#grateful for. but it’s hard to live life with happiness when your body is degrading and your mind is too far gone

[slightlymore]

hardest to love

part of the ‘soulmates collection’

surgeon!doyoung x surgeon!fem reader

others: haechan, jaemin, jeno

genre: medical au (but the medical part is not heavy), romance, angst, smut, fantasy elements, “enemies” to lovers, mutual pining 

warnings: +18, esplicit sexual content: doyoung is a hard dom and a soft dom in different scenes, short instances of sub doyoung, finger sucking (I know, I have a hand kink), spanking, raw, ice play, fingering, dry humping, thigh riding, choking, use of "sir", orgasm control and denial, edging, overstimulation, light degradation, oral f, brat taming, safe word, wine play?; lots of teasing; swearing; discussion around death; doyoung is a jerk but gets better

words: 13k

note: you can read this as a stand alone without having read the other works in the soulmate collection. what you need to know: haechan, jeno and jaemin travel different universes with the purpose of getting doyoung and yn be together. mark is trying to do the opposite. sometimes doyoung can remember past lives and sometimes he can't. this life takes place in a hospital. if you're confused by the three boys’ story everything will be explained in their backstory fics coming soon. 

__________

Haechan let out a single deep sigh. 

“Damn it. Doyoung is a fucking jerk in this life.”

The three young men were standing in the corner of the room watching two students trembling mortified in front of a pissed off Doyoung before he could turn around on his heels. 

“I thought he was a jerk in all lives,” Jeno commented while dusting off imaginary lice off his jacket. 

"I’ll be honest. When you said 'hell' I didn't expect the ER."

“Well have you ever been to-” Haechan continued but stopped when noticing Jeno not listening to him anymore but observing their third friend instead. 

“Hey, Jaemin?” Jeno put one hand on his shoulder. 

Jaemin was weak and paler than usual, eyes wide and with a slightly trembling chin. He then followed the direction of the younger gaze and gasped himself. 

“Yeah,” Haechan grated the back of his head. “I’m sorry. I told you this one is going to be hard.” 

Jaemin gulped, looking at himself walking around the bed and checking on the patients. 

That Jaemin looked exactly like him. 

The only difference was the clothes. That doppelganger had a doctor gown instead of a sweatshirt. 

“How is this possible? I don’t understand how I can be here and there at the same time.”

Haechan sighed at Jaemin’s comment. 

“You could consider it time travel. Now, listen to me.” 

Jaemin let himself be grabbed by Haechan’s hands, pressing on both of his arms and looked at the other’s intense eyes. 

“You have to avoid yourself while we work and-,” he stopped as if making sure to have Jaemin’s whole attention, “-you can’t talk to her.” 

As if Haechan’s voice was a spell that summons people, Jaemin raised his gaze from him to look behind Haechan’s shoulder where a woman was slowly walking the corridor, eyebrows furrowed trying to understand the medical records she was carrying. 

“Shit,” Haechan silently cursed and, placing one hand on Jaemin’s cheek, he indicated to keep quiet by putting one finger on his own lips. 

If Jaemin weren’t so weak in the limbs upon seeing her, he would have felt the tingle on his skin coming from Haechan’s palm, or he would have realized that the woman walked past them as if they were all invisible. 

Jeno, arms crossed on his chest, followed the woman with his eyes then nodded once as to indicate that the path was clear. 

“Why can’t I talk to her?” 

Jaemin’s head wanted to turn around and catch another glimpse but Haechan didn’t move his hand from his face yet. 

“You might, I promise. But only when I say so.” 

“Haechan and I can shapeshift and become invisible but you can’t and we won’t be around to babysit you all the time. Do your part and stay out of trouble.”

"You look mean,” Jaemin mumbled. 

"I am. Now move."

__________

A breath. 

A deep and heavy breath. 

He was hearing it inside his skull. His own irregular breath inside his own skull. 

Then a loud ringing suffocated every other sound in Doyoung’s ears. Like tinnitus, he thought, so used to elaborate information by classifying it into boxes.  

The man was looking at his hands as if they were not his, fingers gripping the defibrillator pads, watching how the chest underneath them rose and fell. 

Again. 

And again. 

A machine. The defibrillator and Doyoung. 

And that body as well. 

But it was too broken to be fixed. 

And when he barely heard the nurse’s question he straightened his back. “Time of death,” he inhaled, his hands now uncovering the wristwatch, “2:41 am,” he exhaled.

__________

Doyoung felt it inside his hands, under the skin. 

It was uncomfortable. 

He looked at his left palm and wished it trembled. 

"A surgeon," the announcement came in the form of a hard pat on the shoulders.

 Doyoung blinked surprised and put his glasses back up on the nose. 

"Great hands," the professor shook them with vigour, his eyes wide open and intense. "Steady," the old man continued his litany of compliments. 

Doyoung let him wiggle his arms for a few more seconds before sighing as another student grabbed the professor's attention. 

The young boy looked down at his hands as well after the man turned his back. 

His eyes scanned every line in his palms as if seeing them for the first time. 

"Those hands will do big things in the future" and Doyoung now, shoulders heavy, moist fringe patted on his forehead in the humidity of the terrace, felt like cutting his hands off. 

Yes. Big things. 

Like playing with life and death. 

Didn't you just kill a man? he asked his hands, lower lip trembling instead of his steady fingers. Huh? and you're fine? 

Doyoung tightened his fists with disgust and punched the air while letting them fall with force to his sides. 

The rain intensified and he stepped in the front further until feeling the cold and heavy drops hit his face. Their sound was chaotic and it calmed Doyoung's heart. 

Again. 

I can do it again. I've done it before. 

I do it again. 

I can get over it. 

He opened up his hands under the rain until he started to not feel his fingertips anymore. 

Then he walked back inside the hospital.

__________

When you had to deal with the first dying patient, you were paralyzed. 

It was very early in the morning. Your head was still full of the dreams you had just a while ago. Your heart was full of life and excitement for finally being able to work in the field. 

"Get your shit together."

That voice startled you. 

Doctor Kim, the most ruthless and cold person you've ever met, was your supervisor as an intern. 

You looked up at him and caught his dark eyes on that spectrally pale face. 

You just moved. You had no idea what you were doing. Terrified, you let your body work automatically. 

Doctor Kim was calm and efficient while your whole mind felt out of place. 

Oh, God. Oh God, please. 

And when his voice finally reached your ears as if from far away you sunk down on your knees. 

"Good job everyone." 

The kindest thing he has ever said to his interns.

The other vaguely kind thing was his introductory discourse. 

"I know that interning at the ER is dreadful, but that's life."

He was staring you all down, a short line of fresh out of med school trembling kids, no one having the courage to meet his eyes. 

"You have to be ready to see all sorts of things here. Okay, let's go."

And that was it. 

The encouragement of his introductory discourse. 

You'll feel like shit here, welcome. 

You hated him and you swore to yourself that you won’t behave the same. 

Ever. 

He was like a souless machine, walking around and tending to his duties. Lost in thoughts as your eyes scanned his figure walking busily around the hospital, you actually wondered if he had feelings at all. 

The first time you saw Doctor Kim actually show some type of sentiment, was when he exited the surgery room one day. 

You were walking around with the others and checking on the patients when he walked through the corridor like a storm. It was unclear what type of feeling that was but it made you unable to stop staring at his side of the face and back as he entered his office. 

The anaesthetist came out soon after, slowly and sighing deeply. 

And then you understood. 

You've lived many of those days afterwards until you had to welcome your own row of interns. 

You smiled and did a nice short welcoming discourse. 

And at that moment you, unfortunately, got what Doctor Kim meant when he was brusque with you in the beginning. 

It took you all three years of residency to finally get it: there were no actual right words to tell the students and there was no point in giving fake hope that everything is going to be alright. 

Still, there was no point in being a rude ass like him. So you at least smiled kindly and encouraged your students. 

God knew they needed it even more now.

You've never spoken much to Doctor Kim besides what was needed or the routine good morning sir and the short morning he would answer with. 

So it was strange that on the first day of your career as a real surgeon, after your hands and those of Doctor Kim near each other worked, barely moving, his muffled voice ordering the tools, your muffled voice doing the same, you hugged him. 

You hugged him that day for no reason besides the overwhelming feeling of being alive. 

Doctor Kim, after every surgery, good or bad, would always walk out on the terrace. 

You followed him that night and stopped behind his frame. You had to talk to someone about what just happened and he was the only one who might understand. 

He was facing the city lights and the wind breeze ruffled his hair. He didn’t care to push it off his forehead. 

"You did well today," he said quietly without looking at you. 

Oh, you blinked fast. 

Your first surgery was a success but your heart was beating so fast that you couldn't understand your feelings. 

Were you happy? Were you about to cry? Did you want to scream and jump? What did you want? 

But Doyoung just complimented you. 

So again, you let your body work automatically and you looked at yourself, as if going through depersonalization, timid feet filling the space between you and Doctor Kim, your hands touching his waist and going around it until meeting each other on his stomach. You placed your head on his shoulders and closed your eyes. 

"I was so scared," you whispered. 

Doctor Kim's body was stiff, no reaction from his posture, no words coming from his mouth. 

Was he shocked? Was he wondering what the hell were you doing? Was he about to tell you to get your shit together again like that first time three years prior? 

But he didn’t do any of these things. 

He sighed once and you imagined him closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth of your body. 

Even if for a moment. Even if it was all in your head and he actually hated it. 

Then he took a step forward and you had to let him go. 

And when he turned around and placed one palm on your shoulder without looking at you in the face, you remained alone on the terrace, breathing the cold air deeply and longing for his hands to hold you a little longer.

__________

Doyoung didn't speak to you again after that night. 

Nor did he look at you once. 

While you found yourself staring at his nape every time he walked around. Or turning your head as if following the trail he left behind. 

You couldn’t wear perfume in the hospital but it was as if Doyoung did because he’d pull your senses towards him by something invisible. 

As if that first touch you shared connected you to him in obscure ways. 

“Here’s the coffee that you asked for, sir.” You entered his office after his dry “come in”.

His expression was priceless and for a moment you felt the urge to look behind you and see if there were a ghost scaring him.

“What are you doing?” he asked. 

“Bringing you the coffee?” 

“I asked a student to do it, not you. You’re a surgeon.” 

Your lips were dangerously trying to form a smile while you placed the coffee on his desk. 

“Why does it matter? I am free while those students are busy learning how to be doctors.” 

“You think that just because you hugged me once when you were emotionally unstable, now we’re friends?” 

That question was so sudden and cold to make you snap your head upwards. 

His eyes were darker than usual and you almost gulped. 

“No, sir.” 

Your voice came out as a tiny exhale and if he felt sorry for his sudden and out of place tone, you couldn't see it on his face at all. 

"I was just being friendly as all colleagues would," you added a new note to your own tone, trying to perhaps make him feel guilty. 

"You can give me up."

His reply shut you up and you furrowed your eyebrows. “What?”

"I'm saying," he spoke slowly, "that I don't want to be friendly with you. Now, please leave."

________

"I'm going to fucking kill him!" you threw your head back to drink your espresso shot as if it was alcohol and slammed the paper cup back on the counter. 

Jaemin sighed pouring sugar into his coffee. 

"Why did you even try? He's a jerk." 

The man sipped on his drink slowly, the warmth of it misting his glasses. 

“I just-” you huffed, crossing your arms on your chest. “We’re colleagues. It made sense for him to be a piece of shit with us when we were interns but now? ‘I don’t want to be friendly with you’” you mocked his deep voice. “Who the fuck does he think he is? I swear I’ll accidentally stab him with a knife!”

“Hm. Do you like him?” Jaemin asked with an unimpressed tone. 

You almost grabbed the coffee from Jaemin’s hands and threw it in his face. 

“Are you insane? What does that mean? Why would I like him? Kim Doyoung? Me-” you pressed your index on your chest, “liking that asshole? I hate his guts! I can’t believe you said something like this! What’s to like about him?”

Jaemin felt his fringe move around his forehead at your intense voice as if it were wind. 

“No need to get so worked up about it. You’re just talking so often about him lately. Also, he’s objectively good looking. He’s also smart. I understand.” 

“He’s the ugliest man I’ve ever laid my eyes on! And he’s an idiot! And I don’t talk about him! I have no idea what you’re all about.” 

Jaemin rolled his eyes and finished the drink. 

“Talking of ugly. What’s that shirt you’re wearing?” you asked. 

The man’s head snapped down to look at it. “What’s wrong with it?” 

You chuckled once. “Where did you buy it?” 

“It’s a normal Polo.” 

You laughed even harder. “A Polo you say? And what’s that? A knock off Holo?”  

“What’s Holo?” 

Jaemin’s face was genuinely confused and it amused you even more. 

“Are you getting enough sleep? You’ve been acting weird lately.” 

“Or,” he relaxed his expression, lifting one index up, “I come from an alternate universe.” 

You chuckled once and hit his shoulder lightly as a greeting, liking his new joking side. “See you later then, alternate universe Jaemin.”

__________

Doyoung wanted to hit his head on the desk. 

Your expression, hurt and shocked because of his stupid remarks made his heart tingle in a very uncomfortable way. 

One thing was being severe and one thing was being rude for no reason at all. 

But the thing is that you were everywhere and he hated it. 

Doyoung hated that you were trying to get under his skin. 

Like a scent. Like some kind of drug. 

He’d scrub his hands and forearms even harder before going inside the surgery room as if with the water and soap he could get rid of the feeling of your arms around his torso under the rain too. 

What were you even thinking? Asking for reassurance? From him? Reassurance from the most hated man in the whole hospital? What did you even expect? Why would you even try? 

What a reckless person. 

He noticed it the first time he saw you as well. 

Eyes wide with curiosity and surprise, looking around the ER like it was the best place in the world. Doyoung hated your happiness but he also hated the fact that he would have to assist that light slowly die out with time. 

Or at least he thought that would happen. 

Days after days, months after months, he paid attention like a scientist looking at his object of study, taking mental notes and registering results. Doyoung would jolt with secret joy when his theories would reveal themselves to be true but then, like a rollercoaster, he’d feel weighed down with grief seeing you in the same state as his one. 

Until he didn’t know what to desire to see anymore. 

Until one day he lifted his eyes, head full of a soliloquy towards you. “How are you today? Tell me you got better. Tell me you still have your light because no one needs too many black holes in here.” 

Until he realized that he couldn’t remember anything about his life before you. 

And when you hugged him that day, he felt proud. For your success and your light. 

You were a star and he bathed into that warmth for a little before remembering he was still a black hole and black holes attract stars until engulfing them whole with no turning back.

_________

“Why are you always around?” he blinked annoyed. 

You straightened your gown that shifted after bumping into him and sighed loudly. 

“In case you forgot, I work here.” 

Doyoung sighed. 

“This is the farthest yard from where you’re always playing with your friends.” 

“I had business coming here.” 

“What business?” 

“That’s my business.” 

Doyoung’s corner of the mouth twitched. 

“It’s our business.” 

“Are you a communist?” you placed your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the side. 

“I’m your superior. What are you doing here?” 

A few nurses whispered passing you by and you cleared your throat, trying to relax your face muscles. Doyoung rolled his eyes once upon seeing your new fake cordial expression. 

“Apparently I’m doing such a good job that Mr Jung wanted to compliment me,” you raised your chin. 

“Mr Jung?”

“Yes.” 

His nostrils widened as if he had too much air to inhale and didn’t have time to get it little by little. 

“He doesn’t just summon people to compliment them. Stay away from him.” 

You scoffed incredulously at his innuendo. 

“Are you hearing yourself?” 

“Very well. Get back to work now.” 

“Are you perhaps jealous?” the words slipped from your mouth before you could stop yourself. 

But Doyoung, to your biggest surprise, smirked a little, lifting his eyebrows once. 

“And if I were?” he asked, then walked around you, leaving you still for long moments in the corner of the corridor before being able to walk again.

_________

“And then he said, “and if I were?”

Jaemin gulped his food and chuckled. “I can’t imagine that.” 

“I know right? Was he crazy?” you asked with your mouth full, swinging your knife. 

“Maybe the director does have eyes on you. And-” he leaned in mischievously, avoiding your cutlery, “that’s why he acts as if he hates you. Because he has feelings for you.” 

You chuckled nervously. 

“He hates you too!” 

“He doesn’t even know I exist,” Jaemin shrugged. 

“Hey, Jaemin.” 

“Like once I asked him something and he thought I was a patient and when I said that I’m actually-” 

“Jaemin! I’m pretty sure I’ve just seen someone looking like you pass that door just now.” 

The young man turned around quickly, right in time to see himself exit the food hall. 

“Damn,” he laughed for a few moments. “Someone else copied my hairstyle. I guess I’m not that unnoticeable as I thought.” 

You opened your mouth to comment on that since you were pretty sure it wasn’t only the hairstyle that the man copied when Doyoung approached your table like a storm scaring the shit out of you. 

“What is it now?” he asked, eyes piercing through you. 

You let out a long “uhhh” before talking, staring him up and down. 

“Are you talking to me?” 

Doyoung scoffed then sighed. “A doctor told me you were urgently looking for me.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Who?” 

“Do I look like someone who knows people’s names?”

Jaemin shook his head. 

“Well, I don’t need you,” you let him know. 

Doyoung sighed again and the long look you exchanged made Jaemin awkwardly chuckle once. 

“You can sit down with us for lunch, sir,” he offered and you inhaled sharply, kicking his leg under the table. 

Doyoung looked firstly at you then at Jaemin then at you again as if not believing he was actually talking to people like you. 

But the tray in his hands was getting heavy and there were no other empty tables. 

He walked around Jaemin and sat down near him. 

Then he rolled his sleeves and started to eat in silence. 

But only for a moment. 

“What?” he asked as you were both staring at him with hanging open mouths. 

“It’s our first time seeing you eat,” you whispered. 

Doyoung gulped the food. “I’m putting on a show for you guys. I’m a vampire that doesn’t need food.” 

“See!” you hit Jaemin’s hand as if catching his attention. “He’s making jokes!” 

Jaemin leaned back in his chair as if a little afraid. 

“So you talk about me instead of working,” Doyoung commented. 

His eyes were on you and you suddenly realized what you’ve just said. 

“No,” you quickly grabbed your glass and sipped the water. 

Doyoung looked at Jaemin and the young man secretly nodded a little. 

And for the first time in years, you saw Doyoung smile. 

Like a full-on smile. A big open smile with all the teeth out. 

You blinked fast and before realizing your own lips were stretched in a smile too.  

He was breathtaking. 

You wanted to run away but also crash into him. You were at the top of the world and down in the dumps.

__________

The grunt you let out after hitting a hard surface resonated in the whole hallway. 

For the second time. 

"You are always where you shouldn't be."

You lifted your pained eyes while massaging your shoulder just to see Doyoung do the same. 

"Where am I and where am I supposed to be then?" you asked. 

"Around me and you should be far away from me." 

"And if I say that I'm doing it on purpose?" 

Doyoung's pupils trembled. 

"To make you mad," you explained, the little smile creeping on your lips making him tighten his. 

“You’re trying to make me mad?” 

In your head, all of the conversations you would have with Doyoung sounded fun and risky in a good way. 

In reality, you realized, it was so overwhelming that you felt your limbs shake. 

“I’m joking, sir.” His intense eyes made you look over the windows. 

“You don’t like to look at me in the eyes?” his voice was mellifluous just as his movements, getting slowly closer to you. 

“Your eyes make me uneasy,” you replied honestly. 

Doyoung tilted his head to the side, curious, inviting you to say more. You looked at him again. 

“As if they don’t know fear,” your voice was tiny. 

A little smile curved the man’s lips. “Oh, but they know what fear is.”

“And what is that?” 

“What you’re feeling right now.” 

"I am not afraid," you whispered. 

"Then why are you stepping back?" 

“I am not stepping back.”

Yet the air got softly knocked out of your lungs as you felt the wall on your shoulder blades. 

Doyoung didn't reply and just got as close as to lightly brush your lower lip with his knuckle. 

"You're cute when you pout," he whispered, eyes smiley under the strands fallen from his styled fringe. 

You opened your mouth to talk but he walked away, leaving you alone and with an abnormally beating heart. 

Again.

__________

If Doyoung’s newly humorous side was something interesting to share with Jaemin, his newly flirtatious side was something you felt the need to keep a secret. 

Heated up, you walked the corridors like a storm. 

Kim Doyoung? 

Did your body really react that way towards Kim Doyoung? 

Pulse throbbing in places you didn’t want to think of? 

Because of Kim Doyoung? 

Face buried in your wet hands, the cold water running in the sink, you imagined telling this to your younger self. 

Then you lifted your head and turned it off, raising your gaze to look at your dilated pupils in the bathroom mirror.

_________

Doyoung didn’t care about people much. 

Hours upon hours of surgery, he only needed to see his colleagues’ hands and hear their breaths while desperately trying to save yet another life. How they looked without the caps and masks was not something of interest to him, especially knowing superfluous details like their names. 

Yet, when he briefly noticed the eyes of the second surgeon entering the room, Doyoung furrowed his eyebrows. 

Those were not your eyes and those were definitely not your hands in the latex gloves. 

And for the first time, he needed to know who that person was.

“I’m Lee,” the man whispered. 

“I didn’t know you were on schedule today.” 

“Yeah, heard about it last minute as well.”

Were you avoiding him? 

If Doyoung’s body could show tremor, he’d had trembling legs under the desk he sat at after the surgery, and if he’d had the habit to bite his nails, he’d be ferociously eating them by now.

Unfortunately, he was stoically sitting in his office, elbows pressed into the hard iron surface, veins missing adrenaline but aggravated eyes. 

Walking the corridors while people took a step back to make him pass, looking away when he’d look at them and whispering angrily behind his back, was a bliss. 

The protection shielded Doyoung like a fuzzy blanket even if it sometimes felt itchy at night when he found himself the most lonely. 

So when you did the same, passing him by as if hating him, he surprised himself at the sudden discomfort. Especially after

well,

after that. 

He wasn’t sure himself what it was but it must have been something if it made you uncomfortable enough to not show up to a surgery. 

He lifted the corner of his blanket for a moment and he fucked up. 

__________

“Y/N.” 

You stopped in place. 

And so did most people around you. 

Many found Doyoung scary but also interesting to observe when his spite wasn’t directed at them. 

What did she do? you could almost hear the whispery words passing from ear to ear, amused voices, grateful for not being in your place. 

“See me in my office,” Doyoung ordered after you slowly turned around. 

His voice was low and no one could have heard it if the whole yard didn’t just collectively hold its breath. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“You all are surely not working enough if you have time to be useless,” his voice sounded louder and clean all of a sudden. “Do you want some hours assigned?”  

Like a spell, everyone looked around and the buzz filled your ears back, leaving yourself and Doyoung the only still figures. 

Then he moved as well, the swoosh of his cloak touching your hand when he passed near you. 

You inhaled deeply and followed him.

_________

“I am sorry.” 

You wished you’d  accepted his offer to sit down because that single sentence floored you. 

“For what?” you asked with a tiny voice. 

“I know I often say things that I don’t mean. And I know that I might have made you feel uncomfortable. So I apologize.” 

His eyes were round and filled to the brim with such sincerity to make you swallow hard. 

“You don’t have to apologize. It was necessary to make me who I am,” you minimized. 

Doyoung looked away for a brief moment. “I mean the corridor incident.” 

You blinked at him. 

“I made a mistake,” he added. 

The first thing that came to mind was the urge to use that to your advantage. 

Scold him. Make him feel guilty. 

Kim Doyoung making a mistake. 

Exhilarating. 

The power suddenly surging in your veins went to your head so you suppressed the smile that so desperately wanted to bloom on your lips. 

“Yes.” 

His expression darkened even more at your reply and his adam apple moved as he swallowed. He actually hoped it wasn’t the case. 

“I’ll make sure to keep the surgery schedules separated so you won’t feel uncomfortable working with me. You could have asked me first though before changing it yourself.” 

The excitement died out with these words. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Thursday’s surgery.” 

“I was told you appointed another person yourself.” 

“I did not.” 

“Well, I didn’t either.” 

“So-” 

“It’s not like I’m trying to avoid you, no. But if you-” 

“I’m not trying to avoid you either. But you said I made you uncomfortable, so-” 

“I was messing with you.” 

He finally went silent. 

“You looked so guilty that I wanted to get a little revenge,” your voice came out a timid whisper. 

Doyoung sighed, closing his eyes a little, then he stood up. 

“Did I seriously cause you that much pain all of this time?” he walked towards you as if actually concerned. 

“You made me cry almost every day.” 

He opened his mouth like a fish before closing it. The shocking confession made him lift one hand to cup your face. 

You both looked at it with fluttering eyes as if it wasn’t his. 

He tried to put it away quickly but you pressed your palm on it to keep it in place.  

“I’m joking. I only cried a few times.” 

Doyoung’s pupils danced around just like his brain trying to process the information you were giving him. His face, confused and not knowing anymore what was a joke and what wasn’t, amused you a lot. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been harsh. I’ve been-”

“A jerk.” 

He gulped, his thumb slowly brushing your cheekbone. 

That little gesture made you close your eyes for a moment. And when you opened them, you just leaned in and placed a quick and chaste kiss on his closed lips. 

“If the corridor thing was a mistake for you, I just did one too. Don’t be too hard on yourself. We can pretend nothing of this happened."

You let his hand go and moved to take a step back just to feel his hold on your face tighten. 

Pulling you towards him again, he added the second hand. 

His lips were not closed anymore, but very much open to welcome your lower lip between them. 

Your hands flew to his hair and pulled him towards you too. He hummed and you whined. And when you both needed air, you let yourselves go, panting against each other’s lips. 

A little smile curved your lips, eyes unable to look up. Fingers on his neck, you let them slowly descend to his chest and you took a step back. 

You took your lower lip inside your mouth for a moment, as if still trying to taste him and walked a few steps back. 

Doyoung followed you, unable to let your body go until you touched the door. His eyes were blown out and he kissed the corner of your mouth again, and again, and again, until kissing you fully on the lips for the second time. Hands on the glass behind your head, you heard his nails grating at it slowly as you let your tongue twirl with his. Then you breathed out and he couldn’t do anything else than just moving his arms away for you to slowly open the door and leave in silence. 

After the door closed, Doyoung pressed his forehead on the cold window. 

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself, the fuzzy blanket he carefully wrapped himself with all of those years slowly slipping away to his feet.

__________

It didn't surprise you to see Doyoung pretend nothing happened between you as you passed each other in the corridors. 

But his avoidance felt weirder than usual, even to external eyes, as if something happened indeed and he tried so hard to conceal it. 

"Perhaps it's the 5th coffee talking right now, but doesn't Doyoung look weird?"

Jaemin asked lazily as he rested his body on one elbow placed on the little resting room counter. Said man passed in front of the open door and the furtive look he took of you was interesting enough for someone bored like Jaemin to notice. 

You shrugged, quickly stirring the sugar in your own coffee. 

"Hm?" your friend smiled at your silence, getting closer. 

You sipped the drink. 

"Hmmm?" Jaemin put his face into yours. 

"Oh my God, get away," you tried to push him away. 

"You had sex."

You spat the little coffee you still had on your mouth. Jaemin giggled and took a step back before it could land on his own. 

"We did not have sex! What's wrong with you?" 

"Okay. So you at least kissed," he looked up to you under his wiggly eyebrows as he handed you a few napkins. 

"We-," you wanted to deny but your lips formed a frustrated smile instead. "Shit. I can't believe it either." 

"Wow."

"He was- so delicate," you murmured. 

Jaemin winced amused. 

"But also intense you know? Like it felt-" 

"Okay wait. I didn't ask for a full-on description," he made a puking expression at you. 

You lightly hit his arm. 

"I was just so surprised. I've never seen this side of him."

"Him liking people?" Jaemin giggled. “Yeah. That’s weird.”

__________

"So it's done. We're done. Let’s get the fuck out of here. Seeing myself around is creeping me out."

Haechan sighed, rolling around in his chair. "Not so quickly. They only kissed."

Jaemin furrowed his eyebrows. 

"They have to confess," Jeno explained with a sleepy voice, sprawled on his own chair. 

"But they love each other."

"They have to say the words."

Jaemin put his hands on the hips. "That's so stupid." 

“Tell this to Doyoung. This is what he wrote in the contract,” Haechan mumbled amused, patting his chest where the Book was snuggly packed near his heart. 

Jaemin grabbed another chair and sat backwards on it, resting his chin on the folded arms. 

“So you know the job is done when they confess? What if they break up afterwards?”

“It has never happened before.” 

“And what if it does happen?” 

Jeno opened one eye. “Don’t manifest doom.” 

“I’d probably have to come back and get them together again,” Haechan replied. 

“I still don’t know why you’re doing this. Can’t you just recede from that contract?” 

Haechan sat up properly and grabbed his water bottle. “And do what? Go back to the pits of hell?” 

His eyes twinkled with mischief. 

“I’ve never had this much fun in a very long time.”

__________

He brought it upon himself, he could admit that. 

Ignoring you was more difficult than he anticipated and the first reaction he managed to put out when you talked back to him in front of all of the other surgeons was his usual skin cutting one. 

You didn’t like it, he could see it. 

You’ve never liked it and, honestly, Doyoung could not think of a single person that enjoyed being on the other side of his table. 

Perhaps you were getting a little comfortable with him though because you leaned back in your chair and smiled. As if for once he couldn’t get to you. 

It made him even more eager to scratch that nonchalance. 

So he did. 

Until the meeting was over and he got back to his office with a weird sensation on his shoulders. It somehow tasted like defeat. 

And when you opened his door with a loud bang and got in, he inhaled and took a few steps back, imitating the steps you took forward. 

You pushed him down on the chair, your gazes mixed together just like your breaths as you leaned down. 

Only the sheer anticipation of you touching him made him lose his mind a little. 

One hand on his thigh and the other going down from his lips to his extended neck and chest, dragging your nail on his shirt until reaching his stomach and belt. 

Then you hit one of his feet to the side with yours, making him open his legs even wider. 

He jolted and you could visibly see the way his breath stopped for a moment. 

"I don't think someone else tried to put you in your place before."

Your voice was dark and his eyelids fluttered before his pupils could fall on the way your palm brushed his crotch. It twitched under his dress pants and he inhaled deeply. 

"Unfortunately, it has to be me." 

"We're at work-," he tried to speak but the words died in his throat as you cupped his balls. 

"Sorry? Didn't hear that." 

"Shit Y/N-," Doyoung closed his eyes, jaw muscles tightening as you gently massaged him. 

"Hmm, Doctor Kim is at a loss of words?" 

You cooed, leaning down even more until almost brushing his lips with yours. 

"So cold and composed while you spit venom all day. I really want to see you lose your mind for once."

He opened his eyes right when he started to pant lightly and you gulped upon seeing his dark gaze. 

"You'll regret this."

"Can't wait to feel regretful."

"Be careful."

"Don't want to." 

His smile grew suddenly wicked and it threw you off as he suddenly stood up, grabbing your wrists and pushing you gently backwards. 

"You’ve been loving fighting with me lately. I think that you just need to get laid."

You smiled. "Do you want to help me with that?" 

Doyoung scoffed once. "I can't stand you."

"Then sit down."

He put his tongue inside the cheek, staring at your raised chin. 

Then his hands suddenly crept around you and grabbed your ass. They squeezed, pulling your hips towards his, making you pant and palm his chest in the meantime. Body pressing on his and his low voice buzzing into your ear made you light headed. 

"Arguing with you turns me on so fucking much." 

You gulped and noticed the way Doyoung’s eyes fell on your open mouth. 

“This is a very pretty shade of lipstick. Makes me want to ruin it.”

His thumb opened up your shocked lips even more by tugging at the lower one, your eyes getting hazy from his expression cutting you in half.

“Suck.” 

The order made your legs buckle a little. Your pupils trembled when you slowly let your tongue touch his fingertip. Doyoung got impatient and pushed it until it was all in. You fought the urge to gag and just whimpered, grabbing his shirt into your fists as he watched you hollow your cheeks on it. 

“I’ve always wanted to make a mess out of you,” he murmured, his other hand cupping your face and feeling your jaw, going down to your neck and wrapping it into its warmth. You raised your face to give him more space and your hooded eyes trying to look at him as he pressed around your throat made him smirk. 

“You like that?” he watched your squirming body trying to get closer to him. He took a step back and rested his hips on his desk, pulling at you until you felt his thigh between your legs. 

“What a slut,” he took out his thumb and spread the saliva on it on your lips. “Bet you wanted to suck me off under the desk, didn’t you? Fuck your superior?” 

You started to breathe through your mouth, the hand wrapped around your throat making it difficult for you to form any thoughts. 

“Or you wanted me to bend you over it?” he murmured, eyes glazing over your breast, his free hand painting one line from your collarbones to the cleavage of it. And when he suddenly squeezed one, feeling its softness in his palm, you almost cried out and dug your fingers into his shoulders. 

“Yes, sir.” 

Doyoung’s corner of the lips lifted as if curiously surprised. 

“And if I don’t do any of those things?” his eyes were on your face now and it made you want to hide away or just beg him to just please do all of those things.

“What are you going to do?” he asked again. 

The pool of wetness inside your panties was so embarrassing that you pressed your forehead on his shoulder. 

"Then just let me go," you whispered in a tiny voice. 

"You're free to g-" he caressed your jaw with one thumb. 

"No. I hate it," you went on, lifting your gaze on him, and he exchanged the look, slightly taken aback. 

"I dream about you every night. It's not about sex, it has never been just about it. Everything about you makes me go crazy. I hate it and I want you to just let me go.” 

Doyoung blinked and cupped your face with both hands. 

You just breathed out, ignoring the little voice screaming inside your mind to shut up, palming the back of his hands with yours, suddenly unable to raise your eyes on him. 

"I just can't understand and I hate being like this," you added after a quick gulp. 

The man opened his lips and you noticed the way you started to breathe in unison. 

"There's something so darkly attractive about you," the tiny sigh coming out of your lips made their way on Doyoung ones and he licked them once, his own breath warm on your skin. 

"No matter how much I try to know you, there's something that escapes me. I can't pinpoint you and it keeps me up at night." 

Doyoung gulped and his hands twitched as they palmed your arms, going down to your hips and pushing you down, gently. 

You gasped silently, your core so swollen that the feeling of the friction of your bodies as you rubbed on him could have been enough to make you orgasm. 

"Sir-," you found the force to talk but he took his tongue out and you just dove in, catching it inside your mouth and sucking on it the way you sucked on his finger. Your eagerness made his hold even tighter, guiding your body rolls, loving the way you squirmed in his arms. 

When you pulled away to whine he raised one hand to bury in your hair. 

"You haunt me too," he confessed. "Sometimes I feel so pulled towards you to make me question everything I know about myself."

Your eyes fluttered and your exposed throat looked so vulnerable in Doyoung's eyes to make him lean in and bite on it. 

The little moans escaping your lips caressed his ears and when he licked the spots you shivered, your hips not stopping for a second. 

It was intoxicating and you didn't dare to speak again but your thoughts were seeping through all of your pores. 

"I want you to tell me what you want me to do," you whispered, words broken.  

"Don't cum," Doyoung ordered and it snapped something in you. 

Your breath grew irregular and he chuckled. 

With a little groan, you forced your hips to still but he looked down and clicked his tongue, pushing his thigh upwards and making you bounce on it a few times.  

"Don't stop."

