#hopefully not for much longer now tho fingers crossed

[unlettered-heathen]

T-T oh how I wish I had been able to give myself a monthly hobby budget. A local yarn shop is hosting a sweater yarn dyeing workshop- 5 skeins for $125 CAD, extra skeins $25/per. It's cheaper than their in-house-dyed yarn! AND they still have room!

But alas, I have already pre-spent my birthday, xmas, AND my hubby's birthday budget (with his blessing) plus some of our expected tax return money on Hozier in August.

Plus groceries are going up so our wiggle room is gone. Over $1K CAD a month to feed a family of four! $75 is ordering out ONCE. And we do NOT buy brand names, fancy foods, or meat that's not on sale.

I really hope it happens again next year or something when I might be able to scrounge up some extra cash or I finally find a second job.

[celestialking]

Crimson Shadows

NSFW 18+ only - Minors/Ageless blogs DNI

◇ Event Masterlist ◇ Event Rules ◇ Their Request ◇

Pairing: Foolish , Punz , afab!reader

Au: Imposter

Warnings: humiliation, overstim, dacryphilia, knife play, sir/master, afab, facesitting,

Phrase Purple: “Quiet, baby, don't want the others to hear do you?"

An: this ended up being so much longer than I meant- also I do believe you didn't mention the body type, I tried to go back and see but I didn't see anything so I apologize if you weren't wanting for a fem body. I kept the pronouns neutral tho. Also because it's so long not every kink was in super depth and was mostly just mentioned.

The silence in the halls wasn't scary. Neither was the darkness that crept from every corner. It wasn't the fact that any minute some life-threatening situation could decimate your crew. No, what was more terrifying was the fact that some of those people who were your friends weren't exactly people themselves. Imposters. Hiding amongst you to make your life more difficult. Luckily, you had two pretty best friends who had guard dog privileges to protect you. 

Punz and Foolish hovered over you as you did tasks, putting their bodies between you and harm's way. They had an alibi for anytime someone had mysteriously gone missing even though others found your trio suspicious. You trusted them with your life, but that wouldn't make them any less scary when they appeared from out of nowhere. 

"Oh," you gasped, stepping back. Foolish had appeared in front of you, where he had come from you weren't entirely sure. You had been too lost in thoughts, the sheepish smile showing he hadn't meant to startle you. 

2 short tasks, 1 long task. That's what you had been repeating to yourself. 

Finally off of the snowy surface of polis you were back on the ship headed back to HQ. 3 simple tasks are all you were in charge of, but honestly running from side to side of the ship was getting exhausting so watching cameras seemed like a better idea. Besides if those imposters had followed you back it would be great to catch one on camera. 

"I hate you," you grumbled, pushing lightly past him. 

He chuckled for a few moments before realizing you left him in the dust. "Hey wait up," Foolish was calling for you. 

Only for a moment, you looked back watching the taller raven-haired wave goodbye to Punz and trot after you. "Where are you headed?" 

"Cctv," you hummed, popping your head into the medical bay. 

Dream and Sapnap were hanging out by the vials. Hopefully, they won't break something this time. Fingers crossed. 

"No tasks left huh?" He asked. Foolish waved towards Sam who ran by. 

"I have a few," you corrected. "But I'd rather just take a break for right now, too many navigational errors and reactor numbers makes my head hurt," You replied remembering them hovering over and laughing at your misery when you would misclick. You sat in the chair in front of the cameras still aware of the raven towering over you. 

He just hummed and looked up at the cameras. "What about you? What about your tasks?" You asked, eyes flickering over to the camera in the reactor room. 

"I'm already done," Foolish behind you had somewhat of a proud smirk on his lips. If you asked yourself, a bit too proud just for doing simple electrical tasks. There hasn't been a time he wasn't by your side so you weren't sure when he would have done anything unless he miraculously had to do the same things as you. 

"Yeah okay, sure Foosh, and I'm an imposter," You rolled your eyes and moved back to face the screen. 

He giggled. Behind you he shuffled a bit, his body coming into view on your side. "Are you?" 

"What no, are you?" 

Foolish made a soft noise. "I'm glad you aren't," he finally grinned. 

"Well If you were the imposter I wouldn't tell," you joked laughing softly. 

There was a soft creak of metal but you brushed it off as the ship. With all of the faulty wiring, you wouldn't be surprised if this thing was barely holding itself together. Foolish glanced over to gaze at your reaction, while he attempted to hold back nefarious giggles himself. You hadn't seen it, however, Punz had just climbed out of the vent behind you both. How ironic that you were searching for the imposters that happened to be standing behind you. It was amusing really. 

"Really? Not even Sapnap" Foolish grinned. 

"Of course," you shifted to look at a different side of the cameras. 

Now seeing Punz in the back corner you flipped around. "Hey," he greeted simply. 

"Did you-" you trailed off looking towards the grated metal behind him. He followed your gaze, shrugging as he did. Now acutely aware of the danger you were possibly in, you began to shift in your seat. It was true no harm had come to you from them but given the circumstances of what you think you just witnessed maybe it was better to take no chances. 

"Hey look at the time," you nervously chuckled. Getting up from the desk chair you made your way to the door. Foolish slid into your seat with a sharp grin. "Gotta be doing some tasks. Just like a good crewmate, right guys?" 

Your back collided with a solid object making a shiver run down your spine. The CCTV door had shut behind you. Foolish left the chair, Punz snatching it within seconds. This seemed to be an unspoken game of musical chairs. "Punz? Foolish? The um- the door?" By the time you had muttered the last word, your voice was nothing but a whisper. 

"Well me and Foolish were just about to have a little fun," the raven made a noise in agreement. "Don't you wanna join us? If not, it's totally fine. That doors gonna open in about 45 seconds," Punz handed something to Foolish who pushed a small object into your hand and stepped back. It was an electronic device, one you assumed controlled the doors. And only 2 people aboard the ship owned that kind of technology. Imposters. A glint of silver caught your eye, a knife was being passed from Punz to Foolish. 

As promised the door opened after the given time. A cooler breeze hit your back as the metal slid open. They were giving you an out. You didn't have to stay and have fun. You could go do tasks and forget this happened. But. The whole reason you came in here was to take a break. That and even if you did leave there was no denying what you saw, and you were sure neither would want you to say anything to the others. On the second hand- you glanced Foolish and Punz from head to toe. A little fun never hurt anyone and as you said before, you trust them with your life. 

Shakily you pressed a button on the tablet. Nothing happened causing a few chuckles from the men. You watched Foolish pass back the sharp object to Punz before stepping over to you. "Let me help you there," He whispered lowly. A single finger tapped a button on the screen with a language you didn't understand. There was a soft beep and the doors in this area had slid shut with a lock. 

"Cmere," Punz cooed. 

You obeyed letting him tug you into his lap. You trembled lightly, making both of them laugh. 

Lips brushed against the back of your neck. "You're so jumpy angel," you leaned back slightly, letting Foolish's hands roam as he pleased. They traveled over every inch of skin, his touch electrifying you. A disappointed noise left your lips as he continued to avoid everywhere that ached for his touch. He knew what you needed and was purposely denying you. 

While Foolish had been busy with that Punz was fighting for your attention. His teeth nipped your collarbone, enjoying the startled whine you let out. It was almost overwhelming with the two different touches, you weren't sure who you wanted to lean into more. 

Finally, Foolish's hands landed on your hips dragging them forward to grind against Punz. The blonde choked on a moan at the sudden stimulation. "Gee we haven't even started Punz," Foolish teased from behind you. "You're already a mess," 

An annoyed huff left him but nothing more. Punz's hands grabbed at your hips landing on Foolish's hands. 

"We can't let you have all the fun," Foolish reprimanded. 

He shooed away the blonde's hands and dragged you off of Punz's lap. He already looked wrecked. His darkened blue eyes watched with hunger as Foolish slowly teased the band of your pants. It was almost as if Foolish was waiting for Punz to beg rather than you. No one had to say much until he was already slowly dragging off your clothes. Punz slowly stood from his seat moving towards you. You expected to feel the warmth of his hands grasp you in some way, but they didn't. 

Instead, you watched Punz lay down on the ground giving you a slight idea as to what was next. 

"Wait but-" 

"Don't worry so much angel," There was a look in Punz's eyes that made you shiver. "You're riding my tongue not my dick," 

Foolish bit down on your collarbone just as he muttered these words. You choked on a whimper already feeling royally fucked just being between these two. 

Now bare you shakily stood above Punz, "Are you sure?" You whispered. 

He didn't answer, instead yanking on your leg to pull you down. Foolish's hands landed on your shoulders lightly pushing down with whispers of assurance. Once you were settled over his face Punz wasted no time in getting started. His tongue lapped away roughly catching your clit with each movement. Hands smoothed over the back of your thighs, over your ass, and up your back before moving down the way they came and settled on your ass. Punz moaned beneath you as he finally got the taste of you he so desired. 

Your hand threaded through his blonde locks at the shock of feeling his moans. He seemed to be enjoying this as much as you were. Foolish had decided he was just going to watch for now, but that wasn't good enough for you. 

Catching his pants you tried to tug him back in front of you. "Please?" 

"Fuck," Foolish breathed harshly. "If that's what you want angel," with shaky hands he tugged down his pants and such with one movement. Your tongue darted out to flick over the tip. Watching his face closely for his reaction, you began taking him deeper. He couldn't break eye contact with you. It was hypnotic in a way, watching his dick go further into your throat while your doe eyes fluttered at him. 

Punz pushed against your ass making you rock against his face. Not wanting the attention off him for even a moment. Foolish's hand rested on the back of your head when the movement began.

With every moan you let out that reverberated through him he let out a groan in return. You could barely focus on pleasuring the male in front of you with Punz underneath you. The pleasure had been building rapidly, the blonde beneath desperate to make you scream. His tongue teased your clit, moving down to fuck you open with his tongue. The hand that was dug into his hair attempted to tug him closer, not that you could with how impossibly close he already was. Punz's arms were locked around your legs now, digging into your thighs. He had forced you closer to his face, not caring if he would suffocate. He'd die happy right now if he did. 

"Punz," you gasped pulling off of Foolish. "Punz wait," you trembled. You attempted to get off of him but he wouldn't let you. In fact, this just spurred him on. He didn't care if you wanted you to cum on Foolish's dick, you were going to cum on his tongue first. 

He could feel you clench around his tongue slightly. One of his fingers slipped between and pressed against your clit just right. "Punz- I-," he stopped thrusting just to pull out and suckle on your clit. You were gone. Your nails dug into his hair and Foolish's thigh quivering as you let go on his tongue. Punz eagerly lapped up the mess you created and continued long after you began whining. Punz rocked you against his face, not letting go until Foolish nudged his side. 

Foolish moved to sit in the chair watching as you lifted off of Punz. Legs trembling you made your way over to Foolish. 

"You gonna come ride me, baby?" He giggled as you attempted not to fall. 

You nodded clambering into his lap. Hands helped you hover above his dick, tip bumping against you, before sinking you down. He was huge, splitting you open so much you thought you might break. Foolish just let you sit there for a moment feeling as your walls fluttered around him. Already they were attempting to milk him for his worth. The combination of Foolish sitting deep within you and Punz's wrecked expression had you dizzy. 

Punz laid on the floor for a few moments catching the bit of air he was deprived of from being between your legs. His hair was messed up, cheeks tinted a dark red, not to mention your slick that covered his lips and chin. Punz sat up making eye contact with you. You followed as his finger dragged across the slick you left and watched as he brought it to his tongue to lick it off. 

You couldn't help but let out a whine at the vulgar display, squeezing around Foolish tighter. The raven moaned against your neck. Him having buried his face to keep himself from thrusting animalistic. It was his hot pants by your ear that was sending wave after wave of heat down your body. There was almost a bit of a power surge you were receiving from this sort of effect over the both of them. 

At least until you were reminded of how little power you really had. 

Your legs trembled as you attempted to ride Foolish making him laugh. Punz had done his damage and was still proud of it. "Still Jello? Here let me help," Foolish pinned your arms to your side leaving you unable to move. Not that you needed to. He was plenty strong enough, forcing your body to bounce on his dick. Each deep thrust had you drooling. 

"Look at them," Punz grabbed your face harshly making you watch the cameras at your fellow crewmates searching rooms. "They're looking for you, imagine they come in here and see the reason why you didn't answer their meeting is cause you're too busy getting dicked down," 

He leaned down pressing his lips against yours. His kiss swallowed the moans that Foolish pulled out of you. When he pulled away he muttered. "I think I have a better job for your mouth," he locked eyes with Foolish having a silent conversation. 

It seemed Punz got his way as suddenly Foolish was lifting you and moving to the ground. The raven was on his knees behind you, one hand on your lower back pushing down gently. You couldn't see him but you just knew he was watching the way his cock stretched you out and slowly dragged along your walls. Punz settled in front of you on his knees. Punz shuffled around in his pocket before removing his pants partially. 

"Here," he said, tossing something back to Foolish. 

Cold metal on your back made you jolt. "Careful angel, don't wanna hurt you," you shivered as it traced your back lightly. The knife from earlier now exploring your body. 

"Don't forget about me angel," Punz cooed, drawing your attention back to him. 

It seemed to be a game to them. Who could have your attention the longest? "That's it," he groaned as your hand wrapped around his cock. "Be good now," Too eager to tease you immediately wrapped your lips around him. Punz groaned, fingers digging into your hair. "Mouth like that's gonna take me to heaven," he mumbled. 

Your movements were slow in contrast to Foolishs accelerating hips. Punz hissed every time your tongue dragged along his cock teasingly. Part of him wanted to tightly grasp your hair and take more, but most of him were more than content with becoming putty on your tongue. 

The room was filled with breathy moans and hot pants, it was the only thing you could hear other than the slick sounds of them pushing into you. You barely even noticed the footsteps by the door. They noticed, however.

“Quiet, baby, don't want the others to hear do you?" 

You're not even sure who said it at this point. Your moans muffled by Punz's cock down your throat. You were more concerned with pleasing him than you were about your fellow crewmates hearing your ultimate demise. 

As soon as they had passed Punz scooted back stroking his cock just out of your reach. 

"Sir please," You whined. 

Punz laughed at your pitiful beg. You had fallen apart in their grasp. They held every ounce of your attention and you wouldn't have it any other way. 

"Crying just cause my dick isn't between your lips sweetheart? How pathetic, cmon louder for me," He demanded tapping the tip against your cheek. "You can cry louder. I know you can," 

You didn't get a chance to respond however as now someone else was jealous of your attention being elsewhere. 

Foolish pouted. "Now you're picking favorites?" 

The knife moved once again gently over your skin making you tremble. "I'd like a name too," he whined softly. The title you whined made the weapon clatter to the floor. 

"Master," 

Foolish had dropped it in surprise, now completely focused on pounding into you until you remembered only two words. Sir and Master. The only two you needed to know. 

Punz was back in your mouth, their thrusts immediately lining up. You grasped his thighs hoping to steady yourself as they fucked into you. Hot pleasure burned at your core but you didn't want to cum just yet. You internally pleaded with yourself to not cum. You never wanted this to end. Foolish whined feeling you clench around him repeatedly. His hands squeezed your hips comfortingly, watching your thighs quiver gently. You needed to cum but were holding it back. What a good toy for them. 

‘He leaned over your back and whispered huskily. "Cum," and you did just that, cumming around his cock. You unraveling beneath their eyes reminded them of how close they were. "Oh fuck," Punz gasped, his dick twitching against your tongue. That was all the warning you got before he came down your throat. He took a step back, slipping out of your mouth. A few stray spurts of cum splashed against your cheek. 

The raven behind you was especially close, it was clear in the intensity of his noises. His vocality was already stirring you up for a round two. 

Foolish gave a few more thrusts paired with low grunts before his hips stuttered. Cock buried deep he filled you as much as he could, panting as softly as he did. To your disappointment, he pulled out, hands sliding down your hips. 

Without Punz standing directly in front of you, you whined letting your chest touch the ground. 

Poor crewmate. You've forgotten. Imposters are superior in every way. That includes stamina.  

Foolish's hands never left your body, now sliding down your ass. They weren't done with you yet. His fingers dragged over your sensitive clit and then opened you more to his view. 

"I think you can take a few more baby, don't you?" Punz chuckled, moving around to the back of you.

"Of course they can," Foolish agreed watching some of his cum slip out. "They're making a mess," his whispers sent a shiver down your spine. 

"Maybe they'll clean that up later," 

A pair of different hands grabbed your hips pulling them back to bump against the tip of a cock. "I'm thinking maybe three? Three more sound good, Foolish?" Punz hummed thoughtfully. A low moan escaped him as he pushed in. The fact that Foolish had just fucked you thoroughly and you were still squeezing Punz this hard was godly. 

"Mhm, I just wanna see some pretty tears roll down their cheeks,"

Reminder: DNI = Do Not Interact

If you are a Minor/Ageless blog, Do not follow. Do not comment. Do not reblog. Do not like. DO NOT INTERACT.

Either add your age to your bio/pinned, message me in private, or DNI.

[justalonelybitch]

I'm so sad I can't write for you rn guys because I have so many fucking ideas AHHHHH-

Lemme give you guys a lil sneak peak of what's to come tho

Huh Yunjin x F!Reader - College AU (Angst)

“In the meantime, I’m not gonna sit around and take this bullshit.” You declared, hand slipping from her arm as you backed away from her. “I’ll see you at home Yunjin,” you muttered, turning on your heel and walking into the distance.

The brunette watched as you disappeared into a crowd of students, groaning in irritation. With her fists clenched by her sides, she stormed off in the opposite direction from you. Truth be told she herself couldn’t comprehend the rage that burned within her, but she knew that the unsettling feeling within her chest left her incredibly frustrated with you. It was all because you’d agreed to go on a stupid date with Park Sunghoon.

Miyawaki Sakura x F!Reader - Secret Relationship (Fluff)

The hint of a smile crept onto Sakura's lips as she felt the couch dip beside her, focus wavering as she struggled to finish the hardest level of a game on her phone. She didn't need to remove her gaze from the glowing screen to know it was you who'd taken up the place by her side. The comforting brush of your leg against her own was an action so small, and yet Sakura's heart still swelled with familiarity each time.

You silently dropped your head to her shoulder, the soft scent of your shampoo overwhelming Sakura's senses. She wordlessly placed her phone face down on the couch, turning to meet your gaze with eyes that swirled with nothing but adoration. Reaching for her hand, you mindlessly fiddled with her fingers before lacing them with your own. Neither of you paid any mind to the chaos that ensued within the dorms, simply getting lost in a world of your own.

Ko Yurim x F!Reader - Friends to Lovers (Angst, Fluff)

Yurim's heart twisted in her chest, aching in confusion as she stared blankly at your blindingly bright smile. It was one of the only things in this world that filled her with nothing but pure joy no matter the circumstances. It was only your grin that effortlessly cured the lingering pain within her heart. But now the sight left her feeling unusually bitter, heart tainted with a poisonous envy for your ceaseless happiness.

Your smile was no longer enough to heal her wounded heart, instead it grew to be the one thing she'd grown to loathe. She longed to be as happy as you were, dream freely like you could, but she couldn't. Yurim was bound to a life of misery and there was nothing your grin could do to cure that. Witnessing your joy was no longer a blessing, but a curse. She couldn't bare it any longer. It hurt to much to see her life collapse around her, and yet there you remained, pure and innocent, unknowing of the worlds sorrows.

If only she knew of the pain you hid behind your smile..

Kim Chaewon x F!Reader - High School AU (Angst)

Your lips were sucked between your teeth thoughtfully as you aimlessly strolled down the stone footpath. Paying no mind to the rain that began to fall, feigning ignorance to the familiar red car that pulled up beside you. "Y/n!" Chaewon yelled, leaning closer to the opened passenger window. Crossing your arms over your chest stubbornly, you picked up the pace, foolishly assuming she would leave you stranded in the rain with enough persistence.

"Get in the car, Y/n!" Your girlfriend shouted as the droplets began to fall harder, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. "Fuck you Kim Chaewon," you seethed, the short haired girl wincing at your harsh tone. She knew she deserved it, but that didn't mean she was going to let you punish yourself for her mistakes. "Please," she begged, eyes shinning hopefully as you came to a halt, finally turning to face her, gaze hardened with a burning rage.

"Leave. Me. Alone."

Luxurious Love, Lust & Lies - Series, Chapter Three (Mystery)

Glancing down to the ground, you squinted, struggling to make out a faint silhouette in the darkness. “What is it?” Soyeon asked, following your gaze curiously. “Not sure yet, hand me your phone.” She rolled her eyes at the absurd demand, but nevertheless she passed over the battered device. Tapping away at the screen, you opened the text chain between you and Soyeon before clicking the camera icon. Leaning over the edge eagerly, you zoomed in, snapping a picture and sending it to yourself. A rough grip on your collar pulled you back, keeping you from toppling over the edge in your excitement.

