay frozen as the face of his mother morphed into Compassion.

Except now Malcolm could finally see that it wasn’t Compassion at all. The demon was wearing Compassion’s face, but her skin was now too purple, her eyes darkening to a malevolent shade of violet glowing like embers.

A desire demon. Her brown hair started to float as it mimicked the fire that should be on her head.

Malcolm instinctively reached for his weapon but the staff wrapped around his wrists, thorns snaking into his arms and into his torso. Malcolm let Isaac go before the thorns could wrap around him, too.

Malcolm tried to speak, tried to tell Isaac to wake up, but only blood coughed out of his mouth.

“Mama?” Isaac cowered from the figure in confusion, his eyes and heart seeming to wrestle with what was happening .

The Desire demon outstretched both arms, her hand regrown into thorn-like points, her robes turning into flowing strands of silk. “Bound and offered, Master, as you commanded. I told you my plan would work .”

The goat eyes swirled in amusement as another figure loomed in the portal forming in the tendrils. “So you said, Avarice. I am most impressed.”

Malcolm’s spine chilled, trying to move, but the more he struggled the more it hurt. He could feel something stabbing his heart, keeping him from speaking, but even if he could his words would be stolen from him. The voice the demon took raised all of Malcolm’s hair on end and he withheld a tremble as his father stood before him.

The elf was all lean muscle, his fists scarred and fingers broken from fistfights and punching walls. Malcolm forgot how much he looked like his father, the same nose, the same shaggy curls, the same smattering of freckles, even his eyes were the same shade of gold except instead of regular pupils they were square like a goat. They blinked eerily, the corner of his eyes and lips wrinkled into sharp lines.

Malcolm knew he made a mistake but he was so focused on Zelophehad he had never considered the demon would team up with another to trick him, never considered that the demon would successfully dig out the thing in his psyche that would freeze him in place. He watched helplessly as the Desire demon sauntered up the steps towards Isaac, holding her arms out in a welcoming hug.

“Come to Mama.”

Isaac stood his ground, trembling in fear. “Y-you’re…not…” The boy couldn’t finish his sentence. He stood instinctively near Malcolm, even though there was nothing Malcolm could do to protect him at this point.

Malcolm tried to push through the pain, his panic riding against him in an oncoming wave, but couldn’t let himself be overcome. He saw only one option, and he started to subtly weave threads from the tips of his fingers towards Isaac.

The demon was coming closer, faster, it was hard to focus on weaving the magic with the fear eating at his nerves.

“Your mama’s never coming back. But I can be your mama. I promise I’ll never abandon you, child.”

Malcolm panicked as the demon closed in, about to grab Isaac but before she could Zelophehad blinked beside the demon and grabbed her wrist. He raised a thick eyebrow, his sneer almost a smile. “And what are you doing with my snack?”

The Desire demon looked too terrified to fight, but the confusion on her face was apparent. “M-master, I thought this was what was agreed?”

WIth a flick of Zelophehad’s wrist, he broke the demoness’ wrist and she howled in pain staggering back. “I agreed to let you have my scraps, but if you’re so impatient you’re welcome to be included on the menu.”

The demoness looked conflicted. The anger was apparent on her face. “This is how you repay my service? You will reap what you sow.”

Then she blinked away from sight leaving Malcolm alone with his terror demon.

Malcolm had forgotten how overpowering the demon’s presence was, blanking out thought.

Isaac shuffled towards Malcolm grabbing his hand in fright, and Malcolm squeezed back, trying to offer what comfort he could.

“So shall I eat the boy first?” the demon circled them lazily, slouching with confident ease. Tendrils of dark tentacles circled around his legs and snaked up his arms reaching out to taste the fear on Malcolm’s bound body. “Or will you chivalrously go first?”

Every movement still shredded him, but he found with Avarice gone, her magic was no longer overpowering and he could force himself to speak. “Real cocky considering you made your servant do your dirty work.”

