#i didn’t really have gender forced upon me that much (if at all) as a kid

[the-breloominati]

.

[fauustic]

hi hi! i'm not very active on tumblr anymore but i came back for miguel o'hara and your snippets are what are keeping me alive at the very moment, is it alright if i request for some miguel fluff?

the prompt is that he tries really hard to keep his "touch-starvedness" unnoticeable but reader makes that very hard for him because even brushing shoulders and hands is enough to send him into cardiac arrest. it all goes to hell when reader gets genuinely concerned for him and twists into reader giving miguel the gentle touch he deserves :3

(( I loved this ask so much... I will definitely do a different concept with this idea to bring it more justice! thank you for your request, so wonderful nonetheless! ))

my requests are still open!! i didn't proofread this one so if there are any mistakes sorry!!

gender-nonconforming reader x miguel “spider-man 2099″ o’hara

fluff. miguel, so desperately touch-starved, yearns for any touch he can’t get. you unknowingly give it to him.

warnings: jealous and slightly violent miguel, perhaps slightly suggestive? MAINLY FLUFF THOUGH!! HE LOVES YOU SM!! anyhow he’s just a little silly and painfully in love with his co-worker ..

word count: 2852

A soft bump met your shoulders, tilting the vial you held ever so delicately with much more force than anticipated from the unexpected collision. The goggles resting upon your nose slanted from the impact as the burst of color within the flask splashed onto your lab coat. A frustrated groan erupted from your lips as a light chuckle sounded from right beside you. 

“Jeez– this isn’t funny Miguel!” You couldn’t help but whine while hurriedly cleaning up your lab station before anyone from a different department of Alchemax could see your slip-up. The vial that held a mysterious substance wasn’t anything to worry about, it was a prototype for a more ecologically efficient paint alternative to further the health of citizens amongst Nueva York– but the progress being wiped away over something as small as a little bump on the shoulder almost made you fall to your knees. 

Being hired as a rookie chemist to the most successful chemical corporation in existence had you sweating bullets over your every move– not even allowing yourself to step foot in the break room in fear that you’d have to reiterate what you have done during your time here. Which was much less accomplished than your assigned veteran lab partner, who always offered to help bring your concepts to fruition– but you declined with ease because you wanted to feel worthy to the department you were assigned.

This didn’t stop Miguel from coincidentally being a step behind your movements always, despite your insistence that you had everything under control.

It was nerve-wracking, feeling his gaze study you a bit too hard as you measured how clean a sample of underground Nueva York was in the dim light of a late night shift. He’d make quips, soft against your exhausted temple while Miguel would finish the rest of your unfinished goals. Drifting off into the embrace of sleep, your eyes would crack open ever so slightly as he examined your work with a level of admiration in his gaze you've never noticed fully awake– tinkering and fiddling with whatever environmentally-productive project you had going on that shift. The last recollection of the night would be the touch of Miguel’s knuckles grazing your shoulders, a jacket wrapping around your back like a blanket. The smell of praline alongside bergamot orange stuck to your body like a shadow as you slumped awake the following morning, rushing home to shower and get ready for the shift you had the upcoming afternoon.

Following the next day, Miguel had a subtle smile upon his features as you returned his jacket with a flustered expression he’s never seen from you. Excitement bubbled against his chest like a shaken-up soda as he observed the slight bow of your head in appreciation, hands atop his scarred grasp that held onto the jacket you returned. You never caught the deep breaths flooding his lungs as the two of you separated, his jacket held tightly against his hammering heart. “I, I need to go grab a coffee–” Miguel muttered underneath his breath, leaving before you could even acknowledge his dismissal. Confusion dazed your focus, remembering the last time you asked if he had wanted any coffee he mentioned he didn’t even like the caffeinated drink in the first place. Told you it made his insomnia worse.

The both of you had grown closer ever since that experience as surprising as it was, due to his cocky yet cold attitude usually clashing against your focus. If it wasn’t for his seriousness, the two of you would be bickering like partners forced to work on a group project in grade school. Which brought you back to the present, cleaning up the mess he had technically created due to bumping into you. A frown etched upon his face, stress lines from his hundreds of late shifts growing prominent at the tip of his lips. “I was doing something important– and you waltz in and just knock it all over?”