“Idiot,” Soyeon muttered, snatching her phone from your grasp, gazing at it intently. Swinging your legs over the ledge, you planted your feet on the roof, wandering towards the opposite edge of the building. “Hey Y/n?” Soyeon called after you, hands stuffed into her pockets as she followed after you. “Yeah?” You hummed, glancing up at the tree that towered above the roof. “How did you know my password?” She questioned, brows raised inquisitively. “Lucky guess,” you excused with a shrug, carelessly climbing onto the ledge. “Until next time, Jeon Soyeon,” you saluted with a dopey smile, stepping backwards to gracefully fall over the edge.

~~~~

These are all unedited bits and pieces of upcoming unwritten stories!!

[alygatorwrites]

can I request a lil something? during the end of the manga or after the timeskip if you haven't read it yet, reiner still has feelings for historia and reader has one-sided feelings for him.

pieck gives reiner a small hint, saying he's wasting time while there's someone close to him that cares for him and points to you. he doesn't understand at first and maybe is conflicted about his feelings for you because of historia. reader is cool about it as she doesn't expect him to reciprocate her feelings.

a rollercoaster of emotions later, maybe there is a happy ending tho? i am curious to see what you can come up with 😭😭 i have dreaming of this scenario before bed and i can't help but get jealous of his crush on historia abjdsndks maybe you can help reiner reciprocate reader-chan's feelings or not

thank u so much aly 💖🥺

reciprocation

pairing: reiner braun x reader

a/n: OMG yesss! honestly, i was kinda annoyed at how reiner still had a crush on historia. i know that isayama wanted to show how everything went back to normal, but i was hoping that reiner would have a bigger role in the allied nations instead of being "dumbed down" to having an obsession with her. MAYBE THATS JUST THE JEALOUSY SPEAKING LMAO 😭 i was hoping this would be longer, although school has been killing me so im really sorry!! i hope its okay 💗💕 thank you honey!

↳ to be added to my taglist, please fill out this ♡form♡

as reiner is handed historia’s letter, you fold your hands on the table and watch him without a word. when he reads the lines and smells the parchment - jean saying something snarky afterward - you say nothing.

you want reiner to be happy: you want to see him at ease like this more, face soft as the leaf of the page flits from his pinched fingers.

and so you let the man speak about historia like she’s a damn goddess, gushing over her handwriting, and keep your goddamn mouth shut. ignore your jealousy. your feelings.

the truth is, you’re in love with reiner.

you can’t even remember how it happened, but you can remember the first time you looked into those hazel eyes, and how you knew that they were going to stick with you for eternity.

you’ve come to accept his crush on the queen, though. reciprocation was never an option in your mind.

when jean begins to chew reiner out for lusting after a married woman, and reiner says something about jean being a horse, pieck’s gaze lands on you. “you’re rather quiet,” she says softly, resting her head on her palm.

you shrug, turning away from her. “i’m just tired.”

pieck catches your chin between her lithe fingers, and turns you to face her with a tiny smile. the young woman is very perceptive, and you’ve known her long enough. 

that’s when you notice the twinkle in her eye. she’s planning something.

pieck releases your jaw then, sitting up in her chair. “you’re wasting your time, reiner,” she says suddenly. “there’s already someone you know who cares for you.”

you pretend to not hear pieck - and definitely pretend you don’t see her faintly point at you through your peripheral. the movement of her fingers is barely there, but you catch it.

damn you, pieck.

the way you’re now pinned underneath armin, jean, connie, and reiner’s stares makes your stomach tie itself into knots with bubbling reluctance. shit, this is awkward. you want to run away.

still, you peer over to study reiner’s reaction. he looks confused at first, the contours of his face unreadable. you swear you see connie facepalm at the man’s cluelessness.

then reiner’s expression slowly changes: his eyes widen in awe, lips parting slightly, and brows knitting together. he seems genuinely surprised - and conflicted.

conflicted? why?

there’s no time to explain yourself though, because the door creaks open and annie steps in. her words fall on your deaf ears, and when everyone stands up to leave, you’re the first one out of the room. work beckons you as always.

two days pass.

you’ve been busy filling out tons of paperwork pertaining to the allied nations, so when you’re finally given a day off, you take it with open arms. 

freedom at last.

you lean against a bench outside of headquarters, enjoying the salty breeze that flutters along your skin. it’s dusk, the sky covered in a gradient of neon colors as the sun dips below the horizon.

you haven’t seen reiner since that day in the conference room. you wonder how he’s doing, what he’s thinking, how he’s holding up -

“hey.”

speak of the devil. you glance over your shoulder toward the voice, low and familiar.

reiner approaches you, clad in his uniform: the suit hugs his large frame perfectly, showing every flex of his muscles, and his blonde hair is neatly parted. the black tie looped around his neck just pulls it all together. it has you weak at the knees every. single. time.

“hey,” you answer, giving reiner a smile as he stops beside you.

and that’s when your heart lurches at the sight of him.

the sunset highlights reiner’s profile in gold, a heavenly shine that settles upon his blonde lashes and the flawless slope of his nose. the flecks in his irises sparkle – a beautiful mixture of soft browns and muted greens. the only thing you can do right now is admire the man. 

his words are what breaks you out of your daydream.

“work has been crazy lately, huh?” reiner says, focused on the candy-floss clouds and their fluffy shapes.

“well - yeah, pretty much. i don’t want to look at a pen or a piece of paper ever again.”

“that bad?”

“you have no idea. i almost regret marley and paradis reconciling.”

reiner chuckles gently at the joke, but it’s strained. his forehead remains creased, and he’s not really smiling. the emotion there is more … doubtful. it’s like he’s having some sort of inner conflict.

hopefully reiner’s not acting cautious because of the other day. you know he doesn’t return your feelings, and that’s totally okay. you’re happy enough being with him like this. “i’m not mad or anything, y’know.”

reiner stiffens at that. there’s a white flash of teeth when he chews on his lower lip. “i know.”

“good,” you hum, breathing out a sigh of relief. your core twists with envy when you force a grin. bite it back. tease him like always. “so about historia … ”

reiner’s eyes go wide almost comically, and you hear the breath in his lungs leave his firm chest in one exhale. there’s a light blush staining his cheeks now. it’s funny; he’s so goddamn big, yet he’s such a teddy bear.

“y-yeah,” reiner mutters. you observe the way his brows pinch together as he awkwardly shifts in place. it takes a while before the man composes himself again, which is strange.

is he scared or something? what the hell?

“pieck,” reiner hesitates for a moment. the golden strands of his hair ruffle in the wind and he appears ... well, lost. “was she being serious?”

the question is a shocker - jeez, he could have at least let you prepare yourself. a firm ‘no’ almost slips out, but you’ve never been much of a liar. not to reiner, anyway. crossing your arms against your chest, you inhale sharply and nod. avoid staring at him face-to-face. “yep.”

“ … why me?”

reiner says the words with a mixture of spite and anguish, a casual and rumbling voice. you immediately turn your head, frowning. “what?”

“i’ve done so many horrible things.” reiner exhales heavily and stares down at his hands; perhaps he’s imagining all the blood they’ve been stained with. “i betrayed everyone. i killed innocent people - all because i was selfish.”

it’s no surprise that reiner is broken after everything he’s been through, but it pains you to know that he continues to suffer in silence. whatever war is raging inside his ribcage tears him apart piece by piece, and you wish you could carry the burden. 

there’s probably nothing you can say to convince reiner that he was just a kid, a victim of circumstance. there’s nothing that can persuade him to see himself the way you do.

so you decide to tell reiner why you love him. 

you explain the amount of admiration you hold for him. tell him that you love the way he just wants to be someone his comrades can lean on, like a big brother. tell him that you think he’s the most gorgeous person you’ve ever seen and how you think he deserves the world.

the way you spill your guts out snaps every nerve in your body. you don’t say everything you want to – but you tell him enough. a dark flush spreading across your face, you find the courage to look at him.

the world seems to stop on its axis when you find reiner staring right on back. the intensity of his eyes is stunning; they’re lit up with astonishment and affection.

god, the affection. you see it clear as day. maybe one of the greatest regrets in his life is how he forced himself to see you only as a friend.

that’s when he reaches out to you.

reiner retracts his hand twice, unsure, before slowly brushing his fingertips against yours. the touch is so feather-light that you almost can’t feel it. it’s a test - he’s waiting to see if you pull away. you can’t even move if you wanted to, because his fond gaze keeps you rooted to the spot before him. 

when you don’t recoil, reiner finally moves to gently hold your hand; his palm is so much bigger than yours, and your fingers slot together perfectly, like a jigsaw puzzle’s final piece. 

heart thrumming like a hummingbird has been stuffed into your chest, you’re almost at a loss for words and come to a realization.

this utterly amazing man likes you. always has. 

but reiner shoved away the feelings for one simple reason; you deserved ‘better.’ focusing on the old crush he had on historia was a distraction - an attempt to convince himself to stop thinking about you.

because looking at you everyday and not being able to act upon his feelings was too painful.

“is this okay?” reiner asks lowly. there’s a slight pinkness to his cheeks, the color of a selfless love.

by some miracle, you manage to nod dumbly. “yeah, of course. it’s fine.” it’s amazing is what you actually want to say.  

reiner squeezes your hand at the reassurance, a sigh escaping from his throat. “i really—”

you wait for him to finish, but he doesn’t. reiner just searches your profile for signs of discomfort, and then untwines your hands to bravely swipe a thumb along the length of your cheekbone. 

there’s no time to speak because he’s already leaning down.  

the sensation of reiner’s lips pressing against yours lights your skin ablaze; you can feel the curling flames of passion sear your soul, made even more intense by the warmth of the sunlight on your back.

it’s natural, it’s tender, it’s warm.

reiner’s breath rattles into your mouth when you rest both palms against his solid chest and deepen the kiss. the musky smell of his aftershave and cologne envelops you completely, and fuck, it’s so good. your arms wrap around him, fingers passing over the sharp slopes of his shoulder blades.

as much as you wish the kiss could go on endlessly, there are people gathering outside. avoiding any unwanted attention from nosy strangers is very much appreciated.

you pull away to nuzzle your nose into reiner, and he rests his chin on your shoulder, protective arms moving to loop around your waist. it’s such an intimate caress that it sparks your brain into overdrive.

as the rushing sound of the breeze comes back to your ears through the quiet, you tuck the kiss away to be remembered forever. that’s all there is to it. being close to reiner like this - swaying together like wildflowers in the wind - is more important than anything else.

“i like you,” reiner murmurs.

the suddenness of it makes you laugh, and you can feel the upward quirk of reiner’s lips - a whisper of a peaceful smile and a sweet, sweet promise.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Rut.

Pairing: Malleus/Reader (Twisted Wonderland)

Written for a lovely anonymous commissioner.

Word Count: 2.0k.

Synopsis: It’s hard for a human to learn about fae biology, especially from fae themselves and their distaste for the topic. So, when you agree to help your careful, composed boyfriend deal with his upcoming rut, your expectations might differ from reality.

TW: Afab!Reader, Dubious Consent, A/B/O Dynamics, Overstimulation, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Breeding Kink, Slight Corruption Kink, Mentions of Blood, and Knotting.

Lillia said it was kind of like a vacation, for Malleus.

It wasn’t much of an answer, but it was more of one than you’d gotten from the other Diasomnia students. When prompted, Silver only shook his head, mentioning ‘medical needs’ and something about the fae hierarchy, and Sebek was too flustered to say much of anything, going red as he told you not to talk about things so vulgar, whatever that was supposed to mean. Lilia’d laughed, though, when you asked him why Malleus went off-campus every few months, always returning a little less irritable than he had been, when he left. He’d explained that, among a certain type of fae, this type of practice was normal, almost ritual. Hormones clouded judgment, urges beginning to overwhelm coherent thoughts, and Malleus just needed a few days to clear the fog, preferably as far from a brittle, breakable human as he could get. Just for caution’s sake, of course. Just to be safe.

But, you weren’t just a human. You weren’t breakable.

You were Malleus’ human, and that meant you were safe.

He’d been hesitant, when you offered to help during his next rut, but by the time his eyes were glazed over more often than not, his opposition stopped at a half-hearted warning and a disgruntled huff. It was almost strange to see him so out of it, his usual composure dulled and watered-down into a hazy, tired awareness. Even now, kingdoms away from Night Raven, he could barely seem to stay on his feet, taking any excuse to drape his arm over your shoulders or nuzzle into your chest or, in this case, slot himself against your back, his chin coming to rest against the back of your head as you bent over, supporting yourself against the stone windowsill. You didn’t push him away, obviously. You weren’t sure he’d be able to stand, if you did.

So, you admired the view as he made himself comfortable, keeping your eyes fixed on the landscape below. Malleus’ chosen safe-haven was scenic, to say the least, an isolated tower miles away from the nearest village, surrounded by woods and cliff-sides and little else. Even with a pane of glass separating you from the outside world, you could still see the breeze rustling through leaves, hear birds singing in the distance, practically feel the sunlight, just bright enough to make you squint. You were here for Malleus, of course, but you hoped you’d have some time to explore. Just a few hours, towards the end of the week. Hopefully, he’d be--

“(Y/n).” A whine pulled you out of your thoughts, drawn out and throaty, so unlike his usually poise. You were caught off-guard, but you still managed to chuckle, your smile only growing wider as he bent down, rubbing his cheek against the side of your neck as he went on. “You… you’re so beautiful, and you smell really--” He cut himself off before he could say something he’d regret. “You kept me waiting.”

Now, that was your Malleus, the bratty prince you knew and loved. You crossed your arms in front of you, leaning into the self-made nest as his hands found your hips, holding you in place as he ground lazily against your ass. It was a jerky motion, eager and unpracticed, but neither of you seemed to mind. “No need to rush,” You chided, playfully, rolling your eyes. “We’ve got plenty of time. At least help me find a bed, first.”

Something ripped, a sound like tearing fabric, and suddenly, you could feel cold skin against yours, clamping down around your waist in an iron-clad grip. “I’ve been patient enough.”

You didn’t have time to argue. Whatever thread of restraint Malleus was still holding onto snapped in the space between one second and another, and by the time you’d opened your mouth, he was already growling, barely remembering to let go of your waist before lifting you off your feet, dropping you onto the windowsill unceremoniously. You were stunned, for a moment, too surprised to do anything but clutch at the square edge and let your legs dangle off of the stone slab, but Malleus didn’t seem to have a similar problem. He was already falling to his knees, sharpened talons cutting through clothes and skin alike, leaving red, angry lines across your now-exposed thighs and Malleus, pressing fleeting kisses into the damage by way of apology. You almost stopped him. Part of you wanted to, in your stupor, if only to ask him to slow down, but this was supposed to be about him. If he needed to…

Your logic faltered quickly.

Oh.

His mouth was cold.

It felt strange. You almost couldn’t register it, even as he lapped at your cunt like a man starved, his tongue thinner than it should’ve been, longer than it should’ve been. It was alien in a way that made you more sensitive, more prone to writhing as he traced shapes into your entrance, to mewling every time he paused to tease your clit. It was a graceless sort of rhythm, a pursuit with the sole goal of getting you to buck against his face, to squirm, to do whatever you could to bring him closer. You tried to bite back your whimpers, incessant and hitched whenever he found a new spot to abuse, but your resolve broke as soon as you felt Malleus’ tongue fuck into you, drawing out a shaking, unabashed moan. It was too deep. Already, it was too deep.

You didn’t think, only lurching forward, latching onto the first thing you found - his horns. They were solid under your palms, smooth and so easy to squeeze, the pressure alone enough to make Malleus groan, the slight vibration only forcing you to hold him tighter. It didn’t seem to hurt. If anything, it only spurred him forward, two fingers soon taking his tongue’s place as he drew away, barely giving himself time to take a staggered breath before he was lavishing your clit, sucking on it, making that abrupt, awful, agonizing tension all the more unignorable. All the more terrible, in the blissful way Malleus’ touch happened to be.

He didn’t stop when you came, when your thighs clamped around his head and your entire body went tense. He didn’t even slow down, not until the sensation was more painful than pleasurable, not until you’d taken to pulling his hair, not that it did anything to deter him. Overstimulation came and went, pangs becoming constant, electrical jolts before all of it seemed to fade, leaving you trembling and shivering, barely able to hold yourself up. It felt painful. It felt great. You loved him, but you might’ve been beginning to hate him for it, too.

When he was done, when he was finally done, he kissed you. Your slick coated his chin, and you could taste yourself on his lips as they crashed against yours, the gesture hot and heavy and more aggressive than it had any right to be. There were going to be bruises tomorrow, on your legs and your waist and your jaw - his thumb digging into your skin just a little too harshly as he stopped you from pulling away, but if Malleus cared about the aftermath, he couldn’t find the strength to show much concern. With a nip to your collarbone, he was standing, towering above you with an expression somewhere between anger and concentration. For a moment, you let yourself linger on the irony - his shirt was still half-buttoned, his pants barely edged downward, while your clothes were torn to shreds, cuts and scrapes littered along your thighs and calves. By the end of the week, you were going to be a mangled mess. Malleus would be lucky if he’d even taken off his boots, by then.

Unsurprisingly, his voice did little to ease your concerns. “You’re already so worked up,” He teased, using the pad of his thumb to push an idle, painstaking circle into your clit, if only to watch the way you tried to squirm away. “Such a delicate little thing. How do you expect to take my cock like this, my love?”

You never got a chance to answer. One second, you were opening your mouth, the next, your breath was caught in your throat, an airy gasp taking the place of anything you might’ve said. There was a sting, and you couldn’t choke down the ragged, uneven sob you let out as he bottomed out, his hips soon slotting against yours. Malleus hushed you, a hand coming up to entangle itself in your hair, encouraging you to lean into him. To enjoy this, or to be aggregable enough to let him enjoy it for you. “It’ll only hurt for a second,” He assured, his tone soothing. “Let me take care of my mate.”

You couldn’t help yourself. Despite everything, you couldn’t help yourself. “I’m… I’m your mate?”

Malleus only chuckled, letting you bury your face in his chest as he pulled back, starting with short, shallow strokes. It was less of a comfort than it should’ve been, every slight motion only making you feel smaller, only making you feel more full. His patience must’ve been running short, though, because before long, he was hissing through gritted teeth, pumping into you like his heart would stop beating if he so much as slowed down. You swore you could feel him in your stomach, in your throat, every keen and every rut only making it tighter and hotter and worse. What little composure you’d managed to regain was gone in an instant, replaced with something malleable and desperate and needy. As eager to take as Malleus was to give, in his current state.

He was no better, but somehow, it seemed like he was. He was just so much taller than you, so much stronger, it almost felt patronizing when his teeth ghosted over your neck, his canines soon burrowed in the sensitive space just above your jugular. Even after he drew back, after he made sure your shoulders were riddled with those same bleeding, burning puncture wounds, his lips lingered against your skin, the contact muffling his words. “You’re so perfect,” He muttered, more for his sake than yours. “A perfect mate. My perfect mate. Perfect to--” He was interrupted by a stuttered grunt, low and animalistic. “Perfect to breed.”

In his defense, you didn’t object. You couldn’t have, not with his hand wrapped around your throat, not when your back was suddenly flush against the windowsill, your legs wrapped around his waist, every thrust so violent, it felt like he was trying to fuck your cervix rather than your pussy. Moaning wasn’t an option, anymore. Pitiful, whiny little sounds escaped before you could choke them back, making your cheeks burn and the slick, wet clicks slowly filling the room impossible to block out. “P-Please.” You weren’t sure what you were begging for, but you were sure you needed to beg. Malleus’ grip tightened, but  you didn’t know if it was a signal to go on, or a sign that you should do anything but continue. “Malleus, please, I love you, I can’t--”

“Quiet.” He was growling again, but this time, you didn’t have to guess why. You could feel it - stretching your cunt, leaving you babbling and clenching around him, your vision going white and your back arching as he split you open on something too heavy, something too big. “Just take it,” He grunted, finally bottoming out. “For me, love. Just- Fuck--”

It was hot, more than anything. Smoldering, scalding, filling you up to the brim as the tension broke and Malleus slumped forward, panting. You were too disoriented to do anything but stare on as a small, reflexive smile tugged at the corners of his lips. This time, his kiss was soft, something feather-light and distant, barely tangible enough to lean into, but you tried regardless, whining as he pulled away. You couldn’t bring yourself to mourn the loss, though. You needed to sleep. You needed to rest. Or a bed, at least, something softer than stone and mortar. He must’ve needed a break too, after that. Anyone would, fae and human alike.

And then, Malleus started moving, and you had to wonder how long this week would really last.

[felswritingfire]

April Brain Rot #8

89. Volcanic

36. "Need a ride?"

16. “I’m overreacting? Sweetheart, if anything I’m going easy on you.”

Divus Crewel x Professor!Reader

Summery: Divus gets a little ahead of himself and you two get into a whole ass fight.

TW: Fighting; Yelling; Cursing; Accusations of cheating

Word count: 1,208

A note from Fel: Idk how well this turned out? I'm never sure about how well I can depict fights- so hopefully, it works tho. My gf said I did a good job so like, I'm living tbh- anyway. Enjoy!

“I should have never fucking said yes to dating you.”

You’re going to regret saying that to him later but, right now, red was threatening to cloud your vision the longer you stared at Divus.

He crossed his arms, raising a dark, perfect brow at you. “Really?” He drawls. “Maybe I regret asking out someone as… overdramatic as you.”

You knew he didn’t mean it, but it still stoked the coals that were already red hot in your stomach. “I’m overdramatic? You’re the one who’s overreacting about me and Sam-”

“I’m overreacting? Sweetheart, if anything I’m going easy on you.”

“‘Going easy on me’?” Lord help you- you were about to beat a man. “What in the fuck does that mean, Divus.”

“It just means that I should be acting a little- well, how do I put it?” He leans against the table behind him, crossing one leg over the other and tapping his chin with one of his fingers. You cross your arms, the coals steadily becoming a roaring flame. “Ah! I should be reacting a little worse when there’s a threat that my lovely partner is cheating on me with one of our coworkers.”

You feel something in you snap and suddenly you’re preciously loud- borderline on yelling- voice comes to an eerily calm tone. “Cheating? You think I’m cheating?”

“You tell me.”

The two of you stare at each other, until an ugly feeling mixes in with the anger. “You really think that? You think-” your voice warbles as you spit out your words- “that I’m that I’d do something like that?”

He pushed himself from the table, his mouth frowning in discomfort, but he didn’t say anything.

You sigh, digging through your coat pocket and pulling out a black box, throwing it at him with a bitter glare.

He fumbled with it (the most uncoordinated you had ever seen him) and stared at it. He looked at you with wide eyes. “What’s this?” He asked, a tremble in his words.

“Happy fucking birthday, asshole.” You turn on your heel and walk out the front door.

Divus winces at the deafening slam and suddenly everything was silent. He realized, somewhere in the back of his mind that he had never felt so alone. He shook his head forcing the frown back on his lips as he looked down at the black box. It’s probably nothing spectacular. He thinks, knowing he doesn’t mean it even in his mind. Probably wouldn’t even fit in my aesthetics- they never had an eye for fashion-

He feels his eyes sting as soon as he sees the little earrings: twin silver 1967 Chevy Camaros, in the center of the tiny rims of the tires sits even smaller diamonds. He shuts the box before running a hand through his hair; he knows he just messed up his hair- feels it in the way that the strands don’t sit right anymore on his head- but he can’t seem to care. The only thought racing in his head is you and how much of an ass he was (as loathe as he was to admit it).

Divus rushed to the bowl that held his car keys (you had gotten it for him when you saw the sheer amount of them strewned out on his countertops), grabbing a random one before almost tripping over his own feet to get to the garage.

************************************************************************

“Stupid Divus. Stupid weather-” you hiss as another sharp drop of rain pelted your head, pulling your coat closer to you to try warm yourself up despite it already being drenched with cold water.

You should have just told Divus what you were up to: that you were getting a present for him with the help of Sam (who, mind you, milked you for your paycheck, the little shit).

But you wanted him to be completely surprised, a stubborn part of you pipes up and you can’t help the flare of rage that continues to fan itself in the back of your mind. I wanted to get those stupid limited edition earings that he was looking at and if anyone had some it was Sam. Not my fault Divus doesn’t trust me.

You winced, shivering into your coat as the rain changed directions. You felt tired and cold- hurt, if you wanted to be frank. “Maybe I should just crash at the school- not like my boys are going to be going to classes tomorrow- it’s the weekend.” You smiled weakly at the thought of your trouble makers: Ace and Deuce- though, they were always sweet to you.