"But you said-" 

"Don't cum and don't stop." 

"I can't last," you mewled, twitching against his body and he pouted. 

"Baby girl can't keep that in?" 

You shook your head, feeling all dizzy as his hands squeezed your asscheeks, making you rub against his leg again. 

"But I said what I said. Are you going to be a bad girl?" he accompanied his last word with a harsh slap on your ass that made you inhale through your teeth. 

"Sir- I am begging you." 

His hand dropped under your skirt that moved to your thighs in a single movement, the coldness of it on your hot clit making you cry out. 

He hummed amused, slowly pressing into you and circling your sensitive bud until your legs started to twitch. 

"If you want to cum," he stopped, "you'll have to do whatever I say. Is this an agreement?" 

You nodded quickly, so close to orgasm that you started to ride his fingers by yourself. 

He retrieved his hand and pressed it on your stomach, making you step back until you barely could keep your balance. 

"You know where I live, right?" 

You nodded confused. 

"See you later then," he smirked and gestured to leave the office. 

You inhaled deeply, the arousal so high that you considered just finger fucking yourself in front of him. 

"Cruel," you whispered. 

"And you love it," was his amused reply.

__________

Timid feet in front of Doyoung's entrance door, you questioned if you actually lost your mind. 

Were you really willing to go this far for a single orgasm? 

Or multiple, you considered. 

Okay. Well, perhaps it was all worth it in the end. 

Your eyes darted upwards to take in the view of his house. 

The windows were lit on the first floor and it looked like a place you'd love to spend your life in. It was too huge for a single person anyway. 

When he opened the door after the ring announcing your arrival you didn't expect to see him in casual clothing. It looked so off that for a moment you couldn't speak, eyeing his feet in warm socks instead of rubber shoes. 

Then you hit yourself in your mind. Of course, he won't wear his doctor gown at home. 

"Good evening," you finally smiled and he eyed your body with a relaxed gaze, stopping when noticing the bottle of wine you carried in your hands. 

“Good evening,” he gestured to you to come in and you walked the distance from the doorstep to the hallway. His hands draped your shoulders and you sighed when he took your wet coat away. 

You put in a lot of effort in your appearance, choosing the right clothing and accessories. 

And he put a lot of effort into arranging his house for you, lighting up the right candles, you noticed after he indicated a room to the left. 

Yet all you wanted to see was him. 

And all he wanted was to see was you naked. 

Venturing in slowly, you turned around looking at what you figured out was the living room. With the corner of your eyes, you saw the grey of Doyoung’s sweatpants disappear upstairs and it suddenly got silent, safe for the crackle coming from the chimney and the hard rain hitting the windows. You took off your shoes and cautiously walked on the dark wine-coloured rug, close enough to warm yourself. A black glassy mirror was hung on the wall in front of you showcasing the pitiful state you were in because of the storm. Then you looked at the piles of books scattered around your feet placed down in a chaotic path leading to the velvet couches behind you as if someone read them while circling the room and suddenly let them fall on the ground when bored. You followed the spines with your gaze trying to figure out the language they were written in when two feet made their appearance in your peripheral vision, making you snap your head up. 

He approached you with a little smile, getting closer and closer like a black cat. 

New thick energy made it difficult for you to breathe too deeply so you resorted to short inhales and exhales especially after he stopped so close to you. 

Doyoung's hands wrapped yours as he took the wine away and placed it on the coffee table on his left. Then he sighed and you found yourself shivering under his gaze. 

"Take this off," he lightly felt your shirt's material with his fingertips.  

What? You inhaled, mind buzzing at how easy it was this time. No dinner and fancy courtship? 

He did look like someone that'd rather take you into seclusion and have you for himself as quickly as possible though. 

With slightly trembling fingers that you'd never get in the surgery room, you started to unbutton your top. Doyoung tilted his head to the side with a little smirk as if enjoying the show. 

And when you actually found yourself with only your bra on he smiled, even more, eyes grazing your skin slowly until you felt a heatwave shake your limbs. 

“This too.” 

He slowly touched the bra fabric and you gulped. 

“Take it off yourself.” 

Doyoung chuckled once and went around your torso, unclasping it with quick and expert fingers. 

You jolted and you felt your eyelids flutter as it slowly fell down your arms. 

Doyoung grabbed the front part of it and dragged it down to the floor, adding it to the weird maze of books making the eccentric design of his living room. 

His eyes caressed your perked nipples and you tried hard to resist the urge to cover yourself. 

“Pants,” he ordered and his voice was deeper than usual. 

You wavered a moment and he lifted his eyebrows once. Do it. 

You inhaled and slowly opened the zip. 

He bit his lower lip when you bent down to discard the piece of clothing and when you straightened your back he hummed. 

“Wear this,” he gently threw a piece of fabric towards you which you caught quickly. It was soft and it smelled like him. 

He looked at it, then slowly raised his eyes to meet yours, not moving a single muscle. 

You inhaled in again, trying to calm your nerves, desperately wanting to ignore the way he was dressed himself. A white and see-through shirt with the deepest neck you’ve ever seen, barely covering any of his chest. You barely could see his sweatpants as well, but his bare ankles were fully on display, just like his forearms that you could catch glimpses of as he absentmindedly revived the locks blocking his pupils with one hand. 

A raw playfulness made his features even scarier in the dim lighting. 

“I want you wet. But not from the rain,” he explained, eyeing your confusion. 

“You could have just told me to change into it and end it there,” you mumbled, buttoning the shirt up. It was deep blue and oversized, short on your thighs but hiding whatever you had to hide. 

“Why? Did you hate that I made you undress in front of me?” 

“It was embarrassing to stand naked like that.” 

You wanted to sound offended but the pout your lips formed on its own betrayed your secret amusement. 

“Nothing that I won’t see up close soon.” 

His voice was a whisper that forced you to look away. You wanted to reply but he turned around walking towards the kitchen. 

"Besides, I made some spicy sauce. You don't want to spill it on your nice clothes."

“Who said I was going to spill food on myself? I have steady hands.” 

You walked over him, taking the plates from his hold and placing them down on the dining table yourself. 

You wanted to look unbothered by him just like he looked unbothered by you, but the truth was that you just had to do something to not feel that overwhelmed. 

“You don’t,” he argued following you near the table. 

You scoffed lifting your head to look at him. “Excuse you? I’m a surgeon.” 

“Your hands don’t look like the hands of a surgeon when you’re around me.” 

You scoffed. 

“I think that the biggest thing in the world is your ego.”

“You haven't seen my-”

“Don’t say it.” 

He closed his mouth as the little smile he had on kept lingering on his lips. 

Domestic and flirty. It was getting to your head and you hadn’t had the opportunity to sip a single drop of alcohol yet. 

As if reading your mind, he grabbed the bottle of wine you brought and fumbled slowly with the cap. 

"That's my favourite shirt. And I want to fuck you in it." 

The shivers that travelled down your spine almost made your body twitch and your hands stopped in mid-air as you were placing the cutlery. 

He smiled at you when you looked at his expression. 

His lips. His eyes and cheekbones. His skin under the lights. 

Fuck. You really needed a drink. 

And after he popped the bottle open with a loud sound that disrupted the silence, the red wine erupted out of it, dripping off his hand up to the wrist you had your drink right off his fingers. 

Doyoung’s pupils trembled as you leaned in like a cat and his lips opened to breathe better seeing you lick the drops off his fingertips. Rested with his hips on the table, it creaked when you came forward, even more, hands pressed on his open thighs and reaching for his face. You finally caught his lips in yours and you let him taste the wine on your tongue. 

It was rich and slightly sour, then it became sweet as only Doyoung’s taste remained lingering on his lips. 

“Delicious,” he commented after the slow kiss. “You have good taste in wine.” 

“And men.” 

His expression was hidden under his long fringe but you could sense that he was smirking. 

Then he raised his head a bit and had a gulp out of the bottle himself. 

You had the first row to the show that his adam apple moving up and down gave you. Then your eyes naturally fell to his collarbones and bare chest, his white shirt barely covering anything. 

Your fingers gently darted to his skin and you palmed it, then to his prominent collar bones, feeling the warmth of his chain around his neck.

He hummed, letting his head down to catch your hand with his lips. They kissed your fingertips then he finally dove in and let you taste his tongue again, hands quick to let the bottle go and grab your body instead.

Closer closer closer you needed him more and more. 

“I need to feed you dinner first,” he grabbed your wrists as your hands tried to unbutton his shirt. 

“If you won’t fuck me, I can find someone else to do it,” you whispered. 

His eyes tightened and he exhaled once. 

The movement was so quick that your head spun and the spank that arrived at your ass made you jolt on your toes before you could lean down on the table, fingers trying to grip the tablecloth. 

“Yeah? I want to see you get fucked by someone else while my name spills out of your filthy mouth.” 

His voice was raspy and it made you bite your lower lip, ass eager to push back and to rub against Doyoung's crotch. He hummed at your movements and lifted the shirt up to your waist, palming your skin and looking down at the way your ass cheeks engulfed your pretty lingerie. You strained your neck upwards at the feeling of his fingers slowly caressing your lower back, feeling the lace of your panties, then you whimpered as he grabbed the material and stretched it towards him before letting it go. 

"You want this little hole all filled up, don't you?" he murmured, hand sliding between your thighs to rub on the soft and thin fabric. Your legs shifted in place at the sensation and you arched your back for more. The little 'Doyoung' making him exhale. 

"And I thought you'd keep calling me sir." 

You tried to turn your head towards him, wondering if his suddenly absent hand meant that he wanted you to actually call him that. 

But then you saw that hand around you, reaching for the bucket of ice prepared for the wine on the table in front of you. And at that moment you realized that it was for you instead - his drink for the night. 

The ice cube wetted his fingers when he took it out and he first placed it on your open lips. You sucked on it for a moment, the warmth of your skin already melting it, strands of water slowly descending on your chin and inside your cleavage. 

"Say 'blue' and I'll stop," his voice was deep near your ear. 

You nodded breathlessly and you shivered feeling his hand hover over your back. 

And when you first felt it on your spine, your fingers independently grabbed the edge of the table. Then it went down and down, forcing goosebumps out of you. 

Doyoung’s palm soothed your skin, warming it up before reaching to the front to grab at your hard nipples poking through the fabric. And when the cube reached your clothed core you mewled, lifting yourself on the tiptoes. 

“Shit-shit-,” you curled your neck down, jolting under his touch, wanting more of it and running away at the same time. 

Your panties were all wet and you were unsure if for the ice or your own body and when Doyoung took away the cube, giving you a break by gently pressing his own wet fingers between your lips you wished for the fabric to not be there anymore. 

“More?” you whined, chest rising and falling at a crazy speed. 

Doyoung snickered once, his hands grabbing your sides and turning you around.

Mind hazy, you didn’t have the time to wonder where the ice cube went, the only thought roaming your head being the need to pull him closer to you. 

And you did just that, wrapping his waist with your thighs after he lifted you on the table with a thud, making all the cutlery and glasses jingle. 

And you clasped your fingers into his hair while his hands roamed your naked body under his shirt. 

It was when he pressed his cold, open lips on yours that you finally mewled, feeling the ice cube travel from his tongue to yours. 

It got smaller and you sucked on it, giving it back, hearing him hum deeply into the kiss. 

Then he broke it suddenly as if unable to control himself from kissing your neck instead, biting and sucking on your skin as hard as he did on the ice cube. You rolled it on your tongue until it became nothing, finally opening your lips to moan, feeling his cold touch on your breasts as his quick fingers unbuttoned the shirt. 

The material of your panties grazed your legs at Doyoung’s rough pull. You watched them fly and land on the lamp behind him. 

Then you felt his fingers finally rubbing your clit and you inhaled deeply. You were so horny that you were embarrassed to admit that just a few rubs would be able to throw you over the edge. 

Doyoung saw it and from his expression, he was enjoying himself maybe too much. 

“Come on love, cum for me,” he murmured on your open lips. You whined, nail digging into his shoulders and you shook your head. 

“You’ve been begging me for an orgasm and now you want to be a brat about it?” 

His hand worked quicker and when he inserted one of his long and slender fingers inside, you actually moaned loudly. 

“Sir-” the title slipped from your shaking lips and he chuckled against your cheek, pushing another one and curling them both, pressing into you and trying to find the sweetest spots you had. 

“Right here?” he whispered amused. 

You start swearing, moulding his biceps under your tight grip, the table and everything on it shaking at the fast pace of Doyoung’s pumping. 

And then it was too much and it overflowed. 

The gasp you emitted made you fall forwards. Your arms wrapped Doyoung’s body tightly as you came in spasms, legs trying hard to meet each other around his wrist but pressing into his sides instead. 

Doyoung let you whine a little bit more, hand slowing down but never stopping, fucking you through your orgasms as long as he could. Then your jaw got grabbed by his other hand and he lifted your face to meet his gaze. His eyes caressed your fucked up expression before kissing your lips. 

"Good girl. I know you can give me another one."

You gripped his shoulders for dear life as Doyoung's fingers came back outside to desperately rub at your over-sensitive clit. 

“Doyoung-Doyoung-” you writhed in his hold before he could slip away from your arms and fall on his knees. 

You’ve gotten head before, but this time, maybe for the overstimulation or your secret feelings for that man, it felt like the first time ever. 

Not knowing what to grab to steady yourself as his tongue danced in circles around your engorged clit, you buried your hands in his hair. His hands pressed into the softness of your thighs just as hard and when he raised his gaze up to look at you from underneath his messy fringe, you felt like falling. 

And you almost fell when he resorted to quick short licks that drove you insane, making you cum for the second time in such a short time to make you lightheaded. 

The single fuck got prolonged as much as the orgasm Doyoung gave you and when he started to kiss your inner thighs, coming up towards you, on your stomach, pressing his wet open lips on your skin until meeting your breasts, you were ready to admit that you were madly in love with him. 

His kiss felt as if you were underwater, unable to breathe and understand space. You felt his arms around you and suddenly you felt weightless and he carried you around until you felt the velvet of the couches underneath you and his body pressed flushed on yours. His waist got automatically wrapped by your legs again as if that were their place and they weren’t aware of it before. 

He slipped his hands on your hips, grabbing your ass hard as he murmured against your lips. “Are you going to be a brat with me again?” 

His voice was calm but deep as if a storm was incoming, making your knees feel weak. 

“Words,” he spoke again, pressing himself a little more between your legs. 

You breathed out. 

“I don’t know,” you managed to say before pushing him away. He fell to the side, grip softened mostly for the surprise than your strength. 

“Are you going to be a brat to me?” you asked, straddling his lap and pressing your palms on his stomach, going up on his hot skin and lifting his shirt until he couldn’t do anything else than take it off. 

Then his hands found their way on your skin too, unmercifully squeezing your soft breasts. He didn’t care to be gentle and lifting himself up he sucked on your skin so hard until it was almost painful. You wrapped your arms around his torso and threw your head back, stretching out your neck. He left bites all over it, travelling down, tightening his teeth grip around your nipples, making you pant softly. 

“I don’t know,” he finally replied. 

He looked at you from underneath his fringe and you smiled at each other. You caressed his stomach from below his belly button and going up until reaching his collarbones and he leaned back on his elbows to support his weight. He followed your hand going down on him then his eyes shifted their focus to watch how your pelvis started to move back and forth on his sweatpants, right on top of his hard cock. 

“Mm,” he exhaled as finally getting some relief and you imitated him. You placed your hands on his shoulders and closed your eyes and Doyoung flexed his thigh muscles. 

He was enjoying seeing you like that, vulnerable and whiny, needy and horny, while he did nothing to help you with it and leaving you desperate. 

His eyes caressed your whole body, his lips parted slightly at the sight of your breasts bouncing softly, at how you were spreading yourself on him. You felt hot and plump, your thoughts were blurry and foggy. 

"Look at you," he talked. “What a cute little slut.” 

You replied with a whine, locking eyes with him but not being able to do that for a long time as his gaze pierced through you, adding to the sensation his pants gave to your raw clit. 

So you kissed his lips, messily and sloppily, breathing on his mouth and he finally caressed your thighs and ass, pressing you down even more and closer to him. 

Your arms got tighter around his neck and he buried his face into your chest. His hair tickled your chin and you intertwined your fingers into his locks. 

So close to cum, you closed your eyes and just let yourself go, your rhythm lost, your muscles aching, without expecting Doyoung's fingers to suddenly get inside of you. 

You squeezed yourself onto him with a cry. 

"I repeat. Are you going to behave again as you did today?" you heard him ask as his fingers pumped fast into you. 

"No, no, oh fuck, please, no," you managed to answer while gasping for air. 

"I'm going to-" you whimpered about to orgasm and Doyoung at that moment got you off of him, pushing you down on your back and lifting your legs around him, edging you. 

"You're going to cum when I say so," he commented. "You're lucky I'm even giving it to you at all today," he added. 

You bit your lower lip frustrated. 

"Babe, please-" you begged. 

He smiled brightly at the sudden pet name, shushing you as he began to kiss your legs from the knees down, going lightly on the inside of your thigh, making you twitch as he approached your dripping pussy. But he passed over, nudging at it with his nose just to make you jolt and kissed your lower stomach, passing his tongue on the spots he bit before and continued until reaching your lips. 

Then, getting on his knees he finally got rid of his pants and underwear. 

You felt your core pulsing at the sight and breathed heavily. He tugged at your legs, dragging you until the back of your thighs touched his hips and holding himself he nudged at your entrance. You let your arms fall around your head and bit down on your hand as his tip caressed your clit. 

"Doyoung," you whined as your muscles jolted intermittently. You then felt his fingers drag on your leg until grabbing your knee and putting it on his shoulders he humped your folds. 

You let your head fall back into the couch, exposing your neck and making your breasts tighten. 

It was too much. You just wanted him to penetrate you and to make you scream. 

"I want to cum so badly, please," you begged again. 

But he acted as if not being able to hear from you. 

Your muscles twitched in pain and you lifted yourself to meet him. He pushed you down and distanced himself. 

"Behave," he warned. 

You looked at his half-closed eyes and plump lips as he bit it with his teeth. 

He was suffering as well. He couldn't take it anymore, you could tell. 

And when you took your hand to your mouth and licked two fingers, slowly, without breaking eye contact he gasped. 

You were about to suck on them, you wanted to see him going crazy, but you didn't manage to as he penetrated you right at that moment, quick and deep, with a grunt. 

"Fuck," he swore picking up the pace until the wet sounds overwhelmed the storm. 

_________

It was dark. The only light came from the fireplace bathing the living room with a red and yellow hue. 

You were both sprawled on the rug under fuzzy blankets. 

"Come sit on my face. Show me where I belong."

Doyoung’s voice was a low buzz, imitating the storm still going on as it has been the whole night. 

You rolled your eyes to the side amused, ignoring his warm hand palming your knee, nudging you to come closer. 

“You still want to go? I can’t cum again,” you pouted. 

“But I want you to cum,” he pouted as well. 

You sighed and gently got on top of him with the intent of ignoring him and finally fall asleep. 

But his expression changed when you were near enough. “I want you to be completely fucked up when I’m done with you.”

You lifted one hand to cup his cheek and kissed his nose. 

He blinked at you amused. 

“I love it when you smile like this,” you whispered. 

The dying flames danced on his face as he stared at you for a few moments. 

Then you clicked your tongue. 

“Don’t do this.” 

“Don’t do what?” 

“Don’t get all dark and distant.” 

Doyoung exhaled. “I am not.” 

“There’s so much to be proud of, don’t you think?” Your fingers gently started to draw patters on his forehead, going down on his eyes as he closed them, then on his cheeks. He opened his eyelids again after the touch and you talked again. 

“Like striving to do good. Trying. Surviving.” 

His lips opened to let out a small puff of warm air. Then he hugged you tighter and hid his face in the crook of your neck. 

You exhaled too, closing your eyes and lulling his exhausted soul. 

“I am so proud of you,” you whispered but you didn’t know if he heard you.

_________

You woke up in Doyoung's bed. 

It was huge, warm and it smelled like his laundry detergent. The sheets were soft and luscious, caressing your naked body as you shifted underneath them to look to the side. 

Your eyelids fluttered and your lips turned their corners up. 

Fighting the urge to squeal and hide your face inside the pillow, you resorted to admire Doyoung's sleeping face. 

Resting on his stomach with raised arms thrown around his head, only his eyes and ruffled hair poked out behind his bicep and shoulder. And when he slowly opened one puffy eye you giggled and it curved, showing that he was smiling too. 

"Good morning," you whispered. 

Doyoung sighed once first. "It's probably afternoon." 

His sleepy voice made your body heat up and without thinking you just got closer. He turned on his side and wrapped your body with his arms, pulling you closer to his chest. 

"Did you sleep well?" he murmured. 

"Like a baby. You exhausted me enough."

The little kiss he placed on top of your head was so unexpected to make you lift your face. 

He smiled. 

"You inspire so much tenderness in me,” he explained timidly. 

You smiled back, resting your chest on his. His hands automatically wrapped your sides as if they've always belonged there. 

"I'm glad I'm softening your edges. Now you need to behave like this with everyone else too."

"You want me to kiss the whole hospital on the forehead?" 

"Metaphorically."

"Also, I thought you loved my hard edges," he purred, shifting your body to fully rest on top of his. 

His hard cock deliciously poked your clit with its tip as his hands slowly made you roll on it. 

You exhaled and leaned down, rubbing your lips on his as you whispered. "I do."  

His smirk was lazy just like your movements. 

"So you want me just like this?" 

“I want you. I want everything you are. I want everything that you hide.” 

Your hands caressed his chest and came to cup his face. His expression wavered and you found him so vulnerable all of a sudden to make your guts twist. 

“Unleash the darkness that you have inside. Engulf me with it. I am not afraid. I want it.”

Doyoung wrapped your body tightly and pressed you down on himself even more. 

"There's no darkness inside of me anymore. Not when you're around me."

__________

From “I will not vanish” - Haechan’s backstory

The heavy door opened and closed. 

Doyoung looked over his shoulder to see a stranger approach him with slow feet. He raised his eyes and gave Doyoung a small nod. 

The other did the same and when the stranger aligned himself with Doyoung, looking over the cold city, they both exhaled. 

The silence was so deep, safe for the ambulances screaming in the distance that Doyoung found himself restless. 

The stranger leaned on the rail, resting his weight on the elbows and sighed again. 

“You know,” he started. 

Doyoung looked at him with the corner of his eyes. 

“What I like about life,” he paused, “is that you can die.” 

The stranger bit his lower lip for a moment then looked over to the other. His gaze felt so heavy that Doyoung’s arms skin got goosebumps. 

“Imagine being immortal,” the man continued before letting out a dry snicker. 

“Around forever. A pathetic being with no reason to exist besides existence itself. Forever and forever and forever. With no purpose. Until you’d beg someone to kill you but they can’t.” 

Doyoung’s fingers twitched on the cold metal of the terrace rail and for a moment his rational mind wanted to ask that stranger just what nonsense he was talking about. 

But lately, Doyoung and rationality didn’t match well so he didn’t. 

“Immortality sucks only if you’re the only immortal one.” 

The stranger smiled bitterly. “Do you want to be immortal?” 

Doyoung put his hands inside the gown’s pockets. “I’d die tomorrow.” 

“But you wish immortality was a thing.” 

“I mean, I wouldn’t have a job anymore,” Doyoung smiled. “But yes. I wish people didn’t die.” 

“You’re very selfish.” 

That remark made Doyoung frown. “How’s that selfish?” 

The stranger turned around and rested his back on the rail instead. 

“Why do you want people to not die?” 

“Because-,” Doyoung started but didn’t know what to add. “Because it’s painful.” 

“For them or you?” 

Doyoung sighed. “Okay. I see what you’re doing here.” 

The stranger smiled a little. 

“It’s not like I think only of myself when others die. I think how unfair it is when I know they didn’t have the chance to do everything they wanted to do first.” 

“And what’s that?” 

Doyoung thought about it for a moment. “Just- living. Experiences. And most of them actually had enough time to do it. They just took it for granted. And it’s so- painful.” 

“And what about you? If you said that you’d be ready to die tomorrow, I guess you’ve been living your life to the fullest with no regrets.” 

“Actually, I don’t know if I’ve been living all of this time.” 

The stranger shrugged. “Just start now.” 

“You make it seem so easy.” 

“Living? Hell yeah. You just need to give less fucks.” 

Doyoung didn’t reply. 

“If you’re ready to die tomorrow, then you should not be afraid of living.” 

The stranger’s tone deepened and Doyoung looked his way. 

“Who are you by the way?” 

“Oh,” the stranger straightened his back and extended his hand. “I’m Haechan. Nice to meet you.” 

Doyoung imitated him and shook his hand. 

It was warm and in a moment so many thoughts came to Doyoung’s mind to make him breathless. 

"I thought I had my life figured out and yet after meeting you I got shocked into awareness."

"You inspire so much tenderness in me."

“I became obsessed with you and it scares me.”

“You could have just told me. You could have told me that you fell apart. Instead, you acted like it didn't bother you at all.” 

“You are worth the wait.”

“I can't let go of you.” 

Doyoung took away his hand so quickly to almost fall backwards. 

He took a few steps on the concrete of the terrace as if trying to get as far from Haechan as possible. 

“You good?” the other asked but his face wasn’t mirroring his question. 

Instead, a plain expression was adorning his feline features and for an instant, Doyoung felt terror.  

“You’re not Haechan,” he found himself whispering. 

The man in front of him cracked his knuckles once. “And who’s Haechan?” 

“My friend.” 

“Friend? Is someone that uses somebody else a friend?” 

“He’s not using me.” 

“Isn’t he now?” 

The man started to walk towards Doyoung slowly, one finger on the rail, grating at the metal with his nail. 

“Do you believe in soulmates, Doyoung?” 

Doyoung flinched at his name on that man’s lips and started to retreat slowly. 

“I do.” 

“Soulmates are people that always find each other regardless of everything, aren’t they?” 

“Yes.” 

“And are you and Y/N soulmates if Haechan is always there forcing you together like some sort of cheap mismatcher?” the man spit out the last words. 

Doyoung gulped and his brain tried to remember how he punched him in some past life and actually win. His surgeon hands would definitely get broken in a second. 

“Don’t you want to break this cycle? Find your true soulmate?” 

“That’s Y/N.” 

“Because you say so.” 

“I don’t give a fuck about your orthodox theory, Archangel.” 

The man stretched his neck to the side and Doyoung didn't have the time to run away.

[maddiwrites]

The Hybrid (Prologue)

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: The Pogues rekindle their friendship with their old childhood best friend and JJ’s first crush, Y/N. Old feelings resurface for JJ and Y/N, possibly leading to a summer neither one of them could ever forget. Due to past trauma, Y/N is reluctant to let anyone into her heart, but JJ never backs down from a challenge, even if he knows it will come back to haunt him in the end.

Note: So happy to be back with another series!!! I honestly really missed posting. Unlike Secrets of the Shore, updates will be slower because I don’t have them all written out yet. A couple things I wanted to let you know before you read. I based Y/N’s family off of Gilmore Girls. I thought they were the perfect fit for this story and the show in general and I just love their dynamic. (Including Luke who I renamed Steve for obvious reasons). Chapter 1 will explain more obviously but I wanted to give you guys a little snippet of the characters and relationships. So let me know what y'all think!

Word Count: 3.3k

Outer Banks. Paradise on Earth. It's the sort of place where you either have two jobs or two houses. Two tribes, one island. As you know, the Outer Banks is essentially divided into two groups. If we want to be blunt - it’s the rich and the poor. Figure Eight is home to the rich. Aka the Kooks. With houses bigger than necessary with extra rooms that go untouched, boats the size of homes on the Cut - the other side of the island. Most people who live on Figure Eight are your naturally raised assholes. People who don’t know the value of a dollar and take advantage of people who do most of their dirty work that lets them prance around the island with perfectly manicured fingernails. These hard workers are the Pogues. They live on the south side of the island where most Kooks wouldn’t be found dead. They serve fancy meals at the country club for shitty tips, mow lawns, and work their asses off at any other job for minimum wage. The drastic difference in lifestyles tend to cause many spats and arguments between the two communities. Especially between the teenagers who still don’t know how to control their raging emotions or know when to bite back their tongue. For the Kooks, every fight is a fight for dominance where as the Pogues fight for equality - to put the Kooks in their place. Many of these fights happen at summer parties where the two groups clash to find a good time with their friends filled with alcohol, drugs, and good music.

That’s where they find themselves tonight. The infamous Pogues. John B, JJ, Kie, Pope, and now Sarah Cameron. Although born a natural Kook, she’s earned her spot next to the adventurous teens and her boyfriend. Unlike her brother Rafe who basically is the leader of his notorious group. Topper and Kelce are his best friends who follow him blindly.

The Pogues watch them from their spot surrounding the keg. Kie purses her lips in distaste as the boys cat call for the ladies around them. Somehow most of them finding it flattering. Sarah sips on her beer to hide her embarrassment, often wondering how she and her brother grew up to be so different. Pope and John B stay mostly disinterested, only worried if they try to make a pass at an unwilling girl or fire a degrading comment at their short tempered friend. JJ Maybank is known around the island for his trouble making behavior. Usually if he gets in trouble for fights, no one ever asks who the other people were in the scuffle. Because if JJ Maybank is in the fight, he’s the one who started it, right? Wrong. In fact, JJ usually is never the one to start it. He’s good at keeping his head down and only speaking when spoken to when it comes to the Kooks - the only form of advice worth taking from his father. But his short temper is something the Kooks his age loved to take advantage of because they liked getting a rise out of him. It was like an adrenaline rush.

Luckily, tonight both groups were keeping their distance, either only talking to each other or random Tourons that have found their way to the party. This is usually JJ’s favorite part of a boneyard party. Finding his one fish in a sea of many that he can reel in just for the night and never have to worry about seeing them again.

He has his eyes set on a beautiful blonde making her way to the bonfire when all of a sudden Kie’s voice pulls him out of his trance.

“What’s she doing here?”

JJ follows her line of vision, spotting you walking down the wooden steps that lead to the beach, pulling your best friend behind you by his wrist. He first notices your smile and how it brightens up your entire face. Then of course his eyes scan down your slim but athletically toned body. You’re wearing a pair of jean shorts and a cropped white T shirt that says UNC across the chest. Who knew someone could look so good without even trying?

Well JJ did. He’s known it for a while.

“Careful. I think you’re drooling,” John B whispers in his best friend’s ear.

JJ pushes him away and mutters, “Shut up. No I’m not.”

But maybe he was.

Y/N Y/L/N is a unique resident of the island. Unlike majority of the island, she doesn’t fall in either Kook or Pogue category. She’s what everyone calls the Hybrid.

People who work hard for what they have but haven’t fallen to be Pogue status. Quite literally living in the middle in a place they call the Crest.

Your story is well versed among the gossipers of the island (which tends to be just about everybody).  And mainly that’s because of who your grandparents are.  Claude and Doris Y/L/N. Two of the riches people on the island, living in a three story house on the beach. Many people fear them, others envy them. Most feel both. Even Ward Cameron walks on egg shells around them, which is quite often, considering he works for Claude. They’re the kind of people who have never heard of Barefoot wine or Walmart. They keep their noses up and turn a blind eye to the suffering communities around them. Thirty four years ago, Doris gave birth to a daughter that couldn’t be more opposite than them. Lorelai Y/L/N was a wild child. A rule breaker. She snuck out at nights, dated boys her parents would never approve of, dabbled in breaking the law here and there. It didn’t matter how many times her parents disciplined her. She always managed to make her parents’ life a living hell. 

No one was surprised when word got passed around that Lorelai had gotten pregnant at eighteen. Although it was with another Kook, she brought shame upon her family name when she refused to get an abortion, even when her mom tried dragging her by her hair. 

Lorelai risked everything by running away from her parents’ home in the middle of a windy night. With only one suitcase, the baby daddy out of the picture, and less than a grand in her pocket, she managed to make a life for herself on the South side of the island. She worked two jobs, found an affordable apartment for cheap rent, and managed to save some money before her babies were born.

Yes, babies. As in more than one. Five months after running away from home, she gave birth to twin girls and they instantly became her entire life. With the help of her best friend Steve, who she met one month after being on her own, meeting him at his automotive shop when she very much literally rolled her junky car into the garage, she raised you and your sister on the Cut. The two of you are her greatest accomplishment. Every now and then, she mentally throws up a middle finger to everybody who doubted her, proud of who the two of you have become. 

Right before you turned ten, your mom took a business risk and opened her own Cafe. The Bikini Beans cafe, very popular amongst both Kooks and Pogues. The business did so well that she was able to move the three of you out of your shitty apartment into a beautiful one story home with three bedrooms in between the Cut and Figure Eight, aka the Crest, the summer going into your freshman year.

You actually used to be best friends with John B Routledge, JJ Maybank, and Pope Heyward. It was easier being friends with them than the girls, finding more joy in sports and rough housing than makeup and gossip. 

Doing the same summer that you moved, your mom pulled you out of Kildare County High and placed you in Outer Banks Private Academy. Aka Kook Academy. Around this time, your grandparents had also become more involved in your life, and you wondered if they had somehow bribed your mom into forcing you to transfer schools. You tried asking her during one of your many fights that started with you begging her to keep you at Kildare County High, but she quickly shut you down and told you to be grateful. That was ironic coming from the woman who ran away from the people giving her an expensive high school career. 

You had no choice but to do what your grandparents wanted and attend Kook Academy. Making friends was a lot harder there than it was in Kildare County High. You managed to make one friend in your freshman year. Andre Cortez. Due to an incident a couple years back, you built thick walls and Andre was the only one able to break them down. You were grateful for your friendship, but hanging out with him was nothing like hanging out with the Pogues. 

When you transferred schools, you lost touch with the Pogues slowly. Your life became busy with school and playing dress up for your grandparents and the boys were starting to work. Eventually all contact was cut and ever since, you’ve felt a void in your heart.

“Look,” You tell Andre. “I told you I would be your wing woman and I’m not backing down from what could possibly be the most important role in my life.”

You didn’t notice the Pogues or any of the stares around you. It’s true you’re not much of a party girl. I mean, you’ll go out here and there, have a drink or two, but you felt more comfortable at places where you weren’t surrounded by drunk and horny teenagers. 

“He’s probably not even here,” Andre says. He’s trying to look nonchalant but you notice the way his eyes dance from face to face of the people around him. 

“He told you he was going to be here, right?” You ask him with one brow raised. Andre nods. “Then, we’ll find him.”

Sarah and Kie never made any effort to talk to you at school, but to be fair, neither have you. You’ve heard mixed reviews, some people call them spoiled brats, ungrateful...some even go as far as calling them ‘The Cut Sluts.’ Of course you never take any of those things to heart. You can’t judge a book but it's cover. Plus, they’re friends with your old best friends. They can’t be that bad for John B and JJ and Pope to be hanging out with them, right?

“You think she'll come over here?” Kie asks. No one’s ever said it out loud, but her friends wonder if deep down, Kie was a little jealous of you. Because you were their first real girl friend. You were the first girl they ever let in and opened their heart too. That was a tough pill for Kie to swallow when she originally thought she was that girl. Of course the boys don’t like you any more than Kie and vice versa. But sometimes Kie wishes she could have grown up with the boys the same way you had. 

“Probably not. Unless she’s drinking,” Pope says and motions towards the keg they’re near. 

“I have an idea,” John B says and fills up a red solo cup. He hands it to JJ. “Why don’t you go offer her a cup.”