“‘Didn’t mean to, conejito.” Miguel replied in his usual matter-of-fact tone, waving off his actions like every other time he's accidentally skewed your focus. "But I'm more than willing to fix what I did if you just stop acting like a spooked animal." It rolled off his tongue like an insult, but you knew that's just how he spoke. Short and blunt, with little quips towards anyone who annoys him just briefly. Just like every other co-worker, despite the amount of time the two of you have spent together, you always would get a taste of his attitude before you snapped right back at him.

But today, you were tired and running off of pure coffee as the sun began to set. Bickering with Miguel was something you wanted to stray away from at the time being. So you caved, giving him a gesture to come closer to you. "You can't help if you are standing seven feet away from me, O'Hara." You told him the obvious, readjusting the goggles that sat atop your nose while you went over the variables involved with your test. 

For the first time in response to your sarcasm, Miguel was silent. Seconds ticked by as you grew more invested in resuming from where you left off, the little quarrel leaving your mind as soon as it came. You thought he'd ignore you and end up doing his own thing in your shared lab, but the distinct footfalls from his leather shoes moving closer after the rare quietness proved you wrong.

Miguel slid up right beside your hunched stance, close enough that the warmth from his arms met your wrists but not close enough where his rolled-up sleeves would collide against the fabric fitted against your arms.

You stood there, measuring the exact precise measurements from before with the several natural ingredients surrounding the both of you. And Miguel just watched, at least that's what you assumed, because that burning gaze of his seeped into the back of your head and sizzled against your fingertips working painstakingly slow mixing and working against the organic compounds. Nervousness prickled your skin, goosebumps following in its wake.

Due to your posture, when you snapped your attention to him you couldn't help but look up. Miguel's features were soft, an expression that you've never seen on him meeting your eyes. He was looking down at you, breathing in sleepily while subsciously leaning his body into your space. The unusual mannerism caught your attention with haste, and you were about to question if he was feeling okay before he perked up like he got shocked.

His gaze was distant until he realized you were looking straight at him– immediately looking off towards the vials you had splayed in front of you like he was caught doing something wrong. You couldn't help but frown while you watched Miguel exhale deeply, his index and thumb meeting the bridge of his nose in a habit you've noticed throughout your time here. Miguel was stressed. 

"Hey, it's okay that you messed up." The forgiveness falling from your lips only made him curl into himself more. Worry clouded your mind at seeing him so worked up, something you were so unfamiliar with. Usually, Miguel expressed himself in abrupt irritation that you always tried to help him through– the silent loathing almost made you ask him to go home out of concern. "Mistakes happen in the lab, Miguel. Please don't beat yourself up.

Soft graze meeting his shoulder, his body tensed up at the unexpected attempt of your's that was made to comfort him. The both of you danced around each other at best, the most contact from one another would be leading his movements with your own hold onto his hands while instructing assistance. Miguel's mouth fell agape, his unusually sharp canines he kept away was brought to your attention from the dim light highlighting his features. A gasp followed as your hand met his cheek while aiming for his forehead, which he tried to cover up with a cough. 

"What are you doing–" He hissed out in a mess as the heat blooming from his cheeks set your own touch aflame. You hushed him, which he obliged without a word. Strange, you thought to yourself again. He never acts like this towards anyone, let alone get this close to another chemist within the building of Alchemax.

Palm brushing against the strands of hair blessing his forehead, you checked his temperature while his eyes fluttered close. "I'm checking your temperature, Miguel." You murmured against his jaw, boosting your height on your tiptoes in order to reach his forehead. "You've been off today, it's concerning." 

"I'm fine," He muttered into the space between you, beginning to distance himself from your touch until your free hand met his other shoulder. It was as if a weight held him into place, grounding him within your touch as he shakily dug his fingers into his black dress-pants. You hadn't noticed the subtle slices into his thighs from his claws. Miguel's resolve was failing terribly.

His breath, quick and shallow, met the skin of your ear. It tickled. Hot air crashed into your contrasting cold flesh, digging into your nerves like boiling water.

Once your skin met his temple, he pushed against your touch like you were the only thing keeping himself afloat. His grasp met your elbow while the other relied on the counter for support. "Just feeling a bit under the weather." Miguel managed to mumble, brow furrowing as if he was in pain– never once did you catch the reddened hue painting his face and flustered glint in his eye.

"I've been telling you to stop overworking yourself," you scold him softly, shaking his grasp on your elbow just to take his hands into yours. "How much sleep have you gotten recently?" The question makes him cringe, the dark circles around his eyes as prominent as ever.