A familiar car rolls up next to you and you scowl, turning your head away. You hear the sound of a window rolling down. “Need a ride?” Divus asks.

“From you? No.”

“Darling, you look like a sopping wet dog, please come in?”

You turn your glare on him, coming to a stop on the sidewalk. “Woof. Woof.” You drawled out before you continue walking. Where? You have no idea. But you didn’t want to look at him.

He sits dumbfounded for a moment before shaking his head and continuing to inch along in his car to match your pace. “Darling- I- you know I don’t see you like that-”

“Than what? What do you see me as?” You stomp up to the car and lean down to scowl at him through the window. “Because obviously it’s not a trusted partner, Crewel.”

He winces at the use of his last name. “You are, I just-” he squeezed the steering wheel, catching his smooth lips between his teeth. You wait for an answer, somewhere in your mind swirls a wonder at how he hesitates with his words. “I recognize…” He takes a deep breath as he looks you in the eyes. “I recognize that Sam is an attractive man: charming, easy on the eyes, charismatic… He’s-” he gulps glancing away for a brief moment- “he’s not high maintenance like me.” You blink in surprise. “And I am also painfully aware of how long the two of you have known each other. He knows things about you that you have yet to share with me- if you will. It’s up to you, but still-”

“I’ve never thought you were high maintenance.” You look just as surprised as him when the words come out.

“You… don’t?”

You snort. “No, why would I be dating you if I thought that?”

He looks away but you can still see the way the tips of his ears warm to a soft pink. “Just get in. Please.”

You debate with yourself if you’re going to actually climb in when you decide against it. “Do you have a towel?”

“What?”

“A towel, silly man. I don’t want to ruin your seats- I’m sopping wet.”

“Doesn’t matter, I’m more worried about you getting a cold, Darling.”

You sigh before opening the door and sitting on the grey leather, you wince at the way your clothes stick to your skin.

Divus turns on the heat before he reaches over to hold your trembling hands. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.”

You feel like, maybe you should say more, but the way he shakes his head and squeezes your hand makes you feel like everything’s alright.

<The Next Chosen Character>

Thank you for reading!

[nothing-but-dreamy]

ON THE EDGE ~ Pt. 1

Summary: YN is a Detective and the partner of Gavin Reed, number one douchebag of the Detroit City Police Department. After a forced break, she comes back. She’s looking forward to working with her partner again and to getting back into her ‘normal’ life between case files and criminals. But, of course, it doesn’t stay boring for too long: Gavin seemed to be more on the edge than usual, a Red Ice dealer might be a good lead to something bigger and then, there is Connor, the friendly, handsome android and Hank’s new partner.

Added to the fact that yn has to deal with the criminal world again, she also discovers feelings she hasn’t noticed before triggered by a person she hasn’t expected.

Her life always resembled a ride on a rollercoaster.

But now, it’s a whole damn circus parade.

Characters: Gavin Reed, YN (FEMALE!Reader), Hank Anderson, Connor

Words: 2.472

Warnings: signs of PTSD (flashbacks in italics), cursing (a lot), mention of blood

"He's totally crazy. He shoots at everything that moves. It's impossible to get close to him.", yn stated. "But we have to stop him somehow."

"Stay here. I have an idea. Over there, the left spot is free. He will barely notice me.", Gavin said and pointed in the direction.

"Gavin, no!", Yn cursed as he slipped through her grip, "Gavin!", she tried again to call him back but her partner was already too far away, "Fuck!"

Gavin ran to the left side like mentioned. Yn stayed behind the hide and watched the scene concerned. She was trying to cover Gavin whenever needed. What Gavin couldn't notice was that the crazy guy had seen him.

Even if she tried everything to get the guy's attention, Yn watched in horror how the suspect aimed at Gavin who sneaked through the room completely unaware that he was the target in the line of fire.

The suspect aimed his gun into Gavin's direction and waited til he would appear on the other side of the pillar where Gavin tried to hide.

There was no way that yn would be able to stop the guy. He was too far away and behind a half broken wall. But she was convinced that she could help Gavin. That was what she did without thinking twice: she ran towards Gavin. As she reached him to push him out of the way, the suspect fired his gun two times.

Of course Gavin was cursing as he hit the ground unexpectedly, not knowing what had pushed him. He hurried to get back on his feet and as he saw that the suspect's gun had been running out of bullets, Gavin shot to stop him.

Gavin made sure that the suspect was no threat anymore. Officers were running into the room to arrest the shooter. And only then, Gavin noticed yn lying on the ground and all the blood pouring from her body...

Gasping for air, Gavin started up from his sleep and sat straight in his bed, "Fuck...", he cursed breathlessly. He was dripping with sweat, his hair clutching to his face. Three o'clock in the morning. Just two hours of sleep but still more than the night before...or all the other nights during the past weeks.

Gavin pushed his blanket away, sat on the edge of his bed and rested his face in his hands to calm down himself. His fingers were digging into his hair violently as he desperately tried to get the memories out of his head. He squeezed his eyes shut until stars were dancing in front of his inner eyes.

A shudder was shaking him. Goosebumps were spreading over his naked chest. To sit around like this, covered in sweat, wouldn't do anything good. And because he was already awake, Gavin stood up, took his boxing gloves and started to train until the pictures in his head would disappear.

He knew this would never happen.

He should have been better.

He had failed yn.

**

To stay in front of this certain building after all these long weeks felt like coming home. At least, for yn. She was nervous but in a good way that shot adrenaline through her body. It was like the first day at school after the summer break. She didn't have to fear anything. Everyone would be happy to see her again. And yet, she extended the moment to go in. It was not an official visit. She just wanted to come back because...she feared to miss too many things.

Yn had heard the rumors of Hank's new partner. An android. Then, there were the happenings that got called 'War of Detroit', the successful android revolution. So many things had changed and yet, yn knew that there was still this one, certain absolute term. Her own rock in this ocean of craziness she could always depend on: Gavin Reed, her partner.

Yn was looking forward to seeing all the familiar faces again and without waiting any longer, she entered the DPD finally.

*

Gavin stood in the kitchen of the DPD at one of the tables, his back facing the office so he hadn't to see anyone. The last thing he wanted was to talk with someone. A cup of coffee stood in front of him. He watched the foam floating around on the dark liquid. It was his third cup. And it wouldn't be the last.

"Good morning, Detective Reed."

Gavin nodded without looking up. Even if Gavin had made his peace with Connor, the nice android from the neighborhood, he was still getting on his nerves from time to time. This morning was such a 'time'. His thoughts always drifted back to his recurring dreams of yn…

"Reed.", Hank greeted Gavin, who nodded quickly. Without asking, Hank and Connor joined Gavin at the table. An own cup of coffee in front of Hank. He sugared it and stirred the liquid that would start his day.

Connor was about to say something, maybe to light up the mood of these two grumpy guys, but Hank stopped him, "Shit! Look who's there.", he said and looked at someone behind Gavin's back.

Gavin looked up and saw Hank and Connor staring at the same spot so, he turned around, "No fucking way!", Gavin called out surprised and approached yn quickly who stood in the passage of the kitchen. A smirk was spreading on his lips as he saw her in the familiar environment.

Yn smiled and waved but as she saw Gavin's predatory glance and the smirk, she stepped back and raised her hands to stop him, "Gavin, no. Stop! Gavin!" The impact of her partner knocked all the air out of her lungs.

He snaked his arms around her waist and scooped her up, "I have missed you, shorty!", he cheered.

Yn chuckled until she got put back down on her feet a moment later, "I have missed you, too, idiot!", she said. Together, Gavin and yn went back to the table to Hank and Connor, "I'm- what? Away for six weeks and everything went south? Detroit fights a civil war against androids who started a revolution? Everything's a warzone, suddenly and I'm not a part of that? Boys, I thought you could handle it better without me.", she said smirking and crossed her arms.

"We did what we could but there were just too many of these things.", Gavin said serious.

As yn looked at Gavin with an amused expression, her eyes fell on the fourth person at the table, "Oh, and who are you?"

"My name is Connor.", the android answered.

"My new partner.", Hank added.

"Your new- bloody hell! I already heard the rumors but- Nice to meet you. I'm yn. Whenever you need help with the old man, come to me.", yn said with a wink.

"Very funny!" Hank grunted but yn saw the grin on his face.

As Gavin saw the glances between Connor and yn, he stepped between them. Gavin wasn't fond of the way the android looked at her.

"So, you're 'back' back?", Gavin asked hopefully.

"I'm still not fully recovered. I have to attend a few dates with the psycho-doc AND I have to pass the shooting test. Then I will be back. I guess one more week. I just have missed all this so much, I had to come over.", yn said grinning.

"I guess, there will be no problem for you to pass everything, kiddo.", Hank said encouragingly.

"Thanks Hank-"

"Of course, she will pass all this bullshit! And then, she will be back. The precinct was way too boring without you!", Gavin said excitedly.

Yn saw his eyes sparkling and the familiar grin. She considered saying something nice but she always loved to tease this douchebag. It was their thing, "No new recruits to torture, huh?"

Gavin's smile faltered and he squinted his eyes as he saw her smirking, "I never-"

Yn nodded understandingly, "Ohh...I see... No women to hunt either? You poor thing!", she patted his cheek to act playfully caring.

Gavin couldn't do anything else than just to laugh before he brought her into a bear hug, completely enveloping her, "Oh, how much I have missed you!", Gavin stepped back, ruffled her hair, and laid his arm around her shoulders before they walked to his desk.

Connor watched after them. Overwhelmed by her entrance, the way she was handling Gavin and how different the Detective was around her, "Where was she?", he asked Hank finally.

Confused, Hank looked at his partner, "What?"

"Where was yn? She said she was gone for several weeks. Where had she been? Vacation?"

"Oh .. uhmm, no. She... During their last case, she got injured. She had to recover. It's good that she will be back soon, tho.", Hank explained, smiling about the fact yn was coming home.

"Detective Reed seems different around her.", Connor stated, still confused about all the smiles and laughter coming from Reed.

"I guess it's her magical power. She's able to handle him where anyone else failed a long time ago."

Connor looked at her once again. Yn stood with Gavin, Chris and some other cops at the desk, talking and laughing. She was truly magical. Nice, funny, cheeky, beautiful. He was looking forward to working with her. Then, she came back to them.

"Hey, I got appetite for the best burger in town. Wanna join?", she called over to Hank who nodded with a grin. Gavin rolled his eyes but she just nudged him in his side. Connor got dragged out of his thoughts and followed his three colleagues. Yn already waited for him to join. Much to Gavin's dismay she linked her arm with the android's one but he swallowed down his annoyance for the greater good.

*

They drove to the Chicken Feed truck. The best burger in town, how Hank had titled them. While the three made their orders, Connor organized a table. All three went to the table with burgers and drinks. Simultaneously, they bit into their burgers.

"You know, this meal contains 1.4 times the recommended daily intake of calories. You shouldn't eat-"

"Shut up!", Gavin and Hank yelled at the same time. Connor silenced instantly.

Yn looked alternating at Hank and Gavin before she stopped at Connor, "Connor, honey, very important rule: don't fuck the boys up when it comes to their food. It's not a good idea."

"But it's unhealthy.", Connor argued innocently.

Yn nodded slowly, knowing what he meant before she looked at her burger closely, "Well, I’m spotting salad, tomato and even pickles on our burgers. These are three different types of vegetables. It's more healthier than everything else we're used to consuming. Don't forget that we usually got fueled by coffee and donuts. Only."

Connor nodded and let them eat. He had learnt that humans knew how to live the best way but some of them didn't just want to do it right. Maybe it wasn’t for him to change their behaviour.

"Hey, sweety. Want some bread?”, Yn asked and threw a small piece of bread on the ground.

Hank followed the way of her attention and rolled annoyed with his eyes, "Oh, these disgusting creatures!", Hank muttered. Yn looked questioningly up to Connor.

"Lieutenant Anderson doesn't like pigeons.", Connor explained.

"That sounds like a story. I wanna know it!", yn said amused with a big grin, waiting for Hank to speak up.

Hank grinned but shook his head, "Someday, I will tell you what I had to endure with this guy but not now.", Hank said and he and Connor said goodbye. Hank hugged yn before they left her and Gavin alone.

Gavin and yn started to walk around a bit, enjoying the sunny winter day, "You look tired. Have you been very busy the last few weeks?", yn asked.

"No, it was okay. Nothing much. The typical stuff, you know.", Gavin said, his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket, playing with some coins.

"Oh, yeah... So, you just didn't want to see me then?", she asked, looking at him from the corner of her eyes, watching his reaction.

Gavin avoided her eyes, looking at the ground, "Yn…", he sighed, "I…", but he stopped. Unsure what he should say.

Yn nudged him with her shoulder, a soft smile on her lips as she saw his pained expression, "It's okay. I'm not mad. I was just… it was boring, you know. If you would have visited more often, maybe it would have been more fun to recover.", she said jokingly but it wasn't working, the painful expression stayed in his face.

"I really doubt that.", Gavin said low, still not able to look at her.

"What?", Yn asked surprised and stopped.

Gavin stopped as well, facing her with his back, "I- I… forget it.", Gavin said and was about to go but yn stopped him with her hand holding his arm and turning him around.

"Gavin, what is it?"

Gavin needed a moment before he looked at yn, as he did, it was with a serious expression, "It's my fault that you got injured in the first place."

Slightly taken aback that it was this topic that still bothered him, yn frowned and looked at him with big eyes and shaking her head, "No. It was the fault of this fucker-"

"No! You wouldn't have been shot if I hadn't been so stupid! I have failed you as a partner and as a friend!", Gavin called out angrily, torturing himself.

Yn intervened right away, "Stop that, Gavin! It's not your fault, okay? Your idea was good. This guy was simply just too crazy."

Gavin dropped his gaze, not able to look into her eyes any longer. For him it didn’t feel right to get forgiveness from her, "I should have been in your place instead. Two more scars on my body wouldn't make any difference to all the others I already have."

Yn stepped forward to search his glance, "You feel guilty, I get that. But ... you don't have to, okay? And beside, I know you and your luck. You would have been killed instead of just being injured.", a smirk playing on her lips.

Finally, Gavin looked at her again. He chuckled low by the face she made: a too overexcited grin to cheer him up. No matter how down he felt, yn was able to let him feel better. Always. Even just for a moment. He stepped forward and brought her into a bone crushing embrace, "It's so good to have you back.", he said softly into her hair.

Yn was surprised about the sudden outburst of emotions but she hugged him back, enjoying this moment to the fullest, "Yeah. And you know what? I can't wait to kick some asses with you again."

[enhyupn]

the perfect date! five

masterlist | previous | next

a series in which enhypen’s 02s competitive side shines through when trying to get your attention. the only solution to end this tiring rivalry? three dates with each of them in the course of three weeks.

paring: 02s x gn!reader

word count: 4.6k

genre: fluff, angst, high school!au, someone’s gonna end up heartbroken

warnings: swearing, violence is mentioned, jealousy, arguments + there might be grammatical and spelling errors in this 😞

ask to be on taglist, updates are irregular

a/n this was a rollercoaster to write but also i tried to think about what i would do in that situation 🤨 i lowkey hate how i wrote tho but!! i tried to tie it in with the next part so

taglist: @dchannie17 @simluvbot @jaeyuni @neocrush @penghoons @min-arya @sunooflowerss @badroseee @cha-raena @ghjasksdk @strawr @jaypen @nanachuu @nikisboxysmile @softkons @kisshoons-main @enha-woodzies @hwngslove

groggily walking up to multiple missed calls instead of your usual alarm wasn’t what you were exactly expecting on a wednesday morning. you couldn’t even feel your arm moving to pick up your phone on your bed side table, the numbness in your fingers slightly going away as you accepted the call.

you hadn’t even spared a glance at the caller id, not even caring at the point if a scammer was the one spamming your inbox. you wanted to get over with the call as soon as possible. you contemplate for a second, your brain not fully awake asking yourself if you should put the phone on speaker or not. your decision was made with a drowsy tap, the sound of a familiar voice flooded your bedroom (crossing out the scammer possibility).

“i’m outside, i can see your window from here” the oddly cheerful voice took over your senses, snapping your eyes wide open at the volume. you sit up from you bed, confused why he was so energetic at six thirty in the morning. you couldn’t help but crack your back and arm into the mic, the stiffness going away with the cost of jake cringing at the sound. “why did you need to do that at full volume?”.

“it’s therapeutic” you retaliate, your voice still sounding a little rough due to just being woken up. you had to fight the urge to bicker with jake, knowing it wouldn’t end well with your drowsy state of mind. you sigh, one leg out of the bed with the full intention of flipping jake off from your bedroom window. “you know what time it is, right?”.

“you know what time sunghoon wants us there at, right?” you couldn’t help but roll your eyes when opening your flimsy curtains, a self reminder to change them in the later week. “there you are” a smile intertwining with his words. you couldn’t help but dismissively shake your head when your eyes caught a glimpse of jake’s figure waving at you enthusiastically, you could even see his smile brightly shining on you.

“get inside” you ask him with your eyes slightly closed, your hands running through your hair sleepily. “i’m scared that if you stay there for any longer you’ll be reciting romeo and juliet to the whole neighbourhood”.

“rise up, beautiful sun, and kill the jealous moon. the moon is already sick and pale with grief because—” his short lived shakespeare performance was dropped in an instant when you ended the call. with your eyes following him as he made his way to your doorstep, a light giggle escaping absentmindedly. your eyes widened at your action, not expecting it at all.

“what the hell was that” you almost slapped yourself in shock, shaking it off you drop your phone onto your bed (throwing it would be the more realistic word honestly). a loud groan coming out of your mouth when your tiredness finally caught up to you, a reminder than you had woken up just to go to school. “jake sim did not just make me giggle like a school girl” you whispered, embarrassed by yourself as you held up your school uniform in disgust, a wave of shudders falling onto you.

even without the presence of jake in front of you, you knew that he was almost impatiently waiting for you in your living room right underneath you. with one last tug at your obnoxious tie, you take a closer glance at your mirror. your hands fidget around your face, hair and anywhere you thought you needed to fix up on. humming the lyrics of a catchy song stuck in your head, you feel your heart suddenly drop at the memory of the previous night before.

as dramatic as it may look, you were not ready to see jay later in the morning. embarrassing yourself and being potentially confessed to was the first part of your worries, having to face him after doing those was now currently your main problem. you contemplate for a moment, eyes trained your your reflection in the mirror as a way to build your slowly deteriorating confidence. with a deep breath you closed your eyes, the calming air surrounding you finally taking it’s place—

“are you ready?” multiple loud knocks interrupted you abruptly, scaring you to the point of almost screaming. you knew from the ability to comfortably go around your home like it was his own, that this impatience came from jake himself. you roll your eyes as you roughly grab your bag from the corner of your room, your expression not growing any more happier when you swung your door open.

“you’re so annoying, you know that right?” you mentioned as you stomped past him, the boy only chuckling to himself seeing you so agitated. he followed you down to your dining room, his feet feeling light as he bounced around you excitedly.

“we’re also going to be late” he mentions, pausing his words to look down on his oddly expensive watch. you chew on a piece of toast that seemed to be a little stale, your eyes bringing themselves to the shiny object in admiration. you knew that jake was well off but from the looks of it, he was definitely more than just well off. “do you like it?” his words catch you off guard.

“what?” you blink a few times, you feel yourself snapping back into reality watching jake chuckle to himself quite theatrically. you scowl slightly when he shook his hands in the air to dismiss his previous comment, using two of your fingers to try and shove in the rest of the toast.

“you’re gonna choke on that you know?” jake mentions to you as he walked around your living room. you hadn’t even noticed his wandering curiosity until you heard his voice in the background. you shake your head, trying to send the message to him that you’ll be alright. with your eyes trained on your best friend, you couldn’t help but grin softly to yourself at the sweet expression on his face.

you noticed in his hand was a picture of you from your first day of high school (jake nowhere to he seen since you two didn’t start to be aquatinted until later on in the day). his eyes light up in almost delight at your small awkward figure in front of your school, his head turning excitedly towards you with the picture held out in his hand. you laugh at his enthusiasm before making your way to him, not forgetting to gulp the last piece of bread in your mouth.

“you’re so cute in this!” jake’s compliment only brought him a light slap on the shoulder in retaliation, a shy smile on your face hiding from him. he brings the photo closer towards you, you could almost feel how amused he was from just standing beside him. “how have i never seen this before?” he questions, his eyes still glued to the old picture of you.

“because it’s embarrassing” you express, a sigh escaping your mouth as you take the picture from his hands. “i can’t believe you saw me looking like this and was like, let me talk to them!” an energetic snort coming out of your nose. jake only stared at you sheepishly at your words, knowing the full truth behind his introduction to you.

“well actually—”

“it’s almost seven” you exclaim in shock. jake closed his mouth in almost in an instant, his shy attempt to reveal his actions behind the first day of school. “the bus comes on ten minutes” you place a finger onto your chin to think about what your next move should be, run to brush your teeth and inevitably be late for the bus or be on time for the bus but brush your teeth in the gross bathrooms on campus?

“are we gonna go?” jake questions as he fiddled with the strap on his bag. you stare at him for a second, the action creeping out the boy just a little bit due to your trained eyes looking more like a glare than anything. “hey, earth to—”

“jake, i’ll be back in about...” you back up briskly, your feet already guiding you to your bathroom. you could see the boy’s eyes roll, knowing all too well what you were about to do. this hasn’t been the first time you’ve almost caused the two of you to be late for the bus, this time might also just be added to that already long and tiring list. “i’ll be out in four minutes! get you’re feet warmed up we can make the bus in five minutes without stopping!”.

“y/n you can just—”

“jake trust me!” you shouted from your bathroom, slightly muffled from the toothbrush in your mouth. even with your annoying actions, jake didn’t seem to let that shy smile falter on his lips. with his hands running through his hair he only tried to think of the positives in this situation, your timing was always mostly good (a 60% chance you were actually going to make it to the bus on time!).

i’ll trust them jake thought to himself hopefully. when i have i ever doubted them?

jake wishes that this was the only time he would ever doubt you. as much as he loves you, he knew that standing at the bus stop watching your hourly bus drive off wasn’t something he was going to instantly forgive you for. he takes a glance at you, your apologetic expression taking over your face as you pouted your lip. even with his overbearing crush on you, nothing was able to control his soon to be burst of anger.

“you told me—”

“i only estimated!” you put your hands up in the air defensively. you were now chewing your cheek in dissatisfaction at your timing just being a second off, maybe you should of jumped in front of the bus to force them to let you in or even something along those lines. “hey, maybe we should—”.

“i’m not taking anything from you right now” jake stopped you, you nod admitting your mistake knowing if you were him you wouldn’t trust yourself either. “god” he sighs out in frustration, your guilt creeping in when he started to rub the temples of his forehead in defeat. “you text sunghoon we might be late, if we start walking now we might be able to be there in twenty minutes”.

“huh— oh okay” you spoke timidly, “i’m sorry by the way”. your eyes avoiding his in embarrassment from this whole situation, staring at your moving feet as you made your way down the road to your school. jake’s eyes softened at your awkwardness, even though you messed up he still couldn’t find himself hating you with everything in him (only hating you with some parts of him).

his eyes trained on your hands, rapidly typing out a message to sunghoon in an attempt to redeem yourself for your wildly incorrect timing. his stare traced your ever changing expressions, your lips turning into a flat line at sunghoon’s dissatisfying bland reply before plastering a small smile on your face. jake knew well that it wasn’t the time to get suspicious or jealous, already being mad at you for a short period of time was enough negativity with his feelings surrounding you. nevertheless, he tried to take a peak at your phone, wanting to see what exactly placed a small smile on your face.

his eyes seemed to fail him as all he could get were motion blurs of your screen, the messages and words shaking through his eyes making them unreadable for the most part. he could only catch a small jay on the side of your phone, a small scowl appearing on his face at the sight. yes, the two did previously make some sort of oath to not play the jealous side character but jake couldn’t help but prepare himself for that role. with his tongue poking the inside of his cheek, he looks back at your face, your side profile almost causing him to cough on his spit. blank silence falling right onto him.