“And why not?” Zelophehad said with a gleeful smile. “Is it not what they are for?”

Malcolm scoffed, though that made a thorn stab deeper into his ribs. He held onto Isaac’s hand his Fade strings wrapping around his balled fist. He saw only one way out of this. “You haven’t won, yet.”

“Good,” the demon grinned. “I like a meal that has fight. Let’s see how brave you are after I eat your charge.” Then the tendrils wrapped around Isaac pulling him towards the demon.

Isaac screamed, squeezing onto Malcolm’s hand, and Malcolm pulled, wrapping the rest of the Fade strings firmly around Isaac.

Malcolm closed his eyes, diving into the depths of his psyche and pulling Isaac along with him. He felt the pain intensify as Zelophehad tried to rip Isaac away from him, but Malcolm pulled them safely both into the safety of his mind.

Their spirits tumbled as the Fade tried to give form to their consciousness, Isaac and Malcolm’s memories melding together in projections in every corner he saw, the overlapping memories serving as the Fade’s usual hum. Malcolm could feel the terror demon ripping off the w alls of his defenses, following him inside. He was at his most powerful since it was his mind therefore his dream, but he was also cornered, trapped. If the terror demon managed to overwhelm him here, he had no more tricks to pull, no hidden hole to dive in.

Malcolm wouldn’t have done this if he had another choice.

He needed to become conscious, take control of the dream, find Isaac and wake them both back to safety, but that was easier said than done. The Fade had not become so much as moldable clay but a projection of thoughts and wants sprung to life with just a breath. Any stray thought, no matter how tiny, could derail everything.

It took all of Malcolm’s energy to focus in the dream fog, like a dulling drug to his senses muting his thoughts. Isaac. He needed to find Isaac. He repeated the name in his head, not allowing any other thoughts to surface. He suddenly recalled something Leandra said after gifting him the rosary, which was like a warm tether on his neck. Without another thought he tore off parts of the Fade and reshaped them into brightly colored blocks.

And started building a simple wall. He clicked the pieces together, slowly building as he started to recite what he could remember from the book Leandra brought.

“In this big wide world,

We all have a place

Every bee needs it’s rose,

Every rose needs it’s vase.”

Soon the walls formed into a house where he left room for a couple windows and an opening for the door. The shadows of Isaac’s memories strengthened with each stack of the block, as Malcolm led his spirit back to him.

“But where do the broken and stinky things go?

When the pen in the ink refuses to flow

Do we keep all the clutter? Does anyone know?”

“Yes,” a small voice finally answered him, “it goes in Mr. Dumpdump’s tow.”

He looked up from his work to see that Isaac had joined him, taking the blocks in his hands with focused effort as he started crafting his build.

“Hey, little dude,” Malcolm sighed in relief. “Are you ready to get out of here?”

But Isaac wasn’t listening to Malcolm. His eyes never left his hands as he built up the walls of his structure with impressive speed, all while reciting the book like a mantra.

“He takes what is bad

So things can be good

Isn’t he the best neighbor

In the whole neighborhood?”

The Fade churned as the walls of the dream struggled to take shape in the competing mindscapes of Isaac and Malcolm, the familiar Circle the only common ground for the Fade to form in. Malcolm could tell Isaac was paler than usual, his eyes seemingly blank as if he was far away and not at all aware what his hands were doing. The Fade was practically responding to his creative urges forming walls around him, as if he was trying to block himself in.

Malcolm crept up to Isaac, his fingers reaching out hesitantly. “I’m going to wake you up, now, but I need you to trust me.”

“How can you trust him?” Revka’s disembodied voice rang shrilly across the Fade. Suddenly Revka was there dressed in fitted royal purple silk, her brown hair loose around her shoulders. She outstretched a pointed nail at Isaac, her pupils too square to be human but everything else was a remarkable likeness. Yet Isaac was frozen, staring at the image of his Mother with a tremble as he fumbled with his blocks. “Come to Mama, Isaac. Let me in.”