"Not enough." He admitted.

"You know that's not good for you." You reminded him with a frown. Warmth blossomed in your chest as his skin, warm and marred from his work with all sorts of scientific junk, caressed your knuckles with his thumb. He had calmed down as time ticked by, a sleepiness that clung onto him as darkness painted the canvas beyond the window of your floor. A huff of air escaped his lips as he rested his cheek against the cool of the lab table, safely distanced from what you were working on. Miguel’s hand didn’t dare move from your grasp, and you didn’t think about moving either. Miguel was slowly becoming a good friend of your’s, if something so small as a little comfort was needed you were more than willing to help.

“Yeah, yeah.” Was all he said. Silence dawned over the both of you as you resumed back to fixing up his mistakes. The dim light filled words left unsaid with a soft ambience, vials clinging against each other gently while liquids poured into one another. The night ended with you successfully conjuring up an ecological alternative to whatever paint Nueva had used before, which will certainly be good on your reports– and Miguel ended up getting the rest he needed.

You had pulled up a chair for him long ago, and he took it without a word. Slumped against your lab station, each time you’d try to pull away from him he’d mumble out a little, “no, please– stay here.” with his eyes still fluttered shut. He didn’t drool or snore, in fact it was a bit concerning how quiet he was as slumber took him. Almost like a vampire in his coffin, the idea of Miguel dressing up as Dracula made you stifle a laugh against the back of your free hand. Maybe you’d have to convince him to dress up for the next corporate Halloween event, as silly as it would be.

Miguel’s brow furrowed ever so slightly, mumbling out incoherency as your hand anchored him to this world. The light reminder of success infiltrated your senses as the smell of beeswax and linseed oil– honey and lemon. You’d already be on your way back home if Miguel didn't have his fingers intertwined with yours, murmuring things you’d never imagine him to say. It made your stomach churn, a wobbly smile meeting your lips as you laughed off his sleepy nonsense.

The fun ended too quickly it felt, as he suddenly stretched and groaned– his hand pulling you a little with him. The weight on him snapped him awake, senses kicking into overdrive to clear his confusion. Once he realized he was in the safety of the lab he shared with you, Miguel visibly relaxed. When his gaze met your interlocked fingers, he almost fell out of his chair.

Miguel whispers out your name in an embarrassed mess, wrapping his free hand around his mouth in an attempt to calm himself down. But you merely hummed an automatic response, and he couldn’t help but shake the thoughts clouding his consciousness. You were affecting him in a way that almost left him frozen, emotions that felt close to a high rushed into his brain and messed with any rationality he was able to clutch. Miguel’s claws he kept at bay threatened to unsheathe into your knuckles as warmth painted his features into an unbearable heat.

By the time he had fully woken up, you were dozing off yourself. 

Elbow propped against the counter while your head rested on your hand, drool etched the side of your lips as the world of dreams scooped you up and cradled you lovingly. You were blissfully aware of the carnal gaze of your lab partner, soaking in your soft, resting expression like a full-course meal. His heart ached painfully at a small snore that escaped his lips.

When it came to you, it’s almost as if he had a bad case of cute aggression on top of the painful crush that held him in a chokehold.

Every brush of your shoulder meeting his own short circuited his every thought, shocking his cold attitude into a soft spot for you. Every graze upon his hands, with that mouth of yours snapping at him with a certain playfulness, had him melting against you like putty. And here you were, spending the night with him in the stiff chairs of the lab simply because he had told you to in his exhausted stupor. 

Miguel almost hyperventilated at how nice you were to him, grasp tightening on your hand every so slightly. He wanted all of you, he realized, as his lips came into contact with your knuckles. 

Were you as sweet as always with the others in your shared department? Did you give them a piece of your mind, but then turned around with open arms and a hug when something went right? Did you share your secrets in the comfort of being busy, finding companionship with the one helping you who wasn’t him?

Miguel kissed your finger-tips as a soft gasp escaped your drooling lips, breathing in your scent like it was keeping him from unravelling altogether. The thoughts of someone else so close to you made his skin crawl and the urge to dig his claws within flesh. An insistent voice growled in the back of his head, “protect, closer, closer, need.”