why didn’t he know what to say? talking to you was easy but in this moment, the confrontation of asking you what exactly you were with jay scared him so much that it almost rendered him speechless. he kept opening his mouth over and over again, no words appearing as he, at the same time, tried to think of a way to start a conversation with you.

“jay told me something last night” jake silently thanked you for subconsciously reading his mind. he watched as you placed your phone into your pocket, your breathing slightly uneven due to the speed walking. “i want advice because i genuinely don’t know what to think and you’re the only person in my life currently”.

“what did he say?” he couldn’t let his curiosity show that much, sounding a little bit uninterested through his words. “was it something like—”

“i think he confessed to me last night” you exclaimed blankly. jake almost felt himself stop in the middle of the street but, the fact that you two might soon feel the wrath of an annoyed sunghoon was the thing that stopped him from doing so. he stared at your eyes simply blinking with no emotion, like you were trying to figure out how you were supposed to feel yourself in that moment. “i asked when he started and stopped liking me— something like that but, then he said he’s never stopped liking me?”.

“i think that honestly speaks for itself” he forced out a laugh, trying to appear calm compared to the loud screaming in his head with himself. he noticed your head turning to you, a sigh letting out as you aggressively placed your hands into your school blazer in an attempt to express whatever you were feeling.

“i know but— never mind just forget it” you try and begin to ramble, stopping yourself from feeling more exposed than you already were. at one point, through your very quick thought process, you decided that keeping your feelings in wasn’t going to do any good for your relationship with jake. plus, you trust him and you desperately needed advice on something like this. “i’m just confused, how has he liked me for this long? and i didn’t even have a clue that he liked me in any way too”.

“what are you trying to say?” jake shakily asked, the pace of your walking already slightly quickening with each word the two of you were saying. he could feel rocks and sticks under his shoes but it didn’t stop him from stably walking along with you.

“what i’m saying is” you let a sigh out blandly, the exercise not really getting to you just yet. “and without being a bitch about it too, jay has the capabilities to have any person he likes like him back? why me? some loser in his middle school class that helped him and sat beside him a few times?”.

“don’t call yourself a loser” he rolls his eyes in your self deprecation. you chew on your lip in discomfort at his reply, unsure what to say to it. “you have so many qualities that are loveable, if anything you have the capability to have anyone you like, like you back”. jake could feel his ears heat up in embarrassment at his mini praise.

“you’re only saying it because you’re my best friend” you mumbled quietly, not really wanting him to hear you in all honesty. you try and look at the view around you, the embarrassment now seeking in due to your negative feelings. “sorry about this—”

“i’m not saying it as your best friend” jake sternly confessed, taking a gulp at his soon boldness. “i don’t know if you’ve forgotten but, i’m saying it as someone who’s in love with you”. your head automatically turned towards him, like something about his words were magnetic. you’ve heard this all before but, hearing it again with more sincerity only caused your cheeks to heat up uncontrollably. your heart loudly beating in your chest as you tried to steady your feet, unsure if his words were about to trip over at any moment.

“i know more than anyone why someone would like you” he continues, not stopping to even see your expression at all. you feel your feet slow down to a final stop, standing with your eyes staring at his face blankly. yet, even with the plain look on your face, it spoke almost a million words to jake. “you’ve known this since i’ve confessed, i’m not just your best friend y/n”.

you wince in your head to yourself at the mention of your unofficial rejection, your missing reply to his confession stinging you as much as it did to him. you could see his hands slightly shake, the emotions now catching up to the rest of his body. you could feel your eyes almost melt at his awkward yet bold stance, knowing that he was very serious about what he was saying.

“i didn’t know i was this good at keeping things in but this has bothered me ever since i’ve told you i liked you yesterday” you noticed the flutter of cherry blossom leaves fall around him, perfectly contrasting the mess of a scene unfolding right in front of your eyes. if anything, this was a scene made for movies but, upsettingly, you were the one that had to personally make jake feel so vulnerable like this. “please, give me an answer. i don’t care if you can’t return my feelings i just want some sort of reply— please”.

“i— i can’t” you finally had some input into this. with your mouth slightly agape your words disappeared, the shock rendering you speechless. you stood in front of him, with your eyes shaking, unsure what exactly you should do.

you would of never expected this on a morning right before school, before a meeting with another two possible love interests nonetheless. you didn’t know how to reply to him, one part of you wanted to say no, the fear of losing your best friend over something like a relationship not working out scared you to no end. the other part wanted to say yes, but you were unsure where this answer was genuinely coming from. you definitely have, in the past, thought of being romantically involved with jake but soon then quickly threw the thought away in embarrassment.

you only had one answer for him, the genuine yet unacceptable i don’t know. you didn’t know what the future would hold for the two of you in either of the yes or no options. you played with your fingers, avoiding as much eye contact with the boy as you could. in the corner of your eyes you could see his feet shuffling on the spot, a clear sign he was growing more agitated with your silence.

“i get it” he softly stated, you could of sworn you could of even heard a scoff escape his lips too. “i don’t know what i’m saying, jay was right! why am i always pressuring you in these situations? i’m supposed to be someone that comforts you— i’m supposed to—”

“what are you saying jake? you’re always there for me so why am i— why am i the one always hurting you?” you demanded to know, your small tears beginning to well up at your own words. the both of you finding undeniable truth in your sentence, even if it did hurt you to admit that.

“can we just forget this ever happened?” he pleaded, his knees growing weak from the obvious shaking in his joints. you knew even with the conversation only lasting a mere ten minutes, it’s completely drained everything from the two of you. “i shouldn’t of asked... i’m sorry—”

“i want” you began, your eyes closing absentmindedly trying to think harder about your next line. “i want to say yes jake, i desperately want to”. you bit your lip, the action not at all soothing your state of mind.

“then why can’t you?” he began to insist, the previous eagerness reappearing at the sound of hope. “you can say yes—”.

“i’m confused!” you cried out, your hands grabbing the top of your head in distress as you tried to comprehend this situation. “i’m confused about everything! jay, sunghoon— you! everything is happening so fast, nothing is making sense to me; it’s all nonsense. jake i want to say yes, i desperately do, but it’s not that easy for me”.

silence fell on the two of you after your miniature rant, the two of you finally running out of things to say. at once, your eyes were locked on his, the intimacy almost driving you mad yet again. you could see his chest mirror yours, the heavy yet soft breaths escaping his mouth from the excessive conversation. you shove your hands back into your pockets, trying to find comfort in the sudden warmth rushing to your hands.

“can we go back?” jake was the first to declare something, the look of defeat taking over everything in him. “go back to last week, what we were? just best friends that hated world history together?”.

“and forget about all of this?”

“it’s for the best y/n” he sighed, realising how stressful this was for the two of you. “just for my sake? you don’t have to properly answer me until you’re ready”.

“is this what you really want?” your face softens, your feet bringing you closer to the boy. your heart stings when you see him take a step backwards, his feelings well too obvious through his actions.

“of course not” he answered, his fingers rubbing the back of his neck bitterly. “but, i’m not going to be stupid about this. you’re too important to me, if i let you go like this i would beat myself up for the rest of my life”. a sad chuckle escapes his lips, one that spread a frown across your mouth.

“i don’t know—”

“just say yes” he in some way demands, the time for your answer impatiently ticking away. his previous emotional state being replaced with an irritated mood that wanted questions to he answered as quickly as possible. his eyes rolling was the last thing you had expected, causing you to scowl in annoyance.

“fine” you cross your arms defensively. you feel your feet start to make their way down the road, anger now taking over you at his sudden change of mood. you turn your head, getting a look at jake’s standing figure staring at you in confusion. “i thought we were forgetting about this whole thing?” you hadn’t meant to come off as aggressive as you did, the harshness almost making you flinch.

jake just stared at you blankly, watching you toughly turn around before, what it seemed to be, stomping the rest of your way to school. the thought of your festival booth meeting now being a past memory, knowing that the two of you would definitely be late when you finally arrive to the school. he lets a sigh out before taking his first step, the wind making him struggle with not looking like an idiot that just got his heart broken for the second time by the same person.

in the back of him mind he made a reminder to tell sunghoon that the two of you were sorry for missing the meeting, knowing he had a soft spot for you, he wouldn’t be that mad if jake explained exactly what had happened. he lets out a long and deep sigh, the feeling of pure annoyance lacing it. he knew he couldn’t predict what the future was about to hold for the two of you, staring at your obviously irritated stomping in front of him hazily.

scarily enough, the realisation that another person was also observing this mess of a morning hadn’t dawned on him just yet. in fact the same person had watched this whole argument go down.

lee heeseung with wide eyes tried to soak in what had happened, the boy firstly only noticing you two as a coincidence but stayed on purpose when he had noticed your conversation didn’t really go down the road he had originally assumed it would go. when he had noticed that you two finally made a lengthy distance from him, he grabbed his phone out of his pocket in pure surprise, fumbling with it already knowing he was going to talk to.

heeseung: your crush y/n... do they have a best friend named jake?

sunghoon: Yes, why do you ask? Also, why aren’t you at school yet?

sunghoon: Can you see them actually? They are late for the meeting we have, actually they’ve just about missed it. Very unlike Y/N.

heeseung: i think there’s a problem .

sunghoon: I already know about Jake’s crush on Y/N, I doubt there is anything worse than that.

sunghoon: Jay has a crush on them too. Popular person.

heeseung felt guilty when he had finished typing out his reply, he knew how much sunghoon liked you and telling you that you indirectly admitted to jake that you liked him too was probably very problematic to sunghoon’s already fragile feelings. he takes a deep breath in before hitting the send button, scared for his reply.

heeseung: i think y/n likes jake too...

sunghoon: Oh, really?

sunghoon: I can’t say I didn’t expect that. Of course they would like him, they’re perfect for each other.

the boy felt himself frown at his phone, knowing well that behind sunghoon’s reply was an emotional wreck. sunghoon been holding onto that crush on you for almost a year, he had told heeseung his secret the very first moment he had realised it. hours before heeseung received multiple texts from his friend, excitedly telling him about walking with you home and how he had successfully flirted with you. heeseung had known sunghoon for his whole life, being neighbours did honestly help the situation along with their parents being friends. the boy can’t ever recall a time where sunghoon had feelings that were even remotely romantic, only ever being confessed to instead of the one confessing.

heeseung: i’m sorry hoon

sunghoon: No, it’s okay! They’re a good friend anyways so it’s good that I can still talk to them :)

heeseung: sunghoon i promise to you that i will help you

sunghoon: There’s nothing to help with, I’m satisfied with the situation now

heeseung knew very well that sunghoon wasn’t satisfied with the situation, knowing he was probably playing with his sleeves anxiously staring at the classroom door waiting for you to walk in. he tried to quickly rack through his head for some ideas to help his dearest friend in this situation. his eyes lighting up ecstatically when he had finally figured out the perfect plan, one that was sure to work perfectly for sunghoon.

heeseung: go on a date with y/n

heeseung: all three of you go on a date with y/n to be exact

however, his message had more to what it said. he could feel a proud grin growing on his face at his plan finally making sense in his head. to make it more clear, this plan obviously had some sort of advantage for his best friend.

three dates, all with you. what more could you add to a perfect plan like that? all he need to do next was convince you to go on those three dates.

which could be an easy task... hopefully?

[dancing-the-hellfire-rumba]

I’ll Tell You My Sins (So You Can Sharpen Your Knife)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst! A lot! (ends in fluff tho), canon typical violence, briefly mentioned and very vaguely descried torture, blackmailing.

Word Count: eight fucking thousand words what the fuck

Summary: Reader hides important information about her past from both Steve and Bucky, causing serious damage to their relationships with her. When Bucky’s severely (likely fatally) hurt, the Reader tries to finally do what’s right.

Beta: @walkingaline​ and I genuinely couldn’t have done it without her. She’s the sweetest fuckin person.

A/N: I’ve dedicated my life to this for two weeks, and it’s positively the longest one-shot I’ve ever written. I’m rather proud of how it turned out, and the feelings I got to explore. Would really love to know what you think!

It’s- vines, climbing up her organs, endless, crawling, and overflowing, thorns stuck inside her skin, digging in, and the breaths come shorter, clipped, chest weighted. There’s no alleviating this pressure, this overwhelming whirlwind of emotions, chaotic, heavy and filthy, slimy and awful.

The rumble of her engine, a loud interruption to her vicious thoughts, digging their claws inside her eyes, filling them with tears. The world is blurry, but the vibration- it's a welcome distraction. Familiar and strong, her motorcycle drives her at this point, muscle memory leading to the Compound, tears flying off her face by the whipping wind.

She’s booking it. Time barely registers. It’s somewhere between lashing thoughts and trembling fingers that the off-white building rises between the trees, overwhelming and tall, glinting lights always on, no matter the time of night. Somewhere between gasping, fast breaths and stuttering heartbeats that she throws the bike to park and runs, fast passes every lock with her ID and forgoes the elevator, knowing full well that the adrenaline thrumming in her veins will carry her up the stairs faster.

Shoes as if weighed by rocks, she feels slow, stuck in mud almost, liquid cement, sinking, drowning in quicksand as she rounds the corner and- Steve’s there, arms crossed over his chest, busted bottom lip pursed with his top one, a deep sigh swelling his chest. His hair is longer than the last time she saw him, he looks battered and bruised, and she’s known him for years- she can read his face clear as day. And as situations like this always have him, she knows, in the clench of his jaw, the statue-still set of his eyebrows, in his stony posture; he’s as worried as he is determined.

The phone call had been rushed.

She shouldn’t have heard it, about to jump in her shower, had she not forgotten her towel on her bed. Naked, feet padding on her plush rug, she digs in her bedside table for her usually silent device. It’s Steve, and she hasn’t heard from him in nearly a month and a half. Instantly she knows something isn’t right.

There’s only so many seconds it takes for the words to sink in, words like “mission went wrong”, and “hurt”, and “won’t make it”, and “Bucky”. Soon she’s pulling on clothes at lightning speed like the universe depends on it, shower be damned. Keys, jacket, helmet forgone, tears stream down her face as if she’s already lost him, bike kick-started because what else is there to do but be there.

And now? She’s here. And she feels foreign and bizarre, stepping in a space that she barely belongs in anymore. It’s sorta how she imagines entering an old house that’s now inhabited by new residents feels like- it feels the same, but in the same way it feels all too different, strange and foreign; revisiting an old life that’s been made into a new one for someone else.

It really doesn’t matter though, does it? Because she’s not here for herself- not for Fury, not Steve, not for the Avengers, or the missions. She’s here- she’s here for him.

Steps even slower now, approaching the Captain himself, very much aware of her knotted shoulders, her shaking hands. It’s evident, suddenly, in his posture that he knows she’s there. His shoulders stiffen just this bit more, and with a breath with which his chin raises a notch, he turns to see her. One foot behind the other, and he moves out the way, letting her in his spot in front of the window of the room Bucky is in-

A gasp.

Time finally stops.

Unrecognizable. Buried under wounds and bruises, endless tubes- her lost boy, James, Bucky. Tears fall at a new speed, and she allows this moment of vulnerability in front of Steve, allows herself to cover her mouth, her expression crumples, her tears flow freely, and- despite being mad at her, despite having patches to mend (if they can even be mended anymore), Steve is there, solid as always, with a hand on her shoulder, urging her in his arms. Old friendships die slowly, she thinks bitterly, and sinks in the comfort, eyes unable to be torn from the sight before her.

It takes some time, a good chunk of it, to compose herself, to part from Steve’s warmth and wipe the wetness off her cheeks. She wraps her arms around her front and shakes.

“We got ambushed,” he murmurs, and the statement is heavy. There’s guilt, sorrow, she’s sure it’s not fun to recall. “My fault. Didn’t know they were that many, must’ve had false info. Barely got to get him out of there.” She shudders. The image is loud and clear in her mind; Steve limping with the leg he’s currently not leaning on, busted and bleeding, carrying an unconscious Bucky, blood dripping from his mouth. She flinches.

“Can I-“ hesitation. A deep breath, shoulders squaring, remembering she no longer asks, she states. “I want to go in.” Steve stares for a second, calculating, thinking, looks back at Bucky, limp on the bed. He nods.

“Go.”

Before she knows it, the door shuts behind her slowly, an industrial, metal click, signifying a sealed door, nearly impenetrable if it was locked. She tries to be calm, but there’s no way, no reason to look composed either, so she flings herself to Bucky’s side, fingers twitching, hands hovering over him, afraid to touch him in case he frails like a burnt paper, in case he turns to dust and disappears before her very eyes.

Tears, once again, fall freely on her cheeks, tracing paths already carved by the previous breakdown, and the prospect of never seeing his wonderful crystal eyes, blue and loving, tears her apart. Worse so, the idea that the last time she saw them, they were red, hateful, betrayed, staring at her as if she was a monster, nothing more than the true scum of the earth, and he was right, and she will likely never be able to make everything right again.

It feels like  claws are tearing at her chest like it’s low quality linen, destroying every tiny piece of her into infinitesimal other pieces and then tearing those too. There she is, now, nothing but rubble and ash, on the floor, limp and bleeding. Heart far too heavy for her chest, breaking again and again, her temples feel like they’re about to burst from the pressure.

Sitting on the chair next to his hospital bed, her fingers tremble, carefully sliding under Bucky’s still ones, holding his hand between hers gently, like a lifeline, leaning her forehead on it. She sits there, folded, crumpled, and she cries.

~

Y/n’s palms are red and kind of stingy, but she pulls her sleeves over them and keeps holding the scalding cup of coffee between her hands anyways. Eyes closed, she lets the steam warm her nose, lets the scent comfort her, and she imagines, with her headphones plugged in her ears, that she is elsewhere, in her apartment with Bucky, on the fire escape, watching the sun descend beneath the skyline of New York City. She imagines his arms around her waist, sitting between his legs with her own dangling off the metal landing and over the street. His voice, vibrating through his chest, onto her back, murmuring teasingly in her ear, nose buried in her hair and his warmth all around her. It’s peaceful, it’s soft and warm and everything she has ever wanted.

When her eyes open, she’s met with sky blue ones, not the ones she was just dreaming of, and she flinches, suddenly very happy her coffee cup has a lid over it.

Steve.

With a sigh, she takes a calming breath, and pulls her headphones out of her ears, tugged by the wire pinched between her fingers. She places them gently on the table in the cafeteria for guests and low-level agents in the compound. It’s nighttime, and the lights in the cafe make Steve’s hair look golden and glimmering.

“How’re you holding up?” She’s not sure how much he means that, and she knows he’s still very much mad at her for everything that’s happened between them. She knows, however, he’s also the one that called her to let her know about Bucky. She feels heavy.

“I can’t stop fuckin’ crying, if that’s what you’re asking,” she tells him, no care to maintain a strong persona, not in front of the person she used to consider her best friend until not so long ago. She flicks the edge of the lid of her beverage with the tip of her nail and looks up at him. Steve looks better than she does for sure. Not because he cares less, or because he’s slept at all, but because the serum gives him more stamina than her. He’s not as tired as she is, despite the hours he’s been awake for. Still, despite his enhanced powers, there’s purple bags under his eyes. “You?”

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at her with a small shake of his head, sighing deeply. She takes that as her answer. Despite wanting to fiddle with something, a way to prevent her hands from shaking, a nervous habit, she pushes her coffee cup towards him, a peace offering, something to hopefully bring him the comfort it brings her. Steve doesn’t touch it. She fiddles with her sleeves instead.

The cafeteria, despite being open twenty-four seven, is quiet. A blanket of silence falls over them and Y/n crosses one leg under the other just to have something to do, something instead of opening her mouth and ruining the temporary civility between them. The words bubble, climb over one another like beasts, up her throat, and threaten to spill- and there’s just so much of them. So many apologies to make, so many explanations to offer, so many please let’s just go back to how we were ’s, so many this is killing me ’s, so many I can’t bear the thought of losing him without at least saying I’m sorry one last time. I don’t want that to happen with you too ’s. It’s all clogging the back of her throat like a spoonful of thick syrup that just won’t go down.

The idea that this might happen with Steve one day too overwhelms her. Two of the people she had found family in now hate her. She can’t let this happen with him, can’t lose him without telling him all of it. The realization; it’s the drop that makes the glass overflow. What if- what if tomorrow, or a month from now it’s Steve on that bed, Steve dying, what if she doesn’t get to tell him all of it? Never gets to apologize? How will she ever forgive herself for the things she didn’t say?

Her eyes well again. Her tongue feels like lead. It’s time.

“I…” She can’t bear to look at him. “Steve, I’m…” a shiver runs violently through her spine. “I’m so sorry. For all of it. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not Bucky, Y/n.” It’s like a kick in the stomach. She hears what he’s saying. I can’t forgive you for both of us. It almost sounds like your apology is useless.

“Well it’s not just Bucky I need to apologize to.” She looks up at him, and she wills the tears to be held at bay, matching his intensity with her gaze. She clenches her fists, fingernails digging in her skin just to distract part of her brain, to feel less numb. “Do you want to hear the truth?” Steve watches her. His irises bounce between hers, they do a once over of her stance, and she knows how small she looks in her seat, in contrast to him, who, despite his frame of mind, always makes a room smaller just by being in it.

His expression is grim, as he nods seriously. She takes a deep breath.

“This is the truth.”

~~

The older she grows, Y/n keeps thinking that she’s experienced everything there is to. But it truly feels to her like she’s never experienced this kind of cold before. And it’s not- it’s not just external temperature. It’s icicles, lodged under her skin, brutally freezing, causing her to endlessly shudder, tremble like a leaf out in the winter, causing her jaw to lock, her limbs to knot up.

She walks and walks, a woman with a purpose, head held high, as high as a prisoner can hold it and- something really isn’t right with this morning. Something isn’t right, and she can tell because this morning she- she felt something she hasn’t felt in years, something she thought she’d never again feel, a bubble of emotion she truly believed they had snuffed out in her. But it becomes an itch, an itch she can’t seem to scratch, something she can’t exactly put words to, can’t name.

The more she walks, the more the feeling of dread climbs up her throat. This she’s familiar with; fear. Cold and fear, clouding her senses, paralyzing her, as Müller’s door raises in front of her, and she struggles to remind herself to keep walking, keep breathing, one foot in front of the other, inhale, exhale, calm down. There’s no way to escape this anyways.

Director Müller was as tall as his voice was shrill and loud. His features were sharp, glass-cutting cheekbones and dimples that showed far too often. His hair was strawberry blonde and his eyes sunken, as if he was seventy years old with one foot in his grave. His skin looked taught over his bones. Always sharply dressed and always hiding about a dozen knives and pistols somewhere in his office. He liked Japanese jazz, had an affinity for yelling, and drank his whiskey straight. The only affection he’d ever had was reserved for his two small birds, Friedrich and Brigitta, whose singing he adored and who roamed in his office freely.

When he’d first kidnapped her and her older brother, Y/n sat doe eyed and watched as they beat her only sibling, her last relative left alive, to a pulp right in front of her. They didn’t know she had things to offer then. They did it for fun, a show of their capabilities, power play. They did it to break her into submission. When they found out, though, about her knowledge of science, her love for technology… That’s when her life truly ended.

She walks, now, down the freezing corridors, and knocks on Müller’s door three times. Status report straight to me every four days, he’d muttered in sharp German way back when he’d first assigned her missions, back in the beginning, and true to his word, every four days, Y/n was forced to see the skin around his bony face tighten and stretch with another chilling smile.