JJ snags the cup out of John B’s hand and glares at him. “Fuck off, dude.” 

“Do you guys ever see her around at school?” Pope asks the girls.

Sarah shrugs. “Not really. She doesn’t really get a long with my old group of friends.”

Kie rolls her eyes. “No one gets along with your old group of friends.”

Sarah playfully shoves Kie by the shoulder and they laugh. 

“I heard she turned down Raymond Easterling a couple weeks ago and he didn’t take it very well,” Pope says, remembering the words he heard from the kids in his class roaming the school hallways. 

Raymond goes to Kildcare County High with the Pogues. He’s known to be a trouble maker and a class clown. He works with JJ at the country club. The kid can make JJ laugh sometimes, but he wouldn’t necessarily say he likes him all that much. He can be an arrogant asshole with an ego bigger than it should be.

“She turns down everybody,” Sarah says. “Some people at my school call her ‘The Heart Sucker’ because she can pull people in with the snap of her fingers and break their heart just as quickly.”

Something stirred in the pit of JJ’s stomach.

“Hey! Where you going?” John B calls out to JJ who’s making his way deeper into the sea of people on the beach. 

“Taking advantage of a good boneyard party, my friend,” JJ calls back and slugs the rest of his beer. Looking left and right, he searches for the blonde he had eyes on earlier. Because right now, he needed a distraction. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The party starts to die down a little after midnight. Some people leave to find another party, some are passed out in the back of their cars, and others had already found what they were looking for - someone to leave with. 

The boneyard party wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be. You had found a couple of kids from your school who were nice enough to make small talk with you while Andre left to find a guy named Devon, a Touron he’s been talking to who’s renting for the entire summer. 

Now you’re waiting for Andre to come back so the two of you can walk home. You find comfort under a slanted palm tree towards the back of the beach, scrolling through random apps on your phone to pass the time.

“Y/N?” You look up from you phone and smile when you see your former best friend inching closer to you, squinting in the dark to see if it’s really you. 

“Maybank? What are you still doing here?” You stand up and pat the sand off your hands on you thighs. 

Your heart skips a beat in your chest when you look at him. He’s beautiful. Lucious blonde hair, perfectly tanned skin, piercing blue eyes. You always knew JJ was going to grow up to be gorgeous. He was cute when he was younger. At least you always thought so. 

“I was just leaving, but I thought I saw you sitting here and wanted to make sure you were all right.” He knows it’s not like you to stay this late at a party, especially all by yourself. When he first saw you sitting there, he didn’t know if he should say something. Mostly due to nerves of seeing you again. But the other Pogues had already left and he didn’t trust anyone else at the party to be near you alone late at night. It didn’t matter if you were sober or not. 

“Aw. Was JJ Maybank worried about me?” You tease. Talking to him felt easy. As if you never stopped being friends. A few years ago, you and JJ had the best banter. Despite constantly bickering back and forth, John B always swore the two of you would get married one day. The two of you just always clicked like a natural connection. And even now, when only seeing each other every now and then for a few minutes at a time, it felt normal. You smirk when JJ rolls his eyes. “I’m kidding. Yeah, I’m okay. Just waiting for my friend to come back from his little rendezvous,” You say. 

JJ nods. “Did you have a good time? I feel like I never you see at these things.”

“Yeah. Parties aren’t really my thing. But Andre was nervous to meet this guy he’s been talking to for a little while so I came for moral support.”

“Looks like he didn’t need much of the support.”

You shrug. “It’s better that way, anyway. I don’t mind waiting for him. What about you?”

“What about me?” 

“Did you have a good time tonight? I hear your quite the ladies’ man at these things.”

“Come on, Sparky. You know better than to believe everything you hear.”

Your face lights up at the mention of your old nickname. You use to always be busting out the seams with energy. On days where the boys just wanted to chill and play video games, you would drag them to the park for a game of kick ball. Or when they wanted to sleep in after a long week, you showed up at 8 am to drag them out of bed to catch the morning waves. So one day JJ started calling you Sparky, and it stuck with the rest of your little gang. You always pretended to hate it, but secretly you loved it. 

“Oh I don’t believe everything I hear. I do, however, believe what I see. And your arm around that tall blonde in the little black dress looked quite convincing.”

You first saw JJ at the party when he was making his way to the pretty girl by the water. Your teeth involuntarily clenched and there was a twisted feeling in your stomach you couldn’t shake whenever you looked at them. 

In that instant, JJ felt grateful for the dark sky. He felt the rush of heat rise up his neck to his cheeks before he could stop it. He knew the motivation to see that girl was because of you. He just wished you never saw it. But he didn’t know why. 

“I walked her home. She wasn’t my type,” JJ plays it off. 

“I didn’t realize you had a type,” You giggle, but a small part felt relieved to hear this. “So what is it? Your type?”

Hybrids with a Pogue attitude, bright smile, beautiful eyes, and a mouth that could make any sailor turn around, JJ thought. 

“I don’t know. Haven’t figured it out yet.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Well, when you figure it out let me know.”

“Why? So you can transform into my ideal girl?” He teases.

Now you’re the one thankful for the dark sky. “In your dreams, Maybank. But so far, I do have the perfect wing-woman track record, so if you needed help -”

“I don’t think I need any help in that department. Thank you very much.”

You throw your hands up in fake surrender. “Ooo. Touchy subject.”

JJ rolls his eyes at the same time your phone pings with a text message. You pull it out of your shorts pocket and open the text from Andre, telling you to leave without him because he’s gonna stay out late with Devon and won’t know what time he’s going to be done.

“Everything all right?” JJ says, watching you read the message.

You lock your phone and stuff it in your back pocket again. “Like I said. Perfect wing-woman track record.”

“That was Andre?” 

“Yeah. He’s most likely not coming home tonight.”

“Lucky bastard.”

“At least one of us is,” You joke. 

JJ’s grin slightly falters but you don’t catch it. You have no idea how much he wishes the two of you could be equally as lucky. Together. 

“Well, I should probably go,” You say and bend down to grab your flip flops.

“Let me walk you home,” JJ offers. 

“Oh no. It’s okay -”

“You’re cute. It’s wasn’t up for debate. I’m not letting you walk back by yourself.”

You scoff lightly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Just humor me.”

You roll your eyes and smirk but choose not to argue. In fact, you’re excited to spend more time with JJ. It’s been so long.

“Fine.”

“And here I thought you might’ve grown out of your stubborn phase by now.”

You shove him playfully by the shoulder. “Shut up!”

And just like that, it felt like old times.

[sendyefrogs]

saudade

a/n: WELL. im back! *confetti pops out*. i mean, kinda hehe, apologies im absolutely swamped with school and my degrading mental health :). n e way, this is LONG, because i’ve missed writing a lot <3  wrote this for @sykuui, this is long overdue babe tw: verbal and (probably) physical abuse, kuroo just being a gigantic dick, dont come after me pls ily, cheating, swearing word count: 2K (word vomit ;-;) pairing: kuroo x gn!reader genre: angst (if it’s not very good, pls forgiveness, internet person)

What keeps you up at night?

Gentle snores, his soft hair brushing your arm, muffled breaths reminding you that the world knew not of the Kuroo that slept by you at night, unburdened by the worldly dilemmas. For just a few hours every night, he was yours, through and through, in your arms while the clouds drifted across the jet black sky with no destination, and the moment seemed to freeze.

Love, love for Tetsuro, is what kept you up, and it would never have once crossed your naïve mind that love is what would break you, keeping you up, not for the love you felt, but the love that was torn from you.

Simple signs would not tell you what happened, it came crashing down on you all too quick, for he was proficient at hiding it, behind his caring smiles and affectionate touches. His love wasn’t as pure as yours, he did not yearn for you as you did for him, and it showed, eventually enough. The cracks in the relationship built up gradually, slowly but prominently, too wide for either to bandage up alone, and that is how you found yourselves; alone.

He did try to provide for the both of you as best he could, being the sole income earner, and it didn’t always end well when you expressed that maybe he was too occupied by his office for your liking, unable to care for you as he once did throughout high school, when he was attentive to you no matter when you beckoned.

“Tetsuro, welcome home!” You’ve had a long day and not nearly enough time with your husband, deprived of his peppering kisses and gentle strokes of your hair. You get neither, receiving just a simple grunt, and it is clear he has had a grueling time as well. “Dinner is ready when you want it.” He nods slightly, not making eye contact with you yet, his hair appearing even less groomed than usual. You stand on your tip toes to kiss his forehead, but he shoves you away, harder than playful, glaring at you.

Maybe it’s just weariness, but he makes no attempt to apologize. You blink back the sting of tears, walking towards the kitchen to serve the food that you had learnt to make for him. He’s just tired. I’m sure he didn’t mean to push me away. That was the first tear, in the loosely woven fabric that was your relationship, that began as high school sweethearts but was now, you realized only later, becoming too stifling for Tetsuro.

The steam rose of the bowl of rice and curry, curling around your jawline as you carried it to the tall figure seated at the table, with his head in his palms. “Do you want to talk now, baby?” Your question is only answered with another sound of fatigue. You seat yourself beside him, curling your arms around his bicep, watching him lift the spoon to his mouth, trying to make him comfortable. You wanted to show him that you’d be there when he wanted to share his exhaustion with you, never occurring to you that maybe, it was exhaustion of you that plagued Tetsuro’s mind.

“Y/n, can you please be quiet for once?” It was barely a whisper; you weren’t sure if you heard him right.

“Huh?”

“Just shut up for once, god.” The tears stung again. What was with him today? He seemed genuinely mad, but you didn’t know what you had done to make him behave like this.

Little did you know, it wasn’t actually you, but the idea of you. Kuroo had grown to be frustrated with his daily routine, tired that every day was the same, that his life had lost that spark it had when he peaked in high school, your presence monotonous and the marriage empty. He didn’t want it.

“Tetsuro, why would you-?” His hand swiped out, knocking the bowl off the table, a gasp erupting from your mouth. In that moment, all you can think about is to get as far away from him as possible. There is an uncharacteristic bitterness in his eyes, directed towards you as you lie in his line of vision. You flinch as he raises his hand to run fingers through his hair. Without a second thought, he spits his frustration out at you.

“Y/n, I’ve had a long fucking day, and I don’t need you to make it even worse with your constant questioning.” The chair slides back with a scrape, not unlike the scrape of his words against your soul. There is, and always has been, an insecurity bubbling away in you that maybe you aren’t good enough for Tetsuro, maybe he deserves better, maybe you are too overwhelming for the calm male that now stands enraged in front of you.

“You need to learn to shut the fuck up sometimes, because no one wants to listen to your endless whining. I get it, you need constant reassurance that you’re the perfect partner, but I couldn’t be fucking bothered. And you sure aren’t perfect with how clingy you’re being right now. So shut up, and leave me alone.”

Kuroo knocks over a jug of water on his way out, slamming the door over the sound of it shattering as your sobs rack through your body, dry but hard enough to hurt.

Being furious wasn’t a thought that occurred to you, and whether this was his fault made no difference, because it was yourself you blamed when you found him the next day, with his secretary, the bento lunch you had packed him, to resolve the night’s arguments, spilled over the wooden floor, much like the shattered pieces of your heart.

What broke you, was that there was no chase; Tetsuro didn’t come after you, didn’t try to convince you to stay, didn’t try to explain that this was a mistake, didn’t even try to salvage a nine-year long relationship that he tossed out the window of his high-rise office building, not a single second glance back at the spouse that had supported him through his struggles, through thick and through thin, comforting him when things got tough, consoling him as he lost matches, lost money, lost old friends.

Gratitude wasn’t something he had ever considered. You were always there after all, there to ensure that he was happy, that he was content with his unchanging life, the responsibility of being his unpredictable little spark of excitement weighing down on you.

You were gone that night, with hurriedly packed bags, worn out spirit and tears streaming down your face, sparkling as they dripping onto the marbled floor, sparkling like the diamond of your wedding ring that you left behind on the counter top, with one last admiring glance. It was worth a lot, but not enough for what you were being put through. And recognition of that fact is what liberated you, to start your own life, without a Kuroo Tetsuro.

What keeps you up at night?

Y/n. Bubbling laughter and affectionate aura. Everything that was gone, that now made Kuroo’s life… empty; as empty as he had left the relationship, as empty as the void that was once filled with y/n’s warm smiles, that he now attempted to fill with anyone who would throw themselves at him.

A different face to wake up to everyday, but none of them yours, the only one he longed to see, heart aching as though it might burst out of his chest to find its rightful place with you.

The day after you left, he had had no idea that his life would crumble without you, the backbone around which he organized his life, the foundation for his happiness. He knew it was unfair to put the expectation of his functioning on you, but he did it anyway, and without you, he couldn’t wrap his head around the concept that was independence.

“Tetsuro”, his seventh secretary in two months waltzed into the room, carrying a stack of files, discovering him with his head in his hands, glaring up at the one who dared use the name that you had so loving adorned upon him, the word only perfect on your tongue. “Do you want me to spend the night again? You seem tense.”

Kuroo growled, at the audacity they had, suggesting that they were even worth attempting to comfort him like you did. With a swipe of his hands, he knocked the files off the table, standing up to spit his frustrations out at the secretary.

But one glance at the look of apprehension on their face made him buckle, reminding him of the very last night he spent with you, broken jug, bowl of curried rice upside down on the floor. You; cowering from him, frightened of what he would do to you, flinching as he raised his hand.

Dry choking sobs left his mouth, you were afraid of him, the person you had loved more than life itself, given up everything to make happy, and he had never even uttered a word of gratefulness.

Realization engulfed him, leaving him on his knees. He hadn’t shown you how much he loved you, forgetting or simply just ignoring you.

No wonder you were gone, because what was there to stay for, in the dead-end life that you lived, without a loving husband or self-contentment? What had he done? Why had you stayed for so long?

Why had you stayed up all those nights for him?

Tetsuro never could forget about you, the absence of you gnawing away at him, slowly taking over his life. The final straw that broke him irreparably was you, at the national volleyball match that you attended, not for him, but as a sports reporter, beaming in pride in your professional outfit.

Your independence is what did it, because if you could live without him, it mean you would never return. And why should you, after everything he had done, why should you when you had finally found yourself, why should you when there was nothing to return to?

His eyes followed you around, trying to take in as much of you as he could. Interviewing people, smiling at them, the warm smile that was once only for him. Suddenly, your eyes locked, and he froze, standing close enough to see the hurt swim in yours as you lay them upon him, and the moment was over just as quickly as it began.

“Hajime!” What? Why were you yelling out his name, jumping into his arms, fondly glancing up at him with that adoring look, completely forgetting about the one man that had been missing you for so long? Why weren’t you running back to him instantly? Did you not love him?

But Kuroo knew the truth.

You did love him, just, not anymore. He had lost you the second he took you for granted. And he wanted to yell that he would never do it again, come back to him, please just stay with him, he will always love you.

He couldn’t. The beam reaching from end to end of your glowing face, words bubbling over as Iwaizumi held you close, it was too bright to interrupt. The sparkle in your eyes not unlike the diamond that sparkled on your wedding ring, the one he still kept in his pocket, in hope that you would one day, return to him, forgive him, love him again. But-

Kuroo knew that he didn’t keep you up at night anymore.

[thran-duils]

Was Ich Liebe (P.2)

Title: Was Ich Liebe (Part Two) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Tony Stark.  Tony becomes enamored with a stripper at a club his hedonistic friend Thor owns. A casual sexual relationship quickly becomes possessive and the reader sees more of the underground mafia life than she would like to. The cherry on top is that Tony is married and so is she. Him to a woman who has no intention of losing her throne at any cost and the reader to a deadbeat alcoholic. Feeling trapped by both her previous life and the suffocating hold Tony is trying to put on her, the reader steals away in the night, which is not going to go over well. Words: 3,461 Warnings (for whole fic, more may be added): Dub-con, smut, infidelity, stripping, vaginal fingering, public sex, possessive behavior, angst, degradation kink, violence, physical abuse, domestic violence, language, drug use, alcoholism, death Author’s Note: As usual, this is 18+.

Part One || Part Three || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

You struggled against Tony’s hold, both your hands coming to grasp at his hand that was around your throat.

“Let me go!” you gasped, kicking at him.

He looked serious, his face close.

“Are you going to behave? I don’t need you freaking the fuck out,” Tony asked.

You nodded, “Yes. Yes! I’ll behave!”

Tony’s grip loosened on your throat, and you took the opportunity to shove him away. You bolted towards the front door aiming to get outside and back down the stairs. You got the door open a few inches before large hands closed down on your arms and yanked you back away from the doorframe. Tony wheeled you around and threw himself against the front door, using his momentum to slam it closed with his body weight.

“Let me go!” you protested again, trying to desperately get out of his grasp. “Let me go, you fucking bastard!”

You yanked again and suddenly Tony let go of you and with your own thrust you fell down onto the ground, barely catching yourself from hitting your face.

“Oops,” he told you coolly.

You heard the front door lock as you began to push yourself up again. You saw boots in your sights and craned your neck to look up. Carol was standing there, her arms crossed, ready to intercept you.

Tony began as he stalked around you, “No one is going to miss Michael. No one is going to come looking for him. He had no real friends, and he didn’t work. So who really gives a shit if he’s dead? You?”

His tone was challenging, as if he was hoping you would say yes. Argue with him. Admit to him that you had affection for any man besides him just to give him an excuse. He was riled up and he wanted even more reason to unleash his wrath.

Instead, you stayed quiet, still.

“Okay, so no one cares about him. Who is grateful that he’s gone? Is my perfect angel happy about it?”

Still, you were silent, your fingers digging into the hardwood.

Tony chuckled at your defiance. “Baby, don’t make me work for it. I’ve already used a lot of energy tonight. And on far less precious things than you.”

You sat up quickly, pushing yourself back up onto your knees to face him. The three of them – him, Rhodes, and Carol – were alert, watching you, ready to tackle you back down. You huffed, brushing off your dress. You had merely thrown it on after work to get home in. Tony relaxed ever so slightly seeing you were staying still.

“Are you going to kill me too?” you sneered at him, meeting his gaze. “Is that what this is?”

Tony’s expression darkened.

He was on you in a second, wrenching you off the ground by the back of your dress, his hand wound up in the fabric. You floundered, trying to get traction with your feet, your hands grabbing at the wall to steady yourself. Tony half dragged you down the hallway and tossed you into the bathroom. You stumbled, catching yourself on the sink. In the mirror, you caught sight of Michael finally; where he really was. His body mangled and bleeding in your tub. A strangled cry left your throat as Tony slammed the bathroom door closed behind him. He grabbed the back of your neck and forced you in a 180 closer to where Michael was unnaturally lying in the tub. He would not let you look away.

“Look at that. All your troubles gone. Thanks to me. And you are not being appreciative.”

All you could muster was gasped breaths.

“I have done so much for you, and you are just so ungrateful. What do you have to say for yourself? Apart from being a defiant little slut?”

“I…I…” you were paralyzed by a combination of fear and revulsion at the sight of the blood.

Tony snorted in disgust before you were bent over the counter again, his hand at the small of your back. He kicked one of your legs out, forcing himself in between your legs. The sound of his zipper coming down was deafening and the head of his cock rested on the top of your ass.

“You’ve always got me so hard, sweetheart,” he husked.

He tore your underwear down and drove up into you. You whined at the intrusion and he just shoved deeper. Without a condom.

“Tony! I’m not on the pill!”

“I know you aren’t,” he husked. “That’s perfectly okay, baby, isn’t it? I would be such a good father, wouldn’t I?”

“Tony—"

His hand snaked around your throat, holding tight, choking off your protest as he pumped. Your hips dug into the counter painfully. He was as aggressive as ever, riding you raw.

Tony’s breath was hot on your ear. “I’m never letting you go.”

<><><>

“Mad” by PRINCESSBRI ended as you spread your legs, lying on your back on the stage.

You heard cheers as “Bitch” by Allie X started and knew Kiara was coming out to do a double feature with you. She straddled you starting off the song, dancing down your body to slide off and go to the pole. The tips were good and the two of you laughed in the back room, throwing the wads onto the vanity.

“Daddy is here,” one of the girls whispered in your ear quickly. You turned to meet her gaze and she told you, “I tried to take him, but he asked for you.”

Sighing, you pushed away from the vanity.

Tony had only given you a handful of days alone and now he was right back at it. They had cleaned up the body from your apartment and when you had sat on the couch, holding yourself close when they removed it, Tony informed you he was going to find you a place to live. You could only assume he was here now to tell you where that was going to be.

Sliding into the booth, you were stiff. Your coworker had followed you, waiting to take an order for drinks and Tony had ordered for the two of you, not asking you what you wanted.

He nipped at your ear, “Baby, I don’t like you being off standish with me.”

“How can I not be?” you asked.

“Don’t be afraid of me,” he murmured against your skin, his lips trailing softly along your shoulder. “I would never hurt you. Never you. I got rid of him for you. And now you are free. And free means going on vacation with me.”

“Vacation?”

“Yes. I already bought the tickets for us.” You pulled away and furrowed your brow. He smiled and kissed you. “Seychelles.”

“What?”

Tony smirked, his hand reaching out to grab his drink. His arm tightened around you, and he said, “Seychelles. Fregate specifically. It’s a group of islands in east Africa.”

“I know that, Tony. But you bought me tickets? You do know I have to request time off work right?”

He downed the remainder of his drink, knowing another one was on its way. He laughed at your response, condescending. “You know I have sway with Thor, right? There will be a private villa… a private infinity pool in that villa… a very… very, very big bed.” He laid another kiss. “A hammock on the property for you to relax in.”

“I’m not sure.”

“You’re not sure about what?” he asked, his voice dangerous.

“I just wanna be at home.”

“It’s not going to be home after this weekend.” You snapped your head towards him, and he smiled. “Oh, that got your attention… no, it’s not yours anymore. You know, love, I wanted you to be enjoying the beach with me as your things were moved out of that shit hole of a place. You wouldn’t even have to worry about it. You could be naked on the sand, my lips blessing you while your clothes were moved.”

“Tony—”

“I hope a thank you is following that.”

You bit your tongue. He had already told you he was not going to let you go. And he was already forcing your hand to move, he had killed your husband.

A soft “Thank you” fell from your lips.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he whispered, resting his chin on your shoulder. He pulled a key out of his pocket and waved it in front of you as the shots came to the table. “Here, perfect. Celebratory shots. Just in time for your new apartment key. And baby, I’m gonna make sure we christen that new bed of yours.”

<><><>

The room was foreign, the bed not broken in. And yet Tony made you feel like you should be on your back on the bed, like you belonged in the room to please him. He straddled you, holding you down, your arms pinned, his cock in your face. He was stroking himself quickly, readying to empty all over your face.

“Say it. Say it, baby,” he demanded in a strained tone.

Knowing better than to disobey by now, you looked up at him, your lashes heavy with the sultry look you were giving him. “I’m yours. I belong to you.”

His hand stroked faster, his hips jolting with the movement, moving you in turn with you trapped beneath him.

“Take it like the little whore you are.” His cum was warm, coating your face. You closed your eyes and still he strung all over your cheeks. “Yeah, you love being covered in my cum…”

Tony pressed his cock back past your lips, your eyes opening again at the intrusion. He encouraged in a husk, “Suck it. Gently now. Good girl. Show me how happy you are to be here safe in this new apartment.”

You did as he asked, your lips wrapped tight. He pushed his cum from your cheeks into your mouth and you swallowed, wanting to just bite his fingers in protest as he pressed them in. But you were playing the long game.

<><><>

You thumbed the coat Tony had told you to wear. He had bought it specifically for the party. Just long enough to cover the curve of your ass. Along with the bondage type lingerie you were wearing underneath, pasties and all. He had invited you to a private sex party and he was ready to take you in a room where people could pop in and watch him having his way with you.

At the door, your coat was taken, and you were just in the lingerie which was no different to you than being at the club. But you had a mask on now as did Tony. And to your immense shock, he undressed right then and there, already hard, adding his clothes to your coat check, mind the small baggy he took out of the pocket which was not missed by you. He pulled you along with him as you walked past people engaging in foreplay and socializing with each other.

He led you upstairs and into a private room marked 4. The bed was large, and he pulled you onto it with him.

Holding up the small baggy he smiled, “You ready to roll?” Without waiting for your response, he took one out of the bag. Tony popped the pill and held out his opposite hand with one for you.

“Is this molly?”

“Mhm… MDMA.”

“That’s what I meant.”

“I know. And you’re gonna be so fucking wet,” Tony told you, sucking at your neck. His lips dominated yours, pressing his tongue past your lips, swirling around yours. The kiss was deep, powerful. He bit at your lip as he pulled away. “That’s why I have this private room.” He noticed your expression and he ran his thumb over your plump lips. “Just behave, baby, and I won’t punish you by sending you out for a time out.”

“Well, people are going to be coming in here so…”

“You’re used to that, right?”

“I’m used to dancing for entertainment. Not getting railed for the entertainment.”

“I’ll be happy to pop that cherry for you… let them see how trained you are for me. How many times you’ll come undone around me.” He inhaled deeply and traced along your side, dipping in with the curves, in and out. “I love showing you off as mine. My wife is very jealous of you.”

“That makes me feel comfortable,” you mumbled sarcastically, grabbing a pill out of his open hand, and popping it in your mouth.

Tony chortled pleased seeing you bend to his will and take the drug, nuzzling his mouth into your neck, leaving rough bites.

“She’s just jealous because she has responsibilities and your only one is to please me.” Tony’s hand slipped up between your legs, forcing between your thighs. “She’s dealing with the matriarch role… mothering our child… working out… sweettalking the cops whenever they decide to show their ass. She’s really good at that.”

“Will I have to do that? Talk to cops, I mean?” That was a legit concern.

Tony hummed against you, “Maybe.” You stiffened and he ran his hands down your sides. “Oh, shh, sweetheart. I trust you. You won’t betray me. You just keep that beautiful mouth of yours closed and brush them off, giving them your beautiful doe eyes, and it’ll be just fine. No one can be mean to you when you look at them like the little sweet, innocent thing you are. I could just devour you.”

“Well, just make sure you don’t lose me when we both start rolling.”

“That’s what Carol is for. She won’t let you wander off on me. She’s gonna be right outside.. She’ll keep us both in check. It’s gonna feel so fucking good to take you. Every brush of your soft skin against me, knowing all the people that could be watching from the doorway. Those perfect holes of yours allowing me in…” Tony had started to grind, hungry. “Every hole… mine to use.”

His thumb slipped up towards your tight ring and he smiled against your lips. “I should get that lube, shouldn’t I?”

You nodded. “Yes. Please.”

Even if you fell completely under the drug, you knew you would feel it in the morning. So, precaution and prevention was important.

He pecked your nose, “Mhm, just for you, baby. Just keeping you safe always. I don’t wanna hurt my favorite.”

The lube was cold as he pushed his thumb in and your breath hitched. He was watching your expression closely.

“Relax,” he purred. “Let me in, sweetheart. I’ve got a nice toy to gape you out.” You shifted a little at that and his free hand came to hold you in place, his eyes flashing. “I’m gonna be moving in between those holes however I see fit. Be grateful I’m prepping.” He smacked you across the ass and said, “Just behave like the good girl I know you can be, and this will be enjoyable for everyone.”

<><><>

“I’m being perfectly fucking civil,” Tony spat.

He had been anything but civil since the group of you had come into the meeting room. You had arrived there first, waiting for the other people to arrive. Tony had mumbled something about having to be in charge and be an example as he pulled you down at the table next to him.

Natasha snorted and he shot her an annoyed look. “Tony, I would call this whole attitude you’re having anything but civil.”

Tony’s attention was on you, and he said strained, “Y/N, dear. Can you be a doll and make me another drink?” You nodded, standing up and grabbing his glass. His hand traced your thigh as you walked away, squeezing as it was about to drop away. You went to the counter quickly where there was the bottle he had brought.

When you sat back down, he took the glass from you and kissed you on the nose. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you,” you said back. It was a lie. But you passed it off with as much sincerity as you could muster, and it seemed to pay off. You hated him. You hated what he had done and how he kept you under his thumb.

He gripped your chin, giving you a little shake with an amused smirk.

“Glad you’ve got some type of deterrent from completely snapping during this meeting, Tony,” Barnes muttered unamused from the side of the table.

“Y/N has seen me completely snap, Barnes. So, she’s not here to stop it. She’s here to help me find my humanity afterward. How could I not be drawn in by her to ground me again?” Tony retorted. You bit your cheeks and he chucked you underneath your chin, taking a deep drink. “You’re always going to be my favorite, sweetheart. My favorite toy.”

His appreciation was cut short as the door opened and men started filing in. But his grip only tightened around your waist, yanking you closer to him.

Carol exhaled her smoke, staring across the table at the men. They actually looked afraid of her.

“You had to bring the weapon of mass destruction?” one of the men joked darkly.

“What kind of party would it be without me, Fredrick?’ Carol asked.

The man – Fredrick – shook his head and he looked back at Tony. “So, right to business. Our shipment went through to you. So I’m not sure why this meeting is being called?”

Tony took another long swig and he pushed you away from him on the bench you were sitting on. You frowned deeply but Steve grabbed your arm, pulling you off the bench, completely away from Tony. You stared up at him in confusion.

“Oh, we both know why this meeting was called,” Tony said in a dangerously calm voice.

“Care to enlighten me?”

Fredrick was trying to keep his voice calm, but you could detect the nervousness.

Tony’s hand flew under the table, unholstering a gun. Guns were pointed at the two men Fredrick had brought with him and you froze to the spot, terrified. Carol was the most steady, looking happy to be pointing the gun.

Seeing the worry on Fredrick’s face, Tony smirked. But he did not relent on his aim. “Now, I know I got screwed on that last shipment. There were two kilos missing. And that is a lot to be missing considering I fucking paid for it! And it’s not fucking cheap!”

He unloaded some bullets into the man. You yelped, covering you mouth as blood splattered the wall behind him as he fell out of his chair. Steve held you close, making sure you did not bolt.

Tony pointed his gun at the man standing directly behind Fredrick’s corpse, and he stiffened up even more seeing the gun pointed at him. “You. What’s your name?”

“F-Fernandez.”

“F-Fernandez,” Tony replied mockingly. “You work for him for a while?” The man nodded quickly. “Perfect. You’re in charge now. Now go back and tell your operation that they better find my two fucking missing kilos or I’m gonna put a bullet between your eyes next!”

“What the fuck are you still doing sitting there?” Carol demanded.

The men all scrambled up from their chairs and made a beeline out of the room. As soon as they were gone, and Tony lowered his gun, Steve let you go.

Tony took notice of you and smiled, “Oh, sweetheart. When they find that missing money, I’m going to put a down payment on a new car just for you.”

You forced a smile, making him think you were happy about the idea. Little did he know, you were already planning your escape.

<><><>

You left not only the keys to the new Tesla but also to the apartment on the kitchen counter.

Storming away from the kitchen, Tony went to your bedroom. He went right to the top left drawer of your dresser, where he knew you kept all your jewelry. He found it empty.

Tony slammed the drawer closed, laughing darkly to himself.

Little bitch had not forgotten all the jewelry he had bought her. Of course not. She was a spoiled little brat.

Furiously, he stormed across the hallway, ignoring the looks from Carol, Steve, and Rhodes down the hallway by the kitchen. He went into the bathroom and slammed the door closed. He needed to go to the bathroom.

Just go to the bathroom and relax just a little.

Releasing himself from his slacks, he sighed in contentment as he began to go to the bathroom.

As he finished though, he opened his eyes and caught sight of something.