It was his voice, snarling like a devil on his shoulder whenever he was clouded with your embrace. He craved your touch like it was a necessity to live, as important to breathe. His fangs trailed your wrist and your hold tightened onto his own hard instinctively. A pleased hum rolled off his tongue, you were just like a bunny caught into a trap. Prey at his mercy.

But he pulled away before he was too into his own head and did something he shouldn’t. Miguel wanted to see your nervous, wide-eyes gaze for himself when he offered to kiss you– or practically begged you to when the time came. In no way would he allow himself to take away a moment so special between the two of you.

So Miguel swiped away the drool dripping down your chin, bringing his thumb that delicately grazed your face onto his tongue and tasted your spit for himself. It was sweet, like you had just finished chewing down a piece of pink bubblegum hours ago– and that knowledge alone almost sent him off the edge of any human thought he had left.

So he collected himself, soothing out his lab coat before bringing a palm against his hair to smooth it back out. With a light smile and a deep breath, he invaded your space with a gentleness that rivalled a melodious tune.

Shaking you awake, Miguel brought his claws to your hair and raked through the curls. The action took you both by surprise, by you couldn’t help but purr a sleepy “hello, silly,” at the sight of waking up to his sleep-ridden self. He only chuckled, a red painting his ears that you couldn’t see.

“Hello to you too, mi corazón. I’ll help you get home.”

[magicalbats]

Flesh-Devouring

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 18,177

Warnings: Afab!reader, gendered language, brat taming, forced submission, corporal punishment, non consensual spanking, public spanking, some very light fingering, over the knee spanking, paddling with a hairbrush, thigh grinding

A/N: Yes, this is a follow up to my Wriothesley Kinktober spanking fic. Did I have any business at all working on this instead of the next Kinktober prompt? NO 🙈 I’m so sorry, I just couldn’t stop thinking about this reader and Wriothesley, y’all are gonna need to forgive me for my lapse in judgment

⭐

You really had no idea why you were entertaining this. After everything he’d put you through the last time you’d met, Wriothesley certainly didn’t deserve even so much as a polite, cursory letter of correspondence back, let alone the right to actually occupy the same space as you, and yet … here you were, wearing a dress that was nice but not too nice, standing in front of a cafe that was neither overly fancy or overly pedestrian, but something in between. You’d been adamant about picking the venue and, to your surprise, he’d easily conceded that power over to you. Further testing the waters, you’d then put your foot down about getting to choose the time you would meet at and, even more confounding, he’d given in to that demand as well. 

It was all incredibly suspicious of him, to say the very least, and you’d very nearly backed out at the last minute for fear that it was some sort of nefarious trick but the ever growing pile of missives from the Duke of Meropide had stared at you accusingly from the desk in your room until you’d finally rushed out the door just to escape them. That you’d found yourself here, at the exact meeting spot and a few minutes early, was only a coincidence, surely. You didn’t actually want to see him after he’d humiliated and abused you so terribly, but since you were already at the cafe then perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to stick around long enough to hear him out. Or so you tried to tell yourself, anyway. 

There was no denying your anxious nerves though, and you flutteringly smooth your hands over your front to iron out imaginary wrinkles that weren’t actually there. You probably should have worn something a bit more practical. Less dressy. If he got the wrong idea about you (as if he just as likely hadn’t already) and he assumed your goal today was to seduce him rather than talk about program options for inmates at the prison you were going to scream. Just really let him have it. He would have deserved it, honestly, given that less than stellar first time meeting, but the least he could do was - -

“There you are.” 

The voice is accompanied by the familiar press of a heavy palm along your waist, and you jerk back so hard you nearly give yourself whiplash. Wide eyed, you tip your head back, back, back to finally meet Wriothesley’s questioning eyes where they tower high above you. 

“Do not touch me!” You hiss, impulsively slapping his hand off you to make his brows lift in surprise. 

“Sorry I’m late?” He tries, which you would have been rather inclined to give him points for under better circumstances as none of the clocks in the vicinity had chimed the hour yet. It may not have been by much, but he wasn’t running behind despite his willingness to take the hit. 

But better circumstances would not have found you flushing profusely at just the sight of him and trying desperately to conceal it to no avail. And the spark ignited in you at the brief touch of his fingers was another matter entirely, but you make a concerted effort not to think about that as you offer up a prim little sniff. “Your tardiness is of no concern to me, your grace, but even you must know touching women inappropriately is highly frowned upon in Fontaine. I'm sure it must be easy to forget your manners when you spend so much time at the bottom of the ocean … so I’ll do my best to remind you. I trust I won’t have to call for the Gardes today?” 