Malcolm stepped closer, imploring Isaac to listen. “She’s not real. Your real Mom is waiting for you to wake up.”

The demon smirked with a sharp toothed smile. “I’m your Mama. This elf is the one who is not real. Why would he help you?”

Isaac blinked at Malcolm, his eyes suddenly filled with distrust.

Malcolm held up his hands showing open palms forming no spells. “This is a bad dream, Isaac. You can end it now if you wake up.”

“If you wish hard enough you could have more than just this little reality,” Revka’s laugh tittered as the Fade started to shape into what Malcolm could only guess was some twisted form of Isaac’s old bedroom. The building blocks seemed to take a life of their own building into the sides of the room. Kids drawings filled the walls and books filled dragon shaped shelves. Revka sat down on Isaac’s bed, her fingers beckoning him to come closer.

Isaac’s eyes filled with tears. “I-I can’t.”

Malcolm dared to take one step closer to Isaac. “Let me help you wake up.”

The Nightmare growled, the room distorting color. “He wants to kill you. Don’t let him get close!”

Isaac froze, as if he didn’t consider that and backed away from Malcolm. When Malcolm took another step closer Isaac took another step back closer to the Nightmare.

Malcolm gritted his teeth, wondering what he could do to prove to Isaac that he was really him and not some twisted imitation. He needed to prove to Isaac he was real, but he didn’t know how.

And then it hit him and Malcolm took a deep breath and belted out the loudest most obnoxious “HOOOOOOOONK!” he could manage.

The Nightmare blinked in confusion as the boy broke down in a fit of surprised giggles.

Malcolm joined in the carefree laughter, ignoring the glaring Nightmare demon and said, “Hey, don’t leave me hanging. Your turn.”

The boy didn’t hesitate, he threw back his head and screamed, “HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK!” in a louder, more obnoxious way that only a 9 year old could manage.

The Nightmare’s forces seemed to be shrinking in the laughter and the demon scowled. “How undisciplined. I guess it’s time to punish you until you listen.”

Then the Nightmare leapt, his claws forming into long scythe-like points as he raked for Isaac.

Malcolm twisted the Fade around the Nightmare and turned into a crushing prison, paralyzing the demon for a moment but he wasn’t sure with its strength how long it would hold.

He turned back towards Isaac who was now huddling behind his constructed wall, his head in his knees and his hands over his ears.

Malcolm crept beside him. “Little dude,” he said in a hurried voice. “You need to wake up now.”

“I c-can’t,” he sobbed into his knees, holding fistfuls of his hair.

The demon howled in pain, causing Isaac to tremble.

Malcolm reacted with haste touching his forefingers to each side of Isaac’s temples, pouring his magic into him.

Isaac popped up socking Malcolm in the jaw as he gasped in shock.

The jab hurt but Malcolm held firm and Isaac’s next fist went through Malcolm as he faded back into the waking realm where he was safe from the Nightmare’s grasp.

Suddenly a claw wrapped around his neck, digging into his skin but no sooner did the Nightmare grab hold did he fling his hand back like he was burnt.

Malcolm looked down to find the rosary around his neck glowing in what he could only describe as a heavenly light.

Warm trickles of blood seeped down Malcolm’s neck and when he touched the cord it grew hot. A strange and unfamiliar sensation ran through him.

Malcolm wasn’t sure what happened. That was no spell he weaved and yet the demon seemed to eye his rosary with a wariness that he didn’t reserve for the man himself.

The Nightmare’s face contorted, its shape shifting into several darkspawn like forms before it settled onto the face of Malcolm’s father, but Malcolm was a bit more ready for it this time. Still the sight of the man before him made him take an uneasy step back, his nerves instinctively screaming at him to wake up from this nightmare.

“Are you going to face me like a man or run like a rabbit?”