He spotted the positive pregnancy test on top of the trash.

~~~

Song list to set the mood for me while writing:

Mad -- PRINCESSBRI Bitch -- Allie X

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney  @biiskuitx @buttercupfangirl

[rebeccccccaaa]

𝒻𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓁

__________________________________

sᴛᴇᴠᴇ ʀᴏɢᴇʀs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: You’re a hydra experiment gone wrong. Not to mention Steve Rogers hates you; and you have no idea why.

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: angst, substance abuse, alcohol consumption, enemies to lovers kingda but not really, smut 18+  (slight praise?, a bit of pet names? protected sex ;), riding, cockwarming, choking)

𝒶/𝓃: might do a part 2 blurb, but i’mbeginning to run out of ideas so send some requests! also thanks for 100 followers!! :,)

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 3.3k

___________________________________

You sat by the window of your  room with a cup of coffee as always wishing life would be different; but also not. You were grateful for your life you’re able to have now; being with the Avengers, learning how to control the powers you now possess. Grateful to have a home again.

Years ago you were out with your friends for the fifth time that week, getting drunk and high off of anything you could get your hands on. Your fiance broke off your engagement for his secretary; typical. You got fired from your job the week prior. You were days away from being evicted from your  apartment. You had no family; your life was falling apart. 

You were also the perfect target. Stumbling out of the club black out drunk and high as shit you were taken into the darkness never to be seen again. You woke up surrounded by darkness freezing, shivering from the cold. You had no idea where you were, what day it was, who was staring at you from the shadows.

“Welcome home,” the voice taunted you.

You spent years in that cell. They wanted you to possess dark magic. And you did, oh did possess alright. You remember that night like it was yesterday; that night haunted your dreams every night. 

You would sit in your cell, moving the toy blocks they left for you to use. You mostly practiced your magic with them considering no one taught you how to use them, they only wrote shit down whenever you saw them. No one ever spoke to you and whatever voices you did hear were whispers in languages you couldn’t understand.

Earlier that day so long ago, a ‘doctor’ injected you with this thick disgusting black liquid. They had been at  your door all day waiting for something to happen. But they got what they were looking for; experimenting on you for. 

Your back burned and ached as if  there were nails clawing at your skin. You screamed in agony, begging someone to help you, to take the pain away. You could see your once blue veins that ran through your body turn black.  Your skin ripped on your back, bruises forming, black feathers growing out your body.

Once they were entirely out of your body they applauded. They actually praised the ‘doctor’ who made you into this, this creature. They left you to deal with the pain. You shook in fear and agony. You had wings. Fucking black wings. 

They called you the Fallen Angel. You possessed the powers of Lucifer himself. You didn’t fully know it however.

Months later the avengers infiltrated the base. Natasha found you; you were severely dehydrated and malnourished. But you recovered quickly and here you were staying with the avengers fighting alongside them taking down bad guys and shit. 

There was a light knock on your door taking you out of your horrid memories. 

“Hey, babe,” Natasha opened your door and peeked her head around.

“Hey, Nat,” you replied.

“How are the wings?”

Since you’ve been with the avengers you’ve become happier with your life again and your wings started getting light in color, they’re still not white however and you don’t know why.

“Still gray,” you chuckled.

“That’s so weird. You haven’t done anything and that goop that was in your system is filtered out. What’s making them gray?”

“I have no idea. Anyway are we even sure they're supposed to turn white? I mean I’m no angel; I had a shit life before all of this happened. Maybe it’s just baggage.”

“But it makes sense, you know,” she defended.

“Not everything makes sense.”

“You hungry? Sam was thinking chinese takeout, Tony said shawarma and you’re the tie breaker.”

“Awe man, you guys suck. What do you want?”

“Shawarma,” she whispered.

“Ok. shawarma,” you agreed.

She grabbed your hand and led you to the living where everyone waited for the tie breaker. Your wings were so big and they dragged behind you every time you walked, ran, anything. It was hard sometimes, they were heavy too but you got used to it.

“She said shawarma!” Nat shouted.

Half the crowded cheer and the other half whined. Delivery came fast thankfully and everyone gathered on the couch, Tony putting a movie on while you guys ate. You sat with Bucky and Nat; usually Steve sits with Bucky but Sam was also on the couch next to Buck. 

Steve came up to you making your stomach drop; he was so handsome but here’s the thing, he hated you. Since you came to the tower, he always said they shouldn’t have brought you. That you were too dangerous and you could hurt someone; that hurt you. 

You spent so long hating yourself for what you became but with the avengers help, excluding Steve, you’ve been able to learn to start loving yourself and appreciate how you can use your powers for good and saving people. But every time your name came out of Steve’s mouth, it was degrading and you hated yourself a little more each time. 

And you don’t know why.

“Move.”

“I’m sorry?” you questioned, taken aback.

“I said move,” he said sternly.

“Steve, she was here first. Don’t be a baby. Go sit down somewhere else,” Nat said.

Steve stared at you making you look away in discomfort. He sat in the loveseat alone glaring at you like you had killed his mother or something. The movie continued however and people kept eating. Steve was still grumpy glaring at you whenever you laughed at a scene or said something out loud or literally did anything.

“Rogers, L/n. Briefing, now,” you snapped your head to the voice who was Nick Fury.

“You two doing anything?”he asked when you three were alone.

“We were-”

“Good,” he interrupted.

“I have a mission for you two. We’ve been getting hyperactivity on our radar at these coordinates for the past week now. We do have reason to believe it may be another hydra base trying to regroup maybe, get the band back together type of shit.”

“And you need us why? The rest of the team is in the living room,” Steve asked him.

“You two know hydra best and it’s too soon to put Bucky on a mission that involves Hydra. I’d like you two to complete this with no casualties. We have authorities ready to arrest them, they're just waiting for you,” Nick gave you both a file. 

“I want you both on the plane in 5. And please for fuck’s sake, try not to yell at each other. Y/n, Steve is your captain just do what he says,” He walked out of the room and you rolled your eyes. Whenever you guys go on a mission together he always has you stand back and even stay on the plane with Bruce sometimes. You more than once rejected his instructions; now thinking about it might be the reason he hates you… 

“Try not to kill yourself this time,” Steve said before leaving to suit up. 

The mission was going well and all fell into place. Until while the bastards were under arrest getting ready to be transported, one of the Hydra agents recognized you. He mocked you and laughed at you. Taunted you and brought memories of your time with them back to your mind. 

Tears formed in your eyes, you were so angry. You used your powers, developed from the darkness and began slowly killing him. He turned red and choked gasping for air. Steve watched you begin to get angry, feeling empathy for you. But when he saw you snap, he knew he couldn't trust that you’d cause trouble. 

“Y/n, stop,” he said. But you didn’t stop; you wanted the bastard dead.

“Y/n!” you ignored him.

Your brain drowning all sounds except your breathing and his lack of. Steve grabbed your arms and dragged you, you bursted into tears, memories and trauma flooding back. Steve was pissed that you couldn’t go a single mission without doing something you weren’t supposed to. But he also knew that what you had gone through was torture and he felt sorry for you.

He somewhat knows about the torture that Hydra has inflcited in the past. Bucky talked about it with him and sometimes still has nightmares about it. His behavior probably doesn’t make you feel better. He didn’t mean it to get this far.

When Nat brought you on the plane, he was hesitant. But he knew if they left you there you would die in no time. After you rested, ate, and cleaned up, he was mesmerized. You were very beautiful but Steve felt like because of Peggy he shouldn’t love another person. Like she would be mad if he moved on. 

So, he avoided you at first. Absence turned to frustration when you wouldn’t leave him alone like he had thought. Frustration led to insults and now you think he hates you with everything in his body. But he couldn’t feel further from hate for you. 

Sure, he got frustrated when you didn’t listen to him on missions; primarily because you thought he was being a dick on purpose to antagonize you. But when you came home, safely, and laughed with everyone about Bucky tripping and falling on his face, he fell in love a little bit more with you and your laugh. You looked so happy; without him.

But Steve can’t let it happen, so now he stomped away from you pretending to be upset over something so stupid. 

“Where are you going?” you yelled at him.

“I really don’t need your shit right now, Y/n,” he snapped.

“No, you’re gonna deal with it. It’s been more than a year, Steve! Grow up and talk to me like a real man! Why do you hate me so much?”

“Enough!” he boomed, scaring you.

“Leave me alone,” he said lowly, having more impact than if he were to yell.

“Please,” you cried, “Talk to me. What did I do?”

“You want to know the truth? You’re too powerful. You’re already reckless and if you knew the capacity of your abilities you'd become more reckless. If you’re more reckless you’ll die; and if  you die, that's on me. I can’t let that happen,” there was sincerity in his voice for once; the truth but not the one he wanted to really admit.

“That doesn’t explain why you hate me.”

“God I don’t fucking hate you!”

“Then tell me the truth!” you yelled back.

“I hate myself. I hate myself for feeling the way I do. It's not  fair to her.”

“Not fair to who?” 

“To Peggy.”

“I thought Peggy passed away.”

“She did,” he went into his room and sat on his bed head in his hands.

“I’m confused.”

“I can’t help what I feel for you; and that’s not fair to Peggy. I feel like I should still be in love with her but I’m not.”

You stood by the closed door listening to him. 

“You like me?”

“No, I think I fell in love with you. I thought I could stop by avoiding you but your so fuckin stubborn. You were determined to be my friend; and I don’t want to just be your friend. So I said a couple of mean things and it went too far. I never meant for you to hate me or for you to think I hated you. I was just stupid.”

“Yeah, it was little stupid,” he chuckled at what you said.

You walked towards him and stepped between his legs. He grabbed a hold of your hips and buried his face in your stomach. You held his head brushing your fingers through his hair softly. He looked up at you with soft eyes filled with regret and sorrow. You could tell he was frustrated.

“Is it wrong? To love you?” he whispered.

“No, Peggy wouldn’t want you to spend the rest of your life moping when  you could choose to be happy, like she did. She would want you to move on, live life. And that doesn't mean with me. I mean in general. Does that make sense?”

He nodded sincerely.

He slid his hands to the back of your thighs and sat on his lap. You gasped and your wings fluttered behind you, expanding with excitement. Steve chuckled at that and you buried your face in  his neck feeling embarrassed. He cupped his hand on your face and naturally  you leaned into his hand looking into his blue eyes. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

You simply nodded before leaning up to him to connect your lips with his. Your wings once again expanded; lightly ruffling against each other. You pulled away and attached your lips to his neck peppering light kisses all around. 

You connected your lips once again and it was Steve’s turn to attack your neck with pecks. You’ve alway worn shirts that were either very low in the back or cut to make room for your wings. Either way Steve slowly pulled your shirt over your shoulder trailing kisses along your chest and collarbone. 

“I really care about you, Y/n. Please let me show you.”

You hesitated only because it’s been so long since you had been intimate with someone.

“We don’t have to-” he started.

“No, I do. I really do; it’s just been a while, you know? Being held hostage and all,” you joked.

“I understand. We still don’t have to.”

“Steve,” you whispered in his ear.

“I want you. I want you to fuck me.”

You heard him growl lowly before he stood up with you and almost laid you on your back.

“Steve, I can’t lay on my back!” you laughed.

“Oh that’s right! I’m so sorry,” you both laughed for a second.

He set you down on your feet and stripped his shirt. Your eyes shot straight to his chest, your hands reaching out to touch his chest.  He smirked at you before taking his pants off leaving him in boxers; for now. He reached for your pants as well eyeing you to make sure he wasn’t moving to fast but after a smile and a nod he slowly pulled your own pants to join his discarded on the floor.  

He kissed your thighs that were slightly scarred from your time with hydra. He stood up and you pulled your shirt down off your shoulders letting it fall to the floor. Steve’s eyes watched your breasts. His hands reached for them as you did to his chest when he took his shirt off. 

You pulled in for another kiss until Steve had enough.

“I need to be inside you, baby girl,” he pulled his boxer down, taking your panties off after. He grabbed your hand sitting on the bed. His back leaned against the headboard and you crawled into his lap, your knees falling to either side of his hips. His hands rubbed up and down your thighs and hips.

He reached for a condom and handed it to you winking and smirking. You tore the foil with your teeth keeping direct eye contact with him, Steve getting harder and harder every second passing. Your took his cock in your hands, bigger than you thought it would be, and rolled the condom on squeezing a bit making his hips jerk up into your hand.

“Knock it off, pretty girl.”

You leaned forward and lined your entrance with his cock moving your hips around a bit teasing him before you actually sink down. Steve was so impatient though, he gripped your hips and thrusted quickly into you making you gasp loudly and moan not long after.

You moved quickly, breasts bouncing with each thrust. Steve groaned under you, fingers digging into your hips. 

“My angel. You feel so fucking good,” he grunted.

You simply whined and moaned, feeling euphoric being around Steve. Your wings moved along with you guys gracefully expanding further as you got closer to your oragsm. Steve’s hand moved up your body to wrap around your throat, his thrust getting more sporadic. He squeezed gently making your eyes roll back; your wings getting bigger.

“Your fucking perfect, angel. You gonna cum soon? You gonna cum around my cock?”

“Yes, Stevie. Oh god!” you moaned. 

Your moans got louder, echoing in the room. Skin slapping against each other mixing with the lude sounds of you both where you were connected. Steve released his hold on your neck and grabbed your waist moving wildly in and out of you. 

Your pussy pulsed around Steve’s cocked. When the pressure building in the pit your stomach finally bursted your wings fully expanded and your back arched. You felt Steve’s dick throbbing until it went soft inside you. You collapsed on his chest trying to catch your breath again. 

Steve moved you for a minute taking his cock out of you; discarding the condom in a trash bin. He grabbed a towel and iped you clean first then cleaning himself. He crawled into bed with you and you moved your knee over his hips as before making him laugh. 

“What’s wrong, angel?” you liked that name he gave you.

“Can you…?” you mumbled into his chest.

“What was that?”

“Can you put it back in?” you asked louder.

“My cock?” you nodded shyly.

“Anything for you, angel.”

You laid on his chest with his cock settled inside you and you dozed off. Steve lightly scratched your back after turning his bedside light off. Before he fell asleep he saw a soft glow of wings turning white. He questioned it but ultimately fell asleep. He’d ask you about it tomorrow morning.

================

You woke up with your head on Steve’s chest, naked limbs tangled with the sheets. Steve was on his phone, his hand scratching your head gently. 

“Good morning.”

“Morning, bug.”

“Sorry to keep you in bed,” you said sitting up; you pulled the sheet with you to cover your chest.

“Don’t be sorry, angel.”

“I’m really hungry.”

“Want to grab breakfast downstairs? We’ll come back up afterwards. We can cuddle some more,” Steve kissed you with a smile.

You stood up grabbing your shirt from last night and Steve handed you a pair of cledan boxers to wear. He dressed himself before walking with you downstairs to the kitchen. 

You walked into the kitchen first everyone’s eyes wide. You thought at first maybe it was because they might have heard you and Steve last night but Nat spoke up before you could ask.

“Your wings! Their white!”

“What?” you asked shocked. You opened your wings so you could see them in front of you to see that they were in fact white. 

“How did that happen?” Nat came up to you.

“They weren’t white last night.”

“They changed after you fell asleep, angel,” Steve spoke up; everyone’s heads snapping toward him, confused.

“They did?” you asked, he nodded and smiled coming up to you grabbing your hand.

“What the fuck?” Tony said.

“What the hell happened? I thought you guys hated each other?” Bucky asked.

“It’s a little complicated,” you said. 

“Ok but that doesn’t really explain why they’re white now,” Nat spoke up.

“I think it’s because I wasn’t truly happy and fully free of my past until yesterday. I was able to move on and now being with Steve now makes me happy.”

“Really?” Sam joked.

“Yes, really,” you laughed.

“This is gonna take some getting used to,” Tony said. 

“Did you guys…?” Nat asked suggestively.

Your eyes grew wide and you got hot. Steve only laughed which was enough of an answer for everyone. 

“As long as you’re both happy,” Bucky said.

“We are,” you looked up at Steve, wrapping your wings yourselves and shielding a heated kiss with Steve. 

[rosecolouredmind]

Savior

Nicholas Scratch x Reader

The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

Part Four:

The Angel of Mercy

First, it was his soul.

Nick never regretted the fact that he was born a warlock. He had powers, longevity, and led a lifestyle of envy. So, when he came of age, he signed on the dotted line in the Book of the Beast. Ever since then, the word ‘regret’ had never once entered his vocabulary.

There was a slim chance he’d ever be called upon to do something untoward, and if it did happen, well...what’s one sin in exchange for a life of frivolity and debauchery?

But next...it was his heart.

Lust, power, knowledge; dedicating his soul to the Dark Lord came with massive perks, and he wasn’t exactly complaining when one of them manifested in the appearance of Sabrina Spellman.

No...Sabrina Morningstar.

He couldn’t explain exactly how or why. His devotion, his loyalty; It had been stolen away by yet another Morningstar, his heart charmed and mind swayed. The powerful capabilities the young witch displayed did nothing but endear him to the demure, compassionate mor(t)ality she fought so hard to keep.

Sabrina Morningstar-Spellman was both the enticement and innocence of the flesh of the lamb... and it would have done Nick well to remember that the lamb is but the spawn of the Beast.

Suddenly, Nick found himself dancing a little too closely with the Devil; twin stars he pledged himself to ended up with him finally learning the word regret once the last pledge left his lips:

Nicholas Scratch, for the love of his life and the containment of it’s keeper, volunteered to be the flesh acheron.

And now, Nick found himself trapped in an everlasting Hell even the darkest of his nightmares couldn’t have begun to manifest.

The Baphomet and the lamb; the Degraded and the Pure. Both were sides of the same twisted fate he’d found himself a part of, desperate to escape. His mind had long since melted into a pool of chaos and intense fear. He’d tried countless ways to just end it all, if only Lucifer were so kind. He no longer had a life to speak of; just endless suffering and eternal doom. His life wasn’t supposed to be like this…

Not like this.

Nick thought himself a pretty gifted warlock, and had long since placed protection charms upon his mind and body should anything or anyone with malicious intention attempt to try him.

He doesn’t know what he was thinking at the time he convinced Sabrina, the coven, and himself that it was a good idea to use his own body as the flesh acheron, but he does admit that hubris and naivete played a part. And at the moment of that final “I love you” to Sabrina, he accepted his fate and was determined to face it no matter what happened to him.

Unfortunately for Nick, you can’t guard against the Devil.

Lucifer made quick work of him, and Nick soon found himself in a never-ending cycle of pain and torture he couldn’t have even fathomed beforehand. Suddenly, his life’s outlook was being eternally violated by the Dark Lord without reprieve. And from what it looked like, it was only a matter of time before he completely broke and the Dark Lord once again took up his mantle of dominating Hell and eventually Earth. All that would be left of Nick and his sacrifice would be any empty shell of a person who no longer knows how to exist as one.

So when the lamb arrived and saved Nick from the Baphomet, he supposed he should have been grateful. Happy, even. Nick had gone to Hell for Sabrina Spellman, and she’d gone to Hell to save him.

But as time still seemed to stretch on without end, he started to break.

Though it wasn’t exactly her fault, Sabrina could never understand what her father put him through because of her. Coupled with her lack of even really trying, her wish for him to just sweep everything under the rug and go back to how things were left him feeling more than a little resentful.

The resounding silence of his once scrambled mind did nothing but make for a much effective echochamber of his worst memories; memories which were exceedingly numerous and fresh. Nick looked for something, anything to fill up or dull that silence; most of which were methods not exactly healthy for him and definitely not healthy for his relationship.

It didn’t take long for the Morningstars to steal away Nicholas Scratch, and it was with resounding disgust that they spat back out all three parts of him they’d taken, broken beyond recognition.

Now stuck dealing with his many issues alone, the tortured boy clung to the only achingly fleeting memories that kept him grounded in rationality instead of spiraling into illusions of the dreadful abyss looming in his haunted mind. And as he replayed the images of the illuminating figure who reminded him that he was still human and that his heart was still beating, to his displeasure he’d found that he wished he had more.

She visited exactly 12 times.

Twelve blessed encounters, each one increasing his fervor more than the last; her presence was like a drug to Nick, a sustenance that he would easily admit to himself he couldn’t go without any longer.

While (Y/N) did explain to him that her powers were limited inside Hell and there wasn’t much of a chance she could directly free him, he couldn’t stop himself from pining after her whenever she was absent. At first, images of Sabrina had been what kept him going. He constantly reminded himself that she was probably doing all she could to save him, and when she actually did, he told himself that everything would finally be okay again.

Nick and Sabrina picked up exactly where they left off, eager to get back to each other again. He reminded himself, Satan be damned, he loved her; otherwise he’d have never sacrificed himself for her to begin with.

Nick had gone to Hell for Sabrina Spellman, was tortured by the Devil himself, and at the time, he had no regrets.

But things couldn’t go back to the way they used to be. He couldn’t go back.

That doesn’t mean that Sabrina didn’t try to help him in whatever way she could, but once she revealed her new royal status, Nick’s remaining feelings of responsibility towards the blonde Morningstar withered away along with the rest of the kinders of their relationship.

Nick was back amongst his coven, friends, lover; but he still felt so achingly alone and afraid all the time. He wanted to feel something, anything other than the despair Lucifer Morningstar so thoroughly imprinted into his being. Despite the love he told himself he felt for the little Morningstar, the literal spawn of his trauma, the only beacon he could rely on to keep him sane was the memory of you.

And as he reminisced on your serendipitous encounters, to his shame, he couldn’t help but compare.

After a while, it had become hard for Nick to separate the daughter from the father, the lamb from the Baphomet. In his intense resentment, he’d gotten to the point where his mind was becoming absolutely blank as it gave in to the invading presence of the sheer evil he’d been fighting against for so long…

And then an angel descended, and he’d nearly cried out in tears and praise for the false God.

It had taken him a while to realize that Lucifer’s presence couldn’t be felt anymore, and even longer to convince himself that it wasn’t a trick. He would close his eyes and see his demons warping beneath the surface, twisting his psyche into a weak, chaotic mess. He would open them and still see red, the color of a neverending hellscape created specifically to terrorize his soul and break him apart piece by piece, rebuilding and breaking again until nothing original was left. He saw despair, and he felt it as well. A gloom so deeply settled into his being that it would have been impossible to get rid of; a shell of the person he’d once been.

So no, Nick couldn’t tell you if his eyes were ever open or closed, because it made no difference to him at all. And one day in that eternity of Hell, Nick finally came to realize he regretted being all alone...

So, pray tell, when a lonely, broken boy suddenly feels someone wipe away his tears, what ever should he say?

He could only posture himself and pray.

The warmth and comfort his angel brought him blessed him with a near orgasmic experience, abruptly tugging him from the brink of despair. For a moment, he questioned if she, if he — was even real, or if Lucifer was really trying that hard to live up to his name as the harbinger of lost home and doom. But when the blessed hands caressed his face, and those saintly eyes pierced through the darkness forever in his view to meet his own, all he could feel was intense relief -- and shame.

Shame over who he was, where he’d gotten himself, and how he’d gotten there.

Surely someone who dedicated their life and soul to the Devil himself didn’t deserve the presence and grace of a literal angel in the darkest moment of his life?

So, with his eyes wide open once again, he cried. He cried at her grace, and at her mercy. Even after she coaxed him down from his delirium and explained who she really was, he wept at the sheer exuberance he felt that she even appeared -- let alone helped him -- just when he was forgetting what it felt to feel anything but pain and suffering. She was his angel, godly or not, and he thanked his lucky stars that it was his fate to be able to meet her in that moment.

Soon, between visits, it became her face, not Sabrina’s, that he’d found had kept him going. (Y/N) had become his symbol of hope, his new god, his only savior. Disillusioned with giving his life to people who only harmed him, (Y/N) became his new religion as he found himself praying to the stars and the Fates for her speedy return. Every time he was graced with her presence, he understood that whatever was written in the stars for him couldn’t have been so bad if he was able to meet her in between the lines.

And when Nick found himself finally out of Hell and in Sabrina’s arms again, he was fully prepared to keep his newfound faith close to his heart and out of the sight of others. Everything that had happened to him was incredibly personal, whether it be his time with you or with the Dark Lord. But when Sabrina revealed her new status as Queen of Hell to him and effectively admitted that everything he’d been through -- his sacrifice, his loss, his pain -- was all for nothing, Nick felt as if time had stopped and his heart had caved in.

He tried his hardest to be okay; with his life, with his coven, with Sabrina. He began coping in the only way he knew how, which admittedly did more harm than good. But without your presence to pull him from the brink, Nick found himself spiralling down the dark depths of his memories with no foreseeable end and without support. Eventually, the pent up resentment and mind games the Dark Lord still insisted on playing with him even after his escape got to him, and he lashed out. The Morningstars took everything from him; his heart, his body, his soul. The coven, Sabrina; no one actually understood him or the anguish he had experienced -- still experienced -- every second of his existence since that final pledge left his lips. The increased sense of isolation brought up his darkest thoughts and feelings, and soon he found himself not only cut off from Sabrina, but from the rest of the coven as well.

As the witches found themselves caught off guard by the arrival of the pagans, Nick instead would find himself staring up at the night sky, alone, searching for his hope.

And while the witches were more concerned with the moon, Nick was waiting for the stars.

As it was predestined, one very particular night Nick felt a very particular warmth bloom across his chest. He smiled, and smiled as wide as his face would allow at that. Because as he watched a very particular star fall from the sky, he knew finally:

The person he placed his faith in didn’t let him down.

*

Author’s Note: Here’s part 5! Next chapter should be out next Sunday.

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[twothumbsandnostakeincanon]

Little bit sick, little bit sleep deprived, but above all desperately in sudden need of a Corpse Bride au, but with polyamory like the original SHOULD have ended.

Like say the Argents are the old money family, whose money has actually run out after Gerard dumped all of it into hunting. It’s left Chris with nothing to give his daughter.

The Stilinskis are nouveau riche, and good people. John offers to help out Chris, possibly lend him money for stable investments that might help. Chris is embarrassed but grateful. Victoria is ashamed and suspicious.

She insists that the deal can only go through with a marriage of their children to ensure that the fates of their families are intertwined. John won’t be able to pull the money out from under them without it effecting his own son negatively.

Chris is 100% against it, ready to say absolutely not, but Allison steps in. She knows what their financial sitation is. Their house is falling apart around them. She’s willing to do whatever has to be done to save them.

John, for his part, is shocked by the request. He offered his help, and now they’re asking for his son? He’s ready to say no, to condemn Victoria’s interference, but Stiles, like Allison, steps in.

The Argents need help. Stiles is under no illusions as to how most marriages work. His parents’ was one of the very few that began for love rather than economic reasons. He’s never met Allison, but has heard enough about her from their social circles to think they’ll make passable partners. There’s really no reason to say no, especially not if it will save her family from poverty.

The arrangement is made, and they meet. It goes better than anyone could have hoped, honestly. Stiles is happy to find Allison clever and engaging, and Allison is relieved to find that Stiles seems to be very encouraging of her sportsmanship. It certainly doesn’t hurt that they make a gorgeous pair.

It’s not love at first sight, but it could easily grow into something beautiful.

The ceremony is rushed, what with a rather immediate need for money. The invitations are sent out to family and friends- the McCalls, the Hales, the Martins- but almost no one will be able to arrive until the day of the wedding. Luckily at least one family member is able to make it for the rehearsal dinner.

Allison always was a favorite of Aunt Kate.

Stiles is nervous, though. His ADHD doesn’t do memorization very well, and he cannot, for the fucking life of him, remember his vows. Despite quiet encouragement from Allison, the anxiety starts to overwhelm him and he has to step outside for a moment between courses.

He paces in the woods just out of sight for a bit, trying to remember the words.

“Your cup- this cup- ah fuck.”

He gives up and pulls the little sheet of paper out of the pocket, reciting the whole thing from beginning to end.

“With this hand I will lift your sorrows

Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine.

With this candle, I will light your way into darkness.

With this ring, I ask you to be mine.”

A sudden howl of wind tears through the grove of trees he stands in. Dead leaves swirl around him, and the ground beneath his feet begins to move, rolling as if it were being pulled like the tide. Stiles falls on his back.

A figure appears before him, a half decayed body dressed in a tattered suit, the space between exposed ribs showing the starry sky behind him.

“I do, darling.”

Stiles wakes up in a bar in the underworld. Convenient, as he’s honestly never been more prepared for a drink in his life. It’s too bad all of the drinks are for a deader liver than his.

The handsome corpse- can a corpse be handsome? Stiles spends a moment on the question, and decides that finding a corpse handsome is probably the least of the things he should be worrying about right now.

The corpse, who is by at least some definition handsome, introduces himself as Peter, and then turns around and immediately starts introducing Stiles as his husband.

“Uh, sir? Excuse me sir?”

“Oh ‘sir’ is it?” Peter says with a sinful smile and a raised eyebrow. “I can work with that.”

“No- I mean maybe- Wait, no, I can’t be your husband! I’m about to be someone else’s husband!”

“But you’re already mine,” Peter points out. “You asked and I said yes.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, I was just-“ Stiles waves a vague hand, “-talking.”

Peter frowns a little.

“But I said yes. We’re married now.” He shrugs a little, as if it’s no consequence. “I suppose if you’re really attached to them, they can be our husband too.”

“Wife,” Stiles corrects, wondering how a dead man is steering this conversation so successfully when he doesn’t even have all of his finger bones.

“Oh a wife! I’m not picky. It’s good to have variety.”

Meanwhile, above ground, Allison knows something must have happened to Stiles. Her mother is convinced that this is just the Stilinski’s trying to ruin their family name, and Chris is desperately trying to keep the peace between her on the warpath and John freaking out over his missing son. Allison tries to slip out with her bow to track him, but Kate catches her.

“You should stay here,” she says, guiding Allison back to her room. “Who knows what your mother will think if you disappear too?”

Allison argues, tries to reason with her, but before long she’s back in her room, listening to the lock of the door click behind her.

Frankly she’s shocked that Kate would take such an attitude about this. She’s always been supportive of Allison’s archery and tracking. Maybe even too supportive, because Kate’s attempts to stop Allison have zero affect on her. It’s just ten minutes later that Allison disappears into the woods after climbing out her window and down the side of the house.

Kate, meanwhile, is just thrilled that she doesn’t have to come up with her own diversion. The chaos of the missing fiancé will provide the perfect cover for her to intercept the Hales before they arrive, and finish killing them off.

Underground, Stiles discovers that if he listens closely, Peter reveals a lot in the spaces between words. Eventually Peter admits that he has to have a True Love Up Top in order to visit the living. And he has one very, very important visit to make.

“She promised to elope with your nephew, and then tried to murder him?” Stiles whispers, shocked.

“Wolfsbane,” Peter answers grimly, and to be honest, werewolves have been the most acceptable surprise Stiles has suffered today. “He got away. I didn’t.”

“Shit.”

They’re both silent for a minute.

The Stiles says, “Alright, well what are we waiting for? Let’s go kill her.”

Peter falls a little bit in actual love then.

When they get to Elder Gutknecht, Peter proudly lifts up his hand, showing off the ring rattling around the bone there, and says, “Gotta pop up for a bit and visit the in-laws!”

Elder Gutknecht peers closely at Stiles (who is trying not to think too hard about the purpose of glasses for a skeleton) and says, “What the hell have you done now, Peter.”

“You said I had to have a True Love who was still alive!” Peter says, stubborn. “This is my True Love, Stiles. The truest love. We’re married, even. That’s how in True Love we are. And he’s alive. Send us up, Gutknecht.” There’s more than a touch of threat to his tone by the end.

Elder Gutknecht, who was not prepared for this in seminary and honestly thought there would be more clouds and wings in his afterlife, says, “Fuck it. Drink this. You have 12 hours.”

Moments later, they’re standing in the grove where Stiles recited his vows on accident. Allison immediately drops down from a tree, bow pointed directly at Peter.

“Step away from my fiancé,” she growls, sounding utterly threatening and wolf-like in her own right.

“Oh, is this our wife?” Peter asks, delighted.

“Ally, where’s your Aunt Kate?” Stiles rushes to ask, stepping between them.

Allison lowers her bow, confused.

“She’s back at the house,” she says slowly. “At least I think so. She locked me in my room and I had to sneak out.”

Peter’s lost his sense of smell with the degrading of his body, but he still has other senses to rely on.

He hears coaches and horses.

Familiar coaches and horses.

His family is arriving.

Peter takes off running through the woods, Allison hot on his heels, not at all convinced that she doesn’t need to shoot him. Stiles falls behind, but manages to keep them in his sight.

Up ahead, Kate is lying in wait with wolfsbane smoke bombs, ready to disrupt the coaches and massacre the beasts within. Or she was ready, before her brother discovered her.

“Kate, you can’t do this,” he says through gritted teeth. “It’s murder. This is how our father destroyed our family.”

“It’s not murder to kill a wild animal,” she says, neither listening nor caring. The coaches appear. She throws a smoke bomb and opens fire. Peter hears everything from the tree line as he barrels toward them, and Allison sees what her Aunt has done.

Chris tries to tackle her but only succeeds in knocking her aim astray. The Hales are stumbling out of their coaches now, coughing and choking. Talia is trying to gather her betas, trying to asses the danger, but suddenly she sees the image of her dead brother and wonders if maybe they’ve already lost to whatever attacked them.

Then her brother leaps at a woman on the side of the road and rips her throat out.

Maybe not a ghostly spectre after all.

It’s all a bit of a Business™ after that.

Explanations are had, both past and present. Peter rushes things along a bit, because he only has like 11 hours left now and it’s going to take at least 9 to do the necromantic ritual that will bring him back to life, suck on that Elder Gutknecht.

Chris explains to Allison about their family’s hunting history. The Hales explain to Chris exactly what Kate had done. Stiles explains how he accidentally got married. Peter explains again that he really has to get moving now.

In the end, Stiles and Allison still get married. Peter is in attendance with the rest of the Hales, and at the reception somehow manages to get the second dance with both the bride and the groom.

He doesn’t give the ring back. He manages to get a third matching one in time for the ceremony though.

[peaceoutofthepieces]

you were my crown

chapter 2

Ao3

~^~

The crowd dissipated quickly, so much so that Jens was still a foot away when Berg gave Lucas’s arm a sharp tug and almost knocked him back off his feet. Jens’s heart skipped, and he moved a little faster to catch up with them as Berg hauled Lucas out of the room. Lucas was grimacing and doing his best to hide it, clearly biting back either a wince or a snappish complaint.

“Careful,” Jens snapped, and they both paused and looked at him. He glowered at the guard, trying to be stern rather than angry. “I hope this rough behaviour is not usual for you. Even if Lucas was not now a fellow member of our Court, he’s a person. You should treat people kindly. Release him, now.”

Berg did not seem mollified or ashamed. His gaze held only mild irritation as he scrunched his brow. “Queen ordered he’s to remain with a guard.”

“Perfect.” Sander materialised next to them, having slipped back in from the hallway along with Senne. He took Lucas’s free arm in a much gentler hold. “Then I may take it from here.”

Berg scowled. “The Queen—“

“Already decided our new friend here was to have his own personal guard, and will easily agree that person should be me. So, I believe I can take it from here,” Sander repeated. His smile charmed and threatened all at once.

Lucas stared at him dubiously, but he didn’t seem quite as irritated. He shuffled his feet and shifted his weight to lean in Sander’s direction, and Jens almost smiled.

It was clear that Sander wasn’t letting it go and none of the others were going to argue with him. Berg had no choice but to release Lucas with a shrug and depart with a half-hearted bow in Jens’s direction. Some of the tension finally seemed to leech out of Lucas, and it dissipated even further when Sander dropped his hold on him. There was a hesitation, in which Lucas was left looking between them all. He seemed to blank out Jens the most and linger on Senne the longest.

The eldest boy noticed, and looked back with vague amusement and intrigue. “You’re mistaken if you think I’m angry on my brother’s behalf. I can assure you that we aren’t very close.”

Lucas considered him with furrowed brows before giving a slight shake of his head. “Family is family. You may not be particularly angry, but there is no reason for you to take my side, either.”

It shouldn’t have been strange to hear Lucas speak. Jens had just listened to him give his testimony in this same room; his voice was not a surprise. It just seemed different, up close and in a more private setting. They were close. Now Jens could not only see Lucas’s lips as they moved, but also the small mole above them. He could see the individual grains of dust and dirt in the smudge on his cheek. He could hear his voice next to him and imagine it becoming familiar.