“Come in,” he yells, and his awful voice bounces in the empty, concrete walls of the corridor. She hears his birds. The door creaks open loudly, metal as it is, and she quickly closes it behind her so that Friedrich and Brigitta won’t escape, something she’s learned to do over the years, after one particular incident no one likes to remember, never mind speak of. He calls her last name with lewd, slimy confidence, supposedly happy to see her, his rotten dimples making an appearance. She sits on one of his chairs, upon his prompting “How’s your assignment progressing?”

“Nicely, sir. I’ve reprogrammed the Chair and fixed previous faults.”

“See, Y/n…” He sits on the plush leather chair behind his desk, hands wringing together and as he says her name, he sits up, elbows on the arm rests. His long lashes and abyssal brown eyes examine her. “I think you’re not telling me the truth.”

“Uh…” Stance maintained, but lips pursed and hands just slightly trembling, she keeps his gaze. She can’t displease him. There’s no room for her failure. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, sir. There’s… surely ways to improve, b-but the chair- it works well.”

“Ah, but that is not what I hear.” Müller stands up dramatically, rounds his desk with slow steps, and Friedrich starts chirping consistently, sensing the sudden tension in the room, loud, high pitch hurting her ears. She dares not flinch. The cold returns fiercely, heart climbing up to her throat, choking her. This won’t end well. “As a matter of fact,” he leans, rests on his desk, right in front of her, loving his height difference and accentuating it by standing while she sits, a reminder to both of them that he’s superior. Y/n wants to melt into a puddle on the floor, never to be seen again. “I hear that Smith, your test subject… he has almost already recovered.”

Referring, of course, to the poor boy whom they snatched and have provided her as a sick guinea pig, a way for her to test the torture chair they have forced her to make. It’s a requirement, of course, that she tests it on him herself.

“Sir, I don’t think-“

“DON’T LIE TO ME!” In the flash of a blink, he’s pulled a knife from his belt and he’s pushing her back in her seat, by pressing his blade on her throat. “You know what HAPPENS,” a tilt of his head, “when you LIE.” Friedrich is joined by Brigitta, as well as the echo of Müller’s voice, and Y/n’s heartbeat accelerates, her breath is caught in her throat. She feels like her ears are about to burst.

“He was unconscious when-“

“What did I just say?” Lips purse, scared of making any sound that’ll piss him off further. “Seems to me like you’ve forgotten,” he murmurs, flicking his knife shut and narrowing his eyes. He takes a deep breath, straightens up and she doesn’t dare to move an inch, but it feels like her heart has plummeted to the center of the earth, and she wishes it could drag her too, as far away from this as possible. She’s well aware of what’s to come.

 A chilling half hour later she finds herself sucking up tears that’ll only make her situation worse if someone were to see them. The cold, plastic, remote controller is in her hands, and it’s heavy as it’s ever been. She deems herself desensitized of the emotional toll forcefully inflicting torture on innocent people used to take. However, nothing, nothing, could possibly prepare her for what it feels like watching two HYDRA soldiers dragging her bleeding, thrashing brother from his armpits, and forcefully shoving him into the chair Y/n’s made. Director Müller watches her press the appropriate buttons with a sickly smile on his face.

She begs. For the first time in years, she begs God, the universe, something, to save her, to make her disappear. When this doesn’t work, when pleading for somebody to take mercy goes unheard, when the remote feels like the heaviest thing she’s ever lifted, her eyes draw to Müller, who’s watching her intently, waiting for her to carry on with her new assignment.

The millimeters her thumb has to cross feel endless. The process takes eons. The button is nearly unmoving.

Y/n will never forget her brother’s screams.

~~

In the hours that follow, she’s trapped inside her chamber, a tiny room of blank four walls with a hard bed and an open toilet, looking more like a prison cell than anything, the only difference being that in the daytime she’s allowed to come and go as she pleases within the unrestricted areas.

Tears streak her cheeks for yet another night, and the despair has never felt like this before. She thought she’d escape it one day, the guilt, the weight, but it seems she’s trapped, like an ant under a boot, seconds before she bursts to pieces, with the pressure of the entire world on her chest.

The itch grows louder. It’s right there, in the bottom of her heart, something to pay attention to, in her state of absolute isolation and despair. She’s alone, has been alone for so many years, and she wonders, still, why she hasn’t killed herself yet, but the idea that if she does, they’ll probably also kill her brother comes and slaps her in the face. However, what else is there to do? How much torture can she make her brother go through because of her mistakes, how much guilt can she shoulder?

She sits on the bed, counts the bolts that are screwing the vent door on the ceiling, listens to footsteps pass by every so often, and ponders. Silent tears crawl down the curves of her face. She’s lost so much. She hasn’t spoken her native language in years, and sometimes she wonders if she’s forgotten how to.

A pair of heavy duty boots leisurely walk down the hallway, and she recognizes the voices of two guards. Conversation easily flows between them, and Y/n has no choice but to listen.

“Did you hear about the new chair the American has made?” one of them says. Her ears perk.

“The American? No, what about it?”

“They say it’s one of the most painful things they’ve ever used in HYDRA.” Y/n winces.

“Are you serious?”

“It’s what I heard. Wouldn’t wanna find out myself.” The soldiers share a chuckle. “Müller made the American do it on her brother. I hear he died about twenty minutes later.”

Y/n’s heart drops.

He- he’s- he’s dead?

“No kidding. The bastard survived six years. ‘S a wonder he’s lived this long” And as the soldiers pass by, Y/n’s left in her chamber. The silence grows deafening, but the echo of her heart splitting and falling apart, shattering on the hard concrete floor is ear-splittingly loud. All that she’s done, all the sacrifices, all the sheer, iron will she’s had to muster to maintain her sanity, all the awful things she’s done, the blood on her hands, the guilt, the pain she’s caused and- and in the end… he died by her own hand.

Chaos and confusion, an ocean of lashing thoughts violently crashing and pulling her under. It feels like the crescendo of the longest song that’s ever been written, six years of constant playing, and the orchestra’s hands are bleeding on the strings and buttons, coating everything with their own pain, worked down to the bone, and this is it- the minutes before it’s finally over. The roof is about to be blown off its hinges.

The itch is no longer underlying. It consumes her, and she knows, finally. She recognizes it. Escapism. Revenge.

~

Steve’s silent. He hasn’t looked away from her, hasn’t changed stance, still with his arms crossed over his chest and bulging underneath his dark green sweater. He’s staring at her, patiently as ever, with a set to his jaw that she knows isn’t there out of anger, but because he, too, is overwhelmed with emotion. His shoulders are no longer stiff, and he now has a cup of coffee too, finished in front of him. The bags under both their eyes are darker. 

“I didn’t get to kill Müller. But I managed to run away. Barely. I disappeared, travelled to the States. I found Fury and sold all the information I knew about HYDRA and the department I had been held in, in return for protection. Fury took me in.” It’s a lifeless shrug, weighted and tired, and it’s then that Steve glances at his feet, then back at her. “I trained, learned how to fight properly. Used my knowledge for good. Made it to the Avengers in a desperate attempt to make up for all that I had done. ‘S when I met you.”

Steve seems to remember. He recognizes himself entering the story. It’s almost like he’s reliving the time they first met, back on that Helicarrier. A good memory, all things considered.

“There’s little excuse for me lying to you. I know. But please, you have to understand. The burden of getting to know the best friend of the person you’d been forced to help torture for years… becoming close friends with you? How could I ever say anything about anything and have you actually trust me?” She shook her head.

“What do you mean…?”

“They forced me to make weapons, new torture methods, even tried to make me refine Zola’s formula. A way to get a better grip on Bucky’s mind. I didn’t know much about all of it, nor who it was for, wasn’t my field anyways, and Zola’s formula was successful as it was, there wasn’t much for me to add. They later left me to the torture part, not the brainwashing. Even if I had known, though, I wouldn’t really have had a choice in the matter. I did anything I had to do to protect the only family I had left.” He nods seriously.

“We grew closer and closer and I wanted to tell you, to share my guilt with someone finally, but… the prospect of losing you was… too much. I didn’t want to lose the person that had reminded me for the first time in decades what it was like to be cared for. You were-“  a gulp “are like a brother to me.” Steve looks down. “I couldn’t see the betrayal on your face. It- it paralyzed me.

“I didn’t think you’d ever find out, honestly, how was I supposed to know you’d find my file? But don’t think I never felt guilty. It was always there, like everything could crumble at any moment, like a cloud looming over my head, but… I guess I kind of learnt to ignore it. I had found a family, Steve. After years of pain, pain received and pain caused, after so much darkness, I had finally found people who understood what guilt felt like, what it meant to be composed on surface level. I found people that loved me for what I was then and there. The idea of losing that crushed me.

“I know I can’t take it back, but for whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Steve.”  

Steve stays tight-lipped, pondering, staring at the table, then at her, then at the table again. He’s carefully controlling his expressions, clearly analyzing the information he’s been given, and she holds her breath. Whatever his reaction is, she thinks, nothing compares to the breath of fresh air she can allow herself to take, free of this awful, lengthy story. Finally, clear honesty, a sort of vulnerability with her best friend that’s different and new. True, down to its core.

It’s the sigh that does it for her. Resigned. Her eyes snap up at him. “You should’ve told me” He shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose before looking up at her, and shaking his head. “I would’ve understood. Nothing would’ve changed.” He looks right at her, very much like a discouraged parent. “What am I gonna do with you?”

And it’s- it’s the way he says it, as if everything makes sense now, shoulders dropping all the way down. The way he just- like he says you absolute moron, but in their own, loving, sibling-like way. As if  he can’t stay mad for too long. Looking at her with the tiniest sympathetic curl of his lip.

It’s relief, because it’s in that half a smile that she sees it all. She sees the forgiveness, the understanding. She sees the love. It’s as if he’s looking at her, saying family, am I right? Despite her situation, for the first time in years, so, so many years, she breathes deeply, breathes oxygen that feels nurturing to her lungs, that makes her think she’s floating, and smiles, apologetically, trying to telepathically communicate I’m sorry for being an idiot. Sorry for not trusting you. Sorry for fucking up this badly. I promise to be better.

She knows, he’ll always be there to give her another chance.

~

It’s moments, a handful of them, in which time and space seem to stop existing, to warp into something else entirely, a world that’s so confused, nobody knows how to put it back. It seems, in those moments, one forgets where they are, how they got there, their brain has not yet escaped from the liquefied dreamland it’s manifested, can’t seem to fit in the strict, square rigidness of reality.

Bucky finds himself in that place. His eyelids seem to weigh about twelve tons, barely feeling his fingertips. It takes a great deal of effort to have thoughts, to- to maintain them, and as his mind slowly starts running a little faster, he remembers faintly, cloudy memories barely registering, that the last thing he saw was three soldiers, that had sneaked up on him, he remembers the gun being aimed at him, instinctively moving and getting nailed in the stomach multiple times.

Wherever he is now, it’s quiet. He worries for a second that he’s been left for dead in the HYDRA base, worries that he’s either dying on the floor or a vague prison cell, resembling something he’s been in already, but he’s comforted by the fact that the surface he’s on seems soft, the lights behind his eyes bright. Whatever the case, he should wake up now, he might need to get up and defend himself.

And as his eyes open, heavy and tired, he meets another pair of gorgeous ones, familiar and soft, and he feels warm all over. He’s- he’s safe. He’s safe because she’s here, and he loves her, with all of his being he loves her, and she’s holding his right hand close to her chest, he feels everything, her warmth, and he knows it’ll all be okay, it’ll all fix itself. He doesn’t have to try.

There’s something lingering just beneath his skin though, a need to recoil. Like a small bucket of icy water thrown over him, because, yes, he loves her, but she betrayed him. She could be out to get him right now, could be working with HYDRA still, and he might be trapped somewhere, and his heartbeat accelerates, because he has to escape and he can’t trust her anymore- until he sees the tears. The tears streaking her cheeks, over old salty marks, and a smile, broken but whole. This isn’t the behavior of a captor, he decides, deems himself, if not safe, then entirely incapable of fighting back, should he need to anyways. Why worry now? Let his future self do the work.

His eyes move around the room, blue-ish gray walls vaguely familiar, and- there’s another figure, another pair of eyes- blue, happy. It’s Steve.

Bucky feels safe. He knows he’s alive. He knows he’s home.

~

Like any other free afternoon, Y/n finds herself on her couch, curled up as much as she can with a book in her lap. There’s a short lamp on the side table, and she leans on the armrest comfortably with her toes curled, flying through pages and pages of words. Her hair is down, she wears comfortable clothes, and has a blanket over her legs. The weather’s been getting colder lately.

A warm sound, four soft knocks on her wooden door, are enough to pull her out of her novel, enough to make her eyebrows stitch together. She’s not expecting anyone.

Her feet are bare and she’s well aware of how close her knives are to the front door, just in case she has to fling herself over and grab one. She presses her eye against the little peephole, but it’s old and foggy and the workers who had once repainted the building managed to cover part of it with small drops of paint and she hasn’t gotten around to trying cleaning it. Doorknob cold under her palm, she tilts and-

Oh.

The first thing she notices is his shirt, a maroon Henley, buried under two more layers of clothes, a brown hoodie and a darker brown leather winter jacket. The buttons on the collar of his Henley are open, giving her a cheeky peak of the skin of his chest. She loves this shirt on him. It feels like someone tugged at her heart from every direction. Longing.

The second thing she notices is that this- it’s Bucky. Bucky standing in front of her door with an expression she’s rarely, if ever, seen on his face before. Her favorite, gorgeous light blue eyes staring straight at her after briefly scanning her down, as if he, too, is making sure she’s actually there.  She is. And so is he. Here. Now. In front of her. Looking at her. Her feet are on the floor, she’s not dreaming, the world is round and Bucky is here.

Oh God. He’s really at her door.

“James…”

He seems to shiver. A shake of his head, something she recognizes as him convincing himself this is happening, then eyes meeting hers again. He shoves his hands deeper in his pockets. She holds the door less tensely.

“I think…” squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, looking at the floor. “Steve said to talk to you.” A heavy breath. Shoulders awkwardly, tensely shrugging, sorta like a kid forced to apologize by their parent. She doesn’t know how, but her head manages a nod, gulping. She pulls away from the doorframe, makes way for him to pass.

“Come in.”

 New York sounds as alive as it ever does, even at eleven at night, and Y/n wishes she was sitting, because her legs are unsteady. It makes tears well in her eyes, seeing him here again, in her kitchen, looking around absently. The world feels different, much like it did in the Compound when she’d gone to visit him, even if nothing has changed in it apart from them.

Despite the passing cars outside, and people yelling, heard through the open window, it feels quiet. As if they’re the only ones in the world, being here with him feels like a cosmic event. She remembers what it was like sitting here and being so overwhelmed by the love in her heart, remembers what it was like to be surrounded by his arms and held so impossibly close to his chest. She remembers what it was like to look in his eyes and see them so affectionately looking at her, as if she’s everything he could ever ask for, as if she’s the light in his world. The cold of the night and of the space between them feels very much like a slap in the face.

“I know you no longer work for them,” and it truly breaks her heart how part of that statement feels like he’s trying to convince himself, or as if it’s difficult for him to process. How awful, the shift between being someone’s favorite person and being someone who’s trustworthiness is little over questionable. The weight of being responsible for fucking up the most important relationships in her life suffocates her. “Steve told me.” 

There’s nothing to do but nod numbly. She looks at him, watches the warm, glimmering lights of her kitchen fall on the curves and edges of his face, admires the yellow-ish hue outlining his features, making his eyes look iridescent.

She mustn’t cry.

“He told me everything, actually.”

She must not cry.

Bucky doesn’t say a lot of words, but they’re there, at the tip of his tongue, floating in the air like dust particles. In this, there’s a lingering question, a large Why. Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you hide all this from me? Why did it have to be this way?

Y/n looks down. What to say, really?

“I just- I can’t believe-“ she jumps at his loud tone, Bucky never one to have vocal outbursts. She sees the tears in his eyes, gaze lingering away from her, towards the living room for a second before looking up at the ceiling momentarily, then straight at her. His hands are shaking, and she sees it all then. The betrayal, the hurt, despair, the- the loss. There’s no alleviating this pain that overwhelms both of them. She hates herself for this, can’t believe she caused all of it.

“I- I did what I thought would be best for us-“

“No, don’t pull that shit with me.” He glares now and points at her, and she never, ever wanted to be in the receiving end of such an intimidating look. Venom is laced in his tone, harsh and biting, and it feels like the temperature in the room dropped below zero, her spine rigid. “You did what you thought was best for you,” said as calmly as the tears that slowly leak from the corners of his eyes and over the apples of his cheeks are. “In fact, I doubt you thought at all”

That’s not true though. The amount of times she’d sit in her bed, with his arms around her while he slept, weighed down by the lies and the guilt; the guilt of all the terrible things she’d done, and the guilt of hiding them from the most important people in her life. She’d scale the pros and cons of confessing everything, for hours she’d make lists in her head, extensively long, but the cons were always destructively larger and would always win. She’d choose to stay as she was, with them oblivious and happy, until they would finally see her for what she truly was, and she’d convince herself, it would all be worth it for the time spent with them.

“I couldn’t tell you- I couldn’t face the idea of losing you I-“

“So you’d rather lie to me? You’d rather hide your past from me? I trusted you, Y/n.” He hasn’t called her by her first name in so long, and it feels like he just took one of her knives on her kitchen counter and stabbed her straight in her chest with it. “I gave you all of me, I told you every single little thing about myself, everything I hated, everything I’ve done, and I trusted you to have it and- and you couldn’t even trust me to listen to you? To- to understand you?”

She deserves this, she does, but she can’t- can’t deal with him yelling at her and, reflexively, she lashes out- “I was scared, Buck,” –and it’s a pitiful excuse, she knows, but it’s the bitter truth and the reason behind everything. “You have to understand- this isn’t some black and white situation, I thought you’d hate me for everything, I didn’t wanna lose you, or Steve!”

“Scared?” he seethes, walking towards her with angry steps, and she starts stepping back too, entering the living room. She realizes how large he looks, how his anger fills every corner of the room. “You were scared?!” She can practically taste the condescension on her tongue. “And you think I wasn’t?! You think I wasn’t paralyzed you’d run away after everything I’d done? You think I wasn’t terrified of my feelings for you and how fast they came to be?” She wishes she could answer that, but part of her is terrified to know what he used to feel for her and how much of it she actually ruined.

“But I’m a fucking adult, and I dealt with it. You… you lied about everything. Did you even give a shit about how badly you were gonna fuck me over, if I ever found out?”

“Does it look like I fucking like it? You know how sorry I am, how much I hate myself for everything I’ve done to ruin both yours and Steve’s trust in me!”

“I don’t know shit,” her legs bump on the back of her navy couch. “You hurt me- hurt us. We gave you everything, I put my heart on the line for you, and you couldn’t even have a little faith in me to believe in you, and what you truly are.”  A monster rings in Y/n’s brain. Nothing but a monster.

“Please, stop.” Submission. That’s all she has left, by now, because his words ring nothing but true. Because she can’t bear to hear everything she feels about herself being told back to her in his voice, it would literally be a nightmare come true. Everything drains in her body, and it all comes down to this. She just wants all of this to stop, the pain in both of them to stop.

“No,” he hisses, and she can’t really blame him. He’s close to her, about two feet away, and she’s trapped between him and the couch. “I’m not gonna stop just because things got uncomfortable for you, just because you had to come back because I was dying in a gurney. You barely tried to make everything right before that. Do you even care?”

“Don’t you see that I did everything because I love you?!”

Silence. Bucky nearly staggers back, as if the words that have never, before, been said came out and punched him in the face.

“Why the fuck do you think I didn’t tell you anything? Because I wanted to break your heart? No, you clueless asshole, I’m in fucking love with you!” His expression is stunned, eyes wide at her outburst, watching as she takes the steps she needs to close the gap between them. Her finger is jabbing at his chest, which is raising and falling with panted breaths. “I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you, couldn’t take to watch your trust break, couldn’t bear the thought of you finally seeing I’m a monster!” And she breaks down, a sobbing mess now, the tears that once trailed down her face, now endless. She covers her mouth, face crumpled and red.

“I j-j-just wanted us t-to be okay, bec-cause I love you t-too much to fuck-king lose y-you”, As her eyes shut, crying relentlessly in her hand, throat feeling like it’s gonna burst, she feels so eternally cold, as if showered by a bucket of icy water. The idea that she might once again be left alone in the world while someone she loves is taken away, all because of her actions- it’s too much. It takes her back to the worst day of her life, brings back a kind of cold so furious, it knots her joints and sends shudders down her spine- her hands tremble at the thought. She can’t believe how colossally she’s managed to screw things up with him, how much he hates her and genuinely believes she did anything less than care about him. .

Like a tidal wave, the emotions overwhelm her, the self-hate like a boulder that smacked her in the face and threw her down a cliff and now everything hurts, and her stomach feels like it’s climbing up her throat. Her heart tears through her chest, painful and slow, and it’s all her fault, everything, and there’s nothing there to fix it all, to make it better- except, all of a sudden, warm, strong arms curl around her. She breaks down harder, curling in his chest because she fucking missed this, missed his affection, his protective embrace, his comforting smell.

Fists clutching his shirt, she sobs, acutely aware of her tears wetting the material of that maroon Henley she loves so much. The arms around her curl tighter, one hand dipping under her hair to hold the nape of her neck gingerly, keeping her against him, thumb rubbing gentle circles. And it’s then that she hears it, his own sniffling, his chest shaking. He’s crying too. The need to provide the comfort she seeks is overwhelming, and she lets his shirt go, wrapping her arms around his waist and holding him together too. “I’m so sorry,” she cries, shoulders shaking, and Bucky shushes her, shaking his head slightly. His arms tighten briefly.

In her crying, she vaguely registers him moving them to the couch, both sitting down, and her curling up into him instinctively. For a while, until she calms down slightly, she lets herself be held and holds him back just as fiercely. It feels like she’s finally letting go, an outburst that frees her of part of the weight she’d been shouldering for years on end. It feels like release, a dam that broke and is spilling every last drop of water that’s been pushing at it for so long.

When she quiets down, when her sobs no longer hurt, no longer feel like they’ll split her ribcage to splinters, when her breathing sort of evens out, she pulls one of her hands to rest on Bucky’s chest, and pulls away to look at him. Bucky’s arms tighten to keep her close.

She’s well aware she must look like a mess, what with all the crying, but this is Bucky after all, her James, the love of her life. He’s seen her under all kinds of light now, and there’s no need to hide. Like he wants, if he is to care for her, after all this, he should care for her for all the things she is, not the things she pretends to be.

Bucky’s eyes are a little less bloodshot than hers. She cups his chin gently and watches his eyelashes flutter, his eyelids softly shut. With her thumb she gently strokes his cheek and notices the way he seems to lean into her palm, lips parting with heavy breaths. He missed her too.

He opens his eyes again to look at her and leans his forehead down to touch hers, holds her closely and brushes the tip of his nose on the bridge of hers so lightly she almost misses it. She sighs. “You have every right to be angry at me,” she whispers to him, pulling her hand back and tucking it in her chest. “I lied, and I didn’t trust you, and I acted the complete opposite way of how I should have. For all of that,” a breath sucked, almost clogged at the center of her chest, “for all of that, I’m sorry.”

Bucky, still infinitely close to her, shakes his head gently. He takes one arm from around her, and she thinks this is it; this is where he says goodbye-

But, gentle as always, he places his right hand on the side of her neck, softly nudges her head up to his and drops his lips on her own, a ghost of a kiss, short and unexpected, before he pulls back and looks at her. “I love you.” He whispers, breath hitting her lips, and her eyes well with tears once again, as she looks up at him. She never thought she’d hear those words, not after everything. Bucky kisses her single fallen tear away, noses at her temple.

“I don’t think you’re a monster, the same way you didn’t think I am one. You helped me heal, helped me learn that those things I did, they weren’t me. I didn’t have a choice.”

“B-but-“

“No, you listen to me.” He tells her, his grip around her body tightening, giving emphasis to his words. “You did what you had to do to protect your brother. What you did… The blood isn’t on your hands.” He has not let her gaze go for a second, and she’s transfixed, tears still overflowing- she wonders when she’ll finally run out of them. “I love you.” Her bottom lip trembles. “I love you more than I thought I was ever capable of. Thinking you betrayed me completely incapacitated me, but I understand you. I see you. I forgive you.”