Malcolm clenched his fists, the slur even from a demon like a punch to the gut. Still, he knew when he was being baited. “Yeah real manly going after a child. You really do take after my father.” Part of him wanted to throw every spell he knew at his disposal. It was his dream, but he was facing the Nightmare. He knew it was smarter to run.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” the demon examined his burn in disinterest, a casual smirk on his lips. “But I have to say if you don’t get rid of me now, I only plan to become a bigger problem.” He tapped a finger on his lip. “Shall I try to eat Charlie next? Taylor?”

Malcolm’s heart froze in his chest as the Nightmare’s golden goat eyes seized him in place with the next name that fell from his smirking lips.

“Leandra has been looking awfully delicious,” the Nightmare fell back to the rosary neck and gestured to his burned hand imprinted with its beads. “Shall I pay her a visit now that you’ve generously supplied her essence?”

Malcolm saw red, sending crackling energy at the demon but it disappeared in a blink and his lightning bolt hit a wall of colorful blocks scattering them.

The demon suddenly appeared behind him delivering a stunning blow to the back of Malcolm’s head.

He saw stars as he struggled to reorient himself. He sent a clumsy fireball at the demon’s direction, but even if the demon didn’t teleport out of reach again the ball would’ve barely grazed the demon.

Malcolm was ready for the Nightmare to be in his blindside again, and moved to dodge, but his foot was caught. He looked down to see that a tentacled hand had wrapped around his ankle from the floor and prevented him from missing the crushing blow to his nose that made his eyes water.

Blood spattered from his face, streaming down his nose so he couldn’t breathe. It felt broken. Jostled, he picked himself up enough only for a blow to the chest that knocked the wind out of him.

This went on for a while, Malcolm barely keeping his footing as he absorbed blow after blow that he was too slow to react from, each spell dying in his hand before he could fling it. He was unsure why the demon chose to use his fists over something more lethal like magic or claws or anything, but Malcolm realized that even with those goat eyes when he was staring at that face the punches hurt more, his reflexes were more hesitant, and that familiar taunting laugh tripped him off balance.

This didn’t feel so much of a fight as a beating.

“What’s the matter, boy?” The demon punched Malcolm in the stomach, avoiding the rosary by inches. There was an unexpected weight behind each punch but this one felt like being hit by a freight train and Malcolm keeled over, almost throwing up blood. “Weren’t you supposed to be teaching me a lesson?”

The demon then knelt beside Malcolm's crumpled form and caressed his curls fondly, which made Malcolm shiver as distant memories were quickly brought to the surface. “I’m going to take everything you love sooner or later. You have two choices, the painful way, or the less painful way. It’s up to you.”

Malcolm tried to flee, to wake himself up, but all he could do more was cough and gasp as he tried to breathe through his pain, the memories of his childhood terror so fresh, he was trembling. His voice was caught in a web he couldn’t get out of. All he could do is touch the rosary around his neck, praying for the help that burned the demon before.

The Nightmare seemed to sense this so he sighed, grabbing fistfuls of Malcolm’s curls. “The painful way, then.”

One punch shattered his nose.

“Even if Leandra loves you, she’ll always love her status more.” Malcolm struggled to breathe as another punch knocked out a tooth. “They’ll laugh at your children.” Another punch dislocated his jaw. “What kind of a father will you be anyways?” By the fourth punch he was losing consciousness, and he struggled to grasp for his body in the waking world before it was too late. Suddenly the Nightmare stopped and took in a heavy annoyed sigh.

“You are intruding, little spirit.”

Malcolm’s spotty vision noticed a blinding glow in the darkness in the room. He raised his head to see Compassion, the real Compassion shining brilliantly, a rainbow crystal staff wielded in her hands.

“Have you not feasted enough, Zelophehad? Is your hunger so great you must swallow everything in your path?”

The demon smirked malevolently, his bloody knuckles cracking as he clenched his fist. “My gluttony is boundless. My wrath is unquenchable. My greed unsatiable. A little compassion will do nothing to stop me.”