“I think our concepts of family are a little different,” Senne said, smile going a little tight.

Lucas tilted his head, but nodded in acceptance.

Senne nodded back, then whirled on Jens with brows raised. “You are truly terrible at your job. Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Jens frowned, but refrained from rolling his eyes. “Clearly the two of you need no introduction, but fine. Lucas,” he said, trying not to think too much about how this was his first time addressing the boy directly, “this is Senne de Smet, the head of my personal guard, and Sander Driesen, who is now apparently the sole member of yours.”

Sander raised his brows at him, but winked at Lucas. “You’re welcome.”

Lucas did a slow examination of him, eyes trailing him from head to toe. Jens tried not to feel put out, but Lucas had barely even glanced in his direction and he had been the one to just save Lucas’s life. Sander had taken what should have been his line.

“Your hair is white,” Lucas noted, in the same factual manner that one may mention the weather. “How did you get it like that?”

“Magic,” Sander said.

Lucas blinked, and frowned, but didn’t quite scowl. He seemed begrudgingly grateful to Sander for saving him from the manhandling, and he was still flicking his gaze over said white hair as if trying to figure out the trick. Maybe it wouldn’t be a total disaster.

“Sander is also a member of my guard and a friend,” Jens said, finally gaining Lucas’s attention. The sky-like blue eyes focusing on him with such intent again made him falter, but he gathered himself quickly. “My mother will easily allow him the position with you because she already trusts him to protect me. So if you are happy with it, there should be no problem.”

It was oddly terrifying, to be the subject of Lucas’s scrutiny. Jens was used to being the center of attention. He wasn’t comfortable with it, but it rarely made him squirm. Lucas’s gaze on him, however, sent his mind spiraling and caused a low heat in his stomach that quickly spread up into his cheeks. The weight of what he had done hit him suddenly. This boy that he did not know was now his responsibility. He had taken Lucas’s life into his hands by saving it from the hanging post. Lucas was allowed to live, but this most basic right now came with conditions, that Jens would be forced to set and uphold.

He could now understand, very clearly, why Lucas may not have been grateful.

It was confirmed when Lucas finished his examination and instantly looked away again, offering a shrug. “I don’t think it matters what I am happy with.”

“It does.”

Jens had barely opened his mouth to make the protest before Sander beat him to it. He had been looking at Jens, but he turned his attention back to Lucas before continuing to speak.

“I know you are already being forced into service, but Jens was not thinking of that when he made the suggestion. None of us are wishing to make you miserable.” Sander hesitated. “Although Her Majesty may have some reservations.”

Senne grinned and clapped Jens’s shoulder. “But clearly His Royal Highness here can match her resistance.”

Lucas did not seem entirely convinced.

Jens wasn’t sure how to persuade him, but he had to at least try to make this clear. “They are both right. I didn’t mean to imprison you, but I could not let you be killed.”

“Why?” The question was quiet—almost hesitant. The stubborn set to Lucas’s spine had never left, but his expression had softened slightly, trying to let something through.

Jens couldn’t decipher any of the faint emotions yet, but maybe he would be allowed to learn if he got this right. “Because you don’t deserve it,” Jens said simply. “Because I looked at you and felt that you were good, and I believe you can prove it to those who mistrust you easily. You just needed someone to give you the chance.”

Lucas stared. Then he said, “I was not looking for a savior.”

This time, Jens found himself smiling, and was surprised to realise it was genuine. He shrugged. “Too bad.”

|*~^~*|

Jens was staring too much.

He knew this, and yet he couldn’t quite get himself to stop. He would force himself to look away, and within seconds his gaze would be back on Lucas. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, he was just looking. There was either nothing especially interesting about Lucas, or everything about Lucas was interesting. Jens had to admit that he was leaning towards the latter.

The truth was, he had no idea what he had gotten himself into and was now desperately trying to figure it out.

It was likely a little late, with Lucas already in his chambers.

Sander was also with them, as promised, leaning against the left pillar of Jens’s bed with Jens sat on the end. Sander was alternating his attention between Jens and Lucas, but Jens had mostly zoned his presence out. Sander was familiar enough and Lucas was intriguing enough that Jens could easily decide where to focus his attention.

After a stint of awkward silence, Lucas had taken to wandering around the room. He examined everything visible, which was mostly just the furniture. Jens actually had few belongings, and they were all tucked away in some cupboard, drawer, alcove, or another. Lucas hovered his hands over a few objects, like the few intricate pieces of jewellery lying around and the clothes hung on the door of the wardrobe. He only hovered, however, as if imagining the touch but not quite allowing himself to go through with it. It made it hard for Jens to believe he was a thief, and a small voice in his head suggested to him that this may be the point.

“You get used to how expensive and fancy everything is after a while,” Sander told Lucas. “Well, sort of.”

Lucas brushed his hand over the mahogany table. “When you are able to have your own expensive and fancy things, you mean? I don’t think we can relate.”

This was enough to make Sander frown at him. “I’ve been here over a year and still haven’t embellished myself with anything fancy.”

“Your hair,” Lucas reminded him.

“Yes, well.” Sander paused. “If you want to be picky.”

Lucas drew his hand away from the wood and folded his arms, looking up at Sander. “I don’t, but I’m not sure what else I’m supposed to do.”

Sander pursed his lips and looked at Jens.

Jens stood, somewhat hastily, and cleared his throat. Lucas was still wearing the same blank, unimpressed expression, and it was rather nerve-wracking. “You can relax, for now. I’ll know better what the plan is when I speak to my mother.”

“A slow and silent death, I’m sure,” Lucas muttered.

“No harm will come to you,” Jens insisted. “I’ll make sure of that.”

Lucas simply stared at him again. His arms crossed a little tighter around himself, pressing his thin tunic to his body in defense or from a chill. Jens glanced to make sure the window wasn’t open, but it was bolted tight. The fire had not been lit yet, but that would become one of Lucas’s jobs now, so Jens wasn’t quite willing to bring it up.

“Why?” Lucas asked.

Jens blinked. “Why what?”

“Why do you promise such a thing? How can you?”

Ah. Jens thought the answer should have been fairly simple. “I’m the Prince.”

He didn’t use a haughty or degrading tone, and it still seemed to sour Lucas further. His lips twisted back into that frown and he turned his gaze to glare into the space between Jens and Sander. The silence was broken only by the sound of Sander’s foot tapping against the stone floor, a rapid motion that meant he was silently as anxious as Jens. Sander didn’t do well with confrontation or silence.

“And I’m your—still unofficial—guard. Jens can assure you that no one will harm you because I won’t let them,” Sander said, with an oddly cheerful tone.

Lucas turned his unimpressed gaze on him. “You are my guard to ensure I won’t do harm.”

“I thought we weren’t being picky,” Sander muttered. Then, clearer, “You don’t strike me as a threat. And anyway, whatever the case, I’m meant to watch over you, am I not? So the death wish is going to have to wait.”

“I don’t have a death wish. I just neither wish to be here.”

Jens plopped back down onto the edge of his bed and sighed.

There were sudden, heavy raps on his door before he could think of anything else to say, and now he wanted to sigh in relief. Someone was likely here to tell him his mother was waiting to speak with him, and he’d get a brief reprieve from Lucas’s large presence while getting some of his questions answered. He wasn’t looking forward to a possible argument with the Queen, but he could use a breather.

Only it wasn’t a servant come to fetch him, but Moyo’s voice that called from outside. “Jens, you in there? We’re tired of waiting for you.”

Jens winced. He had completely forgotten his friends were still here and expecting him to rejoin them. He’d gotten sidetracked, and Sander was stuck with him. They likely had been in the library since Jens left and had heard nothing of the meeting.

There were a few mutters and more bangs before the door swung open, revealing a sheepish Robbe with Moyo and Aaron behind him. “Sorry, they knew you wouldn’t get mad at me,” Robbe said, flushed, and Jens sighed again.

Sander pushed away from Jens’s bed to coo at him, already grinning before Robbe was even fully in the room. Sander reached him and slid an arm around his shoulders to drag him in. “No one can ever be mad at you,” Sander agreed, pinching Robbe’s cheek.

Robbe batted him away, but leaned into his side with another apologetic smile towards Jens. Then he finally noticed Lucas.

“Uh,” Moyo said. “Who’s this?”

Lucas looked startled at the presence of the others, and downright skittish at being addressed directly. He shifted back and forth on his feet, mouth opening and closing a few times before he looked at Jens.

Jens nodded at him. “This is Lucas van der Heijden. He’s just earned himself the position of my manservant.”

“Uh,” Aaron said. “Why?”

Robbe was the only one to smile brightly and approach Lucas. “Oh! Hi.” He stuck out his hand to the other boy. “I’m Robbe.”

Lucas stared at him for a moment before carefully taking his hand. “I—yes. I know who you are.”

Robbe flushed again, but shook Lucas’s hand kindly before stepping back to Sander’s side. “Jens has never had a manservant,” he noted. He looked at Jens curiously, and Jens wondered what he saw. Robbe had always known him better than he knew himself—perhaps he would be able to make sense of Jens’s mad decision and how he should feel about it now. Jens would have to talk to him in private, and then he might sort his thoughts out.

“It’s quite a long story,” Jens said.

Sander pulled a face at him. “Well, the whole event hardly lasted ten minutes.”

“Weren’t you at a trial?” Robbe asked, confused. “Or when did you meet Lucas?”

Jens looked at Lucas, who stared blankly back at him. Jens couldn’t tell if this meant Lucas didn’t care what Jens told them or if he simply thought he had no say in the matter. It wasn’t quite the permission Jens was looking for, so he waited.

Lucas’s brow furrowed, and then he answered Robbe on his own. “At the trial. It appears washing clothes and carting food is my punishment.”

They all blinked at him before turning to stare at Jens. Sander appeared at once exasperated and pleased, raising his brows at Jens as if to say ‘See how easy it is?’.

“That seems a little harsh.” Moyo eventually broke the silence, laughing slightly. “What did you do?”

“My mother would rather have sentenced him to death,” Jens said sharply, and Moyo’s mouth snapped shut. “His crimes were not worthy of that, so I had to think on the spot.”

Aaron’s eyes were wide. “So you—you saved him, or what?”

Lucas huffed, but Jens nodded in both agreement and satisfaction. It was done now, whether Lucas liked it or not, and Jens was not about to take back his word and let Lucas get himself into further trouble. If anything, Lucas appeared sullen and reserved, not a troublemaker.

His mother probably would not notice the difference.

There was another stretch of silence, and then Robbe clasped his hands together and rocked on his heels. “Well, I trust Jens’s judgment. If he wishes to befriend you, I hope to do the same.”

“I am to be a servant,” Lucas said evenly. “Not a friend.”

For some reason, Jens felt a pang at this. It was becoming clear Lucas did not appreciate him in any way, and was not interested in any involvement with him at all. The fact that he now had no choice in the matter likely only darkened his feelings on it. He was back to looking anywhere but at Jens, and Robbe seemed to notice, flitting his gaze back and forth between them in concern. Sander noticed this and tugged Robbe back to his side, ruffling his hair fondly.

“Well, I think that makes you the most interesting person in here,” Moyo told Lucas, “and if our Prince is too prissy to be friends with you, I’ll do it.”

“Uhm.” Lucas looked taken aback by the offer, then ready to flee. Thankfully, Moyo and Aaron were still standing in the doorway and Lucas seemed to be attempting to keep his distance. It was likely he wouldn’t attempt to run and muscle past them. For everyone’s sake, Jens really hoped he wouldn’t.

Moyo raised a brow at him. “Or not.”

“Nice job,” Aaron mumbled, elbowing Moyo in the gut and causing him to double over slightly. “You scared him off within five minutes.”

“No,” Lucas said hastily, surprising all of them. He seemed to falter again under the combined attention. “I just mean—I just don’t know you.”

Robbe offered him another gentle smile. “Well, you will get to. I hope we won’t bother you too much.”

Lucas appeared to soften slightly, becoming at ease as one tended to do when under Robbe’s kind gaze. Jens would definitely have to speak to him. It was likely Robbe would be the best help to all of them, not just Jens alone. He would be able to keep Sander in line, at the very least, if the knight happened to build up to Lucas levels of irritated.

“Of course we won’t, you’ll learn to love us.” Moyo grinned and went to punch Lucas’s arm amicably, only for Lucas to flinch away. Moyo instantly dropped his hand and blinked, concern and apology flickering over his expression.

Lucas looked embarrassed. “Sorry. The guards here—well, they have not been the most gentle or welcoming, the past few days.”

“Did they hurt you?” Jens demanded, taking a step forward.

Lucas’s expression smoothed over again, and he regarded Jens. It would have seemed like interest, if only Lucas didn’t appear more disinterested in him than everyone else already. “No,” he said. “They just know they are stronger than me and liked reminding me of it, I think.”

“It’s not like that with us,” Moyo assured him firmly. “Friendly roughhousing is the most you’ll get, but we don’t do it to hurt. We’re not violent.”

Lucas, of course, eyed Sander and the sword clipped to his hip.

“I’m not a knight because I’m interested in fighting,” Sander informed him. Jens was surprised to find him calm rather than defensive, but he didn’t seem to dislike Lucas, and Robbe had a gentle hand on his wrist. “We’re not trained to cause harm, only to defend and protect. I have never once fought anyone outside of training or friendly tournaments. Some of the others, they aren’t good examples, and if you wish to give me their names, I’ll gladly speak to them for you.”

It did not help Lucas’s wariness, Jens thought, to end with such a comment and a shark-like smile. Jens himself winced internally at the thought of such a ‘conversation’ with Sander. It was true that Sander wouldn’t hurt a fly, even if the fly was doing it’s best to provoke him, but he could be fiercely—and therefore, terrifyingly—protective.

But after another short moment of consideration, Lucas seemed content with what he found. His lips even quirked at the corners as he gave Sander a curt nod and lightly responded, “I don’t think any of them introduced themselves, but thank you. I will keep that in mind.”

Sander nodded back, pleased.

Jens wished he felt the same, but there was still a prick of something in his chest. It would be good, for Lucas to get along with these people, Jens thought, and especially Sander, who he would apparently be spending the most time with. He just couldn’t help but be upset that Lucas didn’t seem to find it as easy with him. It wasn’t that Jens expected the boy to be awed, or even entirely grateful, but in the short time they had known each other there had only been an icy, distant tension. Lucas was unwilling to be grateful, or to even let Jens see him.

It did not bode well for how close they were now supposed to become. Jens knew, of course, that servants weren’t friends and he wasn’t necessarily expected to get along with Lucas, but they would be in close quarters and spending a lot of time together. There would have to be trust between them.

Jens was beginning to wonder how he would ever manage that.

“Sorry, I know it disrupts your plans,” he told Moyo and Aaron. “Whatever they were.”

Moyo shrugged. “You’re doing your thing. But we’re still staying the night, right?” He nudged Aaron and waited for the other to nod before allowing a grin. “So, we’ve got plenty of time to get to know each other.”

“Wonderful,” Jens muttered under his breath.

Lucas frowned at him, back with that considering gaze, having obviously overheard. That meant the other boys probably had, as well, but none of them mentioned it.

Robbe cleared his throat. “So have you already been shown around, Lucas?”

“No.” Lucas hesitated. “I don’t think we’re sure of what is allowed or expected of me, yet.”

“No, but I should probably go find out,” Jens sighed.

Robbe considered him and then shared a glance with the other boys. “We can go, then, and meet with you after?”

Jens nodded gratefully, glad that neither Moyo or Aaron grumbled too much either. They said their goodbyes and departed again, and Lucas’s shoulders relaxed slowly. Robbe made to follow them, but paused and turned back when he noticed Sander didn’t move with him.

“You’re not joining us?” Robbe questioned, curious.

“No, I have to stay.” Sander gestured between Lucas and Jens with disappointment flickering over his expression. “Sorry.”

Robbe’s face fell, but the smile returned quickly as he nodded. “Okay. I’ll just see you later, too.” He turned his smile on Jens, turned it wide and reassuring, and glanced at Sander once more before he left.

Sander looked after him mournfully, slumping back against the bed again and crossing his arms over his chest. Jens was only realising how much of a sacrifice his friend had offered to make, signing up to be Lucas’s personal shadow. It would be unfair to ask him to give up so much freedom—Jens would have to make his mother understand this, too, which might not be the easiest feat. He would have to try, though, or Robbe would end up mad at him and that was the last thing he needed. He might have been Robbe’s best friend, but so was Sander. It didn’t matter that Jens had known Robbe his whole life and Sander only a little over a year; Jens wasn’t willing to challenge that relationship.

He had a feeling he would lose.

“I expected someone to come get me, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she was purposefully making us wait just to be spiteful,” Jens sighed, glancing over Lucas. “What you said, about the other guards—you’re sure you’re alright?”

Lucas nodded, though glanced down at himself, at the dust and dirt staining his clothes and skin. He rubbed at a mark on the hem of his shirt and flushed, but simply shrugged. “Nothing a jug of water can’t fix.”

“When I get back, I’ll take you to Milan and we can get you new clothes.”

Lucas looked up and narrowed his eyes at him. “There’s nothing wrong with my clothes. At least, again, nothing that water can’t fix. I don’t need anything from you.”

“No, I didn’t mean…” Jens trailed off, blushing. He cleared his throat and tried again, shaking his head in denial. “That’s not what I was trying to say. I just meant, for now, and as an apology, we could get you something. Because I guess you don’t want to take your pick of my wardrobe.”

Sander snorted. Lucas merely slid his gaze down the length of Jens and back up before shaking his head.

“You’ll like Milan,” Sander said reassuringly. “Everyone seems to. But while Jens buggers off, how about I give you that tour?”

Jens felt an immediate protest build up in him. He had hoped to give Lucas a tour himself. There was no real reason for him to protest, however. He didn’t need to be there for anything Sander couldn’t explain on his own. The knight was well familiarised with the castle by now and more than capable of showing Lucas.

Still, Lucas looked to Jens first as if awaiting confirmation.

“That would save time later,” Jens allowed. “And as long as you don’t try to make a break for it I can’t see how it would be a problem.”

Sander’s sharp grin returned, but it seemed almost cheerful. “I’m sure we’ll manage.”

Jens nodded, and still hesitated. Eventually, though, he gave a nod and strode through them towards the door. “Hopefully this won’t take long. I’ll meet you both back here. Don’t take him near my mother’s chambers,” he reminded Sander, almost as an afterthought. “That could be another potential problem.”

Sander gave him a mock bow and waved him away. Jens resisted the urge to roll his eyes and left a last look towards Lucas, who had already distracted himself and didn’t meet his gaze. Jens took a steadying breath and pulled the door open, trying to figure out where his mother would be at this stage. He was only a few steps down the hall when the door opened again behind him.

“I—Your Highness,” Lucas called, hesitant, and Jens froze and turned around. Lucas had come after him and held out a hand as if to reach for him, but now it simply floated in the air between them. Lucas hastily let it drop back to his side and straightened his shoulders before looking carefully at Jens. “I just want to know if I will be able to return home.”

Jens frowned, confused. “Of course. Why would you not be?”

Lucas swallowed, shaking his head. “I just assumed your moth—Her Majesty, wanted me to remain under watch. But I would like to return even just to explain. My mother…”

“Of course you will be allowed to go home,” Jens cut him off, softly. “Regardless of the reason. You should not have to ask. I will make my mother see sense, do not worry.”

Finally, Lucas offered him a smile. It was strained, tight and disbelieving, but it still seemed to soften his face. Jens’s heart still beat at his ribs at the unexpected sight of it, as well as the soft cadence of Lucas’s voice when he murmured, “Thank you.”

His home, and his mother, Jens realised. They were what held importance to Lucas, what held weight. It was all he had cared about during the trial and all he cared about still. He had not thanked Jens for saving his life, but he thanked him for the mere promise of a return home.

Jens understood that Lucas clearly did not wish to be here, and hoped he had not sentenced the boy to something that felt worse than death.

|*~^~*|

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

It was not the first time Jens had been in this position. He was in his mother’s study, feeling small even as he stood looking down at her. Usually, there were papers and books scattered around, but now everything was neatly tucked away into the waist-high bookshelf or in a careful pile on the dark wooden table. His mother sat at the other side of it with her usual regal air, her brown waves of hair pinned neatly into place and hands overlapping on the table. She was overall rather calm, but there was a chill demand to her tone that made Jens duck his head.

“I know that I shouldn’t have spoken out against you, and I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I am. But I couldn’t just let you kill him. It would have been wrong.”

“What makes you so sure?” she demanded.

Jens looked up at her, steeling his own expression to match her iron one. “What makes you so sure he is guilty? He said he didn’t steal it.”

“Of course a criminal is going to plead innocence.”

“You had no proof. Maybe if you’d had a witness, but this isn’t enough. I don’t know what you saw in there, but I believe him,” Jens insisted.

His mother considered him closely, eyes racking over him and looking for any crack in his armour, any flinch or falter. Jens was more than familiar with the tactic, but he wasn’t usually the one under such scrutiny. It was quite like the way she’d looked at Lucas, in fact; she appeared displeased at what she saw.

Finally, she curled her hands together and tilted her head. “How do you know you haven’t just given him exactly what he wants?”

“A second chance?”

“An easy kill.”

Jens just managed to bite back a scoff, but a smile threatened closely. “Lucas is not going to kill anyone.”

“He had a sword,” she reminded him. “I did not realise you were already on a first name basis.”

“How else should I refer to him?” Jens raised a brow, then immediately let it drop again to squint against the light sharpening in the window.

She sighed, then further broke her composed facade by raising a hand to her head. She’d glanced down as well, closing her eyes tiredly as she rubbed her fingers against her temple. “Why do you feel so strongly about this?”

“Why do you?” Jens retorted. As expected, she didn’t respond. He let his arms fall from where they were tucked behind his back and reached his hand out to cover her’s. “There is something you’re not telling me, isn’t there? You don’t give a sentence like that out as if it’s nothing. You’re fair, just. Even if he had stolen the sword, what harm would he have been if we’d just taken it back? It’s not enough of a crime to warrant his death.”

She spoke lowly. “That is not your decision to make.”

“No. But I asked you not to, and you agreed. It would look worse for you to go back on your word, now. And if you did,” he added lightly, “it would not be with my support.”

After a moment, she sighed again. She leaned back in her chair and looked up at him, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. It may as well have been his own eyes staring back at him, as familiar and similar as they were, only hers were wiser and wrinkled. They were also dark, as if the hour or so since the trial had utterly exhausted her. She turned her hand over in his to clasp them together, then squeezed. “Of course I won’t go back on my word. Certainly not against you.”

Jens let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding and allowed himself to smile. She seemed to soften in the face of it, and he squeezed her hand back.

“Mathias wasn’t pleased with you,” she said tiredly.

Jens blinked. At first, it took him a moment to figure out why the man he rarely spoke to would have any reason to be upset with him. He only ever seemed irate when Ellis bothered to get herself into ‘unnecessary trouble’, and he had to actually do something as Head Guard. “Did someone bother you, after the trial? I didn’t mean to undermine you.”

“And you did not.” She dismissed the notion with a flick of her hand. “At least, I hope no one would think such a thing. Mathias is upset on his son’s behalf.”

Realisation hit quickly. “I’d think he should be upset with his son, for losing his own damn sword and not alerting us to the issue immediately. Anyway,” Jens could not help but add, “Viktor is not his. They’ve never been close.”

“It was stolen, not lost.”

Jens drew his hand away from hers to scrub it over his face. This was not what he wanted and exactly what he expected. “We can’t keep going in circles,” he said. “One of us has made a mistake, and we may never find out who, but a decision has already been made now. We can’t keep going back and forth. We need to go forward.”

She looked at him silently for another moment, then shook her head. “I suppose we do. I’ll start by designating him a guard—“

“You don’t have to,” Jens interrupted.

She narrowed her eyes at him, unimpressed.

“Not because I think he doesn’t need one, but because he already has one. Sander volunteered himself.”

“Sander?” Ellis took a minute to consider this, brows drawn together.

This was the main thing Jens desperately wanted to work. He had thought it wouldn’t be that hard. “Sander’s already there to look out for me, and Lucas seems to cooperate with him. Sticking him with one of your surly crowd will not be of any benefit to him. And you know Sander. You know he is trustworthy.”

She hummed. “I adore Sander. I am not sure I want him in harm’s way.”

“He’s a knight,” Jens reminded her. Then he couldn’t help adding, “And Lucas is no threat.”

“Yes, yes, so you’ve said,” she rolled her eyes. “For your sake, I hope you’re right. Yours and Sander’s, I suppose.”

Jens grinned. It wasn’t entirely a blessing, but it was permission. It was a start. He sobered up quickly, however, as he cleared his throat. “In regards to that...what do you intend him to do? If Lucas is to be my manservant, Sander can’t possibly be with him all the time.” He resisted the urge to squirm. “Feels rather inappropriate. Besides, it is unfair to ask such a thing of anyone, never mind Sander.”

“The boy should not be alone with you, especially in such close or intimate contact,” she insisted.

“But that’s the point of a manservant, and that’s what you agreed to. Lotte and Lies have their own maids, and I think I’ve scared most of them off by now.”

His mother blew out a breath and mumbled something inaudible, raising that hand to her head again. “Sander will move to a room closer to yours. He will accompany you both to any events or activities inside or outside of this castle. But he has his own jobs, so Lucas will carry out his chores on his own. At least this way he will have no one to cover up any mistakes he makes.”

Jens winced slightly at that, at the suggestion in her challenging expression. But he was blindly trusting Lucas already; he had to show confidence in him now. He gave a curt nod.

“I will discuss this with them both myself, of course,” she added. “And I will make it clear to Lucas what his duties are, as well as the consequences for his failures.”

“He won’t fail.” Jens wouldn’t let him. Lucas was appearing stubborn, but he wasn’t stupid. Jens would just have to work a little to get through to him.

Ellis simply hummed again. Then she waved her hand and looked down at the table, pulling a nearby bundle of papers closer to her. “Then I believe that’s all I require of you until I can speak to them directly.”

Jens’s heart pinched at the blatant dismissal, but he gave a nod before remembering. “There is one more thing I wanted to ask.”

She glanced up at him in an indication to continue.

“I know that not all of the servants choose residency in the castle,” he said slowly. The way she was eyeing him made him nervous, as if she knew where this was going and was already prepared to deny him. He steeled himself. It was the only thing Lucas had asked of him. “I also know this is a rather special circumstance, and I don’t know what your plans were for Lucas, but I think he would like to stay at home.”

She blinked at him. “You think.”

“Yes. Or, well, I know. At the very least, he will have to go home to fetch his belongings,” Jens tried.

It didn’t seem to be working. In fact, she seemed more unimpressed by the second. “He should still be in the cells, not wandering where he pleases. No. Someone else can go get his things.”

“Or someone could take him,” Jens suggested. He was aware that he sounded rather desperate, and swallowed at his mother’s questioning look. He just knew that if he failed at this, it would be even harder to reach Lucas. The boy still wouldn’t trust him, and he certainly wouldn’t like him. But if Jens could do this, then maybe it would break away some of that barrier. Lucas had seemed so genuinely hopeful, even while prepared for disappointment. Jens didn’t want to see him accept it. He wanted to see that smile again. “I could take him.”

This did not earn him the points he was looking for. “You,” she said, incredulous.

“And Sander,” Jens said sheepishly, and she scoffed. “Think about it,” he insisted. “He won’t hurt anyone in his own home, it’ll be a good way to prove that this can work. We’ll just end up turning him against us if you keep treating him so badly.”

She narrowed her eyes at this, and Jens realised his overstep but made no attempt to take the words back. It might have been harsh, but it was the truth. If they didn’t work with Lucas themselves, how did she expect to even be deserving of his loyalty?

“You will take him home,” she said finally. “And he will stay there tonight. If he behaves and starts off his duties properly tomorrow, then the arrangement can stay in place. If he does not show up he will be hunted down.”

Jens winced again, even as relief flowed through him. He gave her a nod. “That’s fair.”

She nodded back, then raised a brow as she gripped at her papers. “Now, is that all?”

He grinned and agreed, bowing swiftly before letting himself out.

|*~^~*|

He disliked the thought of going back to his room and waiting around for Lucas to return with Sander. It hadn’t taken him long to speak to his mother, certainly not as long as it would take for Sander to show Lucas around. He was tempted to seek them out, join them, but he had no idea where they were and with his luck, he’d miss them at every turn. He didn’t fancy wandering around on his own only to have to return to his room and find them waiting for him.

Instead, he chanced going to Robbe’s room and was pleased to find his friend alone there.

“Where are the others?” he asked as Robbe let him in.

Robbe shrugged. “Aaron wanted to see Amber, and Moyo wanted to laugh at him.”

“Ah.” Jens grinned. He had to admit, it was always entertaining, watching Aaron flounder and fuss around the girl, but Robbe was too kind to find it quite as funny as Jens and Moyo did. It still usually brought a slight smile to his face, however, that was certainly not present now as Robbe flopped back on his bed, shirt slipping up to show a strip of pale skin above his waistband before he tugged it back down, leaving his hand there to fidget with the hem. His expression was bleak as he gazed past Jens, and Jens furrowed his brow. “You didn’t feel like going with them?” he questioned lightly.

Robbe shook his head, shrugging again. An awkward feat, considering he was laying down. He scrubbed a hand over his face as Jens undid the buttons of his jacket. “Maybe if Sander had come with us, but.” He stopped and made another wriggly, dismissive gesture.

Understanding sunk in. Jens glanced at him as he fought with the buckle around his waist, then gave it his full attention when it refused to budge. He cursed under his breath when it just pulled tighter, and then Robbe was sitting up and gently batting his hands away. He deftly undid the belt with light fingers and flicked Jens’s arm before retreating.

“Thanks,” Jens murmured, smiling gratefully as he finally shrugged the jacket off and was once again left in his tunic.

“Still can’t dress yourself, I see,” Robbe quipped.

Jens settled himself on the bed as well and swatted at him. “Technically, this is undressing.”

“Difference?”

“One leaves you with more clothes, the other with less.”

“Both you need help with.”

“How about you try wearing all this crap for a day?” Jens grumbled, tucking an arm behind his head and trying to get comfortable while Robbe laughed at him.

Robbe cleared his throat and looked over at him. “I suppose this is why you need a manservant.”

“Yeah.” Jens pursed his lips, taking in Robbe’s innocently curious gaze. “My lovely mother seems to think I’ve ordered my own death.”

Robbe’s lips twitched. “I can’t imagine what he could’ve done to get such opposite responses from the two of you.”

“Whose side are you on?”

“Yours, of course,” Robbe said, and Jens smiled. Robbe rolled his eyes. “Just because he didn’t seem that bad. Quiet and a little guarded, maybe, but not bad. But if the Queen is asking me who I think is right—“

Jens waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, save yourself, I know.”

Robbe laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners as he patted Jens’s hand comfortingly. He seemed a little more like himself, falling easily into the banter and teasing, but after the short lapse of silence that followed he turned solemn again.

“I wanted to talk to you about it,” Jens admitted, and Robbe’s gaze sharpened with interest. “The whole thing was almost accidental. I laughed when she sentenced him to death.”

“You what?” Robbe blinked.

Jens hummed. “It was a disaster, honestly. I didn’t have a choice then, I didn’t have time to think. I just said the first things that came to mind. Now...well, you’ve met him. He doesn’t want to be here at all, and he seems to hate the sight of me.”

“He probably just doesn’t know what to make of all this, either,” Robbe said, voice soft. “It’s not everyday you get a personal favour from the Prince, or just a new job in general. Combine the two and it’s likely a little much.”

“Maybe he really will kill me.”

Robbe huffed, shoving at him as he shook his head. “What did your mother say? When you went back to see her. That’s where you came from, right?”

Jens nodded. “She just agreed that she couldn’t go back on her word now, and Lucas asked me to find out if he could go home. She agreed, as long as Sander and I accompany him.”

Robbe’s gaze shuttered again, then he smiled and said, “That’s good.”

“She wanted a guard assigned to Lucas, the whole time, but I convinced her that wasn’t practical. It helps, that she has a soft spot for Sander. He’ll only have to accompany us to events, which he often does with me anyway.”

At this, Robbe finally brightened, even as his shoulders sagged in relief. “Oh. That’s good.”

Jens hummed, no longer able to hide his smile. “I thought you wouldn’t have been pleased with us, otherwise.”

“I just,” Robbe hesitated, reaching up to tug at his curls. “I worried it would take up a lot of time, I guess. I didn’t know what the deal was.”

“Sander never turns you down.”

“No,” Robbe agreed, though he again seemed a little hesitant.

Jens smiled. “Well, now you don’t have to worry. He’s not going anywhere. Well, actually he’s moving room, but only to be closer to me, so that should actually make it easier for you.”

Robbe seemed a little surprised by that, but accepted it with a nod. “And you?”

“What about me?”

“Yes, what about you?”

Jens’s brow furrowed.

“I imagine it’ll take up a lot of time for you,” Robbe elaborated.

“Oh,” Jens said, softening. “It won’t be that different, really. He’s just taking on the jobs already done by other servants. There’s nothing new.”

Robbe seemed unimpressed. “He’s new.”

Jens supposed he couldn’t argue with that. He couldn’t lie to Robbe, either. Lucas would be a new fixture in his life, and one that would likely take a lot of time. He would be with Jens more than anyone else, most likely, and wasn’t that a strange thought. But that was the point. He would get to know Lucas and prove he’d made the right choice.

It was another monumental task to add to an already long list. He understood why Robbe would be unsure.

“I’m not going anywhere. Lucas won’t change anything, not with us and not with Sander, okay?”

“He will, though. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing,” Robbe said hastily, pulling at his curls again. “I’m just saying. I’m not sure you know what you’ve taken on. A criminal manservant is different to the usual new recruits.”

Jens winced. “I have no idea what I’ve taken on, I agree. That’s mainly why I wanted to talk to you. I have no idea what I should do.” He looked over at his friend, and Robbe’s eyes were familiar and kind as he gazed back. “I’ll need you more, not less. You’re better at the people thing than me, you know that.”

Robbe considered him. “Well, that’s definitely true.”

Jens reached up to flick his forehead.

“Don’t.” Robbe laughed, doing his best to block him. “You said it, not me.”

Jens huffed, tugging at Robbe’s curls himself this time until the idiot smiled.

“But of course, I’m here for whatever you need. I always am,” Robbe said.

The following tug was more fond, but Robbe still protested and patted his hair away from Jens’s fingers. Jens smiled slightly and drew his hand away. “Thank you.”

Robbe simply nodded, seeming more at ease as he donned his usual sweet smile. He tilted his head against Jens’s shoulder briefly, and then there was a knock on the door.

Before either of them could move to open it, it swung inwards on its own and revealed Sander. His eyes flicked between the two of them sprawled across the bed, and he raised his brows as Lucas hovered behind him. He seemed satisfied when Robbe beamed at him, and gestured while looking back at Lucas. “And this is my favourite room, though it seems a bit haunted at the moment.” He waved half-heartedly in Jens’s direction and Jens flipped him off.

Meanwhile, Robbe flushed, but pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed as Sander came further into the room with Lucas following hesitantly. “Why exactly is my room your favourite, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Sander stared at him as if he’d asked why the sky was blue. “You’re in it.”

Robbe’s flush darkened, but he still rolled his eyes. Jens barely resisted the urge to roll his own at Robbe. He had never learned how to take a compliment, or adjusted to the easy way Sander doled them out, even after a year of being the main focus of such blatant affection.

Yeah, Sander probably won out in the title of Robbe’s best friend by now. He was more deserving, at the very least.

Jens tried not to be hurt by the fact and returned his attention to Lucas, who was already looking back at him. A few strands of his hair looked damp, and the smudges were gone from his arms and face even though his dusty clothes remained. Sander must have taken him to wash up before properly beginning their tour. Jens smiled at the difference, at the extra height Lucas now seemed to hold when he was receiving the kind of treatment he deserved.

“How did it go?” Sander asked, back to looking between the two of them now that he was at Robbe’s side.

“She wants to speak to you both to clarify things herself,” Jens admitted, leaving Lucas stiffening again as Sander sighed. “But I’ve sorted it out the best I can for both of you. And the sooner we get it over with, the sooner Sander and I can take you home.”

He waited, staring at Lucas the whole while he spoke to gauge his reaction. He was rewarded with the boy’s eyes widening, then narrowing as if in disbelief. Jens offered him a nod and a slight smile, hoping this would finally earn him some points, or at the very least, a little trust.

After a second, Lucas smiled back.

[arans-princess]

I wanna play

Sakusa-nii x reader x atsumu

Degradation, rough sex, spitting, cnc, this gets dark yall, light somno. Poly relationship

-  Omi-nii doesn’t like most people except you, you are the only exception, he loves his little sister to death. He would do anything to keep you happy. 

- He doesn’t like bodily fluids unless they come from you, everything you do is so adorable to him, you’re his Imōto

- The way you whine as he eats out your cute little cunny, music to his ears

- The way you claw at his back as his thick cock splits you open, is so sweet. He knows his dick it too big for you, but the way you tell him you’re a big girl and you can take it, any thing for nii-chan; makes his cock throb. 

-  The way you babble and drool as he fucks you silly, your eyes rolling back as he bounces you on his dick, one large calloused hand around your throat using it as leverage. The other holds you at your hip with a bruising grip as he plows into you. 

-  The bathroom sink is frigid on your feverish body, but it does nothing to quell the heat inside you. He applies just enough pressure to your neck so that you're looking at yourself in the mirror. 

- He gladly pounds your third orgasm out of you, his hips unrelenting as the post game adrenaline has flooded his veins. Gosh, when they said he was a part of the generation of monsters they weren’t kidding. 