She gasps, shudders, and in the spur of a single waking moment, lunges at him, kisses him fiercely, holds him tightly. Their lips mold together, and the last pieces of the universal puzzle of the cosmos click to place. Everything settles, mouths moving in sync, desperate, hungry, all the emotions tumbling out all at once, and it’s like the slingshot snapped, and the missile hit the target. She bites his bottom lip, and the groan he lets out comes from deep within his chest, tongues tangling together. His metal arm crushes her against him, hand buries in his hair, their noses smush together, breaths strangled, air shared, and…This- this feels like belonging. No- more like, this feels like coming home.

Inevitably, they part, trying to suck in much needed air, foreheads knocking together gently and chests heaving. It seems like they feed off each other’s personal space, like they hold each other in one piece, while also completing one another. To Y/n it feels like a breath of fresh air.

“This doesn’t mean we’re perfect yet,” Bucky utters gently, not in a menacing way, but as a soft clarification, a request even. “I- I’m gonna need some time.” She’s grateful he even chose to give her a chance at all. Y/n smiles up at him affectionately and nods.

“Of course, Buck. All the time you need.” She caresses the side of his face with gentle fingers, traces his features with a feather-light touch, then cups his jaw. “Thank you.” And it’s weighted, hangs low in the air. She looks at him intensely to make sure he knows she means it. Bucky closes his eyes and leans into her touch, then blinks them open, brilliant, sky blue irises staring right at her. “I love you so much.” He breathes out heavily.

“Say that again,” he whispers. She grins at him as if he’s all good things in the world, because he is.

“I love you, Sergeant Barnes.” A kiss pressed to his cheek. “I love you with all of my being.” A kiss gently tucked on each of his eyelids. “I love you for all that you are.” And she kisses him on his lips sweetly, and he responds like she’s made out of glass, like she’s fragile. He sighs out. They breathe close to each other for a while.

“I know you said you need some time. Do you… wanna go out with me? Coffee? At Michelle’s?” Bucky grins. Their spot. He nods.

“I’d really love that.”

It’s not much, but it’s something. An olive branch. The first step to gain his trust back. There’s nothing Y/n deems more important. With a deep  breath, she knows. She’s ready to do anything, to work her hardest to earn a place in his life, the one he’s so graciously offered her. To get to build a future with him, on steady foundation this time.

Their life begins now. Y/n can’t wait to live it. With him.

~~

A/N 2: please tell me what you thought!

[kuiinncedes]

and you knew what it was

author’s note: i don’t know what the fuck this is i was bored at the beginning of my break lol and i wrote some stuff based on a prompt list and a random number generator that gave me “here, drink this. you’ll feel better” and it kinda like ,, grew ,, into a lot

i’ve been sitting on this first part pretty much completed for a while and i think i want to just post it and i have two other “parts” that are sorta connected and idk yeah lmao they’re in progress rn and hopefully i can finish them soon if i post this one i just feel kinda stuck rn :P anyway idk lol i like this part tho hopefully i don’t change anything massively in the other two that would have to change something here XD

basically 1539 words of shadowhunter!quinntina hurt/comfort (or an attempt at it) maybe like sort of warning for mention of death and injury tbh am i trying too hard to be a ya fantasy writer lmao

title from “you are in love” by taylor swift <3

as always lmk if anyone wants any shadowhunter things to be explained lol :P

***

“Here, drink this,” Tina says, voice shaky and quiet, unsure. “You’ll feel better.” She helps Quinn sit up a little and slowly drink the whole glass of… something.

Quinn wrinkles her nose at the aftertaste coating her tongue and throat. “What was that?” Her shoulders are propped up against her pillow, and she awkwardly tries to situate herself somewhat upright. 

Tina shrugs, setting the cup aside. “Something Mike whipped up. Said it should help your strength and energy a little?” She crosses her arms, lightly gripping the fabric of her shirt at her sides—hugging herself.

“Mike needs to add some sugar or something,” Quinn tries in a joking tone. Tina smiles slightly but won’t really make eye contact with her.

The room falls silent and Quinn watches Tina, recognizes the expression on her face, her defeated posture, her smaller, quiet demeanor. Her outfit—a lot darker than what she’s often in these days, when she’s not in black gear. 

And Quinn remembers a few months ago, when Mercedes had her own complicated encounter with demon poison. She remembers how Tina cares, how she loves, how beautifully, how much. 

“Hey,” she says softly, and Tina finally looks up to meet her eyes. “Mike and the Silent Brothers said I stand a good chance for full recovery, right? So no tears,” Quinn urges gently. 

Tina huffs a light laugh and wipes under her eyes. “No promises,” she says hoarsely. Quinn wiggles her fingers and Tina releases the hand clutching tightly at her side and obligingly takes Quinn’s, who squeezes reassuringly.

Tina keeps sniffling though, and it seems to be getting louder. She covers her mouth with her free hand when Quinn looks over and says quickly, “I’m sorry, I know, sorry, it’s Kurt’s turn to see you anyway, I should go—” and starts to untangle their fingers but Quinn holds fast, squeezing again and she looks into Tina’s tear-filled eyes. 

“Come here,” Quinn says quietly.

“What?”

“Help me lay down, then get in bed with me.”

Tina pauses. “Are you—I don’t know if—”

Quinn smirks a little, starting to push herself back into a horizontal position. “I’m the one who’s injured, and I’m cold and I need my girlfriend close to steal her warmth, okay?”

Tina swallows and nods a little, replies barely above a whisper, “Okay.”

Once Quinn is lying down comfortably, Tina climbs under the blanket, facing her. Quinn tucks a strand of black hair behind her ear, wiping some of Tina’s still-coming tears as she retracts her hand. 

Tina holds her wrist, lightly, almost only with the tips of her fingers, and presses a soft kiss to her palm. She lets out a slight chuckle. “Shouldn’t I be the one taking care of you?”

Her tone is lighthearted but bitter and Quinn brushes her fingers through Tina’s hair. Her eyelids flutter, half closed, and she releases a small, comforted breath.

“You’ve definitely already done a fair amount of taking care of me. And I’m fine,” Quinn assures, and she really is fine, aside from the fact that she just missed a few days being knocked out from the worst kind of demon poison and she’s still feeling the effects of that, probably will be for a while, but that’s getting out of her system now, and with its complete departure her strength (and ability to move without pain) should also return, if Silent Brother healing magic and knowledge is to be trusted. “On the other hand, you look like you haven’t slept in days.” And knowing Tina, it’s all too possible that she hasn’t.

Tina shrugs a little. “Maybe.”

“Do I need to call Kurt in here to tell me?”

“Fine,” Tina grumbles halfheartedly. “I haven’t.”

But do you blame me? is her unasked—and unanswered—question. 

(Quinn doesn’t.)

Quinn tilts her chin forward a little to kiss Tina’s nose gently. “Go to sleep,” she says.

“Here? I shouldn’t—Kurt wants to see you,” Tina starts and Quinn shushes her again.

“Yes, here. Kurt will live without it, he knows I’m okay.” And Quinn knows Kurt is okay, and presumably will understand Tina staying for longer if he’s been around her the past few days. 

She just hopes—knows, really—that Kurt has helped Tina, that they help each other. They’ve always been close on account of being the two who could always be found awake in the latest hours of night, talking to each other and recently, working on designs and drawings together.

But it’s still different right now, for these past few days, and Quinn thinks that if either of them slept at all, it wasn’t much. Especially Tina. Kurt had the parabatai bond’s assurance while Quinn’s been out. Tina had Kurt’s assurance, but it still couldn’t have been as good as knowing it herself. And at night, Kurt had the bond as an extra layer of assurance when he went to sleep, but Tina didn’t, and Quinn knows how Tina’s worry keeps her up sometimes, and how she sometimes chooses energy runes instead when she knows something is weighing on her mind too much for her to sleep.

“You need sleep, love,” Quinn whispers, and she feels the resistance fade from Tina’s body. She pulls her closer, tucking Tina’s head under her chin.

“I missed you,” Tina says with a small gasp, voice cracking a little in desperation. “I’m so sorry.” Quinn can feel her tears on her collarbone and she hates it—hates that she’s the reason Tina’s crying and she can’t do anything about it because she was unconscious and on the verge of death for three days and then the Silent Brothers kept people away for a few more and Tina didn’t know how she was for a week, and Quinn really just woke up again and she’s mostly fine and she feels fine but Tina hasn’t slept for days and Quinn understands.

“It’s not your fault. And I won’t ever leave you,” Quinn promises. 

“You can’t say that for sure.” 

“Shh,” Quinn breathes, thinking about both statements. Tina’s right, she can’t say it for sure, and she knows that. With their life and what they do every day, it’s the most unsure thing in the world. Even just a week ago, she could’ve died if the demon’s stinger had gone in a little higher, she could’ve died if there were any more of them left, she could’ve died if Tina wasn’t there. Tina could’ve died if Quinn wasn’t there. (Would have, a voice in the back of her head creeps in, less than a breath, and she suppresses the shiver that it brings.)

But if Quinn has any control over it at all, it will be true. She tells Tina as much. “I won’t leave you,” she says again, quietly but as vehemently as she can, and Tina relaxes a tiny bit in her arms. 

And then for the other thing. “And there’s no way it’s your fault, okay?”

“If I wasn’t so fucking careless, you would be fine—”

“You didn’t push me into a demon’s stinger, did you?” Quinn continues to run her fingers through Tina’s hair. “You didn’t take its poison and inject it into my body. And you were killing the other ones. We could both be dead if you weren’t, okay?” Her tone is more blunt than probably necessary and she brushes Tina’s temple slightly in apology.

Tina burrows her face deeper and Quinn knows she’s winning, if only because Tina’s tired. But she needs her to know…. “It would never be your fault,” Quinn whispers. “Ever. Tell me you know that.”

After a second, Tina nods. “Yeah,” she says in a small voice. “Okay.”

Quinn can tell Tina isn’t completely convinced, but it’s a conversation for another time, another day when Tina isn’t running on a ridiculously small amount of sleep and probably an unhealthy number of energy runes, and only just coming down from the emotional rollercoaster of the past week. 

Quinn presses a kiss to the top of Tina’s head. “Go to sleep, love,” she says again. 

“Wake me up if I hurt you,” Tina breathes, on the cusp of sleep. 

Quinn smiles, runs her hand up and down Tina’s arm. “You won’t,” she promises, voice hushed.

It’s a testament to just how exhausted Tina must be that her breathing evens out within a few seconds, and her body is still and loose from exhaustion, mind finally quieted, for now, close to Quinn and reassured, and Quinn continues to rub her girlfriend’s arm gently and thinks.

She thinks about the word she just used—twice, and for the first time. Not the first time in her head, but the first time out loud. But unlike countless other times when she’s questioned her decisions and even after so many that have hurt her, so many choices that have led her astray—led her heart astray… she knows it’s right this time. Now, here, in her room, in the Institute that changed her life for the better, her family within the building’s glamoured walls, next to the one person she would always want to be next to, she doesn’t need to question it. And she closes her eyes and follows Tina into a hopefully peaceful sleep.

[justasimplesinner]

Request cause it’s been a hard start of the week! Can you please write some Riddler fluff?

s a m e, i barely came back to school and i already wanna crawl into bed and fall into oblivion. so, as a compensation for that horrible start, i decided to turn this into a small fic! hopefully to your enjoyment

tho i haven’t written in a while so it might just suck dick, but it also might just not

Not today

It was one of those days. Days when getting out of bed seemed like the hardest challenge. Days when everything was proving to be a tedious task, when everyone was just annoying enough to make you want to crawl into a hole and stay there until the ground swallowed you whole, when not a single thing turned out the way you hoped it to-

Yes, you were having a bad day. A terrible day. And it was only the beginning of another tiresome week of work. The way back home went on and on, like you weren't even getting close while all you craved was to bundle up in your covers and fall into a deep sleep until everything was right again. Your head hurt from all the noise, your eyes hurt from all the light, your legs hurt from all the stairs you had to climb but at long last you reached your final destination - your front door. Rustling of your keys was the only thing you could focus on, you were just so, so close to the peace and quiet of your own home, your hands shaking in anticipation to get that damn key in and turning the lock when you realized...

The door was already open.

It should've scared you - living in Gotham was dangerous at best, and yet, it didn't. The second you walked in, you knew. You sensed it. And only a wave of irritation swallowed your whole being. No concern, no fear - just anger.

You loved him. You really did. You cherished every moment spent with him. You really did. You craved his company, even more than he craved yours sometimes. You really did. But today... Today you had no strength left to deal with his antics.

– Hi diddle diddle, let me greet you with a riddle! – was his way of saying 'hello' and it wasn't anything unusual, he was The Riddler after all. It wasn't even the first time (and definitely not the last) he snuck into your home to surprise you after work - although it wasn't much of a surprise nowadays. The whole situation was really just a normal, almost day-to-day occurence to you and yet today, it filled you with such unexplicable infuriation you didn't even have the words to express it.

– Not today, Ed. – that was all you could muster, bags dropping to the floor along with your last ounces of energy as you dragged your feet on the very slow, and very tiresome journey to get to your only destination - the bedroom.

Until he jumped right in front of you, ruffled like he's been lounging in your apartment for hours - which wasn't that impossible at all - with that damn bright smile plastered on his face. Or was it a devious smirk? Probably a smirk.

– Tired much, hm? Well, I'm sure you could muster the strength to rack your brains for one answer, don't you think? – he was rambling on with that perfect timbre of his and keeping you away from the one fucking thing you needed and if he didn't step back right this instance-

No, he stepped closer, lean form slightly towering, blue eyes shining bright, arms slithering up yours.

– Answer me, and I'll reward you with a kiss. – he must've thought that was the best encouragement. And on any other day, it might be. But not today. – What do you get when you cross a fish and drumsticks?

He shone you a shit-eating grin as he leaned in, the tip of his nose touching yours and it took everything in you not to grab him by the throat and slam him into the ground. He didn't even do anything, but it was so annoying you were about to burst.

– I'm not in the mood. – he should've taken that last warning you offered him, he should've backed off. But apparently, you were expecting too much from him.

– Aw, come on, that one's on kindergarten level. – he had the cheek to fucking tut at you – I know you're not that stupid, it isn't hard. Just think.

That was the last straw.

– Well, since you're always saying I am that stupid, why should I even try?! Or maybe you're the dumb one? Can't you understand that I'm tired?! – you just... exploded. You screamed and shoved and fought your way to the bedroom tooth and nail, without a single glance behind to see his face fall at your outburst.

It wasn't fair. You knew that. He was just being his usual excited self, he had done nothing wrong, but you just couldn't stand it. Being called stupid was the last thing you needed after a day like this and you didn't want to scream but you just couldn't take it anymore and now you were crying into your pillow like a fucking child and-

You heard him before you saw him, his feet shuffling carefully into your room, stopping practically right at the door. Like he was scared to approach you just yet.

– Are you-... – it took a good few moments before he tried to break the silence but you were already speaking over him.

– Sorry. I'm sorry. I just-, it was a bad day for me, okay? – you croaked not even looking him in the eyes, your body laying limp on the bed. That outburst really took away the last bit of strength you might've had, fatigue taking over once more to the point where even taking a slightly deeper breath exhausted you to no end.

Your remorse, however, seemed to give Edward some of the briefly lost courage and flashed him a green light to go and approach you.

– It's okay. – his tone was condescending and his bodyweight dipped the bed so low when he sat that you practically tumbled into his thighs but he was trying. He was trying to comfort you the best way he knew how and you had to give him credit for that. Especially after you lashed out at him.

But you were glad he understood. That he made your guilt lessen. That he increased your humor, if only a little bit, as his arms slowly circled your frame and pulled you into his lap, his fingers drumming on your shoulders.

It lasted barely a minute or two befre he started humming (as off-key as it gets), writhing under you, slowly sliding down while simultaneously pulling you up to his chest, but it's the thought that counts. It's the fact that he even bothered to try and bring you some calm.

– Fishsticks. – he blurted out once the silence started getting to him. It was so completly random you just had to ask, confusion replacing the fatigue.

– The answer. It was fishsticks. – of course that's what he meant – I made us fishsticks for dinner. And puree. And a salad. – of course he rambled on, sounding like he was scared of disturbing your momentary peace but unable to keep himself quiet any longer. He was always talking, never quiet. And, despite others finding that annoying, the rumble of his chest as random words slipped from his honeyed lips could put you to sleep any time of the day.

Not today, though. Of course.

– There's a Family Feud marathon on TV-... – well, that was just taking it a step too far.

– No. I'm not moving.

It was surprising he could even understand you, seeing as your already slurred words were muffled by the fabric of his shirt, but he didn't call himself a genius for nothing.

– No, no! I will carry you. Along with the blanket! You can still sleep there. – he immediately jumped at the mere oppurtunity of you saying 'yes', and how could you say no to an offer like that? Although you doubted you'll get any sleep with Edward watching Family Feud, it was still more than you could ask for to brighten up your mood.

And at long last, things were finally starting to look better for you.

[pearlplusau]

The first ever interaction of Coral and Pearl by Tripixle

PearlPlus, a lil comic abt Pearl First being given :0

The second post ever thats pearlplusau content in her instagram, right after the first post which is the cover page for this blog.

(Hopefully this up here can take you to the original post) *fingers crossed* (if not you guys should really let me know)

The so-called “trouble” by Blue Diamond, obviously implied something of a serious matter. Maybe not as serious as breaking her pearl and stuff, but its probably close.

For Pink Diamond, she was Not happy with a new pearl being a supervisor on every action she would do and did. (At least, you know, Coral didnt got hurt and replaced or anything, which is so much better.)

Coral on the other hand, looked very interested in her new companion, she took one glance and whispered-greeted her. “Hi” and started a friendship bond with the new pearl (kinda).

(A/N: Just wanna remind y’all that im setting a schedule for posting anything regarding pearlplusau content cuz story-writing takes a lot of time and imma be honest, i’ve been busy with my studies, and i havent even started on the second part of chapter 5. 

I have this “unplanned schedule” that i could only start really writing and developing the chapters when im at my semester breaks, which is the usually three weeks of May, October and December. I’ve planned the overall storyline until the end of the original series tho, but it might take longer than expected.

So hopefully you guys can stick around until then, but for now, it’s gonna be repost of artworks from various artists or a quick writing if/when short but great ideas kick in.

Thanks for reading, Bye!)

[lady-spieroles]

where we will we'll roam

Its atla au fluff I swear

Dedicated always and forever to @the-nerf-house  and @transvav (5166 words)

“And we’re sure Jordan can’t just waterbend us all over there?” 

“While I appreciate the confidence in my abilities Tom, no. I can’t. It's an entire ocean. We’ll have to find a ship.” 

They’d come to the unfortunate realization that unless they wanted to back track several weeks, they’d have to cross the Southern Ocean to reach their current destination in the Earth Kingdom and were now left with the dilemma of how to accomplish that task. 

“There’s a village about a day's walk east of here, it's on the water so hopefully they’ll have a ship we can charter.” Dec pointed out, tracing the route with his fingertip on their map. 

“Or steal” Tom muttered with a mischievous look. 

“We’re not stealing a ship Tom. We need someone to sail it anyway, unless you suddenly learned how?” Tucker scolded. They quickly fell into their familiar routine of teasing argument, gesturing wildly and voices rising despite the amusement in their eyes. 

From her perch on Jordan’s shoulder, Ianite flicked her tail, rolling her eyes at them. Gods this entire journey would be so much simpler if any of them would ever bother asking what skills her Champion had to offer. Then again, he wasn’t likely to tell them. He preferred his privacy, which she respected, but sometimes she felt that he stayed quiet just for the satisfaction of surprising them when he revealed a new talent. 

~

When they arrived at the village, it turned out to not only be a port town, but a bustling one at that. For once, their mixed group doesn’t stand out sorely, the people in the town as varied as they themselves are. They split into groups to restock supplies, get information and hopefully find someone they can charter a ship from. Jordan volunteered to go to the docks because he may not want to tell him of his years of experience sailing but he certainly wasn’t going to let one of the others get tricked or swindled by a greedy pirate. Tucker and Wag join him, Tucker because he likes to think he’s the leader of the group and Wag simply because he is interested in seeing the different ships.

Ianite stood on Jordan’s shoulders as they approached the docks. The air smelled of fish and salt, dozens of boats of all sizes bobbing in the waves. “Milady?” Jordan asked, glancing back at her curiously. “Everything okay?” There was a feeling shuddering down her spine, a familiar pull that she hasn’t felt in years, like the way Jordan felt to her but, different. She leapt from his shoulders and dashed into the crowd, ignoring her Champion's cry of worry. 

~

“So that was weird of her right?” Tucker commented to Wag as they chased Jordan through the crowd. “I mean that cat is always weird but that was extra weird.” For Mianite’s sake when did Jordan get so quick? There were a lot of people to dodge through, he should not be able to lose them this easily. Up ahead he saw Jordan turn sharply and sprint up the ramp of a random ship after his cat. What the actual fuck was going on?

When they finally caught up with him, Jordan had gone still and quiet. His cat was curled in the arms of an old sailor, purring up a storm. The sailor looked just as surprised as Tucker felt but didn’t seem to mind otherwise. 

“Nice cat ya got here lad.” The sailor commented pointedly, lips curled into a slight smile. 

“Skipper?” Jordan breathed. He sounded astonished, as though he was seeing a ghost. 

“Aye, but it be Captain now mate.” The sailor smirked, showing off a golden tooth. 

“And Capsize?” Jordan’s voice was hesitant, as though he was scared of the answer.

“Happily retired. Well not happily, had to force her after she took a bit of a fall. But she’s happy now. Married a fisherman's daughter a while back, two o’ them live in a port town in the Earth Kingdom, started adopting orphans left an’ right. Actually where I be headed.” 

Tucker could see the relief flow through Jordan like a wave, his entire posture changing and relaxing. Admittedly he didn’t know much about Jordan, none of them really did, but he could read a room  ship and figured this must be a guy Jordan knew. 

“These your friends? Or are these just scallywags trying to commandeer me ship?” The Captain asked, nodding towards Wag and him. 

“We’re with him. I’m Tucker, this is Wag.” he glanced at Jordan then decided eh, heck with it, if Jordan knew this guy and he was already headed to the Earth Kingdom he might be able to give them a lift. “We’re trying to find passage to the Earth Kingdom, think you could help us out?”

“Tucker!” Jordan reprimanded. “I’m not going to-”

“‘Course I can help you out mate, long as you're headed my way. Anything for an old friend, ‘specially you Cap.” he directed the last part at Jordan with a one fingered salute. 

“Please I’m not-” Jordan said, shaking his head but then trailing off with a glance towards him and Wag. “Not anymore.” Something changed on the Captain's face but he nodded nonetheless. 

“Either way mate, I'd be happy to take you ‘cross. I be warning ye tho, this ain’t no merchant ship.” He leaned in a bit and smirked “We be pirates.” 

“The only person on this crew that was ever really a pirate was Capsize.” Jordan argued, the gentle melancholy replaced by amusement. The Captain looked at him for a moment then laughed, a deep hearty belly laugh. 

“Aye that do certainly be true! Now then! Skipper! Prepare the cabins, we be having guests on this voyage!” From up above in the rigging a man with stark ginger hair leaned out. 

“Yar! Aye aye Captain!” He answered in a high pitched squeak of a voice, saluting as he began to climb down. 

“That be me First Mate, Skipper Tom.” He leaned in once more, putting a hand to the side of his mouth “He may be a few drops short of a bottle, defected from the Fire Nation Navy and all, but he’s got spirit and having him around certainly beats sailing by meself.” 

“Skipper, I mean, Captain. Are you sure you can take us? It’s not just us three, we have a bit of a crew of our own.” “Jordan Mate, any friends of yours be friends of mine. It be alright. I promise. ‘Sides, not like your Lady here takes up much space.” The cat looked up when she was mentioned and meowed once before snuggling back in his arm. “Aye Lass, I have just the place for ye. Hows about two of ye go find your friends and one of ye can stay behind and help me get the ship ready?” 

“I’ll-” Tucker started to volunteer to stay but Wag had already grabbed his hand.

“Tucker and I will go find the others. You stay here Jordan.” Wag said, nodding to Jordan. There was a spark of gratitude in Jordan’s eyes but he didn’t say thank you, not outright at least. 

“Any supplies we can get for you Captain? As payment for taking us?” Wag asked. 

“I’m sure whatever yer friends already be getting will be fine. Just be sure ye be back before sundown. It ain’t smart to set sail after dark.” 

~

Once Tucker and Wag had left, Jordan expected questions. Instead Skipper, no he had to remember, he was Captain Redbeard now, gently set Ianite down on a nearby barrel. “Ye still remember how to sail mate? Me thinks it’s probably been a while.” It was the only hint he made at acknowledging that something was strange. 