You can’t quite keep the smug look off your face now, positively riding on the high of public immunity,  but it quickly fades when Wriothesley not only meets your challenging stare head on but he even allows the corner of his mouth to pull in an infuriatingly enigmatic smirk. “Not to worry, miss. I have every intention of behaving myself so long as my lovely companion in her pretty little dress does the same.” 

Giving an angry, impotent jerk when a fresh wave of fluster creeps up your neck to settle along your cheeks, you narrow your eyes up at him in warning. But he just shuffles close enough to truly loom over you now and it’s all you can do to keep your attention locked on his face instead of averting your gaze in a clear sign of defeat. You can’t quite seem to find your voice no matter how hard you attempt to locate it, though. 

Sedately bending down to your level, Wriothesley brings his face close to yours and lowers the tone of his voice when he speaks again. “I take it your last lesson is still fresh enough in your mind that you won’t need a refresher today? We certainly don’t want your nice clothes getting dirtied, do we …?” 

You choke on an incomprehensible flurry of things you wanted to say to him, but the double edged quality of your public immunity quickly makes itself apparent. Sure, he couldn’t — wouldn’t treat you as badly as he had behind the closed doors of his office when there were so many prying eyes all around you here, but that also meant you couldn’t kick up the same kind of fit or risk causing a major scene. You’d thought you were playing this smart by agreeing to meet him only on your terms but it clearly went both ways on this neutral playing field, and you have to make a concerted effort to calm yourself instead of taking the bait. 

“Indeed, your grace.” You relent as mildly toned as you can manage. “I will make every effort to remain cordial.”

“Excellent.” Nodding once, Wriothesley reaches out with a deliberate slowness — like he was dealing with a skittish cat — and your skin prickles defensively in response. But you still allow him to gently take your arm with nothing more than a twitch to show for it and that seems to please him a great deal, given the now amicable tone of his voice. “Let’s find a table and get started then. I’m sure there are a lot of things you want to talk about.” 

That was an understatement of the highest order given how many biting remarks were just at the tip of your tongue, waiting to be unleashed upon him. This was neither the time nor the place for it though, so you let him guide you around the side of the building to a quaint little patio where he proceeds to steer you straight into an unoccupied seat at the most secluded table in the far corner. It surprises you a great deal that he not only takes the time to pull your chair out but even slides it in behind you, and the fact your heart won’t stop hammering at the interior of your ribcage because of it just makes it all the more perplexing. 

Given his previous behavior Wriothesley was in absolutely no position to be acting like some kind of gentleman, and you were even less inclined to fall for it. 

Moving around to the adjacent chair, the duke claims his own seat across from you where he takes a moment to get comfortably situated before looking at you expectantly. “Alright. Where shall we begin?” 

You can’t help the suspicion that flashes across your mind. He was even willing to put the ball in your court like this? What exactly was he up to? 

“Well,” Speaking slowly, warily, you open the worn leather carry case you’d decorously sat on your lap and withdraw a hand-typed sheet of parchment paper. “I thought perhaps we could go over our other options, since you seem so sure my initial proposal won’t work. There should still be other rehabilitation methods available to us if you’ll just hear me out and - -“

His hand abruptly comes up, reaching across the table to accept the paper, and you just stare at those outstretched fingers like they were tightly coiled, hissing vipers. You couldn’t make sense of this. He actually wanted to see it? 

“May I?” Wriothesley prompts when you neither move nor speak, giving those blocky digits a little wriggle to further indicate what he wanted. Blinking owlishly, you mechanically hand the sheet off to him and watch as he reclines back in his chair to look it over. 

This really was just so … strange. His interest in what you’d had to say at your last meeting had been cursory at best and he’d summarily dismissed all the paperwork you’d brought with you after giving it nothing more than a brief glance. But now he seems to be taking his time with it, attentively scanning the page from top to bottom, and he even hums at occasional intervals as if in acknowledgement. If you didn’t know any better you would have almost thought it was an entirely different person sitting across from you now. 

“I see,” He says at length. “Some of these suggestions just aren’t viable with the way Meropide internally functions, but I think a few of them could easily be tweaked for implementation.” 

“… r - really?” 