Compassion stood vigilantly, unshaken, her staff brightening with indescribable colors from the carved crystals. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

She met Malcolm’s gaze, his head trapped in Zelophehad’s fist, her azure fire eyes burning. “Somniari, trust me,” And then Compassion turned the crystals to the ground, and poured light that made the floor glitter like diamonds.

“Awaken again, my friends,” Compassion poured more healing magic into the Fade, the air brightening to a more normal greenish hue.

The demon hissed, dropping Malcolm to cut off Compassion.

Malcolm hit the floor with a thud, breathing in the magic, that seemed to soothe his aching, broken body. Suddenly, the Fade was no longer silent, a rush of hurried frightened whispers of the particles of the Fade woke up and filled up Malcolm’s thoughts with indecipherable chatter.

“Shut up!” Zelophehad bellowed as he dove for Compassion, his claws coming out to scythe-like points but she blinked out of sight and then beside Malcolm.

She knelt down and touched him with her iridescent hand.

The magic was almost instant. In one breath, everything ached, like shards of bone were digging into his gut, his eye was swollen shut, his nose too mangled to breathe through, and then in the next moment it was like coming up from a cool pond. There was an uncomfortable sensation of bones knitting back into place, as a cooling healing touch soothed his burning skin. In a few moments he could move more normally again, his vision clear, his mind alert.

Zelophehad growled holding up his hand and a beam of concentrated dark light shot towards Compassion. Malcolm, still grounded, threw up a barrier without thinking, and Compassion did the same. The double barriers cracked but held but the force still blew them back. Zelophehad kept the assault, making the beam bigger, the energy arcing wildly.

“Wake up!” Compassion ordered.

Malcolm balked, his energy being drained by trying to keep the barrier reinforced. “Don’t you need help?”

“You’re in the way,” she sneered, which was like a slap in the face to Malcolm. Still, as much as that stung he couldn’t argue that he pretty much had his ass handed to him that fight.

“Fine,” he scoffed, pulling back the magic, and reaching for his body back in the waking world. As he did, the barrier started to crack, light showing through.

Malcolm hesitated, pouring more magic into the barrier.

“I have this handled. Flee, you fool!” Compassion hissed, the crystals of her staff quivering in effort. Suddenly the Fade air shimmered around Compassion, sealing the cracks in her barrier as soon as they formed.

Malcolm wasn’t sure what Compassion’s plan was, but it was clear she knew more about what she was doing than Malcolm did, so he pulled back his magic completely, and concentrated on reaching his body. It was quicker with the lyrium in his system. He could feel the buzz of it speed up his magic in a way he didn’t think possible so that instead of falling he felt like he was flying back. He was unsure what magic Leandra had given him, but all he knew was that she saved him.

Red light finally filtered through his eyes, and he opened them quickly to find blood all over his face and robes and every templar pointing a gun at him. Even Carver.

Malcolm gulped nervously, his limbs still bound to the gurney. He found himself struggling not to panic at the sight of his friend holding a barrel at him. “I’m not possessed.”

Carver lowered his gun slightly, but there was a hesitancy to it. “I’m sorry Malcolm, but we’re going to need a test.”

Malcolm’s gut dropped. He had forgotten that Carver was still a templar though it would be harder to forget in this moment. He gave a nervous, bloody grin and said. “Yeah, dude, whatever you need.”

Carver walked up to the barrier and turned to the Senior Enchanter and said, “lower it.”

Enchanter Karena nodded and with a wave of her staff the red barriers around Malcolm and Isaac came down.

Carver looked over at Isaac who was strapped to his own bed with a frightened look on his face.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Carver said in the most soothing voice as he could manage, though it was hard to believe with his gun strapped to his side.

He took out a device that looked like a small tablet and scanned Isaac’s head. Isaac squirmed to the side as the device beeped and fed Carver information. It was supposed to be the templar’s foolproof way of thwarting possession, looking for extra brain waves or unusual activity. Though sometimes mages that looked completely fine were sometimes pulled because of weird readings so it never failed to make Malcolm nervous.