He fell into the rhythm of preparing a ship to sail easily enough. Sure he had to retie a few knots and needed Skipper Tom’s help to run some of the rigging but by the time the others arrived his hands and body had remembered what to do. From the looks they gave him as he slid down a rope from the mast, Tucker had told them at least whatever he thought he knew and they wanted to hear the rest from Jordan himself. Before any of them can open their mouths to ask, Redbeard is shouting for Skipper Tom to raise the anchor and for Jordan to help with the sails. He goes without hesitating, more than happy to put off the explanations as long as possible. 

They leave port as the sun is setting though the light of the nearly full moon is plenty to guide their way. Jordan managed to avoid explanations by sticking close to Redbeard. He knew the others wouldn’t let their questions go but they would at least relax their desire to know now if he ignored them long enough. They should be used to him doing it enough by now. 

“With a moon this full I’d ask ye or yer airbending friends to give us a little boost but ye’d rather stay out longer wouldn’t ye?” Redbeard commented knowingly, a hand loose on the wheel. They are standing at the helm together, most of the others below deck trying to get some sleep. Wag and Dec are up top still, chatting to each other over a game of sticks and pebbles but with the sound of the wind it's loud enough that they won’t hear what’s being said. “How long has it been lad?” 

“I’m not sure.” Jordan admitted quietly. “How old are you now?” 

“Old enough.” Redbeard chuckled. “Old enough.” he reached down to scratch at Ianite’s head. She’d draped herself just in front of the wheel on a wide banister that allowed her a view of the entire deck. She’d missed the feeling of sailing just as much it seemed, barely stumbling as it rocked back and forth. “Care to tell me what happened?” 

“Not really.” Jordan replied. 

“Fair be it mate. Then how abouts the story of how ye ended up travelling with the Avatar?” 

“They found me. I wasn’t going to help them at first but Milady insisted. If I had my way, I’d still be back home in my treehouse.” 

“But ye’d also be alone. No offense to ye of course lass.” He conceded when Ianite turned to look at him. “I know ye Captain, ye need friends in your life.” 

“I’m not a Captain anymore. I haven’t been in a very long time.” 

“Ye will always be a Captain, even if ye don’t think ye are. ‘Tis not about the title, ‘tis about the way ye carry yourself. Ye are at home out here mate, on the seas. If once ye all have won yer battle, ye be looking for somewhere to go, know ye will always have a place aboard me ship.” 

Jordan sighed but then gave him a gentle smile. “Thanks Skipper, I mean, Captain.”

“Of course mate. Now, reckon ye can manage to keep her steady while I get some sleep?”

Jordan grabbed the wheel from him and nodded “Aye Aye Captain.” 

~

Of everyone, Karl imagined he related to Jordan the least. They were opposite elements, opposite personalities and had, from what very little Karl knew about him, very different approaches to life. Karl had spent all his life trying to prove himself as a worthy Champion to Mianite, to create a name for himself the same as Tucker and Tom had. He was loud, outgoing and easy to read, an open book he liked to claim. Jordan on the other hand was quiet, reserved, and secretive. From what Karl had seen, Jordan could kick any of their asses in a fight without breaking a sweat. So why was he so timid? He should have confidence through the metaphorical roof. It was a mystery. 

He realized as he watched Jordan move around the ship, that the waterbender did have plenty of confidence. He walked without falter while the rest of them barely kept their feet. He climbed and swung through the riggings like he'd been born to do it. He was the most comfortable Karl had ever seen him. He clearly had some sort of history with sailing, the fact that the Captain of the ship treated him like an old friend only solidified the theory. But why then had he been hiding away in a deep forest? 

“Your owner is a mystery, you know that right?” Karl told Lady, feeding her a piece from the fish he was busy butchering. He wasn’t sure how but he knew the cat understood them when they spoke to her, there was something strange about her as well. The pair of them were just oddities. She chirped at him, tail flicking and eyes focused on the fish. “Was he a pirate before you both moved to the forest? That why he’s so comfortable on the ship?” She didn’t answer, abruptly licking at her paw. He chuckled to himself, cutting off another piece of fish for her “Fair enough. Guess we all get to keep our secrets.” 

~

It only took until the second day for boredom to begin to set in. On the first day, the novelty of being on a ship and exploring it had been enough but now that the novelty had worn off... 

“Jordan! Spar with me!” Tom shouted up at Jordan. The waterbender was lounging on the crossbeam of the foremast, apparently completely unconcerned by how high in the air he was. He sat up, looked down at Tom, then promptly ignored him.

“Jordannnn!” Tom whined. 

“Give it up Tom, you can’t even bend out here anyway. He’d kick your ass.” Tucker commented, he was also lounging back, hat pulled forward over his eyes and hands behind his head. 

“I’ll spar with you.” Karl offered. “Promised the Captain I wouldn’t bend anyway.” Tom grinned and was leaping at him in an instant. Soon enough the others were watching from their various positions around the ship. They may all claim to be uninterested but there was a reason all of them were some of the best at their respective talents. Karl wins, just barely, and then Sonja is on her feet calling out “Me next!” Unlike Karl and Tom’s duel, Sonja and Wag send gusts of wind across the ship and through the rigging, the sails rippling. Both step and twirl with their element, counterbalancing against the motion of the ship with each move. They declare a tie in the end, bowing to each other with wide smiles. Dec throws Tucker a staff and the two of them engage, the clacking of the wood ringing across the water. It’s a spar that is slightly less than fair, Tucker had far less training with physical weapons than Dec did, but that doesn’t stop him from giving it his all. Their battle leads them all over the ship, up on the railings and across the deck. From his position at the helm, the Captain simply ducks under the swing of a staff, grinning just as big as the rest of them. Tucker missteps, his foot getting caught in a rope and sending him backwards. Dec grabs his hand to slow his fall but still puts him on the deck, staff poised over him. The only one left who hasn’t fought is Jordan and as if of one mind, they all look up to where he’s sitting.

He’s got a grin on his face and his outer shirt shrugged off. Of them all, he’s got the biggest advantage and he knows it, both in bending and in familiarity with the current environment. They fall into their respective stances as he gets to his feet and then he suddenly sprints across the crossbeam. They watch as without pause he grabs a hold of a rope and leaps, swinging down and then out across the water. He let go, diving through the air and into the water with hardly a splash. 

It’s a playful massacre after that, all of them heaving with breath and laughter, absolutely drenched with seawater. Jordan is no exception, he’s standing between them all, breathing just as hard but with a grin a mile wide on his face. The entire game had done wonders for their boredom as well as dissipating the strange tension that had surrounded over them since they’d embarked. 

Jordan sat among them at dinnertime instead of alone like he had the nights prior. They did their best not to react when he quietly said “Redbeard and I learned to sail under the same Captain.” It’s not the first time they’ve gotten a hint to his past but it is the first time he’s brought something up of his own accord. 

“Aye.” The Captain agreed, raising his mug of grog with a smile. “Best Pirate Captain you ever did see.”

“Capsize was a friend of mine when I was young. She and her crew came to the port near my village and offered to teach me to sail. Redbeard was the Skipper aboard the ship at the time. I owe her a lot.”

“As do I lad. We certainly ain’t the only ones. ‘Tis why I make a point to go and visit her, even if it do be out of me way.” 

The others stayed silent as Jordan and Redbeard reminisced back and forth, both out of interest to hear what it had been like for Redbeard to grow up on this ship but also for the glimpses it offered into Jordan’s past. They all knew better at this point than to pry or attempt to get anything from him easily. Eventually Jordan seemed to notice none of them were speaking up and quickly apologized, almost visibly drawing in on himself. 

“You’re alright mate, nothing to be sorry for.” Dec assured him with a gentle smile. “You know, I once knew a pirate lord who called himself Hermod. Though admittedly he was also quite the notorious liar so not sure how much stake I put in him actually being a lord like he claimed..” And then Dec was off, telling his own story. He was perceptive in a way the others often weren’t, able to diffuse building tensions before they even fully formed. It was why he made a good priest to the Gods and a good friend.

~

It's barely dawn when the ship shudders beneath them. There’s shouting from above and when they stumble from their hammocks onto the deck, Captain Redbeard, Skipper Tom and Jordan are running around like mad. 

“What’s going on!?” Tucker speaks up for all of them. 

“Fire Nation ship on the horizon, heading towards us and fast.” Jordan explained quickly as he tied a rope down. “We’re going to try and outrun them but odds aren’t good. Their engine is faster than our sails could ever be.” 

“What can we do to help?” Tom asked. 

Jordan paused for just a moment, looking at the Captain. “I’ll take care of the steering lad! You keep us afloat!” The Pirate called, Jordan nodding in agreement. 

“Tom, Tucker, Dec, tie down everything loose. We don’t want any weight shifting around. Wag, Karl, you two work on defending against any projectiles that may come our way. Expect fireballs at the very least. Sonja, you’re with me. We’re going to try and keep them off of us as long as we can.” 

They scattered to their assigned tasks and for once no one even considers questioning. Not even Tom, who normally would question an order from anyone but his God, says a word. They are putting their faith in Jordan’s expertise even though they have no idea to what extent he knows what he’s doing. It’s not quite blind faith, he’d proven that he knew his way around a ship, but it’s faith in skills that they only know part of. It’s all they have right now though, so it was good enough.

“Coming about!” The Captain called, heaving the wheel hard to the side. The boom swings across the deck as the sails turn. “Give ‘er some help!” Together Wag and Sonja send a huge gust of air into the mainsail, steadying the turn and speeding it up. Their ship is smaller than the one they are facing and more maneuverable. It would be faster if not for the presence of an engine, the opposing ship belching a plume of steam into the air from it’s central column. 

The moment they are facing the Fire Nation head on, the barrage begins. Fireballs the size of small boulders come sailing towards them, one after another. Together Wag and Karl manage to deflect them into the sea, each one sending up a massive splash and burst of sizzling steam as it hits the water. 

“This would be easier if they’d come overnight. The moon was full.” Jordan said, more to himself than to Sonja. He fell into his bending stance and she stepped into a mirror copy beside him. “You understand the plan?” The Avatar nodded in agreement, taking a deep breath. This would be the largest attempt at waterbending she’d done thus far. Up until now she’d worked primarily in small amounts, starting small with her practice. This was throwing her straight into the deep end and hoping she’d swim. 

“You’ve got this. Trust what you’ve learned.” Jordan reassured her. “Block everything else out. Focus on the water.” 

“On my mark.” He muttered softly. Their ship faded from around and below her, she could only feel the water, the waves. She let the sounds around them disappear, stretching out to feel the flow of the sea beneath them. She could feel it’s potential, what it was capable of doing, the strength it held. 

“Now!” He said and they both moved into action, pulling and lifting the sea. It wrapped around the sides of the Fire Nation ship like an enormous sea monster from legend. The waves crashed on the deck and then all at once, both Jordan and Sonja tightened their grasp on the water, freezing it solid. 

“Fill the sails!” Redbeard cried, Wag turned on his heel and sent the strongest gust of wind he could muster into the canvas, the sail bloating from the force and propelling them forward. Sonja stumbled on her feet, Jordan reaching out to steady her. 

“I’m alright.” She said after a moment to catch her breath. “Next step. I’m good.” 

“You go help Wag. We’re almost out of this.” he assured her, running off towards the stern. 

Between the extra air filling the sails and the push of water behind them, they manage to outrun the ship once they have it frozen in place. After nearly an hour of the Fire Nation ship being out of view and several course alterations so they couldn't be followed, Redbeard collapsed against the wheel, flexing his hands after their white-knuckle grasp on the wheel. The rest of them collectively fall to the deck, heart beats slowly calming and adrenaline fading. 

It's Tom who speaks first, raising a victorious fist in the air from his position laying on the deck, crowing “Yo Ho Yo Ho a Pirate's life for me!” 

~

The little detour puts them an extra day off course but eventually they do see land on the horizon. 

“Land ho Captain!” Skipper Tom calls from the crows nest, waving his spyglass wildly. Captain Redbeard nods with a grin. 

They pull into the port town just after midday, all of them lending a helping hand to get the ship tied off and steady. 

“Thank you for your help Captain.” Dec said, reaching out to shake the pirates hand. “We appreciate you getting us over here.”

“Not a problem at all mate. Any friend o’ Jordan’s be a friend of mine. If ye ever need a ship. I be at yer service.” Redbeard saluted with a grin. “Speakin’ of, ye coming with me mate? I’m sure she’d like ta see ye.” 

Jordan blinked in surprise “I don’t know, I wouldn’t want to, Ow!” His hand went to his ear, rubbing at the spot Ianite had just nipped. He glared at her but sighed “Fine. I’ll go see her.” 

“We’ll wait for you just outside of town Jordan. Take as long as you need.” Dec assured him with a kind nod. 

He watched the rest of them disappear into the crowd, wobbly and laughing as they regained their land legs after days at sea. 

“It’ll be alright mate. Promise.” Redbeard said, laying a hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “‘Sides, I think Miss Lady here is excited to see ‘er anyway.” 

Jordan stayed quiet, wringing his hands as he followed Redbeard through the town. Skipper Tom had stayed behind to mind the ship, leaving just the two of them. He lead them just outside the town, to a home with its own dock, a small fishing boat bobbing gently in the waves. 

“Uncle Redbeard!” A child’s voice cried out. From the home, a trio of children came running. Triplets, Jordan realized after a double take. All three looked nearly identical aside from the manner of dress. 

“Ahoy mateys!” Redbeard greeted, crouching down and opening his arms wide so the children could tackle him to the ground. They swarmed him for a moment asking all sorts of questions, barely intelligible in their excitement. 

“Who’re you?” One of them asked, pulling away from Redbeard to look at Jordan. The boy had a sneer of suspicion on his lips, though it was less than threatening considering his age and size.  

“Calm yourself lad, He be a old friend of me and your mum.” 

“You don’t look very old.” Another child said, the girl’s voice high-pitched and accusatory. 

“It don’t be good manners to comment about someone's age Kala but I assure ye, Jordan do be a friend of ours.” She still looked suspicious, turning away with a ‘hmph’. 

“Are you a pirate?” The last child asked, far more politely than both his siblings. 

Jordan shrugged “Not really, but I have been before at one time or another.” 

“You’ll have time to ask all the questions ye want, right now we be needing to see your mum. She inside?” 

“Aye Captain!” all three chriped together in their best impression of pirates, grins on their cheeks. They saluted him with varying levels of propriety then dashed back towards the house on each other's heels. 

“Mom! Uncle Redbeard is here!” The voices preceded their entrance into the home, Redbeard removing his hat as he stepped through the door. 

“Aye? Skipper?” A woman called and Jordan nearly crumpled to his knees. He’d thought he was mentally ready to see Capsize again but suddenly he wanted to run as far as his legs could carry him. Seeing her would only further cement just how much time had passed. He’d had the same gut-twisting realization seeing Redbeard but Capsize was, well she was Capsize. They had been as close as two people could be once upon a time. 

Redbeard’s gentle hand on his shoulder and Ianite’s comforting familiar weight kept him in place, but it did not stop Capsize from dropping her tea tray in shock when she entered the room. 

“Jordan? Mate, be it you?” Her dark eyes were shimmering, wide with astonishment. She was older, of course she was. Her hair was silver now, braided back away from her face. Her skin was deeply wrinkled from years upon years spent in the sun on the sea and instead of her Captains coat she wore a simple pair of trousers and a loose fitting shirt. 

Jordan nodded, suddenly unable to find any words. She crossed the room slowly, as if he might disappear if she moved too fast, then opened her arms to embrace him. 

“Oh mate, I thought ye had died.” She sighed in relief, resting her head against his shoulder. “We all thought the worst when we came back to the village.” She must’ve felt the way he tensed or the way his heartbeat quickened because she fell silent for a long moment. “I just be glad ye are alright.” She pulled back just enough that she could look at Ianite. “And I assume I have ye to thank for that milady?” Ianite stood from his shoulder and crossed to Capsize’s, rubbing her cheek along the old pirates face as she went. “Aye, I be glad to see ye as well. I be glad to see ye both.” She repeated, letting go of Jordan to stroke Ianite. 

“I’ll get another pot o’ tea going, ye both go sit and catch up. I’ve already had me chance.” Redbeard suggested with a smile, nodding towards a small table in the corner. 

“I do be wondering how ye ended up here.” She admitted. 

“Well,” Jordan began, sitting down across from her. Suddenly he realized that these were people who would understand if he were to tell them. They wouldn’t judge him for his actions or the way he’d reacted. They had always cared for him and Ianite like family. Maybe now was the chance to finally get some of what he’d been holding on to for so many years off his chest. He cleared his throat, opened his mouth to speak but then closed it again, suddenly unsure. 

“Mate, I don't need the whole tale.” Capsize said, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “As much as I want to hear it, if ye ain’t ready to tell it then ye don’t have to.” Their eyes met, her stormy gray eyes so familiar a comfort. “Start with how ye found Redbeard.” She suggested and a weight lifted from his chest. 

“We, me, milady and the ones we are traveling with, needed passage to the Earth Kingdom. It was actually Ianite that found him…” 

Later that night, long after the sun had set, Jordan rejoined the others. They’d set up camp on the outskirts of town, a fire already roaring between them and their chatter greeting Jordan long before he actually saw them. He’d not told Capsize and Redbeard everything, but more of the story had flowed from him than he’d told anyone but Ianite. It had felt good, letting some of the weight go, even if it hadn’t been all of it. 

“Good visit?” Wag asked as Jordan sat down next to him. 

He nodded, shifting Ianite from his shoulders to his lap. She hardly stirred, tail curling around herself as her purring got louder. 

“It’s always good to catch up with old friends.” Wag commented, turning back towards the fire.

Jordan let himself get lost in the banter, listening and just existing among them. He’d been alive long enough for more than one lifetime. Half of one had been spent in Darkness, another with the Pirates and his village and now he had this. It may have been a long road to get here and an even longer road ahead but maybe this time he could actually do some good. 

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

CAN I GET ME SOME PETER FROM BOC? (I promise he's overage ajdjfjff) he has no content and he's just,,,adorable 🥺

listen here, I’m now head over heels for Peter and I’m blaming you

WHAT A MAN,,,

I hope this doesn’t disappoint, it’s full of feels and there is a LOT to unpack here! I based it on this set of headcanons I did a while back wherein someone saved the circus members and nursed them back to health, so that person (tho I went with a lady) is this reader’s boss

also this got WAY longer than I meant it to but considering the absolutely criminal lack of Peter content, I don’t think you’ll mind

Sometimes, on nights when it’s warm, you’ll find those two sitting in the courtyard behind your employer’s manor.

(Mistress) never told you what the story was with these circus performers, and as far as you know, she’s never told any of the other servants either. Hell, she may not even know herself. If PETER and Wendy are anything to go by, this lot doesn’t open up easily. They’ve all been living here for six months, and the only thing you really know is that (Mistress) took them in after finding them horribly injured, that Peter and Wendy are basically adults stuck in bodies which never matured, and that they used to be trapeze artists in their troupe.

They’re both very hard to read, though Wendy is marginally friendlier than her brother. The two of them seem closer to each other than even to the other members, and the whole lot of them keep to themselves, perhaps trying to avoid the household’s staff entirely, so you’ve not had much interaction with any of them.

These two, though? They intrigue you; Peter in particular. He seems on edge all the time, a shock that so much anger seems to exist in someone so small. Even if you didn’t trust their word that these two aren’t children, you would know he was an adult. No child is that angry all the time without any discernible reason.

You just want him to be able to relax. Whatever the reason he’s always ready to fight, he would be so much less stressed if he could let go of it just a little bit. Doesn’t he know he and his sister are safe here? Don’t they all know that? If they don’t, someone ought to clue them in.

When you step out into the courtyard, the balmy night air welcomes you.

There they are, the two of them, and Wendy looks to be lying down in the grass. Sleeping, maybe? It’s late, but not past midnight quite yet. (Mistress) has no strict rules for her staff nor her guests except that she would prefer everyone be inside the manor by midnight. Oddly enough, unlike anyone else you have ever worked for, she’s very concerned with everyone’s safety.

The grass rustles between your feet as you walk. The closer you get, the more Peter’s shoulders seem to shoot up toward his ears; indeed, until they’re buried in his hair. Wendy, on the other hand, only moves by breathing, so she’s definitely asleep.

After a moment of standing, staring at the sky, you lower yourself onto the ground next to Peter. Close enough that you could touch him, far enough that, hopefully, he doesn’t feel crowded. “Lovely night,” you hum, crossing your legs. “It’s nice when there are no clouds at night. You can see the moon so well. Lady (Mistress) is happy someone is finally enjoying the courtyard. She’s never really been one for stargazing or―”

“Oh, what the bloody ‘ell d’you want?!” Peter interrupts you before you can even finish your sentence. His voice is harsh, not loud, likely because he doesn’t want to wake Wendy. “Did y’ come out ‘ere just ta talk me ta death?!”

His bad attitude is still a bit surprising to you, but to have such rude comments coming from such an innocent-looking mouth is no longer the shock it once was. “Well… it wasn’t my intention, no. I’m sorry.” You tilt your head at him. “Do you want me to leave?”

The look he gives you is equal parts incredulous that you’ve said such a thing and sorely tempted by the offer. At last, his face contorts into a scowl, his head jerking back down to the grass he’s yanking out of the ground. “That ain’t what I said. Just stop prattlin’ on about nothin’.”

A moment passes in silence, then you reach over to tear out a couple blades of grass yourself. It’s not that you pretend to understand why he’s doing it, but you want to show him that whatever he’s doing, you’ll join him if he wants, even if you don’t know the reason why.

“… What should I prattle on about, then?” you speak up once he seems to have calmed down a little. “I started with the sky, but… I get the feeling you’re not actually out here to look at the sky. Not as dumb as I look, you know.”

Peter huffs, and a small sigh comes from Wendy as she turns over in her sleep.“So, y’ saw a bloke what didn’t wanna be bothered, ‘n’ y’ came out ‘ere ta bother ‘im, is what y’re sayin’?”

A small shrug is what he gets from you before you say anything else. “Well, no, I’m not trying to bother you. I just wanted to see how you’re doing… if you’re settling in alright. Wendy seems pretty comfortable.”

He snorts, the bitter look from earlier taking over his face again. “We ain’t ‘settlin’ in’. We ain’t gonna be ‘ere longer’n a year, I’ll bet, if we even make it that long.”

“Why do you think that? Lady (Mistress) says she likes you all and that you’re welcome to―”

He lets out a violent grunt as he pulls a clump of grass blades from the ground. They’re tossed down in short order, accompanied by a growl. “(Mistress) don’t know nothin’ ‘bout us! Y’ think she’d want us ‘ere if she knew the truth?! Y’ think anyone’d want us anywhere if they knew the truth?!” He presses his hands into the dirt, digging it under his frayed fingernails, and hisses furiously. “There’s a reason we were left ta fuckin’ die ― because we should be dead! We’re BAD PEOPLE, (Name)!”

Now his voice has gotten louder, causing Wendy to stir and make noises of what sounds to you like distress. You scoot over a bit, reaching around Peter to give a few soft pats to her shoulder. Then you turn your attention back to Peter. “… You’re not,” you say softly. “You in particular, you’re a little rough around the edges, but you’re not… bad.”

You shift around some to get more comfortable. When you cautiously set your hand on top of Peter’s, he flinches, but ultimately lets your fingers stay where they are. “Even if you were bad… you’re not the only bad people to ever exist. You don’t deserve to die.”

“What d’you know?” he grinds out lowly. “Y’ don’t know nothin’ ‘bout us either. Don’t know nothin’ ‘bout me. Y’ don’t get ta make that judgment.”

“Then what judgment am I fit to make?” If you sound frustrated by now, it’s because you are. Why does he seem so insistent about this? Doesn’t he think that if they all should have died, they would have? “Do my feelings really mean that little to you? Does what I think really not matter to you? Because whatever else you may be, good or bad or somewhere in between ― I’m glad to have you here. Perhaps this comes as a surprise to you, Peter, but I happen to like your company, and Wendy’s, and the others’.”

You curl your fingers around his, tightly, securely. “If you should have died, then God wouldn’t have let you live. You’re still alive for a reason.” Despite that you move closer to him, he doesn’t pull away. “You’ve all been given a second chance. Regardless of whether or not you think you deserve it, you have it. And you’re prepared to spend it feeling sorry for yourself, saying you don’t deserve it, instead of doing something with it?”

What surprises you is that he wraps his fingers around yours in response, holding your hand as if you’re his last connection to life. When he looks up at you, his expression is old enough to betray his youthful face. “Y’ don’t know what y’re talkin’ ‘bout, (Name). We shouldn’t ‘ave this chance in the firs’ place. It should’ve gone ta someone else. Y’ don’t know us, er what we done, er anythin’ else. Y’ don’t know… me.”