Lowering the paper, Wriothesley once again fixes you with that largely impassive look that you just can’t quite get a good read on. “Sure. For example, I think there’s merit in giving the inmates an opportunity to develop new or existing skills that could be helpful in a potential reintegration process. It doesn’t force them to do anything or set an expectation, but it still gives them the option.” 

A long beat passes in numb silence and then you find yourself sitting up a little straighter, unable to keep the pleased smile off your face now even though you try very hard to keep it at bay. “Oh. Well. I’m glad you think so.” 

He catches you off guard with an unexpectedly genuine smile, the sapphires in his eyes dimly twinkling with what you think must be mischief. “Don’t get too excited yet. There’s still some ironing out to be done, but you did a good job taking what I said the last time and reframing it to better meet the needs of the inmates. I’m pleased to know our little chat served its purpose.” 

And just like that he’s got you huffing and puffing again, irritably digging into your bag so you wouldn’t have to look at that smug face of his any longer. He was beyond infuriating, easily the most contemptible man you’d ever had the misfortune of meeting, and yet … you just can’t seem to stop smiling. You were undeniably happy that he seemed to be taking you seriously this time and had even praised you for your efforts to revamp the proposal to better suit his liking. Even if he did insist on sneaking in those smarmy jabs every once in a while it couldn’t truly take away from what felt like a victory on your part. 

You spend the next two hours discussing everything with him over a seemingly never ending supply of tea and diminutive finger sandwiches he’d insisted on ordering for the two of you to share even when you’d likewise insisted you weren’t at all peckish. Wriothesley was very strange indeed and you weren’t sure if you would go so far as to call it chivalry, at least not in any polite sense, but he did seem to have a soft spot for his inmates. That warmed you to his presence slightly, helped you relax and find a common ground with him that made you feel much better about potentially working with him in the future. It seemed like as long as both of you stayed focused on the topic of lifestyle enrichment for the prisoners you could get along. 

But of course it was not meant to last, and the first real hiccup you run into is when he insists on paying for your half of the tab. You make a valiant effort not to cause a scene in front of the poor waiter who nervously shifts his eyes between you and the duke, but he doesn’t even have the grace to look at you when he shoots down your insistence that you could pay for yourself. Your temper starts to spike at the dismissive wave of his hand, and you give into the urge to glare at him across the table. 

“My lord, your generosity is appreciated but not needed. I assure you I won’t go bankrupt paying for my drink and the sandwiches I ate.” Not giving him a chance to respond, you jerk your attention up at the young man making a discrete effort to shuffle away from the table. “Please split the bill for us.”

“No, just one tab will do.” Wriothesley cuts in, sending you a slow look of warning that just leaves you bristling even more. “It would be remiss of me to make a young lady pay for the lunch I invited her to. I’m sure our young friend here would agree.” 

The waiter nods his head in agreement when the duke inclines his chin towards him and, much to your sinking dread, he promptly pivots as if to walk away. Impulsively, you lurch half out of your seat to snag his arm and stop him, surprising a yelp out of the poor boy. 

“Hold on a minute! Don’t I have a say in this? If I want to pay for it I should be able to or isn’t that — isn’t it just the same as misogyny or something?” 

The boy looks appropriately horrified. “O - oh?” 

“Miss,” Wriothesley intones sharply, and the edge in his voice immediately sends a violent shudder racing up your spine. It was a bit too similar to the way he’d talked to you back in his office for you to associate it with anything other than getting dragged over his knee and your cheeks burn furiously even as you clutch at the waiter's arm even more tightly. Thrumming with nerves, you turn your head to find him pinning you with a very unamused frown. “I suggest you let him go and sit back down. There’s no reason to make such a fuss over lunch. I’ll pay for it, and that’s the end of it.” 

You share a quick glance with the boy whose expression mirrors your own look of flustered uncertainty. “But - but I can pay for it - -“ 

“Sit down. Now.” 

Quickly doing just that, you neatly fold your hands in your lap with your eyes kept firmly downcast so you could avoid having to look at him. You weren’t even sure if you could meet his gaze at that moment when it felt like you were moments away from vibrating right through the very fabric of time and space if you quaked any harder but … but it was kind of hard not to be affected by it when only three weeks had gone by since the last time you’d gotten on his bad side. Your ass had only just finished recovering from its first encounter with his hand and you didn’t want to experience it again, if you could help it. 