“Omi-nii, ugh, fuck I-I Im gonna cum!” you babble through strangled moans, your pulse pounding in your head as his thick fingers press against the sides of your throat, cutting off blood supply to your brain. Drunk off the pleasure, you can feel your head swimming, drowning in the sensation of his fat cock brushing against your sweet spot, the cold counter digging into you adds to your pleasure. 

“Yes, you can y/n-chan, yes you can. C’mon, be my good girl, cum on for me, cum for your nii-chan.” he bends down, leaning into your neck and bites. Leaving a trail of marks from your collarbone to your ear. “Just a little more for me, baby” the hand on your hip travels to your clit and rubs tight circles on your overused bud. His hips still as he increases the pace of his fingers. “You're clamping down so hard, baby girl, you gonna squirt for me?” he looks up at your blissed out expression, your legs are trembling, arms desperately clinging to the arm attached to your throat. 

“Omi, please I wanna taste you.” You mewl out clawing at his forearm, nails digging deep into his veiny flesh. Somehow, he takes you to heights unknown as his cock throbs in your wet heat. Now that he stopped thrusting you can feel your cunt pulsing, your slick is dripping down your ass onto the sink below making your ass slippery; you would have slid off, if not for you big brother supporting you, such a good brother. The hand on your throat migrates to your chin gripping it harshly, prying open your mouth. His face draws closer to yours as he gathers a glob of saliva and plops on to your tongue. You hold it in there waiting for him to give you permission to swallow, both of your fluids mingling in your mouth. Tongue twitching in anticipation, your eyes meet his in a silent plea. 

“Swallow princess. Be a good girl and squirt for me, c’mon” he coos while looking at your fucked out face; eyes rolling back, mouth open in a silent scream. With his encouragement you let go of the knot building in your belly, and all at once fluid gushes out of your cunt as he continues to rub your clit, working you through this mind numbing orgasm like a good big brother. Not even the groaning coming from one of the stalls can snap you out of this bliss.

“Holy fuck Omi-kun, I didn’t know she could squirt!” Both of your heads snap in the direction of the voice in search of the owner. Omi is shocked to find the owner, it’s Tsumu, his teammate. Oh fuck. “Poor little y/n-chan too fucked out on your brother's cock to care? Look at you. You look so fucking pathetic. You like when your big brother uses you like a toy? Don’t you?” Tsumu teases while inspecting your used body, he’s right. You’re covered in drool, cum is seeping out of your puffy cunt. You’re a mess. But you’re Nii-chan’s mess, right? “So this is what’s going to happen. I’m going to play with your toy. You can watch or leave, I don’t really care. Unless you want me to tell the press you fuck your baby sister like a whore? You can kiss your career goodbye. Yeah it would suck to have you off the team but; rumor has it, this Kyōtani Kentarō kid is being scouted for the team next year. I would love to set for him. Hate to see you go though.” That damn smirk never leaves his face, and he doesn't take his eyes off you, not even for a second. You can feel nii-chan stiffen between your legs as the realization hits him. He has to comply if he wants to keep your lives from derailing. 

“Fine,” Omi spits, “can I finish here first? I'm still hard.” his question is harsh, you can practically see steam coming from his ears, his face that was already red from the exertion deepened. His chest is still heaving, but you can't tell if it's from anger or not. It most likely is. This anger is only intensified with blond’s response. “ Yeah no. I want my payment now.” the blonde chuckles, looking very pleased with himself. Omi’s grip on your body tightens immensely, painfully even, yet somehow through this exchange you have not come to terms with what's happening quite yet. It's not until Omi withdraws from your heat that you understand the gravity of the situation. Your relationship has been found out, after years of being so careful, this is what happens. All because you couldn't keep your greedy little hands to yourself. You should feel more responsible but you can't bring yourself to. You're too far gone, trapped in your own mind, locked away in subspace. 

Next thing you know Tsumu plunges into your heat roughly and sets a brutal pace from the start. His cock isn’t the same and nii-chans, it's not as long. It doesn’t hammer into your cervix, but it's twice as thick, and the stretch burns. It’s not a good burn, it hurts. You dont like Tsumu fucking you. You're not his toy, you belong to nii-chan, not his teammate. You look over at Omi and see him standing in the corner. His cock is still hard and throbbing, the tip is a bright red, and he looks so ready to burst. ”Nii-chan, make him stop, I-I don't like him inside me. H-hurts, it hurts.” you croak out, attempting to reach out for him. The sight breaks his heart in two, he wants nothing more than to fling that shit-head off of his precious baby sister, but he can’t. He takes a half step towards you then stops himself, knowing if he interrupts his career is over, and with that so is your life of comfort. He simply can't have that. Omi swallows his pride and tries to tune out your wails of anguish as Tsumu defiles you, but your cries only get louder and louder as he continues. 

“Such a slut, aren't you y/n-chan? This little hole just weeps for anyone doesn't it?” Tsumu questions while leaning in your face, breath fanning over you. The rank smell of coffee assaults your nostrils, making you try and turn away, but he roughly snatches your face back to look at him. His fingers are roughly digging into your cheeks and the pressure forces your jaw open. Your eyes widen in fear as you realize what is about to happen. He hocks a fat glob of spit inside your pliant mouth, the look in his eyes tells you to swallow or risk harsher treatment. So with fat tears welling up in your eyes, threatening to spill over, you do as he asks. The pounding never ceases as he beams brightly down at you. His smile, one you once found endearing, now makes your stomach turn, and you close your eyes and hope for him to finnish quickly. 

“Aht aht aht, c’mon princess, look at me. Look at me and be grateful that someone is stuffing your stupid little cunt at all.” he chuckles as he thrusts harder into your womb, the stretch doesn’t burn like it did before, as your body finally adjusted to his massive girth. Reluctantly you open your eyes and look at his figure looming above you. He’s drenched in sweat and his face is flushed with exertion. He looks almost appealing like this, with his eyebrows furrowed, eyes blown wide in lust and some other emotion, hate? No, it doesn't bite the same. Its- its love. 

Love? He loves you? Oh yeah that's right , when Omi joined the team and brought you around to meet the team, he made it a point to keep Tsumu far away from you. One time Tsumu had managed to snag you away from the group, and while you don't remember much about that night, you do know that Omi was really mad about it. Omi said he was flirting but you didn't even realize it. The whole time you only had eyes for your Nii-chan. That must be why he was lurking in the bathroom. Now that you’re thinking, Atsumu was always around when you two would run off, and you always felt another set of eyes watching you… oh yeah, that’s right… You’re snapped out of your thoughts when you feel a pressure on your clit. The rough pads of his fingers circle your clit, you can feel the calluses on your sensitive nub throwing you over the edge into yet another orgasm. You claw at his back, unconsciously pulling him into you. The way your pussy clamps down on his length makes him gasp, professing his love in your ear as he shoots his load into you. But they dont say he is a part of the generation of monsters for nothing, he doesn't stop his relentless pace, pushing all of his cum out of you. Your vision starts to get blurry, between the tears and the haze of overstimulation taking over. You can hear Omi get angry somewhere in the back of your head, but it sounds far away, like he’s yelling underwater. 

You feel your body tense up for yet another orgasm and then your vision cuts out. When you come to, Atsumu is still fucking you, but the pleasure is gone. It’s too much, and when you register this you start fighting back, pushing his face off your neck, shoving his shoulders back to try and dislodge him. Then you hear him chuckle darkly. 

“Don't worry y/n-chan, I'll be done shortly, I was able to cum a few more times when you went to sleep on me. Did you know you cum even when you pass out?” he places a gentle kiss on your forehead. You look over to the side and see your big brother sitting in the corner. You look in his eyes and see barely contained rage. The fire in them looks like it could melt a diamond. Tsumu lifts your shirt to take a nipple in his mouth as he cums, sheathing himself in your heat completely, filling you up beyond what you thought was possible. 

Your legs start to give out and Omi notices this, he rushes to your side to hold you up-right. “ATSUMU, I told you to be more careful with her! We can't break our princess. Well at least not somewhere so public. Come here baby girl, Nii-chan will take care of you.”

“I’m sorry princess, I got a little carried away. Here, let's get you home. We can cuddle and watch some movies. And up you go!” Tsumu looks at you sheepishly as he apologises, then he lifts you up and pulls his hoodie over your head. He carries you out of the bathroom, uncaring for the strange looks you three get. Your face is buried in his neck and your legs are wrapped around his waist. Omi glares at anyone who even thinks about asking about your identity. 

Your relationship might be a little unorthodox, but it’s yours and everyone is happy with it. More importantly you and Omi have realized what happens when Tsumu feels left out. 

[gyllenhaalics]

Perks of Being Good - Ch 1

(FINALLY, I DELAYED THIS POST TO ADD A SMALL PART AT THE END)

(This chapter happened prior to the Prologue. It is mostly Jake & reader’s first time, with a little hinting at Chris & reader)

Prologue | Chapter 1

Pairing: Mob boss!Jake x associate!reader, hitman!C.Evans x reader Summary: Your father died taking a bullet for one of Jake’s men. So naturally, you take your father’s place as an associate. And Jake honors your father’s last wish by protecting you. He might have gone a little too far with his protection.

Universal warnings:  Innocent/corruption kink, power exchange, daddy kink, p0rn with plot (that you can ignore), AU-typical violence.

Chapter warnings: oral (female receiving), edging, rough sex, degrading

Tags: @gyll-yee-haw​, @realovesthings​, @gyllenwh0re​, @angelic-holland​, @pining-and-tired​ (please let me know if you don’t want to be in the tag list)

Disclaimer: I do not own anyone whose name appears in this story. 

Word count: 2.2k

Thinking back about it, it was a dumb idea to blindly follow two strange, visibly armed men to their car. Your body was still in such a state of shock at that point, and you were trying to digest the information they had told you. They let you sit in the back seat while Chris was the driver, and Jake, whom Chris referred to as boss, was in the passenger seat.

"I didn't know my father was part of the mob."

You hesitated at the words. The air around these men overwhelmed you so much you thought like you were going to break. Even with a distance between you and them, you couldn't help but feel like a lost lamb in the wolf den. That was a tacky analogy, but the way their eyes crawling all over you through the rearview mirror gave you an odd feeling in your stomach.

"He wasn't. He was an associate, a considerably valuable one."

Jake turned around to you as he responded, and the strange sensation inside you started bubbling again. You instinctively pulled the coat he had put on you, clutching it at your chest. You could have sworn that the corner of his mouth curved up as if he was pleased with your reaction. Evans watched you through the mirror and chuckled in amusement.

"Relax, love. We won't lay a single finger on you. Unless you want us to, that is. I know I'd be happy to oblige."

Inexperienced as you might be, you weren't a child anymore. Of course, you understood Chris's suggestive language. You mustered the remain of your mental strength to shut your legs as tight as you could, something you regretted telling Jake years later because he teased you relentlessly for it. Princess, he mocked, remember how you wanted to open your legs for me so badly you had to fight yourself to stop?

...

Everything was going well for you after that. Jake put you in the care of Maggie. She gave you a place to stay. She allowed you to work for her as a lawyer and an errand girl. It was like your father was still alive, learning to be a lawyer from him, running errands when he needed it. There was only one problem.

The strange feeling deep inside you was getting unbearable. You often found yourself tensing at the presence of the men that saved your life, especially the boss. With Chris, it wasn't so bad. Still the same overwhelming atmosphere, but his eyes were gentler. Plus, his playful mannerisms somewhat helped you relax. Jake, on the other hand, was a whole different story. He was never shy away from practically peeling your clothes with his eyes.

To make things worse, you weren't repulsed by it. There was even a part of you basking in the attention. You often daydreamed, but it hardly ever went beyond kisses and caresses. There might be more primal things, though you locked them all away.

...

One day, Jake just decided to show up at Maggie's place and told you he wanted to talk. He seemed so restless. But you failed to see why he would need to take you back to his house, merely for that.

"Just some paperwork. I'll bring her back as soon as we're done."

"Jake, if it's just paperwork, have her do it here."

Maggie was smiling, but her tone sounded like a warning. Jake had lines he would never cross, his sister being one of them. He looked at you behind the stacks of paper. Her words hit him, and Jake took a step back.

"I know this is very sudden. If you're too busy, I'll find someone else."

"Right, honey. You don't have to go if you don't want to."

That was your chance to back out. You would be stupid not to take it, which was why you were standing in the middle of his living room. Okay, that was the second dumbest choice, right after following strangers to their car.

"You had a chance to say no back then, yet you agreed to come with me. I'll tell you exactly what Maggie told you. If you don't want this, you can still go now."

Jake placed his hand on the door handle, keeping it opened. He could tell you understood the meaning of his words, seeing how your shoulders were so tensed, and your hands were clutching one another.

"Don't we have paperwork to do, sir."

You jumped when the door got slammed shut. He took two long strides and soon towered in front of you. His fingers caressed your cheeks, feeling the rising heat on your skin before lifting your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"Do you understand what's going to happen next?"

You tried to answer him, but the only thing escaping your mouth was a soft whimper. His eyes tensed at the sound. You felt his fingers turning into a tight grip at your jaw. His voice grew deeper, almost like growling.

"Let me put it into words for you. You're going to take your clothes off, spread your legs for me, and take my cock like the good girl you are. You want that, don't you."

"Y- Yes."

"Answer me properly!"

"Yes, sir."

"You're going to let me fuck your little cunt however I want."

"Yes, sir."

"And let me fill you up with my come."

"Yes, sir."

You almost cried out at your third answer. His words turned into vivid images in your head, even though you had never had this kind of experience before. You absent-mindedly rubbed your thighs together, feeling your panties dampening.

"Don't worry, princess. Let go of everything and leave yourself to me. I'll take good care of you."

With his free hand, Jake ripped your blouse opened with an excessive force, and your bra was next. He took in the sight of your exposed skin for a moment. His hand let go of your face, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you closer to him. He started leaving a trail of kisses and nibbles from your neck, down to your soft breasts. His lips wrapped around each of your nipples and sucked on them, creating the most obscene sounds you'd ever heard.

While you were still hazy from his touch, he tore off your skirt and panties with one swift movement. His hand found its way between your legs, fingers stroking your slit, occasionally pushing the tip of his index inside your tight, wet hole.

"So wet already, princess? So eager to take my cock, huh? Too bad, you'll need to learn to beg for it first."

He pulled a fist full of your hair, firmly, but not so hard that it would hurt, and dragged you to the leather sofa. He propped you up on one side, letting you lean back on the armrest. Now that you didn't have to support yourself on your trembling feet, you did as he told and spread your thighs, giving him a better look at your dripping pussy.

"You've learned well, princess. I think you deserve a reward."

You were delirious. Jake alternated between rubbing your clit in short, rough strokes, and smacking it to disrupt your flow of pleasure. You whimpered uncontrollably when his fingers grind against your swollen spot. And every time he struck you, you cried out and arched your back. You closed your legs on accident while you were twisting and shaking, trying to find release.

"Keep your legs opened, or we're gonna do this all day."

He hit your mound harshly several times, hands pinning your thighs to your chest.

Your eyes rolled back into your head as you feel him lapping up your pussy, dragging his tongue across your lips and tugging on your clit with his teeth. Every time he gave you a long upward lick, his stubble left red marks on your inner thighs and scratched on your entrance deliciously.

Right when you were about to reach your orgasm, the pleasure was gone completely. Jake was observing you the whole time. He didn't miss a single sound coming out of your mouth, nor did he miss the way your muscles were clenching under his tongue.

"You still have a lot to learn, princess."

You heard the clicking noise of his belt, and right after that, his rockhard cock rested on your swollen clit. He started to brush his tip up and down your entrance, making sure to knead your clit with the head once in a while.

"First of all, a good girl isn't allowed to come without my permission."

He tapped the tip on your clit, earning a soft moan from you. You wanted to move so badly, just to get a little more friction.

"Second of all, a good girl should be fucking grateful for my cock, and subsequently, my come inside her."

As he said that, he dipped the head inside your entrance. You felt your walls contracting greedily, trying to suck him in.

"Last but not least, as I've said before. And I don't want to keep repeating myself. If you want something, you gotta beg for it."

Your mouth kept opening and closing like a dying fish struggling for air. Your pussy was throbbing so much, and you couldn't think of anything but getting fucked into pieces by his hot and heavy cock.

"Please, sir- can't- I can't take it anymore! Please make me come! Please fuck my pussy with your cock."

Just when you thought you were going to break, Jake grabbed your hip and slammed into you with full force, sending an electric shock through your body. He didn't move right away, instead, he stilled himself inside you.

"How pathetic. I've just entered, and you came immediately. Can't even control yourself, princess?"

Your orgasm was so violent your entire body was trembling non-stop. You were reduced a blabbing mess, and couldn't even hold back your tears. Not until you heard a low, raspy moan on top of your head that you realized he had started to move.

"Fuck. You feel so good around my cock, so fucking tight."

You were so exhausted from your climax that you could barely move. Fortunately for you, he seemed done torturing you. No more abrupt movement, no more deriving you of your release. He thrust into you with a certain rhythm, seemingly focused on looking for something.

A jolt of pleasure pulled you out of your hazy dream. You whimpered sweetly as he pounded into a specific spot. You could feel another wave of orgasm rising inside your stomach.

"If you keep- that- I'll break..."

"Tell me to stop and I'll stop."

You opened your mouth but couldn't get any words out. You threw your head back as he fucked into you at a brutal speed. You nailed dug into his forearms for support. You were almost euphoric. At that moment, you were ready to let go of everything and give him full control over you, ready to let him break you apart and put you back together, so long as you can get the satisfaction you crave.

"That's it, baby girl. Come again around daddy's cock."

You cried out as you let your body get swept over by the second wave of climax. Jake bent down to capture your lips, drinking in your moans and screams.

Jake pulled his cock out right before he came. His thumb dug into your entrance, pushing the lips apart. Your gaping pussy hadn't recovered, still contracting around nothing.

"Fuck, your ruined little pussy still wants to milk my cock so badly, pathetic little thing."

He pressed his cock against your pussy and jerked it a few times. His finger kept your entrance opened, letting streams of thick, white come spilled into your little hole. You came twice, but it felt empty somehow.

"What? Not even a thank you?"

"Thank you, daddy."

"For?"

"For fucking my pussy with your cock."

"Good girl. Next time you want daddy to fill you up nice and deep, you'd better beg properly. You got that, princess?"

Another male voice cut you off as you were about to reply to Jake.

"Aww, I thought she did a fantastic job. You're being too hard on her, boss."

"Back already, Evans?

"So this is the reason why you suddenly sent me on a God-forsaken mission."

Your eyes widened at the sight of Chris sitting across the room, sprawling on the armchair, with a large bulge visible on his pants.

Jake pulled you onto his laps, your back against his chest, your legs at the sides of his, giving Chris the full view of your juice and Jake's come still dripping. The other man exhaled sharply.

"Fuck, her pussy is wrecked."

"I'm afraid her tight little cunt can't take anymore. But I was saving this for you."

Jake said as he shoved two fingers in your mouth. It caught you off guard, and you gagged on his digits, making a small gurgling noise.

"This hole can't do anything but whine, can't even say a proper thank you. Thought you might want to teach this little fuck toy how to put her mouth into good use."

Your throat constricted as Chris stood up from his seat. The degrading name Jake called you shattered whatever inhibition you had left in you. You made an effort to utter a slurring Please and stuck out your tongue, display yourself to the man in front of you.

"What can I say? I'm happy to oblige."

[samthemarvelfan]

Graveyard: Chapter 2

-Coming Up Empty-

Summary: How could someone who once held your heart, be so heartless?

Pairing: Loki Odinson x OFC

Warnings: Sexual language, innuendos, threatening, Loki is a dick. Degradation.

A/N: Flashbacks are italicized. This chapter gives a brief look into why our reader is feeling the way she is. Enjoy! <3

After your much-needed, albeit not exactly relaxing bath, you felt 1000 times better. The grime and filth that had cemented into your hair and under your nails was gone, and you began to feel like yourself again.

Loki had given you privacy to get ready for dinner with the Grandmaster which, in turn, kept you from punching him in the face.

You’re still shaken. Shaken from both this place and the God with whom you’re stuck. It’s like he’s erased you from his memory. All the time you’d spent together, the memories...it means nothing to him. He’d kill you, you know he would, if you got in his way.

You’d have to survive. Survive just long enough to get back to Asgard and help your people. Then you would strike, when the time was right.

The dress he’d created for you was stunning, and it fit you like a glove. The silk felt like a mother’s hug around your body. It’s deep emerald complimented your skin tone beautifully, there was a very, very high slit over your left leg, and a sweetheart neckline to enhance your bosom perfectly.

Compliments of the God of Lies, no doubt.

After doing what you managed to call styling your hair, you’d found a toiletries bag hidden in a cupboard. Comb, toothbrush, deodorant, perfume and a few other bits and bobs.

For a nutjob he’s pretty hospitable to his guests.

“I’m ready, let’s get this trip to hell over with.” You gripe, stepping out into his room with your hands on your hips.

Loki is stood by the door, and when scans your body, he smirks.

“And what, may I ask, is so funny?”

Loki simply grabs his cloak and throws it on. “Nothing. You look like the perfect little wench. Let’s go, we shouldn’t be late—I watched this man melt his cousin.”

After quickly gagging at that sentence, you pressed on.

The walk to the banquet hall is silent, as you’d expect. What in Odin’s name were you suppose to say? So, how are things since you murdered your father? Cast any fun spells as of late? Does my home—our home lay in ruin?

It was hard to believe there was a time when you’d have done anything for Loki. The memories make you retreat into yourself, to a time when you weren’t one of the fiercest warriors in all of Asgard...

...but to a time when you were his.

“If you even think about trying that move on me, Loki Odinson, I can assure you I’ll be more than happy to cut off your favorite horn.” You threaten, holding up a dagger.

Loki laughed, “Why would I want to do anything that might scar that pretty face of yours, Ellaria?”

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks. “Stop using my full name—you know I hate that.”

His daggers vanish into his sleeves, and stalks towards you slowly, keeping your gaze the entire time. When he reaches you, you look down and cross your arms, using the gesture like a shield from him.

Loki thumbs your cheek, “...and you know I think it’s a beautiful name, for a beautiful woman.”

The butterflies soar in your stomach. “Loki...” you warn meekly.

“Yes, darling...what is it?” He whispers, and cups your face with both hands.

“What if someone sees?” The words are barely audible, but they don’t have to be—they’re only for him.

He smiles softly, “Let them. One day, I will be King, and anyone who dares interfere with my heart will be for the sword.”

“Your Father—“

“My Father...” Loki starts hatefully, but he calms, and lets his hands fall from your cheeks to hold your own, “Even he cannot stop my love for you. No one can.”

The sound of a whistle brings you back to reality.

“Ooo-hoo! Someone certainly looks like they’ve been worn out.” It’s the Grandmaster—mere inches from your face.

When did we get here? And why the hell is this guy so theatrical?

Loki’s arm snakes around your waist, “Indeed. I’ve decided I’d like to keep this one, Grandmaster. If that’s acceptable. I quite enjoy having a pet around”

The sickening grin on his face is enough to make you wretch.

“Of course! It’s so rare that you find the perfect consort to satisfy. And she’s so put together, not used like all of mine. What a shame I didn’t get to her first. Topaz, isn’t it a shame?”

The surly beast of a woman is once again stood by his side. “Mmm.” She grunts.

An incredibly painful silence falls between the group of you, before Grandmaster speaks. “Where are my manners? Dinner is served, please take a seat anywhere.”

Loki grips your arm yet again, and you wince. He either doesn’t know his own strength, or he’d doing it purposefully because it hurts much more than it before.

“Sit.” He commands, pointing at a seat. Ever the gentleman, he pulls out his own, but not yours.

Asshole. You think loudly, and his gaze returns to you.

“I thought you’d be grateful, pet. Not many masters allow their whores to dine with them. Isn’t that right, Grandmaster?” Loki’s asks, not breaking your eye contact.

Ouch.

The insults flowing from his mouth are coming far too easily, almost as though to make them clear he means them.

He probably does mean them. You think.

The GM—your new nickname for him, is at the head of the table. “No way. In fact, most of my ‘pleasure providers’ eat off of the floor in the corner. I can have a server bring her—“

“No, no.” Loki assures, “I only mean to condition her, so she knows just how fortunate she is to have been found by such a benevolent God.”

Taking you’re seat, you feel everyone’s eyes on you. Why are you so bothered? You’re a warrior, tougher than half the men on Asgard. But right now you’ve been reduced to nothing; simply a whore in a nice dress.

The ravenous appetite you’ve had your entire stay on Sakaar vanishes. All the while Loki is seemingly basking in the adoration he received for being a ‘king’. No matter what degradation or humiliation was tossed your way, he simply smiled and agreed with them.

How could you? You think loudly, but you know you’d never get an answer. This Loki felt nothing; no remorse, guilt, or love—he’s empty.

The strain in your throat made your bottom lip quiver. No, Ella. You curse yourself. Not here, you will not be made to feel this way. Not by him.

The evening dragged on, and on...and on. You were starving by the end of it, regretting not eating earlier, but you refused to let anyone know that. Besides, would they care? You’re just a pet to them after all.

“So, will you and yours be joining us on the pleasure vessel? I hate to brag, but my orgies are known far and wide to be absolutely wild.” The GM says giddily.

Loki’s smile is one of obligation, “I’m afraid not. I have high standards, and she doesn’t meet them yet. I wouldn’t want her embarrassing me.”

That one knocked the wind out if you. You felt your eyes watering and had to bite back the tears. He doesn’t remember...or he doesn’t care too.

You want to go home. Back to the warmth of your bed. Where your people were, your friends...you want the life you once had back.

You want Loki to be Loki again.

Once back in Loki’s chambers, you head straight for the bathing room, ignoring his protests and snide commentary.

The overwhelming severity of everything hits you suddenly. Your hand flies to your mouth, muffling the sob trying so hard to escape your lungs.

You slide down onto the floor and weep. How long has it been since your cried like this? You couldn’t remember. Your body racked with grief as you attempt to come to grips with your new normal.

The Loki you knew is dead. The memories you have from all those life times ago mean nothing. You mean nothing—not to him.

The sound of footsteps getting closer to the door silent your sobs. You stand quickly, attempting to wipe away any evidence of your cry-fest.

Loki barges in, dressed in black silk nightwear. “Here, I had the servants bring you something to sleep in.”

You still haven’t spoken, or looked at him. Holding a hand out, you clear your throat. “Fine.”

He tuts, “Perhaps a ‘thank you, my liege’ is in order.” He’s jesting, you know he is. There’s no mistaking that tone.

But you don’t care, not right now. You look up at him with swollen, red eyes. “Thank you, sire. Would you like me to fawn at your feet? Perhaps do all of the unspeakable things you’ve allowed that psycho to presume I’ve been doing, hm?”

Loki is almost taken aback by the state you’re in. “Ellaria,” he says in a tone you hadn’t heard in years. Warning, but not threatening.

You cry out. “I’m not your whore! You’ve known me our whole lives, and yet you degrade me and humiliate for sport. You allow these people to believe you’d have no problem discarding my body once you’ve gotten all you can get out of it.”

His face is unreadable as always. His emotions are in complete control, as is his tone. “You are all of those things here,” He says harshly. “It would do you well to remember that.”

Your heart, along with whatever scrap of care or hope you had for him, breaks.

 Loki—your Loki, is truly gone.

“Dress. You need to sleep.” He mumbles, leaving you to it.

The tears return, if only for a moment. You let out a long sigh, and will your self the strength to get through this hell.

Once dressed in your sleepwear—a black, silk nightgown, you exit the bathing room to see Loki laid up in his bed. Content as ever.

You’d searched the room and spotted a chair across from the windows. That’ll have to do. You lay across it as best you can, not fitting entirely, but enough so only your lower legs hung off.

Still better than a cell floor.

“What are you doing?” Loki calls, his eyes still closed.

You ignore him, and shut your eyes as well.

“Answer me. I don’t like repeating myself.”

You sigh, “I’m going to sleep. Leave me alone.”

You twist on the chair, attempting to find some kind of comfortable relief, but there isn’t any. You both know it.

“Come here. Now. Do not test my patience again.” He commands.

You stand, walking to the foot of his bed. “What now? What could you possibly have left to say to me?”

Loki’s nostrils flair, “You may join me.” He gestures to the bed.

You scoff. “No thanks, I’d rather take the floor.”

You spin around, about to settle into the carpet, when you’re suddenly scooped up and thrown onto the bed.

“Loki! Stop it!” You shout.

He ignores you, and get in as well. You scoot as far away as you can go.

“Sleep. You need your rest.” He says quietly, throwing an arm over his eyes.

You wish you could hide the content sigh that escaped you, but this bed was heaven. Soft, warm, and so big. You could spend days here just recovering on all the sleepless nights you’d had.

“Next time food is presented to you, you will eat.” Loki warns, “I don’t need you withering away to nothing...not when I need you.”

Damn curiosity got to you. “What do you need me for, Loki?” It comes out like a whisper, but you couldn’t have mustered more strength if you tried.

He chuckled lightly, “You, my dear pet, are going to help me get back my crown.”

tagging:

@jessiejunebug @babyboybucky

[doc-pickles]

livin’ for the hope of it all

Fun Fact: This is probably my favorite track from folklore (betty is a close second and they’re actually connected in the same storyline) so I created an AU College Sweethearts Jolex storyline just for this. I also needed to change things up because my fics for this week were feeling repetitive, but the good news is that I actually love the storyline and this piece!

(And while we’re at it, shout out to @odd-birds-and-booksellers for beta reading this and helping me clean this up for y’all. ILY and you’re the BEST!)

Also oops I slated this as angst and that just absolutely did not happen. It’s pretty fluffy but uh warning the ending is not happy… at all… So sorry about that.  So without further ado, the folklore fic that stole my whole entire heart!

But I can see us lost in the memory

August slipped away into a moment in time

'Cause it was never mine

And I can see us twisted in bedsheets

August sipped away like a bottle of wine

'Cause you were never mine

“Alrighty boys, can I get anything else for you?”

“Yeah how about your number, sweet cheeks.”

Jo rolled her eyes, used to the degrading remarks she would often get as a waitress in the greasy diner. The table of young boys didn’t bother her, they were a dime a dozen working in a college town and it was a sure bet that one of them would say something stupid or degrading to Jo.

Ignoring the comments and laughs from the table, Jo began to walk away but didn’t get very far. The boy closest to the edge had tugged her arm hard enough that she went flying backwards, landing in his lap as one hand came up to hold Jo in place against him. 

“Aw come on baby, don’t you want this,” the boy was speaking directly into Jo’s ear, a clear attempt at seducing her that was failing miserably. She tried desperately to squirm out of his grasp, but he only held her tighter. “I can show you a good time.”

“Hey dick wad, it doesn’t take a genius to realize that the lady doesn’t wanna talk to you,” a gruff voice sounded above Jo, the speaker holding his hand out to help Jo up. She took it with a grateful smile and stood, wiping off her apron while he continued to stare down the table of now terrified boys. “And don’t forget to tip generously.”

Jo watched in amazement as the man went back to his spot at the counter, eyes trained on the newspaper before him. She rounded the diner once more before walking behind the counter to stand in front of the mystery man, refilling his coffee as she eyed him. 

“Thanks for doing that. Those losers can’t take a hint sometimes,” Jo offered her hand to the stranger, a small smile on her face. “I’m Jo, by the way. I’ve never seen you around here before.”

“Alex,” the man shook Jo’s hand, a crooked grin appearing on his stoic face. “I just finished med school last month, I finally have time to eat breakfast and enjoy a Thursday morning.”

Jo’s response was cut off by her boss yelling at her, her hand coming up to wave to Alex before she bolted to the other end of the diner. Her eyes flicked back to him once or twice, always finding him staring back already. The small action left Jo with a near constant blush on her cheeks. 

By the time Jo makes it back around, Alex is gone. His empty coffee cup sits on top of a $20, which she grabs with a grin. A corner of the newspaper rests on top of the bill, neat block printing across it that makes Jo’s cheeks flame once again. 

‘If you get sick of stupid frat boys, give me a call.’

+

“I hate to say it, but you might be better at darts than me,” Alex let out a chuckle and grabbed his beer, taking a long swig from it as he turned back to Jo. “You have nothing better to do than practice your aim?”

After her shift at the diner, Jo had sat in her car and hesitated all of thirty minutes before calling Alex and asking him to meet up with her at the bar down the street from her apartment. Nerves flying all around her, Jo had finally made it down to Red’s Bar and Grill, meeting Alex with a wide grin and the first round of beers on her tab. 

“Mmm I practice between classes and work,” Jo rolled her eyes, throwing another dart and hitting just outside of the bullseye. “I’m about to start my last year of school at UI. Architecture degree, the boring stuff.”

“Hey hey, I don’t judge,” Alex shrugged, eyes glinting with amusement. “I’m sure that doodling buildings is just as thrilling as cutting people open.”

Jo let out a laugh, her eyes roaming appreciatively over Alex for the first time. He wore jeans and a t-shirt that hugged his arms and torso, the dark blue bringing out the flecks of gold in his eyes. The low lighting in the bar didn’t help Jo as she tried to concentrate on anything besides the way Alex looked at her, cheeks flushing as she imagined his hands running over her body. 

“Oh you should see me in class, I’m the only woman in my major so,” Jo blindly threw her final dart at the board, relying on Alex’s shocked expression to tell her that she had hit close to her mark. “Had to find something to beat the boys at, keep their egos at bay.”

Satisfied with the dark look that came over Alex, Jo swigged her beer and took a step towards him, her fingers trailing over the collar of his shirt. She’d held back through the three rounds of beers and the pizza they’d shared, but she couldn’t keep her hands off of him any longer. 

“I don’t wanna be too forward but,” Alex finished his beer with one gulp, one hand moving to rest on Jo’s hip. “You wanna get out of here?” 

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life,” Jo breathes out, pulling Alex down to kiss her chastely before letting go and walking towards the exit. “Come on, Doctor Handsome. Let’s go.”

+

Two weeks after their first date, Jo is scrambling during the morning rush to touch each of her tables and makes sure they’re all taken care of. It’s just her and her boss Nancy working this morning, so she’s really busting her ass to make sure that she makes good tips. A hand reaches out, swiping her arm delicately and makes Jo sigh in relief. She was so used to the gentle brush against her arm that it felt like second nature at this point.

“Hey you,” Alex’s voice is soft, something that Jo can barely hear above the rush of the crowded restaurant. “Long morning?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe, Katie called out sick so there’s only two of us,” Jo groans as she reaches for the coffee pot to refill Alex’s cup. “I have the next two days off though so I’m just trying to make it through this stupid shift.”

Alex’s hand reaches out and grabs her wrist, holding it for the briefest second before letting her go with a grin. Jo can never seem to control the way her heart beats out of time around the man she just met, but she can’t say she hates the feeling of her heart fluttering nervously. 

“How about we drive to the lake and spend a day or two up there,” Alex shrugs, as if the idea of spending a few days away with Jo is the most natural thing in the world. “Just the two of us. I’ve got some camping gear and a hard top for the pickup. We’ll make a weekend out of it.”

Jo’s eyelashes batted against her cheek, eyes roaming over Alex with a focused stare. They hadn’t labelled whatever it was that they were doing (sleeping together, spending nights stargazing in the back of Alex’s truck, meeting up almost every night to drink cheap wine and order whatever takeout was offering a deal, actually just sleeping together) but spending a few days alone was something entirely different. Spending a few days alone was real. 

“You know what,” Jo laughed, leaning forward to peck Alex’s cheek. “Let’s do it. Let’s get out of this hellish town, god knows we both need it..”

The crooked smile that appears on Alex’s face made Jo’s heart stutter again, the look ingrained in her mind so well that she thought she might be able to paint it from memory. 

+

“I haven’t been up here in years, I didn’t realize how beautiful it was,” Jo stood at the edge of the small cliffside overlooking the water just a few feet down. Alex stood behind her, arms wrapped around her waist and head propped against her shoulder as they both admired the beginnings of the sunset reflecting on the water. “I’m glad we came up here.”

“Me too, I’m glad I get to spend some time with you,” Alex turned Jo around, his hands squeezing her waist as he kissed her gently. “And I’m very sorry about this.”

Before Jo could respond to him, Alex had lifted her off the ground and jumped off the small dirt cliff, plunging them both into the icy water of the lake. When she resurfaced, Alex was already laughing at her shocked expression. 

“You’re gonna pay for that, Karev,” Jo laughed, feet treading water as she swam closer to him. “Oh you’re so gonna pay for that.”

Alex seized the opportunity in front of him, quickly wrapping his arms around Jo and pulling her body flush with his. His lips meet her neck as she tries in vain to squirm away from him, loud peels of laughter escaping Jo as she let herself relax into Alex’s embrace. 

It’s hours later when they’re laying in the back of Alex’s truck, eyes glued to the sky as they lay wrapped up in one another in a pile of blankets and pillows. There’s a discarded wine bottle next to them and the last embers of the fire they’d built are still glowing. It’s peaceful and quiet and Jo doesn’t think she’d ever felt so relaxed in her whole life. 