“But I want to.” Something strange thrums in your chest, your heart fluttering against your ribcage. “I don’t know you because you won’t let me. None of you will let any of us in even the smallest bit. Meanwhile, Lady (Mistress) and I and some of the others… we want to know you. Whatever that means. Even if there are things about you that aren’t pleasant. We like you. I like you. How do you know we wouldn’t accept you if you won’t give us the chance?”

What comes out of his mouth is a mix of a scoff and a laugh. That look in his eyes is so dark and tired you don’t know what to make of it. “Lord, y’know, I never met anyone like y’. Mos’ people don’t want us anywhere near ‘em, even the parts of us that ain’t so bad. But y’re tellin’ me, y’ expect me ta believe ― y’ actually want the bad parts?”

You lean even closer, almost desperate that you’ve come so close to potentially getting him to open up and be vulnerable with you. “Yes,” you breathe. So close you are now, your noses are almost touching. “I want the bad parts. I want the good parts. I want all of you. Is that so crazy?”

“Yeah!” This time it’s a full-blown laugh, though it’s so mirthless, he nearly sounds closer to crying than laughing. “That’s very crazy! Y’ oughta be locked up in some asylum! It ain’t enough yer lady took us in, but y’re tellin’ me y’ actually want every single part of me? Y’ take a look at me lately, ‘uh? I ain’t no gentleman! I ain’t refined, I ain’t sweet… I mean, damn, I look like a little kid!”

The tip of your nose presses to his. “You’re not, though. You’re not a boy,Peter; you’re a man.” You get the feeling very few people acknowledge that about him. He looks like a child, so he must be!

“And I don’t care about refined or sweet… and anyway, who says I want a gentleman?” Your hand stays in his, and your other arm snakes around his shoulders. “What I want is you. I understand if you can’t… or don’t want to… give me all of you. Or any of you. But… no matter anything else… know that there’s someone who will take every part of you. There are people here who want to accept you… if you’d only let us in. You’re not alone.”

Peter lets out a shuddering breath, and you can feel its heat against your lips. His hand clutches yours with such ferocity that his arm is shaking. After a long, long moment, his other hand comes to rest against your waist. How long must it have been since anyone’s treated him as the adult he is ― how long must he have been holding himself back so that he doesn’t make people angry or uncomfortable? “Stop,” he murmurs, and his hand bunches the fabric against your waist in a fist. “Stop bein’ so… good. I can’t… I can’t take it. Jus’ gonna make it ‘urt more… when we get chased outta ‘ere…”

He presses his forehead against yours, his chest heaving as if he’s using his whole strength to stave off the sobbing he’s already been holding back for his whole life. “… If I open up… if y’ do accept me… ‘n’ then I ‘afta leave y’ be’ind…” He’s still holding himself so tensely, wound so tight that he could snap at any moment.

“… I can’t…”

That he gives no resistance when you push forward and kiss him is something you didn’t expect. The way he leans into the touch, bowing to you with a stunning softness you weren’t sure he possessed, speaks volumes about how much he needs someone to embrace his whole self. He seems to even lose himself in your approval for what feels like an eternity.

You draw away, only to be pulled back in against him for another kiss. This one is rougher, hungrier, with a neediness that’s somehow the same as the first kiss and yet wildly different. It’s the kiss of a man who just wants to be wanted, who has tasted that someone desires him and became addicted to that in an instant.

When he pulls you back, you’re only too happy to submit to his wants. You can feel his hand at your waist, his fingers fanning out from that fist so they are splayed against your side.

As soon as you come up for air, you move your arm from his shoulders to let your hand rest on his cheek.

“Don’t worry, Peter,” you whisper as if you can quiet all his fury and anxiety with just those words. “You’re not going anywhere.”

[awhiskeyriver]

I'm so so glad to hear that writing is going well for you!! I'm sure we will all love reading the challenge as well :) Do you think you could give us another sneakpeak? :P It's totally okay if you don't want to reveal anything yet tho!

Thank you so much! This is the sweetest.

I would really love to give another sneak peek, but I don’t want to share too much right now because it is ever changing as I continue to write so I just don’t feel like it’s ready to share anything else yet as of now. And I know that once I am posting regularly, people will want SSS’s and sneak peeks and I don’t want to give everything away now and have nothing to share later. I’m sorry :(

But! It is my hope and plan to upload The Challenge and start posting on July 5th. That’s the deadline I’m working towards as of now, *fingers crossed* so hopefully it won’t be too long of a wait before you can just read it in chunks longer than a few obscure sentences!

Anyways, thanks so much for your continued support! I really do appreciate it :)

[icyharrington]

Discipline (Michael Langdon X Reader)

just a nasty, self-indulgent PWP one shot i wrote just to take a lil break from is it wrong! this is based off some conversations between @xtheinevitableprophecyx​ and i. just a few things to note: 1) this is an au, in which hawthorne era michael is a priest-in-training working at a catholic school. 2) y/n is over 18 in this story. and 3) i’m aware that catholic schools don’t spank bitches w rulers anymore, but for the sake of the smut we’re gonna pretend that they do. lmfao

also, this is definitely not the best thing i’ve ever written, but this was mostly just for fun! hopefully y’all still like it tho :’) 

plot: you’ve violated dress code one too many times, and now you’re really in for it. 

warnings: catholic school au, priest in training!michael, fem!reader, inappropriate relationships, dirty talk, degradation, humiliation, spanking (both traditional and non traditional..) w/ objects, boot riding, face slapping, hair pulling, cunnilingus, orgasm denial

word count: 4k 

tagging some people who might be interested: @wroteclassicaly, @lvngdvns, @langdonsrapture, @avesatanormalpeoplescareme, @bbyduncan, @alicecooper19, @satansapostle, @michael-langdon-appreciation, @ccodyfern, @starwlkers, @divinelangdon, @americanhorrorstudies, @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26, @langdonsinferno, @sodanova, @maso-xchrist, @trelaney, @langdonalien, @langdonsdemon, @cocosfern, @sojournmichael, @sassylangdon

“Ms. (y/l/n).”

The man behind the desk waved you into the office, making a show of checking his watch before pulling his lips into a thin, cold smile.

“You’re two minutes late.” He reclined back in his chair, looking comfortable as he laced his fingers over his stomach, eyes following your every move as you ventured further into the room.

“Sorry, sir,” you mumbled, turning to shut the door behind you.

The man in question was Mr. Langdon- the young, handsome priest-in-training who’d just recently acquired a job at your Catholic high school. You’d listened to your friends swoon over him ever since your first day of senior year, remarking on just how goddamn unfair it was that a man so beautiful would soon enough be of the cloth.

Mr. Langdon really was beautiful. He couldn’t have been much older than twenty-five, with clear porcelain skin and bright, hooded blue eyes. He always styled his wavy, slightly overgrown blond hair with the smallest touch of hair gel, keeping him looking polished and well-kept. You hadn’t been one of the ones who’d been blessed enough to have him as your teacher, but now, as luck would have it, you’d wound up in his presence anyway.

“Has the importance of punctuality not been instilled in you enough, Ms. (y/l/n)?” His voice was even and low, and you found yourself squirming at the sound of it.

“No, sir, I- uh. I was just held up in my last class.”

He raised his eyebrows but did not persist further, gesturing for you to come closer to him. “Put your bag down by the door.”

You did as you were told, skin prickling at the feeling of his eyes boring into your back; when you turned to face him again, there was the faintest hint of a smirk painting his features. You swallowed audibly.

“So, Ms. (y/l/n). Tell me why you’re here.”

“Well, um. Because the headmaster told me to come here, sir.”

The full truth, which you did not exactly want to say aloud, was that it’d been your third time getting caught violating dress code, which at your school meant discipline. And discipline, as you’d been told by a number of your friends, was something to be avoided at all costs. On these occasions, if the headmaster himself was too busy to provide you with discipline, he’d send the offending student off to a nun or priest (or, in this case, priest-in-training) who was available.

Knowing your luck, you weren’t exactly surprised that Mr. Langdon had been the staff member you’d been sent to.

Mr. Langdon cocked his head at you, sinking further back in his seat. “I know that already. I want to know what it is that you did to warrant being sent here.”

You averted your eyes down to your palms, already slick with perspiration. “This was my third time breaking dress code.”

“You will look at me when you are speaking, Ms. (y/l/n),” he said sternly, and your face bloomed with color as you shifted your gaze back to his pale eyes. You hadn’t expected for him to be this…authoritative, especially considering that he was new to the school. “Now, tell me. In what ways did you violate the dress code?”

You fidgeted, trying your hardest not to look away for fear that he’d chastise you again. “I just had my shirt unbuttoned a little bit lower than we’re supposed to, and I rolled up my skirt so that it was a little shorter, sir. It really wasn’t a big deal.”

He chuckled dryly, crossing his legs as he allowed his eyes to travel up and down your body. “Oh? So you don’t think that maintaining one’s modesty is a big deal, then?”

“No, I-“ you paused to gather your thoughts, feeling all at once very flustered. “I just don’t think all this is necessary. I learned my lesson when the headmaster spoke to me.”

He leaned forward in his seat, a predatory expression crossing his face as he surveyed your obvious apprehension. “Oh, quite the contrary, Ms. (y/l/n). I’ve dealt with plenty of girls like you in my day, and I’ve always found that physical…enforcement, shall we say, proves to be the most effective form of discipline.”

Your stomach sank. Physical enforcement? Of course you’d heard of the ways that some of the nuns would punish disobedient students, but the thought of being bent over and spanked like some kind of petulant child (by a man as poised and attractive as Mr. Langdon, no less) made you want to shrivel up and die of shame.

“Uh… girls like me, sir?”

“Yes, Ms. (y/l/n), girls like you. Disobedient little brats with far too much self-importance, who show off their bodies so they can momentarily satiate their desperate thirst for attention.” He ran his tongue over his teeth, clearly enjoying the way that tears of humiliation had begun to well up in your eyes. What the hell kind of a priest spoke this way to people? “Does it make you feel special when the boys look at you? When they fantasize about what’s between your legs as you saunter past them in your rolled up skirts and ripped stockings?”

You stared wide-eyed at the blond-haired man, dumbfounded by the brashness of his words; you blinked, and then a single tear was making its way down your hot cheek. He grinned, not a shred of sympathy to be found behind his cool demeanor.

“How many of them have you let touch you?” He was rising to his feet now, and no longer were you looking down at him from where you stood. Instead, he towered over you, a nasty sneer stretching across his face as he worked to close the gap between you. “How many of them have you let inside you, all because they called you pretty, made you hate yourself a little less?”

You were unable to let out more than a pathetic whimper as he reached out to wipe away your tears with the sleeve of his black dress shirt. This was wrong, this was bizarre, this was uncalled for- and yet you felt something like arousal coming up from between your thighs.

He came closer to you, so close that his face was only a few inches away from yours, cinnamon-scented breath adding to the already-present heat of your skin. “Go bend over the desk.”

Looking up at him with round, wet eyes, you nodded. “Yes, sir.”

He watched as you made your way over to his desk, gingerly bending over the dark, polished wood until your breasts were pressed flat against it. Squeezing your eyes shut, you listened to his shoes make contact with the tiled flooring, circling around so he was behind you.

“The first thing I need you to understand, Ms. (y/l/n), is that when you are in my office, and I ask you a question-“ he yanked up your skirt, your ass immediately overtaken with goosebumps as it was exposed to the air, “you answer it.”

He tugged at the thin scrap of black lace that was your underwear, pulling it up so that it pinched at your throbbing cunt, and you yelped in surprise. You were fairly certain this was not part of standard disciplinary procedures, but you weren’t about to question him. “So when I asked you how many boys you’ve let inside this cunt of yours, your pitiful sniveling was not a sufficient answer.”

Your breathing was growing ragged, fingernails curling into your palms at either side of your head. He reached past you, sliding open one of the drawers on the opposite side of his desk before retrieving something from inside. He set it down next to you, and you opened one eye to find that it was a simple wooden ruler he’d taken out.

Oh, dear lord.

He returned his hand to your panties, hiking up the fabric so you could feel it digging into your pulsing clit. “Go on. Tell me how many cocks have stretched out this tight, wet little cunt.”

Oh.

You bit your lip, instantly aroused by the way his velvet-smooth voice had formed such vulgar words.  

He pulled up your panties again, this time so forcefully that you cried out, your lower body wriggling when he dropped one hand down between your legs to idly play with the outer lips of your pussy. “I don’t like to be kept waiting, Ms. (y/l/n).”

“O-only one, sir,” you choked out.

He tsked softly, and in quick, sudden, fashion, his hand made sharp contact with your cunt. It was the sound that resulted from this, loud and hollow and wet, rather than the initial pain, that made you wince.

“I don’t take kindly to being lied to, little girl,” he said through grit teeth, twisting the top of your thong with his fingertips. “You walk around wearing panties like this underneath your skirt, soaking them through at the slightest touch from a man, and you expect me to believe that only one boy has had the pleasure of fucking you?”

He said this mockingly, and you could practically hear the self-satisfied smile that was no doubt crossing his lips.

“F-four. It was four, sir.”

He trailed his fingers up and down your inner thighs, a thoughtful hum passing his lips. Then he brought his hand up to graze your asshole, all but exposed with the way he’d hiked up your underwear.  “And what about here, hm? Have you let anyone fuck you here?”

“Y-yes, sir,” you whispered, hoarse and weak. You pressed your burning cheek against the cold surface of the desk, only now realizing that it’d been spotted with your tears.

“And I’m sure I don’t even have to ask about that pretty mouth.” He laughed cruelly, finally letting go of your underwear and allowing you to breath a sigh of relief; you knew better than to relax fully, though, your body tensing all over again when he picked up the ruler he’d laid next to you.

“You know, there’s a word in the bible for girls like you.” He dragged the flat side of the ruler over your ass, pace teasingly slow.

You had the feeling that he was trying to bait you, and so you complied. “W-what is it, Mr. Langdon?”

He leaned forward, and as he took a fistful of your hair to guide your head back towards him, you felt something hard protruding through the stiff fabric of his dress slacks. “Whore.”

You shuddered, a chill traveling down your spine as he released your hair and returned to his original stance behind you. Placing the ruler vertically along your ass, he began rubbing small circles over the tender expanse of skin with the wood.

“Count,” he said flatly. He drew the ruler back before promptly bringing it back down full force, and, without thinking, you squealed.

“O-one,” you breathed. The stinging sensation lingered for a moment, intensifying the arousal pooling in the pit of your stomach, and you braced yourself for the second strike.

He hit you again, harder this time, bringing the palm of his free hand to your lower back to keep you still.

Voice cracking, you spoke again- “two.”

He struck you a third time, and then a fourth, your breath catching in your throat as you struggled to keep up with his rapid pace. The pain of the ruler on your skin wasn’t too unbearable, but it stung, and you were sure that your ass would be covered in red stripes by the time he was finished with you.

Smack.

“Do you realize that your cunt is dripping from this?” he asked, once you’d let out a raspy ‘five’. “Your thighs are slick with your own disgusting arousal. You should be ashamed.”

Somehow, the degrading nature of his words only aroused you further; you were practically dizzy with want.

Smack.

“S-six.”

He prodded your cunt apart, pressing ruthlessly against your clit and snickering when you moaned under his careless touch. “I should’ve known this punishment wouldn’t work with a whore like you. What you need, I think, is to be shown just how pathetic you really are.”

He stepped back, tracing his fingers over what you assumed were the marks that had formed during your beating. “Get on your knees.”

Swiftly, you followed his orders, slipping off the desk and sinking down until you were kneeling before Mr. Langdon; he leered at you coldly, appearing even more intimidating than usual from this new angle, his chiseled face heavily shrouded in shadows. You eyed his bulge, which was, at this point, impossible to ignore, your mouth watering as you wondered what his cock might taste like.

When he noticed you looking, he scoffed. “I hope you aren’t under the impression that I’m going to let you suck my cock.”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion and slight disappointment. If you weren’t on your knees to suck him off, then why were you on your knees?

Folding his hands neatly behind his back, Mr. Langdon raised up one well-polished black shoe to ease apart your legs, wedging the smooth leather just below your aching core. What exactly was he getting at here?

“Since you are clearly in desperate need of having your cunt touched, I’m going to make sure you get exactly that.” He nudged your pussy with the top of his shoe, earning a strangled gasp from the back of your throat. “You are going to ride my shoe until I tell you to stop. Am I understood?”

You felt yourself flush at the obscenity of his command; was he really going to make you do this? From the way he frowned at you, eyebrows poised expectantly, you were pretty sure that he was dead serious.

He pushed his foot up into your cunt again, jarring you. “I said, am I understood?”

“Y-yes, sir.” You rocked your hips forward cautiously, rubbing your clothed center up and down his shoe, eyelids fluttering shut as pleasure slowly began to overtake you. You let out a barely audible whine as you ground yourself down, feeling the leather make friction with the soaked fabric covering your clit.

You cursed lowly when Mr. Langdon again delivered a firm shove to your pussy; at this, one large, veined hand flew to your face and slapped your blushing cheek. “Language, Ms. (y/l/n).”

“Sorry, sir.” Your mouth suddenly fell open as he angled his foot to apply more pressure to your clit, a cocky grin ghosting his features.

“You know, you could have refused me,” he said, caressing your jaw with his thumb, “but you just couldn’t resist being touched, could you?”

You said nothing, and he kicked up into your pussy again, just hard enough that it hurt.

“Could you?” he repeated.

You bowed your head, rutting your hips faster. “No, sir.”

“Are you aware of how pathetic you are, little girl? Dropping to your knees without hesitation at the request of an older man you hardly know?”

Your tongue darted to the corner of your mouth, knitting your brows as you neared your release, your face prickling with embarrassment. He kicked you again, licking his lips at the way you sobbed, the jolt of pain only adding to the immense, rapturous pleasure that was building up in your belly.

“I said-“

“-Yes, yes, I know I’m pathetic! Just- please.” You slowed for a moment, stopping to catch your breath, and he urged you on with yet another merciless thrust to your heat.

“Keep going.”

You sped up, moaning loudly, and then it was too much, your eyes rolling back as your wet cunt made use of the expensive leather shoe beneath it.

“-oh fuck-“ you sighed, and then came Mr. Langdon’s expected kick between your legs, most of his directed aggression falling upon your swollen clit.

Your body spasmed, and before you knew what was happening, you came, spots of white and red and gray obscuring your vision. Only once you’d recovered from the mind-numbing orgasm, and you saw the unmistakable anger flashing behind Mr. Langdon’s hooded eyes, did it dawn on you that you’d sorely fucked up.

You gulped.

“Did you just cum?” he asked, voice deceptively calm and even.

“N-no…” you lied, digging yourself into an even deeper hole, fingernails worsening the runs in your stockings.

He pulled his foot out from between your legs, rolling his ankle as he examined the glistening slick that now coated his shoe. “You just came.”

“I’m so sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to, I swear-“

“-You stupid, useless little slut.” He grabbed you by your hair, administering a painful tug that was strong enough to bring you to your feet. He pushed you back until the desk was cutting into your ass, manhandling you until you were propped up on the edge. Up until now, he’d been entirely composed and collected when dealing with you; this was the first time you saw real rage entwining with his angelic features, and you had to admit, it frightened you.

He pulled your skirt up crudely to your waist before hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and removing them in one fluid motion.

Without a word, he returned to his desk drawer, rifling around inside until he found whatever he was looking for- you didn’t dare move a muscle as you waited for him to come back.

“I didn’t want to have to use this on you, seeing that this was only your first time being disciplined,” he said, bringing a slender wooden paddle into view and leveling it in his hands. “But it appears that you’ve left me no choice.”

He strode over to you, wrenching your legs apart so that your flushed cunt was on full display for him. “Put your hands on your thighs. Oh, and I’d strongly advise for you to stay still and keep your legs spread, unless you want to make things worse for yourself.”

You bobbed your head up and down frantically, stomach muscles clenching as you prepared for what was about to happen. You could deal with a beating on your ass, but on your pussy?

Although the idea excited you, you were still somewhat reluctant; at this point, though, what choice did you have? You put your hands down where he’d instructed, sucking your lips into your mouth as you waited with bated breath for your punishment to commence. You already knew this wasn’t going to be pleasant.

He used the paddle to spread around your wetness, tapping the corner against your clit so that you flinched. “This first one is for breaking school dress code.”

He slammed the paddle against your clit so hard that you were only able to part your lips in a silent scream; this was far more painful than when he’d spanked you with the ruler, and silently you cursed your body for betraying you like it had.

“This one is for being late.” He brought the paddle down with a loud slap and you hissed in pain, trying your best to keep your breathing steady.

“This one is for lying about how many boys have fucked you,” he continued, following his words with another harsh strike to your defenseless clit.

“This is for cumming without my permission.” This hit to your core was a particularly agonizing one; it was taking everything inside you not to close your legs, but you knew he’d only make you suffer more if you were to disobey him again.

“And this one, Ms. (y/l/n), is for lying about it.”

He slapped your pussy with the paddle one final time, your lower lip trembling as you attempted to stabilize yourself. Your cunt was on fire from both sheer ecstasy (why the hell had this turned you on?) and discomfort, and upon looking down, you could see that it was bright red and enflamed from the abuse it had endured.

“Poor thing,” he cooed, stroking your inner thighs with a feigned tenderness. He gave you a taunting pout as he put down the paddle, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Do you want me to kiss it better?”

His tone was so condescending, so syrupy sweet, that it almost sounded as though he were speaking to a baby. Still, you nodded, parting your thighs even further when he lowered himself onto his knees between them.

He peered up at you from beneath a veil of thick lashes, placing a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss on your inner thigh. You shuddered, feeling his warm tongue drag its way up your leg and to your labia, a broken cry escaping your throat when he sucked one of your lips into his mouth.

The sensation of his tongue gently gliding up your abused slit was soothing, your head lolling back as he massaged your cunt with his soft tongue. You were stricken with the urge to take a handful of his golden hair and pull him closer to you, but decided against it- it would only anger him if you behaved impatiently.

His mouth found its way to your overstimulated clit, and your lower body jerked forward the instant he enclosed his plump lips around the bud. He reached up to hold your thighs down, calloused fingertips pressing into your padded flesh as he alternated between sucking and lapping at your bundle of nerves, making your whole body shake with your impending climax.

You grunted, inadvertently bucking your hips towards his mouth, and, chuckling softly, he pulled back.

“You’ll ask permission to cum this time,” he said, silky hair tickling your inner thighs. He’d let up from his emotionless facade for a moment, heavy-lidded eyes dilated to the point where they looked almost black.

“Yes, sir,” you whispered.

He wrapped his lips around your clit, pulling it into his mouth and pressing his tongue flat against it, sending shock waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You writhed awkwardly on the desk, leaning back onto your palms as your tongue darted out to moisten your dry lips; the coil in your stomach was already starting to unwind, and you knew it would only be a matter of minutes before you were cumming again.

“Oh god,” you panted, and you swore you felt him smile against you. “I’m- sir, can I please-“

“-May I please,” he corrected, reattaching his lips to your bud as soon as the words left his mouth.

“May I please cum, sir?” You were hardly able to form a sentence, teetering so close to the edge, but you couldn’t disappoint Mr. Langdon again.

“Hm,” he murmured, locking eyes with you as he guided your clit into his mouth one final time, swirling his tongue over it in leisurely, drawn-out motions. Then, without warning, he released your clit from his mouth with a pop, a wicked grin creeping across his lips.

“No.”  

“W-what?” you stuttered, taken aback. Was he really going to leave you high and dry like this? Was he that sadistic and evil?

He stood up, dusting off his pants where he’d been kneeling. “I said no. You certainly don’t deserve it after the number of times you blatantly disobeyed me today. Now clean yourself up and get out. I have work to do.”

You merely gaped at him, eyes big and glassy as tears of frustration threatened to escape them. His lips were glossy from a mixture of saliva and your juices, curved upwards at the corners as he regarded your desperate state.

Pushing off the desk, you adjusted your skirt so that it sufficiently covered everything, bowing your head as you did. You were disappointed, but this had been a punishment, so you shouldn’t have expected any kind of reward anyway.

Still, though, you couldn’t help but feel duped.

Mr. Langdon sat down at his desk, looking just as pristine as he had when you’d first arrived at his office. He tilted his head to one side, raising his eyebrows expectantly. “I trust that you’ve learned your lesson?”

“I don’t know,” you said, eyes glinting mischievously. “I might need to come back a few more times just to be sure.”