Though whatever was on the screen seemed to satisfy Carver. He started unbinding the straps, turning to the Senior Enchanter and said, “get this boy into the infirmary. He’s very weak.”

She nodded and hurried to Isaac, unbinding him fully so he could stretch out his arms and legs. He sat up reluctantly, helped by the Enchantress, who proceeded to cover him with a blanket to help with his shiver.

Carver approached Malcolm with the scanner, and ran it over his head.

Malcolm could hear the device whirring and beeping. This wasn’t the first time he’d been scanned but it never failed to heighten his nerves.

Carver’s voice was a whisper as he eyed the drying blood on Malcolm’s face. “Are you alright?”

To be honest Malcolm wasn’t sure. His body didn’t ache anymore, but the pain was like a ghost haunting him, his father’s cruel mocking laugh still ringing in his ears. He wondered for a second if Compassion made it out alright, or if he had gotten her killed. He might have gotten Isaac safely back, but this felt like a defeat.

“I just need to see Leandra,” his voice was almost begging. He wasn’t even sure if it was protocol, but he just needed a moment, so it all could mean something. He wasn’t sure if he would last if he didn’t end the day at least seeing her face.

Carver started unstrapping his ties as the templars lowered their guns hesitantly, looking at each other in disappointment. “Let’s get you cleaned up first.”

---

Revka’s sobs filled the chapel as she squeezed Leandra’s hand in a vice-like grip. She had taken the first plane back to Kirkwall and had stormed the Circle, along with Guillaume, Mara and Gamlen who had generously picked her up from the airport. (Well Mara and Gamlen were supposed to, but Guillaume insisted on coming to show support to Leandra.)

Now the five of them were huddled in a group prayer as they begged the Maker for Malcolm to succeed.

The nuns were all very accommodating, reciting the proper Chants with them, and invoking protections on Isaac on Malcolm from afar, though Leandra felt so powerless she felt like she was only doing it to keep her and Revka sane. Because they had to do something to make the time pass.

When asked about the rosary during prayer, because Leandra always prayed with her rosary, she evasively said she lost it and hoped it would never come up again. She was surprised when Gamlen scolded her, because he wasn’t particularly religious. Still, she knew what he would think if she told him the truth.

“It’s my fault,” Revka sobbed, breaking from the Chant as she crumpled in exhaustion. The others broke off from the Chant, looking away to give Revka the privacy of a breakdown. Even Gamlen didn’t have anything smart to say for once.

“No,’ Leandra squeezed her hand. “You can’t think that.”

The tears streamed from her eyes as she shook her head. “What kind of Mother is not there for her children? Colette’s all alone at home. I had to abandon Anna during our visit and now Isaac...is lost.”

Leandra pulled Revka in for a hug unsure of what other comfort to offer. “Have faith in the Maker, Revka. He will deliver Isaac.”

‘And Malcolm,’ she added silently. She didn’t dare say his name aloud while Guillaume was by her side.

Suddenly the doors to the chapel pulled open and all of them turned to see who disturbed them. Carver and the Knight Commander stepped through, side by side, Leandra deflated, thinking that they were by themselves when Malcolm finally lagged behind, a noticeable sag to his shoulders and a sluggishness to his steps.

Revka stood up and pushed her way forward towards the Knight Commander. “Isaac. He is safe?” It was a command rather than a question.

“He is, my lady, you can rest easy,” Carver bowed his head with a warm smile on his lips.

Revka’s eyes then overflowed with tears. “Thank the Maker. And thank you Commander.”

The Knight Commander preened at the gratitude. “Only doing our part.”

Revka’s hands flew to her eyes as she hastily wiped them. “Can I see him? Just for a moment.”

Carver looked imploringly at the Knight Commander who seemed uncomfortable with the idea. “It would do wonders for Isaac’s recovery.”

Leandra stepped up beside Revka glaring at the Knight Commander, joined by Guillaume and Mara. The Knight-Commander’s eyes passed over them, seemingly wanting to avoid a fight, and turned to Carver and said. “Yes, yes give her five minutes and then they all need to leave.”