Clearly relieved, the waiter beats a hasty retreat from the table and the two of you sit there in terse silence for a painfully long, drawn out moment in which your heart threatens to slam right out of your chest. Then, at length, Wriothesley finally draws a clipped breath. “I thought you said you were going to behave yourself.” 

You swallow. Hard. “And I thought you were going to respect me as an autonomous person this go around.”

A pregnant pause. “Is that what your problem is? You think I’m, what? Being a controlling chauvinist or something?” 

If your face were to get any hotter you probably could have fried an egg on it. “Is that not exactly how you’ve acted thus far, your grace? Gentlemen in polite society don’t usually treat women like children.” 

“Oh, I’d beg to differ.”

You snap your head up with a viscous look — but the waiter returns, giving you a cautiously wide breadth as he walks over to Wriothesley’s side to present him with the check. Those deep, deep blue eyes steadily regard you for another moment longer before finally dragging away from you to look at the bill. Left with no other choice you just sit there, stewing in your anger while he amicably apologizes to the young man and passes him a handful of mora plus a little extra which he tells him to keep for himself. The harangued lad is nothing but appreciative, and they exchange a few more words of thanks between them while your blood pressure just continues to climb and climb, and climb. 

You couldn’t believe him! To treat you as he had in the privacy of his office was one thing but this was something else entirely! The very last thing you’d wanted was to find yourself indebted to the Duke of Meropide in any capacity, least of all when your understanding with him was already so tentative and fragile. You’d thought you could work with him as long as you kept things professional and limited to the greater goal both of you clearly shared, but evidently that was not meant to be. Even after the horrible way he’d humiliated you the last time you’d still been willing to partner with him for the sake of a greater good and this was how he chose to reward your willingness to put aside the disrespect you’d already suffered at his hands once before? 

Why did he not understand how consistently infantilizing and insensitive his treatment towards you was? 

Right on the verge of erupting, you wait until he turns to look at you again once the waiter has scurried off with a final, nervous glance in your direction, and you pull yourself up to your full height with a stilted breath. “Thank you for your generous kindness today, your grace. I’m leaving.” 

His brows lift at your sudden proclamation, head tipping back slightly when you find your feet in a quick rush. “You’re serious?” 

“Very much so.” It takes every ounce of willpower you possess not to scream at him as you carelessly stuff your paperwork back inside your bag, barely stopping long enough to secure the latch in place before stomping away from the table. The scrape of his chair against the cobblestone is soon followed by the heavy thump of his boots catching up to you alarmingly fast. You don’t think he’s hurrying after you or anything, his legs are simply much too long for him to need to, but that doesn’t quite stop your skin from crawling with a sudden rush of goosebumps. You had to get away from him. 

Quickly, before he tried another stunt like the last time. 

“I’m not interested in hearing anything further, I’m afraid.” You call back, positively hating the way your voice warbles slightly when you pick up your pace. 

You were on the main road now and almost at a full blown sprint when a heavy hand abruptly snags your arm, pulling you back with a frightened squawk. Eyes wide and just a pinch more fearful than you would have liked, you jerk your attention up to look at him. 

“Just hold your horses,” He murmurs, gentle yet insistent in the way he tugs you around to stand in front of him. “I think I’ve got a pretty good read on you at this point so I understand why you’re acting like this, but I assure you it’s nothing to get so upset about. I didn’t pay for lunch because I don’t think you’re perfectly capable of doing it yourself. I just did it because it was the right thing to do, and I wanted to do it. That’s all.” 

“Why?” You whisper, unable to find the strength to speak any louder than that when you were looking up at him like this. “Why did you feel so inclined even after I told you I didn’t want that? Is it because you’re a big, strong man and I’m just a weak woman you get to push around?” 

An odd look crosses his face, but you have no idea what to make of it. You can never seem to get a good grasp on his body language no matter how closely you study it. “That is not what I think at all, miss. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders but sometimes you really let your emotions get the better of you. And before you say it, no, I don’t mean it like that. If you were a man I’d say the exact same thing. You do realize how carried away you get, don’t you?” 

“Carried away?” You echo him, disbelief coloring your voice. “You - you are positively incorrigible, do you know that? I’m not sure where you get off acting like I don’t have perfectly good reason to be wary of you when you’ve done nothing but torture me with your presence every time we’ve met!” 

“Sorry to disappoint, but that’s not what I get off on.” 