“The stars look way brighter out here,” Jo noted as she rested her head against Alex’s chest, eyes closing as he ran his fingers through her hair. “I wish I could stay here forever. It’s the perfect spot.”

“Well this truck bed is uncomfortable as hell so I don’t think us living in the woods would be great on your back,” Alex chuckled as Jo’s hand hit his chest with a soft whap. She sat up then, reaching for her overnight bag and digging through it. “What’re you doing?”

“I got you something! It’s not much but,” Jo pulled out an immaculately wrapped box and handed it to Alex with a wide grin. “I figured it might be handy when you become a hot shot doctor.”

Alex cocked an eyebrow at Jo, before unwrapping the box and popping it open. Inside laid a wrist watch, a silver watch face mounted on a thick leather strap. Jo revelled in the crooked grin on Alex’s face as he took it out and handed it to her, silently asking her to latch it onto his wrist.

“It’s vintage, I found it at a thrift store the other day and I couldn’t resist buying it,” Jo gushed as she adjusted the strap against Alex’s wrist. “I read somewhere that most doctors want to keep a watch on because they’re easier to check and more reliable than digital. And it helps with counting seconds an-”

The rest of Jo’s sentence melted away as Alex pressed his lips firmly against hers. Jo couldn’t help the smile that overtook her, a giggle escaping quietly as Alex leaned her back and pressed her into the truck bed.

“Thank you, you’re more than I deserve,” Alex kissed Jo once more before moving his lips to her neck. “Maybe I can show you how much you mean to me.”

“Mmmm that sounds like a fun way to end the night,” Jo giggled as Alex moved his lips further down her body. “A really fun way to end it…” +

Once the thrill of their spontaneous weekend trip wears off, Jo is surprised at how normal her relationship with Alex feels. It’s August now, Alex’s short break between med school and the start of his internship nearing an end. He had applied all over the country, but the county hospital had been the only one to accept him. 

“I didn’t hear back from Hopkins, Mass Gen, Seattle Grace, or UCSF, but they were all long shots anyways,” Alex shrugged, slinging his arm around Jo’s shoulder and bringing her closer to him on the ratty couch in her apartment. The movie they had chosen rattled on in the background, neither of them paying much attention to it. “Besides, staying here means I get to hang out with you all the time.”

Jo leaned into Alex’s embrace, eyes closing as she relished the feeling of his heartbeat pounding steadily in her ears. She’d become so comfortable in spending so much time with Alex that she didn’t know what she would do when he began to work long nights and days at the hospital. Of course, her own classes would begin in two weeks and then who knew where the two would land up. 

“Mmm yeah I don’t think I can let you go even if I tried,” Jo felt Alex’s hand slip into her own, squeezing gently as he kissed her head. “I’m pretty sure I love you.”

Jo didn't register the hitch of Alex’s breathing, she didn't even notice that he was staring at her so intently. She had dozed off in his embrace, head heavy against his chest as he watched her carefully. He only moved when his phone began to vibrate in his pocket, stepping into the other room so he wouldn’t wake her. 

“Hello? This is him. Umm yeah, yeah absolutely. I’m definitely interested. I can be there, I will be there… Three days? Yup. Not a problem. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name. Thanks Doctor Webber, it’s been a pleasure. I’ll see you soon.”

+

“I have to take this stupid Calculus class and I can’t drop it and I already hate it,” Jo groaned as she plopped into the seat next to Alex. It was a Tuesday morning and the diner was near empty, allowing Jo a few minutes to breathe easy. “Honestly, I’m not excited to start classes next week. I’ve been absolutely exhausted the past week and I would rather just sleep until graduation.”

Reaching over, Jo grabbed Alex’s toast and took a bite and then returned it to his plate. She looked at him curiously, watching as he stared deep into his coffee cup and didn’t flinch at her quick action. Alex usually swatted her hand away when she stole his food, or at least said something to her. In fact, she didn’t think he had spoken more than a brief hello to her all morning. 

“Are you okay? You seem off today,” Jo rested her hand on Alex’s shoulder, a pang of relief coursing through her as he leaned into her embrace. “What’s up? You stressed about your internship? Because you’re going to do great.”

“No it’s just,” Alex heaved a sigh and turned to Jo, his normally bright eyes a dull brown. He looked sad, upset almost, but Jo couldn’t tell why. “You know I love you, right?”

A brilliant smile took over Jo’s face, a distinct glow coming about her as she leaned her forehead against Alex’s. 

“Of course I do,” Jo pecked Alex’s lips quickly, one hand coming up to rub his cheek. “I love you too. You’re pretty special, you know that?”

Alex responded with a nod, leaning up and kissing Jo once more. She left the seat next to him after that, checking on her tables and refilling coffees before heading back to him. Alex was shrugging his coat on as she walked up, coffee cup drained and bill paid. 

“Heading out?”

“Yeah I got stuff to do,” Alex pulled Jo in close, lips meeting hers in a kiss that was much more passionate than what he’d normally reserve for the diner. He pulled back and stared into Jo’s eyes, a look of longing filling the dark orbs. “I meant what I said. I love you Jo.”

“I love you too,” Jo whispered back, leaning up and kissing Alex once more before patting his chest and stepping away from him. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, I’m working a double today. Bye Alex!”

“Goodbye Jo,” Alex stood a moment longer in the doorway of the diner, watching Jo carefully as she flitted around the dining room. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open, stepping out into the cool August breeze. 

+

“Hey pretty girl, where’s your hotshot boyfriend now? Dipped out on you?”

Jo tried as much as she could to tune out the catcalls and insults flowing from the rowdy table of boys behind her. What she would give for Alex to come swooping in to save her like he did that first day they’d met, but she knew that he wouldn’t. She hadn’t seen him in so long, the August weather turning darker and colder as the months shifted to autumn. It was November now and between classes and the diner, Jo barely had a spare moment to think of the man she’d fallen in love with. 

Except that she did. 

Every minute of the day all Jo could think about was Alex and how much she missed him. His phone number had been disconnected, his apartment was cleaned out, and she hadn’t seen his beat up red pickup truck since it was parked outside of the diner the last day she’d seen him. She’d even gone down to the county hospital to look for him, but a nurse had informed her that there wasn’t anyone under his name working there, much to Jo’s dismay. 

She knew she was being stupid, that Alex and her had just had a fleeting summer romance and she needed to let it go. There was not going to be a magical reunion like the beginning of Grease, there would be no singing and there would be no happy ending for Jo. But she couldn’t let Alex go, she didn’t think she would ever be able to.

“You need to calm down, I know there’s a lot going on, but you are not helping me out,” Jo sighed, eyes closing as she took a moment to press a hand to her protruding stomach. “I know you get excited when we’re here but today… I can’t deal with the constant kicking of my bladder little boy.”

You know when you’re already down and out and then something comes along and just knocks you flat on your ass? That’s exactly what Jo was experiencing. After spending two weeks straight crying over Alex and insurance commercials and the grocery store being out of strawberry ice cream, she’d finally realized that her period was late and that she just might be carrying the child of a man who didn’t want to be found by her. Three stupid plastic tests later confirmed just what Jo had thought: Come April of next year, she would be a mom. 

“We’ll get through today and all the days coming,” Jo sighed as she spoke to herself, a few tears slipping out and dragging down her cheeks. “It’ll all be okay, things will change for us.”

[ahiddenpath]

36 Questions to Make You Fall in Love

SO my boy Eugene Lee Yang released a video where he answered the 36 first date questions to make you fall in love.  Apparently, the idea of the questions is to create an emotional connection upfront.  

(Related: It’s been interesting to see what Youtube/video content creators have come up with to produce content from home during quarantine!).

ANYWAY I thought it was an interesting “get to know you” thing, so I’MMA DO IT TOO below the cut!  It is extremely long.

1. Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?

I have way too much anxiety to impose on a stranger to this extent, so I’d magically have my friends teleported to my home (pre or post quarantine).

2. Would you like to be famous? In what way?

Fame is a nightmare scenario for me.

3. Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say? Why?

Yes, but only with service providers.  I can and will utterly blank on what I need and what my dang name is when asked, “How can I help you?”

4. What would constitute a "perfect" day for you?

Ha!  Right now, just a day without covid-19.  I miss the outside world.  Even things like browsing a store sound heavenly.

But...  The best days of my life thus far were my Hawaii vacation, especially snorkeling and hiking through a rain forest.  So...  I’d want a day where I wake up early in Hawaii to snorkel and hike, and then drink mai tais and watch the sunset with my husband.

5. When did you last sing to yourself? To someone else?

...I sang “Let’s All Sing Like the Birdies Sing” in the shower today...

6. If you were able to live to the age of 90 and retain either the mind or body of a 30-year-old for the last 60 years of your life, which would you want?

Oh, yikes, my mind.  My mother’s father started degrading from Alzheimer’s when I was about 10.  

(I’m assuming this refers to having a healthy mind throughout your life, and not remaining frozen in your 30-year-old mindset/experience set).

7. Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?

No, not at all.  Definitely hoping it’s not Alzheimer’s related.

8. Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common.

Well, I assume you and I both love Digimon!

As for my husband, we’re alike in habits and hobbies, but different in personality.  We’re both introverted homebodies who love video games/nerd stuff in general/learning.  We also highly value security, so we tend to work hard and save.  I’d say we’re both grounded and reasonable, although I’m the more emotional one.

9. For what in your life do you feel most grateful?

This is too hard!  I’m constantly feeling so grateful.  I love existing as me!  I seem to have a strong sense of self, and of where I stand, and that’s so dope.  I’m also intensely grateful for my husband, who is so generous with his love and affection and care.  And I’m glad that I found a career that suits me so well.

10. If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?

Er.  

I had a difficult childhood.  It’s hard, because my Mom loves me and my brother and sacrificed so much for us...  But she (and all of our relatives) failed to protect me from my father’s various flavors of abuse.  We were both also under a ton of pressure to excel academically.

Still, I can’t change the past.  I’d rather donate to women’s shelters and resources for people dealing with abuse at home.

11. Take four minutes and tell your partner your life story in as much detail as possible.

Let me bullet point it:

-Spent most of my time from 6 months old to 2 years old in a body cast because my hip wasn’t in the socket, and my muscles developed around it like that.  Went to tons of physical therapy.

-Drew comics when I was 3 and 4 because I needed to get ideas out, such as they were, but I couldn’t write yet.

-I love cats, and have had at least one since I was five.

-My home situation was rough.  I started trying to plan how to get out and be independent early and have been working and saving since I was 16.

-Interests/hobbies: animals, singing, nature, science, books, music, writing, video games, art, baking

-Met and started dating my husband at age 14.  We’re blissfully married.

-First job was at an aquarium.  Worked summers at a biotech firm during college.  I’ve been working in biotech since I graduated.  I currently research immunotherapies.  I have a B.S. in biology.

-I have general anxiety disorder and see a therapist every other week.  Therapy has been amazing, A+ would recommend.

-I’m an asexual cis lady

-I need to read and write to stay sane.  Reading connects my mind to other minds, which helps me grow, understand, and think.  Writing releases the pressure that builds up in my brain.

-I’m introverted, but friendly.  Also, I’m an enormous dork.

12. If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?

Teleportation

13. If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?

No, thanks.  I realize the point is to share information about myself through my response, but...  This just isn’t how humans are meant to live.  We’re supposed to discover our way and forge our futures, not have answers magically handed to us.

14. Is there something that you've dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven't you done it?

...Sigh.  My husband and I have dreamed of visiting Japan since we were teens.  We were just starting to plan the trip when covid-19 hit.  Thankfully, we hadn’t booked anything yet.

15. What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?

Being me, being happy, whole, fulfilled, and confident.  There’s no one magic accomplishment that makes everything “worth it” or makes me feel like I “made it.”

16. What do you value most in a friendship?

Oh, oh, oh, there’s a lot to this!  Obviously, a friend needs to be kind (you don’t want to spend time with a jerk), but they also need to be emotionally mature (lending a kind ear is good, but functioning as a therapist for a friend is exhausting).  But it’s the best if a friend has both of those things, but also is interesting in some way.  Like... maybe they’re funny, or charismatic, or share your hobbies.  And it’s a great feeling when a friend reaches out to you and makes time for you now and then; it’s a vulnerable feeling to always be the one to reach out.

17. What is your most treasured memory?

My first kiss, which was with my husband when we were 15.

Also, my entire trip to Hawaii with my husband.

18. What is your most terrible memory?

I’ll probably go with the time my father called me into his room while I was doing homework- I was probably 16ish?  He told me I’d never be as smart, talented, or successful as my brother, at great length, for no discernible reason.  He said I’d have to work more than twice as hard as him to get by, since I was so deficient.  I still have nightmares where this replays.

19. If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living? Why?

I would say that I would quit my job and travel with my husband, but...  You know, covid-19.  I’d want to spend a ton of time with my husband, see as much as I can of the world, and do whatever I can to get details in order and make things as easy on my husband as possible.  

20. What does friendship mean to you?

It means that you love someone and actively want them in your life, and you treat them as such.

Life is short, and people only have so much physical and emotional energy.  If you choose to freely and joyfully give it to someone, then that’s a big deal.

21. What roles do love and affection play in your life?

???  Same as anyone else, I’d assume.  People need people, although everyone has different levels of need.  I guess I do tend to avoid casual relationships so I have more energy for my closest relationships.  I’m also extremely independent, so I think my needs are smaller than average.  

22. Alternate sharing something you consider a positive characteristic of your partner. Share a total of five items.

I assume that you, reader, are a cutie pie.  Hello!

But let me talk about my husband!  He is wicked smart, always learning for fun, and skilled at logic/reasoning.  He’s also a hard worker, and the head of software development at his company at age 31.  He is sooo shy and terrible at small talk, but I adore that he’s the quiet type, since the world is always so loud.  He’s gentle and loving and kind, and he takes amazing care of me and is constantly looking for ways to do something for me.  And he’s laid back and easy-going, which is so soothing.  

23. How close and warm is your family? Do you feel your childhood was happier than most other people's?

No and no.

24. How do you feel about your relationship with your mother?

It’s... complicated.

25. Make three true "we" statements each. For instance, "We are both in this room feeling ... "

WE ALL STAN THE CHOSEN.  We are all excited for the Digimon Reboot to restart.  We all love Koushiro!

26. Complete this sentence: "I wish I had someone with whom I could share ... "

...I want more writing and reading friends.

27. If you were going to become a close friend with your partner, please share what would be important for him or her to know.

I’ve had to explain to a lot of people that, despite being friendly and open, I’m introverted and independent, and a total homebody.  I often find that people want to go to bars with friends, or maybe see movies or go to festivals.  I would rather talk on a video chat while we each do our own thing.  People tend to want too much too fast for my slow, cautious pace.

28. Tell your partner what you like about them; be very honest this time, saying things that you might not say to someone you've just met.

I like that you love Digimon and have somehow managed to read this much of this never-ending thing.  Also, you look cute.

29. Share with your partner an embarrassing moment in your life.

I asked my husband out over the phone when I was 14.  I was sitting on a wooden chair that was far, far older than me.  Because I was so nervous, I was rocking the chair back and forth.

It splintered and broke while I was trying to ask my husband to my school’s homecoming dance, pitching me to the floor in the middle of the most crucial sentence.

30. When did you last cry in front of another person? By yourself?

Yikes, this is a lot, but I last cried in front of my therapist.  I asked out loud, for the first time, why no one did anything to protect me as a kid and ended up bawling.  

I can’t remember the last time I cried alone.  Generally, I go to my husband for support.

31. Tell your partner something that you like about them already.

Your fine, fine taste in blogs.

32. What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about?

You know, I’m not sure.  Millennials tend to have fairly dark/nihilistic senses of humor.  I will say that, generally speaking, you should only “punch upward.”  Ie, don’t kick people who are down.  It’s better to joke about the rich than the poor, for example.

33. If you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? Why haven't you told them yet?

Sometimes I wish I could articulate some things to my parents, but they wouldn’t hear me, anyway.  I know because I’ve tried.  

But my loved ones know I love them, so that’s taken care of.

34. Your house, containing everything you own, catches fire. After saving your loved ones and pets, you have time to safely make a final dash to save any one item. What would it be? Why?

The boring and honest answer is my important documents and my computer/external hard drive/charger/cellphone, followed by a fire extinguisher.   But I realize the question is about what physical items I hold dear, so...  Assuming my wedding bands are already on my finger, like always, and that I am wearing my glasses and some clothes, I’d grab my grandmother’s clock.

35. Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find most disturbing? Why?

Jesus Tap-dancing Christ.

My husband’s.  I love him beyond compare.

36. Share a personal problem and ask your partner's advice on how he or she might handle it. Also, ask your partner to reflect back to you how you seem to be feeling about the problem you have chosen.

I’m 31, and I’ve been thinking a lot lately about whether or not I want children.  The trouble is, I feel like my country has gotten so much worse since I’ve been alive, and especially over the last four years (I’m American).  Meanwhile, the environment is deteriorating globally...  Would my child even have clean drinking water when they’re 30 or 40?

Is it ethical to have children under these circumstances? 

And this is all before I even address the question of whether or not I want to be a mother, or if I think I would be a good mom!  Yikes.

THAT WAS A LOT, are you still here?  Thanks for reading xD

[certifiedmoth]

Delicious and Dangerous (Part 4)

Sugar Daddy/Werewolf Duncan x Reader

Summary: Y/N awakes one morning to find Duncan missing, only to have him demand she visit him at his house in the woods. As the day unfolds, she sees a different side to her lover, one that she’s not sure she likes.

Word Count: 8.8K

Warnings: fem!reader, duncan in heat, mean!duncan, bits of dark!duncan, angst, smut (oral [male receiving], unprotected sex, rough sex, lots of biting (he’s a werewolf duh), overstimulation, breeding!kink, knotting, daddy!kink, degradation, bondage)

Notes: Here’s part 4 (finally)!! I’m sorry it took so long to get out, ya girl has been busy. This is pretty much all smut, but lots of angst in there as well. I’m gonna be the first to say that some parts of Y/N and Duncan’s relationship feels really unhealthy and if I met somebody as possessive as Duncan, a bitch just might run. Anyways, this is fiction and duncan and y/n are both stupid, but I love them. Enjoy reading this shit show (and try not to hate me for that ending oops) Any comments are appreciated (even if you just want to yell at me) ♥ (gif credit to @spellman)

___

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You awoke from a night of blissful dreams to the sound of rain tapping against your window. Groaning, you instinctively pulled the comforter up your body, relaxing further into the plush mattress beneath you, letting sleep take you once again.

Life had been truly great lately; Duncan made sure of that. It had been about a month since his little stint at the restaurant and he had made sure to be on his best behavior since then. You were sure that something would have come out in the press about that night, but oddly enough there was silence surrounding the Shepherds. Life with Duncan was actually as sweet as it had ever been. You were constantly pampered. Constantly loved and doted on. It was as if you were in a dream – one you wished to never wake up from.

Most of your attention was given to Duncan these days, but Nick did occasionally cross your mind from time to time; especially since he seemed to call you every other day. Shortly after the incident at the restaurant, you talked with him on the phone and apologized for what had happened. The truth was that you weren’t sorry for leaving him at the restaurant, you were just sorry for how you left him. Apparently, he wasn’t the Nick you remembered him to be and that was a disappointing fact you had to come to terms with. No matter how many times you dodged his calls, he never got the clue.

Although, you were living on cloud nine with Duncan, and truth be told, felt that Nick deserved the anger that was directed at him, shame filled your mind anytime it wandered back to that Saturday night. Duncan was an enigmatic soul – It was as if he was in a constant battle to find balance between his two selves. He could be intense and heated; you’ve come to find out. And when he was like that, it was hard to talk him down or convince him of anything beside his own reality. But he also showed you more love than anyone you had ever known. You sometimes didn’t know how to handle being loved that much. There were moments where you’d catch him stealing glances your way, looking at you as if you were his one reason for existing.

Any shame you felt towards him from that night quickly left whenever you thought of his gentle touches and warm kisses. Your heart fluttered and a smile always managed to find its way on your face any time thoughts of him crossed your mind. Even when he wasn’t there, you were left feeling comforted in a way you would always be grateful for.

Duncan’s behavior since that night was endearing, to say the least. You could tell he was embarrassed for his actions that night, but had too much pride to show it. So, he apologized in other ways. He catered to your every need trying to gain your favor once again. He brought you flowers and gifts, was gentle when he made love to you, and he had even promised to take you away on vacation for however long you wanted. One of his gifts, a beautiful necklace, dangled from your neck every day. He loved to bite on it playfully while he had you pinned underneath him, kissing your neck. Duncan was complete putty in your hands, even though he’d never admit it. But you didn’t care about the constant and never-ending gifts. All you wanted was time alone with the man of your dreams. Even after all this time, you could never get enough. You were afraid you’d always want more of him.

After the revelations of that night, when he confessed to you that you were his one true mate, you both came to terms with how strong your bond and need for one another is. You moved into his apartment and now it became a shared space between two lovers. Duncan was finally at ease having you this close to him – He could make sure you were always safe this way, always out of harm’s way. As gentle and sweet as he was, he was also fiercely protective of you. He would go to the end of the earth to protect you.

Every morning you’d wake up with either the sensation of his stubble tickling your skin as he placed delicate kisses all over your face, or his preferred way to wake you up, with him nestled perfectly in between your legs, placing rather more passionate kisses elsewhere on your body. It was heaven for both of you. After some fun in bed and having to nearly pry Duncan off of you, he would go to work and you would make good use of his credit card. But you always kept him in mind, making sure to buy things that he’d loved and was sure to enjoy once he got home. And that left you to your favorite time of the day, when you could hear the front door unlock and his designer boots making their way towards you. After a long day of meetings and bossing around other people, he found comfort in evenings spent with his girl. Meaningful kisses, tender embraces, and easy, genuine conversations; nights spent intertwined on the couch with your empty wine glasses on the coffee table. It was what you both had dreamed of. Domesticity. Being in each other’s company – simply being in each other’s arms. It was everything, and yet it still wasn’t enough.

You craved each other – Constantly needed more of each other. Every night ended with Duncan carrying you to the bedroom to have his way with you. To show you just how much he needed you. And afterwards, once you two were exhausted and left in a love-filled daze, you’d eventually drift off to sleep in each other’s arms, ready to do it all over again the next day. The both of you felt contempt and happy for once in your lives. Everything was just as it should be.

~

Except this morning, something had changed. Duncan was nowhere to be found as you finally opened your eyes, weak from sleep. The warmth from his body that always surrounded you in the early mornings was gone, and instead was replaced with a feeling of unease and worry. You furrowed your brows in confusion and reached your arm out to search for your phone on the nightstand.

7:17 am To: Duncan [Where are you?]

It was Saturday morning and he didn’t have work. He should have been right beside you, sleeping sound under the covers with his hair tousled wildly, letting out small breaths from his lips while he slept peacefully. But he wasn’t. Your boyfriend was nowhere to be found. Not in the bathroom, not in the kitchen, not in his office – He was just gone.

7:24am From: Duncan [At the other house, my sweet. I’m dealing with something. Not sure if I’ll see you today.]

You weren’t happy with that response as you twirled your necklace around your fingers, nervously. Honestly, you were just confused more than anything. You checked the date on your phone and realized it was almost a full moon, but not quite yet. He shouldn’t be changing tonight or seeking any type of solitude because of the shift. With no full moon, there was no need for it. So, it had to be something else.

Not knowing drove you crazy. You didn’t want to be the person that overthought everything, but you were. You had always been that way. In life, you liked having control and hated when things didn’t go according to plan. You liked the plan – You liked knowing what the plan was. Being in the dark made you uncomfortable, and in this moment, you could feel the urge to spiral start to take over.

With the two of you being nearly inseparable these days, you felt a pit in your stomach grow at the idea of Duncan keeping something from you. No matter how hard you had worked to trust others and open yourself up, there was always a part of you that felt anxious. Anxious that someone was lying to you or plotting to hurt you.

The last time Duncan had kept something from you it ended with you being chased by him in his other state, nearly giving you a heart attack and a mental breakdown. You thought back to the entire day leading up to that night in the woods. You had been so worried about the secrets and lies that were filling your relationship – so much that it made you burst until you sought him out and found out more than you reckoned for. But now, you had no reason to not trust him. He had showed how devoted he was to you and was consistently truthful and genuine with you – he never lied and never did anything for you to question him. So, why the secrecy now?

7:31am To: Duncan [Is everything okay? Can I come over?]

…

7:32am From: Duncan [That might not be a good idea. If I need you, I’ll let you know, baby.]

You weren’t sure what to make of that. He wasn’t being cold and distant with you; he was just away and clearly insistent on not telling you what he was up to. That hint of secrecy only twisted your insides further. But nonetheless, you sat back in defeat, deciding to trust the man you’d grown so fond of while knowing that he’d never betray you. You went to grab your laptop for some online shopping in the hopes of a sweet and expensive distraction.

~

Hours go by and you’ve nearly forgotten about your uncomfortable morning. A part of you cringes at the ridiculous and unnecessary amount of spending, but another part of you feels excitement for Duncan’s reaction when he sees you in your new items. You think back to your mysterious man as you sip from the coffee mug in your hand. Just as he crosses your mind, you hear your phone buzz to the side of you and your eyes widen as you see his name.

1:04pm From: Duncan [Come to the house. Now]

The urgency in his message brought back that uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach and you weren’t sure what to think. Was he in trouble? Was he mad? Had you done something to really anger him? You couldn’t tell from his message and it only made your anxiety worse. A part of you didn’t want to deal with any confrontation today, but another part of you, the curious part of you, needed to know what was going on and if he was okay. And you really didn’t want to wait long to find out.

Quickly, you threw some decent clothes on and jumped into your Porsche (another new gift from the man of the hour). You raced down the highway, a sudden burst of excitement filled you at the idea of finally seeing your boyfriend for the first time that day, even though you were still a bit nervous for what you may find. The rain hit your windshield, the noise calming you a bit as dark clouds loomed over the city in your rearview mirror; the house in the middle of the woods grew closer and closer as you noticed the familiarity of the trees on either side of you.

The moment you pulled up to the hidden driveway, you took in a deep breath trying to steady yourself and calm your nerves. Duncan’s sleek car was already parked next to yours and it only reminded you that the demanding man was inside, waiting for you for whatever reason he chose not to disclose. You let out one last breath and pushed aside whatever fears or trepidation you had and briskly left the car, trying to cover yourself from the rain as best you could. You made your way quickly to the front of the beautiful and familiar home, noticing long claw marks from where he had chased you that night months ago. It calmed you, strangely. Just to think of how far you’ve both come, how much your relationship has evolved and how much work you’ve put into it. It really put things into perspective for you and you decided that whatever it was you’d find inside; you could handle it. You’d handle it together, hopefully.

~

“Hello?” you asked timidly as you opened the large front door, stepping in and taking in the stagnant air of the modern house. The lights were off and Duncan’s coat had been long forgotten on the couch. The rain hit the glass on the house, creating an eerie feeling. “Duncan…?” Your voice rang once more throughout the empty house as you cautiously made your way up the stairs. And that’s when you heard it.

Small whimpers. The sound of someone in pain. Groaning and soft whines from a voice you would know anywhere.

“Duncan?” You asked with slight alarm in your voice as you pushed open the bedroom door. The sight in front of you stopped you dead in your tracks, causing a small gasp to leave your lips. Duncan laid atop the deluxe bed, a whimpering mess as he appeared to be in clear pain.

“Y/N…” his voice came out weak and desperate. Quickly, you rushed to his side, taking in the sight of him completely. A sweat broke out over his forehead and his cheeks were flushed. He looked as if he had just gotten finished with a 10K and immediately crashed on the bed. Duncan was dressed in nothing but his briefs and as you leaned your hand down to softly caress his cheek, you felt how hot his skin was. His eyes were closed tight as if in agony; his face contorted in pain. You had never seen him like this before. He looked fragile – Fragile and weak. But all of that was quickly forgotten once your eyes laid upon his lower region.

He was completely and, what appeared to be, painfully hard. His briefs barely held back his length from breaking free of its confines. You were as confused as ever, but your worries slowly started to vanish as a vague memory came back to you from a night weeks ago; a night spent drinking copious amounts of wine and sharing secrets about wolves, particularly of his kind. He explained nearly everything, from what it meant to be an alpha to mates and breeding to full moon rituals. You even remembered Duncan mentioning something about wolves going into heat when around their mates for long periods of time.

Was he in heat? Could this really be the source of his anguish? You bit your lip thinking about Duncan in this state, helpless and needy for you. The mere idea that you were the cause of this excited you beyond belief.

“Baby, is this what you needed me for?” Your small voice rang out, almost in a teasing and mocking manner as you stroked his forehead and gave him an innocent pout. His eyes shot open, revealing them to be an inhumanly shade of blue as a deep growl left his lips. The warning look he gave you reminded you of that first night you saw him here; he looked feral and dangerous, like a wild animal ready to rip something apart. Instinctively, your body moved away from him but his hand was faster. He quickly reached out and grasped onto your wrist, making sure you couldn’t leave his side.

“Duncan…” Your voice lost any hint of cockiness and now showed only concern, which caused him to slowly ease his tight grip on you. “Baby, what’s going on?” You managed to get out the last bit as you looked him over once again. Maybe you had read the situation wrong. He would never… hurt you, would he? The corner of your eye saw his hips slightly rise into the air almost as if it was his body’s way of telling you what he needed.

“I really tried not to call you over,” he looked away before closing his eyes in disappointment. “Wanted to deal with this on my own,” he added, his grip on you tightening once more. “But I need you,” his voice was dark and raspy as his eyes found yours once again. Simply having you near him strengthened Duncan and he found it in himself to sit up and move his body closer to yours. Afterall that’s what he needed more than anything – just to be close to his mate.

“I-I don’t understand… Why come here? Why not just stay home, baby?” You whispered while he leaned in and attached his lips to your neck, not wasting a second in tasting and licking your soft skin. You smelled delicious and he needed you now.

“In heat,” he said curtly, not wanting to part from your skin and growing more and more frustrated with being this close to you, but not being inside of you. “Can be dangerous for humans,” he added, continuing to suck on your skin, while moving his hands against your breasts, his strength gathering as he roughly massaged you through your shirt. He already felt some sort of relief just having you this close to him. The feeling of your body against him eased him slightly but he needed more. He wouldn’t be happy until he was comfortably and completely inside of you.

“In heat?” you whispered, a small smile forming on your lips as you tried to tease him. “Does my poor baby need my help-“ you were, quickly, cut off from the feeling of him nipping your skin roughly, warning you to not test him. Little did he know, it only made you want to push him further.

“So, you’re in heat…” A dangerous smirk played out over your features as you continued to push him. A small growl left his lips as his hold on you tightened.

“If you don’t stop, I am going to fucking wreck you,” all the warmth in his voice left. Only a cold and dangerous warning was left. Now, he actually wanted you to push him more, to give him an excuse to throw you down on the bed and make you a screaming mess.

“My daddy’s in heat, how cute,” you patronized.

You realized you might have gone too far as his body went completely still at your words. He slowly pulled away from your neck to look you dead in the eyes.

“He is,” the words sounded more like a growl as every bit of intensity and desire he had shown through the blue of his irises. He tilted his head slightly, the ghost of a smirk showing as he gripped your hip with inhuman strength, making you wince. “And your daddy is going to wipe that pretty, little smile right off of your face,” he whispered as he leaned in slowly next to your ear, enjoying the shiver that ran through your body. He lowered his head into the crook of your neck, biting hard on one of the already red and purple marks he left. “You see… Daddy needs you,” his hand rose to your throat, squeezing just enough to make you gasp. “He needs to feel you… Needs to be inside of you,” his hand squeezed harder, constricting your airway. “Unless, you have other plans and want to continue teasing your daddy.”

You shook your head side to side as you gasped for air. “No, sir,” the smallest whimper left your lips as you struggled to get your words out.

His ease on you let up and his hand found its way to your shirt, ripping it right off of your body. “Good. Now, I need you to behave like a good, little girl today while daddy has his way with you,” he whispered as he leaned in, his breath ghosting over your skin. “Is that understood?”

You nodded once more, biting your lip, “Yes, daddy. I’ll be so good for you,” you played along with him. He knew exactly how to shut you up and remind you that he was the one in charge. He appeared to be happy with your response, licking a small stripe against your neck only to suck on it and nip it lovingly.

“Mm, you’ll be my sweet, little princess?” His hands found your hips, raising you onto his waist while he leaned back down onto the bed. You straddled him while his hands ran all over your body possessively.

“I’ll be your sweetest princess,” you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck as you felt yourself start to fall into your familiar roles. He was your daddy and you were his princess. Of course, you could be a brat at times, but he liked it most when his girl didn’t challenge him. And you craved his praise more than anything. You’d do just about anything for him if he called you his ‘good girl’.

“That’s what I like to hear.” The dark smirk that appeared on his lips sent a shiver down your spine moments before he flipped you both over and pinned you to the mattress. “My baby’s going to be ruined by the end of today,” Duncan’s lips turned into a fake, exaggerated pout but his eyes showed malicious intent. You whined, trying to raise your hips to rub against his briefs. He glared at you, silently warning you to behave. “Stay,” he ordered, reaching over and grabbing something from the nightstand, his warm body leaving you for a second too long causing you to whine again. He found his place against your body once more, only now holding two pieces of silk in his hand causing you to bite your lower lip in anticipation.

“Is that for me, daddy? I promised I would be a good girl…” you imitated his pout while your eyes stared up at him innocently. He stared right through you, calling your bluff.

“You don’t fool me for a second, little one. Even my good girl can be naughty at times… And daddy doesn’t want to deal with you challenging him or being a brat right now.” He fastened the pieces of silk around your wrists, tying you to the bed frame as a dissatisfied noise left your lips. Duncan knew you loved being able to feel him while making love, but the beast in him had no intention of being sweet with you today. The other half of him, the animalistic part of him purely just needed your body, as selfish as that was. He was blinded by the state he was in; he was ready to do just about anything to feel his cock settled deep inside of you. You noticed him being a bit harsher than normal, but didn’t think much of it. You were too preoccupied with the wetness growing in between your legs. Your wrists were held fairly tightly in the silk and you looked up at him, whimpering.

“So, daddy can’t handle me, then? He needs to tie me up?” You bat your eyelashes at him, hoping to rile him up even more; loving this game of cat and mouse you were in.

“I’d stop talking if I were you,” he leaned in close to your ear, his powerful aura making you sink even further into the mattress. You were frightened and excited for what he would do if you pushed him too far, but he didn’t give you the chance. “Actually,” a dangerous smile appeared on his face as he rubbed his stubble in contemplation. “I think I know the perfect thing to shut you up.”

Your mind instantly thought of the gag in the drawer you were sure he would pull out, but you were wrong. Your eyes widened as you saw him palm himself through his briefs, his prominent bulge begging for release. He pulled down his briefs and threw them to the floor while your mouth watered at the sight of his length bobbing up and down. Duncan stroked himself a couple of times while staring you down, getting ready for how good you were about to make him feel. You gasped when he quickly took hold of your hair and pulled your head back even further into the mattress, making your mouth more accessible to him.