Revka looked overwhelmed with relief and eagerly held out her arm to be escorted.

Only for Carver to be distracted by the fact Mara was there. Their gazes seemed to catch, her face going red as she avoided his shocked stare. He seemed frozen, as if he had not expected Mara to be there at all, and he didn’t notice he was staring until Gamlen put a possessive arm around her.

“Captain?” Revka asked impatiently.

Carver shook his head as if he was breaking from a daze and said, “Sorry, my lady. This way.” And then he took her arm and started leading her out of the chapel.

The Knight Commander then stared at the rest of the group as if they were ruining his day. “Your mage wishes to return your trinket.”

Leandra bristled at the phrasing the Commander used and she found herself arguing. “It was a gift.”

Malcolm bowed deeply to Leandra, the rosary draping from his fingers. “My lady, the protection magic on this saved my life, and for that I thank you, but I would rest easier knowing it's guarding its true owner.”

Gamlen looked outraged seeing the rosary in Malcolm’s fingertips. “A gift? I thought you said you lost it? Leandra what were you thinking?”

Leandra opened her mouth to argue when Guillaume put a warm hand on her waist and said, “My lady only ever has the purest intentions, Lord Amell. Do forgive her.”

Gamlen barked out a laugh as he eyed Malcolm, a shit eating grin as he muttered “Poor schmuck,” under his breath.

Mara elbowed him in the stomach with warning eyes to be quiet.

Leandra stiffened at Malcolm’s sudden glare, not able to voice what she was thinking and took the rosary back feeling conflicted and partly rejected. Their fingers brushed as the necklace exchanged hands, the feeling like a shock to her heart. She wanted to insist he keep it, but she knew that it would be inappropriate and rude so she bit her lip and examined the beads, noticing some new stains on the metal. She gasped. “Is this your blood?”

Malcolm looked sheepish. “Sorry, I thought I cleaned that better.”

The Knight Commander put a warning squeeze on Malcolm’s shoulder as he pulled him back from Leandra and changed to the real subject he wanted to talk about. “As you can see Malcolm is the finest mage we have to offer.”

Guillaume put a finger on his chin. “Yes, ser, I quite agree,” he said. He offered his free hand in a friendly shake. “You are quite talented, messere. This means everything to Leandra. I can’t thank you enough.”

Malcolm gritted his teeth staring at the hand as if it stunk, but one glance at the Knight Commander had him schooling his face and he took the hand politely. “Anything for my lady,” he said while looking straight into Leandra’s eyes as he gave Guillaume the firmest shake he could manage.

“And a man’s handshake at that. I’m very impressed,” Guillaume beamed amusedly.

It took everything Malcolm had not to snort. He wiped his hand on the side of his robes feeling vindictive and petty. To see Guillaume’s hand so casually on Leandra’s waist was like sitting down for a good meal only to find a dead fly in it.

The Knight Commander gave Malcolm’s shoulder another squeeze. “We look forward to your renewed bids on Hawke’s services. We assure you we’re training him daily and instilling the best manners and education so he can best attend to your needs.”

The Knight Commander's words made that two dead flies.

Malcolm looked at Guillaume, a tall handsome man with everything and the world, who could hold Leandra’s hand in a crowd and kiss her openly in the sunlight, or the moonlight, and everything in between. He found himself trembling as he tried not to scream or cry or punch the man senseless.

Guillaume pulled Leandra closer and took one of her hands as he stared seriously into her eyes.

Leandra shied away from him but didn’t stop the embrace from happening which was like a dagger in Malcolm’s heart.

“Ma cherie, after everything that's happened with Isaac I wouldn’t dare put us at odds any longer.”

Leandra couldn’t meet Guillaume’s gaze, her eyes pulled unwillingly to Malcolm who was not looking at them at all. “Guillaume, I don’t know what you mean.”

Guillaume patted her hand. “I’m withdrawing my family’s bid for Ser Hawke. If there is truly a curse, then I shall not have you unprotected.”

Leandra didn’t know what to say so she went with a diplomatic, “That’s very generous, Guillaume.”

“Not at all,” he said, kissing her cheek, his mouth lingering near her face. as he said, “Besides we’ll be husband and wife soon, so chances are he’ll be serving us both in time.”

And that’s when Malcolm turned to the Knight-Commander and said, “I think I should go check in on Isaac, yes?”

The Knight Commander seemed surprised but pleased by Malcolm’s initiative and said, “Do that. I will escort everyone else out.”

Leandra immediately launched after him as he stormed away, forgetting anyone else was there. “Malcolm!” she cried out.

He turned to meet her, stopping her with a glare and she went red, realizing that Gamlen was smirking at her as he raised an eyebrow about how she would play this.

“Leandra, is something wrong?” Guillaume stared in confusion, a hand touching hers imploring her to spill her troubles.

But her attention was on Malcolm. She bit her lip as Malcolm watched her along with everyone else and unsure what she was doing she stuck out her hand like Guillaume did. “I’m truly indebted to you. I won’t forget my whole life, what you did for me.”

Malcolm’s face softened into a smile, truly the only thanks he was actually looking for, and he couldn’t help but take her hand since it looked so warm and inviting, “And I’d do it again,” he said as he brought her hand to his mouth and put a chaste kiss on her knuckle.

It was proper, but so very intimate that her face flooded with warmth, her breath caught in her throat.

“Messere Hawke,” The Knight-Commander barked strictly, causing the both of them to jump.

Malcolm cleared his throat and left without a word, the Knight-Commander glaring daggers into his back.

---

Every goat eye searched the whole surface of the Fade, but it seemed that the Compassion spirit had indeed escaped his labyrinth. How she managed to get in, he did not know. Everything in this realm was supposed to be loyal to him. If there were whispers of her coming he should have known about it.

And yet the Fade protected her. Hid her. His own minions of his realm would not raise a hand to fight her.

What was she to them?

And why was it so hard to kill one measly Compassion spirit? They had hardly any offensive powers. They spent their days healing the sick, not taking on embodiments of darkness. Still if the Somniari Bonded with her, it would prevent his Bonding to take place. The Spirit would have to die first.

An eye alerted him that it found something and he teleported to a wing of the palace that he had forgotten about but seemed to have been altered. Drapes of fabric held from the ceiling and it seemed like collected human artifacts like statues and goblets filled with gold and shiny jewels was scattered through the room. In the middle was a bed draped in silks, the roof overhead broken so the moon shone on Avarice in a masculine form, wearing nothing at all. Her chiseled muscles were relaxed in the plush bed as she stared at Zelophehad with a smirk on her face.

“So he got away.”

Zelophehad almost killed the demoness out of pride but his need for her kept him from lashing out. “There was an intruder. Why did you not take care of it?”

The demoness’ long fiery purple hair danced on her head lazily, “I thought you didn’t need me.”

The taunting jab made Zelophehad punch a decayed wall. A new crack ran up it all the way to the ceiling. “I can always find a smarter demon.”

That only made her smirk widen. “I delivered the Somniari gagged and bound, as ordered. I could have had him for myself, Master, but I only spared him because of my loyalty to you.”

Zelophehad sneered, his ugly mouth a mess of gnarled teeth. “That Compassion spirit will regret toying with me. I’ll burn every ounce of Compassion until there is none left in this world.”

The demoness chewed on her cheek, her violet pupiless eyes not masking disappointment. “You could do that, or….”

“Or…” the Nightmare echoed impatiently.

The demoness perched herself up on a pillow. “We approach a mortal and make a strike in the waking world.”

Zelophehad cocked his head at the idea, a malevolent smile spreading on his inky lips. “I know just the one.”

#malcolm/leandra #dragon age fic #da fic #dragon age fanfic #da fanfic

6 notes · View notes