“You just look so pretty like this, angel,” he spat out coldly, gripping onto your hair even harder while making his way up your body. He held his cock to your face and slapped his thick length against your lips crudely, beckoning you to open up for him. When you didn’t, a growl escaped him and he pulled on your hair even harder. It was bordering just a little too painful. “Open. Now,” he demanded, staring down at you. You obeyed him, quickly opening your mouth to him and he didn’t waste a second thrusting into your mouth. A groan left his lips as his head slightly fell back at the feeling of your warmth take him in completely.

His thrusts were fast and hard as he chased his high. The sound of you moaning and gagging on his cock only urged him to go faster; his cock easily found its way down your throat with each thrust. He slammed his hips into your mouth as you fought against your restraints. You couldn’t help the wetness forming between your legs as he used you for his own pleasure.

“Fuck… your pretty, little mouth feels so good,” he grunted. “Are you my little sex slave, princess?” His laugh echoed off the walls. “Gonna use you however I want,” he spoke while his thrusts started getting sloppier; the feeling of his first orgasm of the day starting to build.

You tried to reply to him, but all that came out was a soft mumbling against his cock. He felt the vibrations of your words against his shaft, causing a deep moan to leave his lips as he pushed his cock even further into you.

“Sorry, princess. What was that?” He teased, smirking to himself. “Couldn’t quite hear you with my cock down your throat,” he chuckled to himself. He grabbed onto your hair and picked up his pace, seeking his own pleasure. You knew he was dangerously close from the increasing sound of his moans building up to his release. His cock roughly thrust into your mouth once more and you felt him still his movements as a loud groan echoed off of the walls. His cum shot out of his tip and coated your throat as he thrust a couple more times, making sure every bit of cum he had to give you went down your throat.

He released you from your grip and fell against the bed, breathing heavily as he ran his hand through his hair, finally feeling relief from the tortures of his morning. “Fuck…” He raised his head, looking you over while taking his time sitting up. His hands graced your thigh while he noticed the innocent, needy look on your face.

“So good for daddy,” he whispered, knowing exactly what to say to please you, while leaning down to kiss your thigh. “I hope you can keep that up for the rest of the day.”

~

Duncan got increasingly rougher and meaner as the day went on. The once sweet and loving man you saw only yesterday was nowhere to be found today. What you had in your presence was instead, a man who was rough with you, who taunted you, who mercilessly used your body for his own pleasure. He was always a very dominant and rough lover, but he was always still tender and loving. But the Duncan you were witnessing today was all business. He used you over and over again, his appetite never seeming to ease up.

You couldn’t really complain, because you were loving every second of it. Well almost every second of it – you wished he would ease up on you just a bit, but it wasn’t anything you were worried about as he gave you world-shattering orgasm after another.

His hunger was never-ending. Whether he had you on all fours, or pushed up against the wall, or spread out on the kitchen counter, he was savagely wrecking your body, always seeking his next high. You were growing exhausted by the fifth or sixth hour, you weren’t sure anymore, but he never showed to tire himself.  He only wanted more. More of you, more of being inside of you, more of being surrounded by you, more of you bending at his will. He needed it.

He tried giving you a break, but could only last about thirty minutes once he felt that uncomfortable tension starting to build on itself again. You didn’t mind – not really anyways. His never-ending need to be inside of you left you feeling full – in more ways than one. Your heart leapt every time he called you his ‘princess’, only to have your mind turn to focus on the pain and pleasure you were feeling from him thrusting into you at a relentless pace. Duncan had so much energy and stamina, it was truly shocking. He was always a dominant lover, you knew this, but he never ceased to surprise and amaze you with just how much faster and harder he could fuck you.

And now you found yourself on all fours once again, at the mercy of your rough lover. Duncan’s hands gripped onto your hips with feverish force while he thrust into you with inhuman speed. You already had two orgasms down from this session alone and you were a whimpering mess as you tried to hold onto the comforter for dear life.

“Aw, what’s the matter, little one? Can’t handle daddy fucking you like this?” he mocked you while grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking your head back to look at him. You’d never seen his eyes so dark before as he glowered at you. His dangerous smile returning once he heard the small whines escaping you.

“Thought you were going to be good for me,” his lip curled up. “Thought you were daddy’s good little girl…” his voice mocked your whimpers. “Thought you were special,” he let out a dark chuckle. “Guess not,” any warmth he had for you left his voice as he ignored the gasp that left your mouth at his harsh words.

“Duncan…” you warned, trying to get the point across to him that he was close to crossing the line. He had pushed you relentlessly all day with his ruthless comments and nonexistent sympathy and you were only now starting to feel a bit crushed by his actions. What happened to your Duncan who always made sure you were alright? What happened to the Duncan who, even though he was rough with you, always assured you that you were loved and cared for? You weren’t sure who this new person was.

“What?” he snapped. “Is daddy being too mean?” He mocked once more, thrusting into you particularly hard, enjoying the small scream that left your lips.

You lowered your head, hiding your face in the mattress and not wanting to look at him anymore as you considered his words. You were left with a bitter taste in your mouth from the way Duncan was acting. You weren’t sure why he was being so cruel, especially when he knew how vulnerable you were in this state. His words were cutting a little too deep and you found yourself stifling a new onset of tears.

“Rose.”

Duncan fought the beast inside of him and stopped immediately at the sound of your shared safe word. You had never used it before in all the time you had known him and he wasn’t even sure if he had heard you correctly. He fell back onto the mattress and stared in disbelief as he felt his world come crashing down around him. Shame surrounded him as clarity started to fill his senses. It was as if a veil was lifted and he could finally see how cruel he had been this whole time.

“That,” Duncan muttered, while staring at his hands. “That wasn’t me,” you heard his small whisper as he spoke mostly to himself. He looked around his surroundings trying to gather himself before his eyes fell on you. You saw every ounce of heartbreak in his expression as his blue eyes started to well up with tears.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he sounded weak, even ashamed. He hesitated before reaching for you and gently caressing your leg. “Baby, I don’t- I don’t know what came over me.”

“I don’t like how you were talking to me,” you placed your hand on top of his. You needed to tell him the truth, but he just looked so devastated by the fact that he hurt you, it killed you to see him like this.

“I kept pushing you and I should have known better,” he let out a shaky breath, coming to terms with how awful he had been.

“And I should have just communicated with you from the get-go.” It was the truth. You should have told him how you felt the first moment you felt the slightest bit uncomfortable. He lifted his head and shifted his eyes from his hands to your eyes.

Duncan shook his head in denial, “I should have known.”

You could tell he’d beat himself up over this for probably the rest of his life. He’d most likely never come near you again while in heat; the thought alone made you sigh in disappointment.

“Come here… please,” your voice was soft as you gestured to the pillow lying next to your head. He softly lowered himself next to you, turning on his side to face you. His hand found your waist and he rubbed small circles while staring at you through glassy eyes.

“Okay, here’s what you’re not going to do. You’re not going to think about this all the time and let it destroy you,” he had opened his mouth to speak, but you quickly placed your hand over his lips to stop him. “Because I’m fine,” you stared into his eyes, making sure he understood. “And I forgive you and I love you.” He let out a long sigh against your hand – Sometimes he felt he truly wasn’t deserving of you or your kindness.

“I understand today has been… a unique occurrence and neither of us really knew how to navigate it. But I trust you, no matter what,” you reassured him while moving your hand to stroke his cheek. “Please don’t let this deter you from ever touching me again. I promise I’ll communicate better if you promise to always hear my needs.”

“Always,” Duncan spoke right away. “My love… I’m just so sorry. I didn’t mean any of those cruel things I said,” he looked like a lost puppy in this moment. It was always so interesting, and in a way absurd, to see him look so vulnerable. He prided himself on being the tough and powerful type, so when you did get to see moments where he looked small and hurt, it reminded you of how sensitive he truly could be.

He continued to rub small circles against your skin while he melted into your hand against his cheek; his stubble tickled you and the familiar feeling filled you with a new adoration for the man lying in front of you.

All Duncan thought of was how amazing you were. How beautiful and kind and caring. How you were completely his; it was something he would always be in awe of. He knew he fucked up. He knew that no matter what you said and how understanding you were, he fucked up. He’d give anything for your forgiveness and you already gave it to him so easily. He truly didn’t deserve you – He felt that in his bones.

“You’re my angel… you know that, right? I love you so much,” he whispered, leaning forward to ghost his lips over yours. You pulled him in for a tender kiss and you knew in that moment you had your Duncan back.

~

Minutes go by… And then hours go by… and Duncan still has you wrapped up in his arms. This whole time, he’s done nothing but share sweet nothings in your ear and place gentle kisses in your hair. He was still in heat, but could feel himself coming down from it. Being this close to you was, in a way, still difficult for him, but he controlled every urge he had – Even if parts of his body didn’t. You could feel how hard he was against you, but no whimpers or moans this time from being in pain, so you knew he was going to be okay. Only the occasional groan when you moved your body, which had you stifling giggles each time.

Lying beside him like this was perfect – but being this close to him with his warm breath ghosting over your skin and his hands dancing across your hips, it made you crave him in a different way. You had thought you were truly his perfect mate, to still want to go for another round with him after having sex for hours. You had to stifle a laugh but he noticed. He always noticed.

“What’s so funny, my love?” He entertained you, a genuine smile on his face as he turned on his back, bringing you to lay on his chest.

“Hm, nothing,” you tapped your finger across his warm chest. “Can I have some water, pretty please?” You asked with puppy dog eyes, as you lifted your head to look at him.

“You want me to go all the way downstairs for some water?” His eyebrow rose in question.

“Do you want me to die of dehydration?”

He rolled his eyes at you while a smile formed on his lips. “Don’t joke about that,” he kissed your forehead before getting out of bed.

You needed an excuse to get up and stretch. Okay, maybe you also needed some time to think about how to get Duncan to touch you again. To really touch you again. You were sure he’d be against it, but you wanted him. And you knew he wanted you, too. You were reminded of that when you ran your finger across your stomach where some of his precum had leaked onto. You knew he was holding back… All you needed was a way to make him let go – At least just a little bit.

You stood up, nervously playing with your necklace around your fingers, thinking about how to get him to give you what you wanted when his tall frame appeared in the room. You jumped up in surprise causing a small laugh to escape him.

“Somebody’s jumpy,” he remarked, making his way over to you with your water in his hand. You looked him over, not bothering to hide your sultry eyes or the way you licked your lips at the sight of his hard cock bobbing up and down.

Duncan cleared his throat, looking at you amusingly. Your cheeks grew warm at the smug look on his face; you turned around quickly, not wanting him to catch any hint of embarrassment on your end. A smirk played out on his lips as he reached over you to place your water on the night stand before wrapping his arms around your body.

“Something you wanted?” his voice was soft as he placed a gentle kiss on your shoulder.

“Mhm,” you teased while you reached behind you for his hard length. The mere sight of it had made your mouth water; your mind raced with excitement. Duncan bit down onto your neck and let out a deep growl at the sudden sensation. His teeth dug into your skin as a warning, but it only deepened your arousal. You moved your hand languidly across his length, letting him know that you simply wanted to please him, to give him what he so desired.

“Baby, we shouldn’t,” he spoke against your skin. He wanted nothing more than to let you continue touching him like this, but he didn’t want to risk the darker side of him coming out again.

“I want to, though,” you whispered, rolling your head back onto his shoulder. “I want you. And I trust you, and I love you. Please,” you breathed out, feeling his cock twitch in your hand.

Duncan let out a small sigh before speaking. “Okay,” his voice was quiet as he placed his lips gently to your neck. He released his grip on your waist only to take your hair in his hand and pull your head back, granting him more access to your neck. You continued stroking him as he worked his tongue over the bite marks on your skin.

“On the floor, baby,” he orders gently. You immediately do as he says, taunting him on all fours with your ass on full display for him. Seeing you like this, on your hands and knees, a whimpering mess, only excited the beast in him more. You turn around slowly to find him fixated on the sight of your helpless state, as his precum glistens and drips to the floor. He lowers himself on his knees, licking a long stripe up your back all the way to your neck where he bites down gently.

“I can smell how fertile you are, princess,” he emits a low growl as his hot breath fans over your skin. “It’s been driving me crazy all day,” his hand reaches down in between your thighs and dips into your folds, gathering your arousal on his fingers. He pulls back reluctantly, bringing his hand to his cock while rubbing your wetness on his tip, mixing your arousal around with his precum.

The squelching sounds of him getting himself off is too much for you and you turn around to make yourself face-to-face with his neglected cock. You look up at him through innocent eyes while leaning forward and pressing your lips to his tip, kissing him ever so gently. He growls excitedly and presses his cock to your face, smearing his precum over your lips and cheeks, marking you as his. His mate. His little plaything. Whatever he wishes for in this moment. You’re his.

He forces your lips open with the tip of his cock and he gently thrusts into you. You happily accept him into your mouth and moan at the salty taste of his precum on your tongue. He humps at your mouth a couple more times before you feel the base of his shaft start to swell. He had warned you about this before. Something that occasionally happens to his kind while aroused. You had never experienced it before, but you were more than excited to take his knot. Except, he instantly pulls out of you and pushes you back down onto the floor.

“You’re mine,” his voice is raspy and low while he pumps himself a few more times.

“Always, Duncan,” your voice is soft as he grabs your body and flips you over with ease, making sure you’re on all fours again. He grips onto your hair with one strong hand and pulls your head back lightly. He smears the rest of his precum along your ass as he searches for what he’s looking for. He finds the wet, warm opening he was desperate for and instantly thrusts into you, yanking on your hair as he bottoms out in you. There was no pain, only pleasure as he stretches you out completely.

Duncan made sure to control the beast in him as best he could, but still set his fast pace. His hips snapped into yours quickly as he chased his release, wanting nothing more than to spill his seed into you. It’s where his cum belonged – every single drop inside of you. He’d give it to you over and over again until you were full of him and only him.

Your moans steadily got louder and louder and in retaliation, he releases your head and leans down, holding your back close to his chest as he bites down on your neck again. His thrusts are deep as he growls in your ear, warning you to behave.

“Gonna drain every drop inside of you,” he promises. The swelling on his length you felt earlier starts to come back and the sensation combined with how primal he’s being nearly throws you into your own orgasm.

“This is what you’re made for,” he smirks to himself, “For carrying my babies.” His thrusts only grow more erratic as he chases his release. “You gonna give me some pups, babygirl?”

You’d never talked about children before and you weren’t sure what he was going on about, but you couldn’t help how turned on you were by his words. You nearly cried out just from the way he was talking to you. His knot hit against your opening with every thrust, massaging you as you start to come undone.

He was being relatively gentle with you before, but now as his need builds, he starts thrusting into you eagerly. His eyes darken and he growls deeply as he breeds you.

With one last thrust, he pulls you back into him and he forces his knot inside of you, connecting you both as he starts to fill you with his warm cum. Duncan lets out a strangled growl that slowly blends into loud groans, echoing off the walls. If you weren’t in an isolated house in the middle of the forest, you might have been afraid of the noise level. But with how vocal he was being and how amazing it felt having him release himself in you, your mind turned elsewhere.

Your body feels like it’s been set ablaze and your own orgasm hits you hard. Duncan holds you up as pleasure takes over your body and you feel every wave of bursting electricity pass over you. Your desperate moans fill his ears and it causes more cum to leak out of him. He leans down to kiss your neck as he paints your walls with a new steady stream of his seed; his quiet groans vibrate off of your skin. You’re positively full of him and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

He breathes heavily against your skin as you both try to steady yourselves. The swelling from his knot starts to go down, but he continues to stay deep inside of you. He finds pleasure from having you cradled under his body, his cum seated deeply in you. The animal in him wants to put life in you and wishes more than anything to impregnate you. But Duncan knows you two haven’t had that conversation yet and he knows you’re on the pill, making his efforts useless. His deepest desire that he was too afraid to talk to you about finally just revealed itself and he’s unsure of how to go about it now. He realizes there’s no use in keeping you two in this position anymore as you won’t bear his children this time, so he pulls out of you reluctantly.

You feel his cum drip down your legs and gather onto the floor in a puddle as he watches the sight with sad eyes. He thinks to himself, “What a waste.” But he’s immediately snapped out of his thoughts when he hears your small voice calling to him.

“Duncan,” you happily sigh, turning around and laying down in exhaustion. You think you’ve finally reached your limit for the day; you don’t think you could go for another second with him. You bask in the aftermath of your orgasm, exhausted and feeling sleep call your name.

“You did so good for me, baby,” he forgets his woes and places gentle kisses all over your face while praising you and worshipping your body with sweet and tender touches. He knew you had had enough and he wouldn’t dare push you any further. After all, he was still ashamed for how awful he had treated you earlier and now, for trying to breed you. Hell, he was ashamed for calling you over in the first place and making you deal with him in this state. He knew you deserved better – that you deserved someone who was sweet and gentle with you. And as hard as he tried, he was still an animal. He swore that he’d always protect you, but could he protect you from himself?

“Baby,” your voice broke his chain of thoughts again as he instantly found your eyes with his own cerulean ones. Your hand reached for his that stroked your cheek and you looked at him knowingly.

“Don’t do that,” you spoke with little energy, you already felt your bed calling for you. He’d have to carry you to the shower and bathe you himself before laying you in bed for the night; you had no energy to do it on your own. “I know that look and I know what’s going through your mind, stop it,” you lightly chuckle, squeezing his hand.

“Baby, you deserve better than what I can give you,” his face contorts with sadness as he thinks back to the events of the day. His words are painful to hear as you stare at him in disbelief.

“Duncan. Shepherd. Don’t you ever say that again,” your voice wavers as you fight back a small onset of tears. “Baby, that isn’t true. I’m yours and your mine. Always, remember?” your voice breaks as you try to calm him. He sighs while slowly nodding his head, comfort settling over him.

“I know,” his voice is as soft as you think you’d ever heard it. He looks so vulnerable in this moment, you’re afraid to even touch him out of fear of breaking the man in front of you. “Always…” he ponders the word. “Promise me you mean that?” His voice is raw with emotion as he begs, tears forming in his eyes, causing them to look like two perfect swirling oceans.

“Of course I promise,” you reassure him. “Now, take me to the shower, please,” you whine and laugh, sleepily.

Duncan sighs contentedly before leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your lips. “Alright, come on,” he joins in on your laughter as he helps you up.

“No, carry me,” you whine like a little child causing him to laugh a bit louder.

“You know, I’m tired, too-” He was cut off by the sound of a tree rustling around outside the window. Both of you stop dead in your tracks, Duncan with his brows furrowed and you with your eyes wide in surprise. You instinctively grab the bed sheet and cover yourself, while Duncan lets go of you and makes his way to the open window. Of all the times you had ever been here, you’d never heard that noise before. It wasn’t possible for somebody to just “stumble” onto this land. It just wasn’t.

“Duncan,” your voice was small and scared. There was always something eerie about this place and any strange sounds you heard now were not helping. You quickly found your place beside him again, realizing that that was the safest place to be. Both of you stared out into the dark of the night, looking for the cause of whatever made that curious noise.

“Baby, I don’t like this,” you whispered. He placed his arm around your waist, comforting you while he glared into the forest. And that’s when you saw it.

You were in disbelief. Shock and confusion overtook you and you couldn’t comprehend what you were looking at.

“Nick?” your voice spoke, mostly to yourself as you tried to comprehend the sight in front of you. Nick emerged from behind the trees and looked you dead in the eye before turning his gaze to Duncan and immediately running in the other direction. But what stuck out the most was the camera in his hands.

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Duncan’s chest breathing heavily. His face was contorted in a type of anger you had never seen before and wished to never be on the receiving end of. His jaw was tense and his lip curled in disgust.

Duncan was fast. Too fast. He reached for his sweatpants, pulling them on before slamming the door open, nearly knocking it off of its hinges. He was down the stairs before you could catch up to him, leaving a trail of destruction in his path.

He reached the front door just as you got downstairs. In a heated fury, he opened the front door letting in the cool air of the night before running outside into the darkness.

“Duncan!”

Part 5

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[thinkingagain]

“No,” the Sir said. “Clearly it does not follow that getting what it wants makes a Beast happy. And it does not follow that a happier Beast will be kinder to others.”

Sir Sleepy of the Bunny Nest (A Novel of the Revolution) Book Two: Empire Chapter 39

The room smelled of animal feces and an acrid, nose-and-eye-burning Beast cleanser. Sir Sleepy of the Bunny Nest looked around at the shadows of the low-ceilinged interior. The Commandant stood beside him.Waves of raw animal fear surged across the room and slammed against the Sir’s chest, leaving him breathless and tautly alert.

“What nightmarish pit is this?” He gagged, his arrogance faltering. Sounds of animal pain, retching and choked gurgles and agonizing cries, made the room demented with sound. Grinding noises of animal desperation echoed from wall to wall. The air was so hot it nearly steamed. The Sir felt Thomas, his little grizzly friend, straining for air at the buttons of the Sir’s suit.

“This is a chicken factory.” The Commandant’s voice was flat, toneless. “In my own country alone, the United States, nearly nine billion chickens are slaughtered for food every year. You are a rabbit of the world, of course. You understand that eating animals is essential to many animals. This is different. These chickens are raised in cages from the moment they’re born. Their bodies are manipulated and engineered and pumped full of artificial stimulants for distorted growth of their meaty parts. Most are alive for only six or seven weeks. This is not simply a place where a creature makes its food to eat. We’re in a massive, non-stop animal torture machine.”

“It must please you to bring me here.” The Sir tried to regain his arrogant tone. “Do you enjoy the chance to show off Beastly degradation among animals dying in pain?”

“I want you to know what I know.” The Commandant’s flat tone became forceful. “But this is enough, I think. Let’s go outside, where the air is better and we can talk.”

The dim factory rooms vanished. The Sir stared out from a hillside down onto a long low metallic-looking building in the valley beyond. Even at a distance, the biting cleaning aroma of the chicken torture factory carried towards him on the air. Still, here the Sir could smell, more strongly than the cleaning odor, the pine trees on the dry hillside. The dry whitish grass on which he was lying, stretching along the hillside and down into the valley, surrounded him with its protection.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” The Sir startled at the Commandant’s voice. The Commandant, propped up in its uniform on a Beastly elbow, lounged in the grass. It alternately looked at the Sir and at the torture factory below. “How we can be here, on this beautiful hillside, and yet so close to Hell itself?”

“I have heard of this Beastly concept of Hell. I do not believe in it. If there is anything on Earth like hell, it is a creation only of Beasts.”

The Commandant nodded. “I wish that weren’t true. I’ve made a long study of Beasts, Sir.” The Commandant stretched its neck and legs in the grass as if pushing the tension out of its body. “I’ve asked myself again and again, what do Beasts want? And how can I help stop them from destroying the planet they live on?”

“I take it that you think you know,” the Sir said.

“As well as any Beast can, I guess.” The Commandant shrugged off its own limitations. “Often, if you give a Beast what it says it wants, you only make it more craven and miserable. And if you give it what it wants but thinks it doesn’t want, it will resist. No, what you have to do is give it what it wants but doesn’t think it wants, and make it think it wants that by making it think you have given it what it says it wanted—even though you haven’t.”

The Sir followed The Commandant’s linguistic manipulations. Clearly, this Beast loved the sound of its language tricks. “This is the basis of your actions, you say? This sort of low manipulation?”

 “Think of what we’re dealing with here. A creature most commonly without insight or generosity for any other than itself. What does a Beast say it wants?”

The Sir thought carefully. “What a Beast says it wants is to do whatever it wants, and to have all others do as it wants.”

“Yes.” The Commandant nodded again, and fingered with a Fleshy Piedmont one of the shiny objects on its jacket. “And when Beasts get that, does it make them happy? And even if it does make them happy, does their happiness make them treat animals or each other better?”

“No,” the Sir said. “Clearly it does not follow that getting what it wants makes a Beast happy. And it does not follow that a happier Beast will be kinder to others.”

“That’s what I’ve seen too. Though there are exceptions. When we’re dealing with Beasts and their treatments of animals though, as much as we might applaud the exceptions, it’s the behavior of the rest that we have to handle. Without us, they will destroy everything that exists.

“Think of how they clamor,” the Commandant went on, “although remember that you don’t know it as close up as I do. They want this, they don’t want that, they must have this now, they never really wanted it. Sir, if you spent more time in Beastly cities, you would hear these shouts and demands from every corner. Can you imagine how it grates on the ears over time? How it pounds in the brain and heart and chest?

“And it’s done, all of it, in the name of what Beasts call freedom. But how do most Beasts define freedom, do you think? Not as the right, and obligation, to work with others to build a better world, a planet on which life can sustain itself and thrive and all beings will suffer less. Instead, as you say, it’s the right to do what they want, when they want, with no consideration of consequences. Nothing must fetter their slightest whim. If it does, they cry and howl and gnash their teeth.

“Because they do not reflect deeply on what they want, when they get it, satisfaction escapes them. Consider yourself and other animals and the satisfaction that is possible for you when you have survived, when you have eaten, when you surround yourself with the fullness of the Earth and feel no separation from it. Few Beasts ever experience such moments. They consider themselves and their desires in isolation not only from their own kind, but from everything that exists. And that which is alone must sooner or later feel empty, and be empty, and die in its emptiness.”

The Sir listened without a word as the Commandant was talking. He clamped down hard on the horror and revulsion pounding through his body and continued to project an aura of arrogance.

Unnoticed in the nearby grass, the small bunny who had followed them unseen listened closely, his body still quivering from being in the factory.

“And so,” the Commandant said, “Beasts almost never understand the deeper possibilities and obligations of freedom. When they do encounter freedom, they run away.”

The Commandant paused, and smiled wistfully, and ran its Fleshy Piedmonts across the medals on its jacket. “I don’t know that it has to be that way. Maybe the potential for improvement does lie in every Beast. But we don’t have enough time or space or oxygen or food to find out. The vanity of Beasts may be limitless, but the resources of the Earth aren’t. We have reached the point when Beasts could, quickly, exhaust all there is on this planet to exhaust.”

The Sir gathered his remaining arrogance and looked at the Commandant skeptically. “I take it then, after all this babble, you have a plan to suggest? I thought your wailing and moaning might never end.”

The Commandant laughed heartily and clapped its hands. “I’ve been indulging myself in philosophy too much, haven’t I? Only a rabbit like yourself would dare call it to my attention. Yes, I have a plan. But I can’t put into effect without your aid.”

“Beast,” the Sir practically spit. “I will never aid you. But maybe, if your plan makes even the slightest sense, we might use it in such a way that you and it will be some small aid to me.” The Sir stood up and raised himself to full haughtiness.

Glee seemed to overwhelm the Commandant’s face, as if its features were being swallowed by an emotion larger than himself. “Yes, that’s just it. A way that I will help you. Ah, Sir. In the presence of your clear superiority, how could I have put it otherwise?”

The small bunny looked at both of them, back and forth, as if between them they had stolen his whole world.

[jellydishes]

so i saw this post recently about what sort of gods characters from critical role would be, and i couldn’t resist turning that around for dragon age two

Hawke’s worshippers have schismed again and again and again, to the point that no one can even agree on their diety’s gender, let alone temperament. when you strip away the disagreements and the endless discord, however, you get to the heart of this polarizing deity: hawke is a deity for the lost, in all their forms. those who have lost homes and lovers and parents and siblings, as much as for those who have lost their way. those who are afraid and uncertain and don’t want to -can’t be- strong all the time. hawke is rarely depicted as a person, far more often with symbols - an interwoven, stark heraldry. a length of cloth, tattered and red as blood. a messy smear of blood, replicated by their worshippers across the nose. hawke is strength and protection when you have no one else. hawke is a hand, offered when you can’t stand up on your own. how many times can one person do this? “at least once more,” says a whisper in your ear

Bethany is a goddess that is hard for many to understand. those people only hear her hymns devoted to hope and kindness and think she is but one more goddess of the hearth and home, easily dismissed. they would be wrong. bethany is worshipped by warriors just as often as she is the abused and forgotten. because beneath the smiles and open hands she is often depicted with, is a core built of heat and determination and a relentless desire to protect what is yours. one does not cancel out the other. bethany’s worshippers know that she is not asking them to forgive and forget, she is asking them to keep going when all you want to do is to give up. put one foot in front of the other and nurture that last bit of hope you have for one more day

Carver is, like his twin, a difficult god for many to parse, easily dismissed as a war god, a god worshipped by those who refuse to follow society’s rules. and they would be missing the truth of him. carver is a god those who want -need- to pave their own path. he is worshipped by transgender people, by those who have no family by choice or by fate and who create their own future. by those who refuse to be defined by someone else. the angry, but also the joyful. offerings to carver are a coin from your first wages at a job no one trusted you to get, let alone keep. a moment from your gender euphoria. a messy drawing by the child you never expected to have. carver is trust in yourself, when no one else has it for you

Aveline is primarily a goddess worshipped by guards and soldiers, but a not insignificant amount of prayers are offered to her by orphans and widows. it is Known that aveline lost and lost and lost in the days before her ascension. she can be a distant god, hard to understand or even love, but she is a constant. when the world was forged, aveline was there, and so shall she remain. aveline is strength and self-reliance and memories held close to your chest because it is no one’s to take before you are ready. images of aveline are often left clasped between the hands of the dead, so that they would always have someone’s hand in theirs

Varric’s stories often depict him as smiling and confident, a twinkle in his eyes and a crossbow bolt between his fingers. he is a god of artists and storytellers, but more than that, varric is a god of memory. it is Known that in life, varric committed his loves into words so that they would last, would live even when he knew they wouldn’t. he is also turned to when loved ones struggle with pain and addiction and alcoholism or any one of a number of coping mechanisms that once helped but now only hurt and hurt and hurt them and others - he does not judge them or you, and instead is a steady, comforting presence when you feel most alone in a cold world which seems to have left you behind. varric is a god for those who turn their pain on its head, who transform it into light and color and laughter. varric is smiles, and the spaces between them

Fenris was initially worshipped as a god of war, but over time that shifted so that now he is known as a god of death and rebirth. the death he represents is often not a physical one, so much as a moment of growth. of deliberately choosing to release the grip your past has upon your present. even if it is hard, and you cannot let it go without leaving claw marks where you wish to hold and remember and understand. because by lingering in a place where discomfort has become comfortable, you cannot grow. your past will remain a part of you, as scars do, but you can turn your eyes to look ahead to the rebirth awaiting you. a spiritual rebirth, of a private meaning. his followers are as much the abused and the enslaved and the survivors as they are the grieving, and all are welcome

Anders is infamously known as a polarizing god, one most well known for the wars his followers seem to end up embroiled in, in one way or another. but that is a very simplistic view of him and those who follow him, and a narrow-minded one. anders was initially worshipped as a nurturing god devoted to healing and sacrifice, but over time the sacrificial part of his domain expanded to be that most focused on. this sacrifice is often interpreted by those who misunderstand him by pointing to deaths and discord caused in his name and cite him as a reason to bear down on his worshippers - those who worship him, however, almost to a person, cite that sacrifice as a personal one. of giving up personal comfort and safety and happiness for the greater good. of painting yourself as the monster so that those you wish to protect from harm will be spared. those who remain from his earliest days of worship still remember his symbols of a scarf and a cat and small, patched pillow, symbols of warmth given and warmth treasured in dark times

Merrill is, first and foremost, a goddess for those who refuse to give in to the darkness of time and assimilation. worshipped primarily by those from cultures who have been attacked from all sides in all the ways a culture can while still surviving. merrill is a proud goddess, an angry goddess, but neither of those are negatives. she is also a joyful one, rejoicing with her worshippers when they rediscover a piece of their culture, or simply celebrating in it. when you wear jewelry or clothing from your culture or take pride in your lineage or make your foodstuffs, you are singing with her. merrill is a refusal to turn away from the hard task of keeping what is yours when beset on all sides, she is keeping your head high and eyes bright, your soul shining because doing otherwise is no alternative at all

Isabela began her life as a goddess as one devoted purely to the sea, but as many of her fellows did, her domain shifted to that of a protector of women. transgender woman and neurodivergent women and disabled women and women of color and abused women all raise their hands to her, and she gives hers back. isabela is cold fury at those who dare bring harm to or degrade her sisters just as she is a warm pair of arms to hold you up when you are alone in a cold world. she understands what it is to have your choices taken from you, and what it is to hide the vulnerability in your heart when that is the only means available to you to protect yourself. isabela is the soft, warm voice beside you whispering to allow yourself to trust when it can be the most terrifying thing in the world. isabela is the hand guiding your fist to the sky when you see your sisters trodden upon. “not today,” comes isabela's rising call. “not anymore.”

Sebastian is a god with two faces. in one of his forms, he is a god of love and pleasure, of taking joy in the present because the future is not certain and certainly not a promise, a god for those who are afraid and find comfort in the warmth of others. this side of sebastian does not judge those who take pleasure in the flesh or in modifying their bodies or in turning away from the roles expected of you, because he knows what it is to refuse a call. sebastian in this face is independence and planting your feet upon the ground. “this is me,” sebastian tells the world before you. “the words i choose define me, not yours.”

Sebastian's other face is a god of change. he often has feasts devoted to him at the turning of the seasons (especially autumn), but he is just as easily found in choosing to live by a self-ordained set of rules when your old way of life no longer satisfies. a god who, when faced with loss, redefined what loss means as well as what remains. when faced with restrictions and pain imposed by others, his worshippers find meaning in what remains. asexuals and the chase also turn to him, knowing the choices he himself made in his mortal life, and he welcomes them. sebastian is a god of dichotomies, but those stark differences do not mean that either side of him does not have meaning - on the contrary, both sides are made that much more meaningful by the contrast and how they inform the other. this side of sebastian is also about defining yourself. “you make take my home and my family and everything i thought was true about myself,” sebastian tells all those arrayed before you, “but you cannot take away the heart of me. that determination that drives me forward. i was here before you, and i will be here after you are gone.”

Tallis is a goddess of extremes, just as known for laughter with a smile that is all teeth as she is wandering hands that reach for your belt or your throat instead of your hip. she is all anger and stubbornness and a refusal to give into the dark. a goddess for those who look upon the sand presented to them by the world and score, not a line, but a canyon deep within it. cross this line at your peril, tallis tells your enemies. you may have come for people that are not mine, who may not ever know my name or even be grateful, but that doesn't matter. “not one step more,” she roars into the wind, her hand beside yours, just waiting for you to clasp it. she is the hard choice made because it must be, because no one else will