Heat races up your neck to settle in your face, making you choke and sputter indignantly until you finally manage to find your voice again. “I think I have a pretty good idea what you like, and you should be ashamed of yourself!” You snap with an accompanying tug on your captured arm. “Let me go. I’ve had more than my fill of you for one day.” 

“No, I don’t think I will.” 

“Wha — unhand me this instant, you damned brute! Don’t make me call for the Gardes. I already told you I would and I wasn’t bluffing!” 

Easily holding you in place when you try to scuttle away, Wriothesley bends to bring his mouth close to your ear and the sudden, hot puff of breath against your skin instantly makes you freeze in place. “Unless you want me to give you a good swat right here in the middle of the street, I’d suggest you calm down.” 

You absolutely hate the way you shudder fiercely in his grasp, fighting back a whimper at the lingering spectral ache that tingles across your backside. You couldn’t do this again. Couldn’t afford to let him get the upper hand here, not now when you had the safety of public immunity on your side. You still had the advantage in this situation, even if it didn’t really feel like it. “You can’t do that … you’ll be arrested.” 

“Is that so?” He drawls, quite clearly unconcerned at the prospect, and you forcibly swallow the nerves threatening to choke you. 

“I’ll file a report …” 

“Perhaps you should.” 

Noising a breathless, frightened little animal sound, you shoot him a deeply frazzled look but his expression remains as impassive as ever. What the hell was he even thinking? “You’re not immune from the law.” You try again, quaking in his hold. “Neither your status nor your … nor your job description will give you impunity. You’ll have to stand before the honorary Iudex and explain yourself to him.” 

“Ah, well. Wouldn’t be the first time.” Ignoring your startled sound of confusion, Wriothesley straightens up again and gives your arm a gentle nudge. “Come. Before I take you home there’s something I need to tend to first.” 

“Wha —“ Reeling, you stumble and almost trip when he shifts into motion, dragging you along for the first few steps until you get your jelly filled legs under control and reluctantly fall in line with him. It’s not like you really had much choice in the matter. “Are you completely out of your mind? There’s no way I’m letting you anywhere near my house! I can take care of myself just fine, your grace!” 

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. But I’m not asking.” 

The noise that comes out of you sounds suspiciously like the whistle of a tea kettle moments before it reaches boiling point. You give your arm a fitful yank as discreetly as you can manage when you realize there are a few people staring over at the two of you with curious, somehow accusatory looks, but he won’t let you go and it quickly becomes apparent that, short of flinging yourself onto the ground like a fussy toddler, you were just going to have to go along with it. He was sorely mistaken if he thought you were going to lead him right to where you lived though, and nothing he said was going to change that. You’d sooner throw yourself into the vast waters of Fontaine without a life preserver before you ever even entertained the notion! 

And that is precisely how you hit the second hiccup of the day. 

Wriothesley guides you by the arm down the road, across a side street, up a short lane and then right into a cramped little alley that stops at a deadend on the far side. Your heart positively flatlines when you see it and you desperately try to dig your heels in to stop the forward motion as he pulls you straight towards it but there’s no stopping him. He’s too big, too strong, and all you can do is choke on a frightened little sound when he steps right up to the wall and then turns, expertly juggling your arm from the iron hold of one hand into the other. The static electricity that shoots through you at the first creeping suspicion of what he planned to do makes your skin prickle with a fresh wave of horror, and you immediately dance up on your toes as if to escape the swing of his palm. 

“Wait, wait, wait! You can’t do this. Not here. We’re in public! If someone sees — no, even if no one sees it isn’t that still a bit much? Don’t you think you’re taking this too far, your grace? I mean, I thought you said this wasn’t what gets you off, right?” You offer up a nervous, borderline hysterical laugh as if to ease some of the tension in the cramped alley. “Besides, didn’t you say you had something to tend to? An errand, isn’t it? You need to do something - something elsewhere, don’t you? If it’s groceries you need to pick up, I’d be happy to accompany you …” 

He silently regards you for a prolonged, incredibly nerve wracking moment before slowly leaning forward and you can’t quite stop the terrified squeak that bursts out of you when he grabs a much too tight, pinching handful of your backside. Blocky fingers dig into soft flesh hard enough to make you hiss and rock up in a blithe attempt to escape it but he just follows you with his hand, giving the meat of your behind a sharp jostle as he turns to press his mouth to your hair. 

“What I need to tend to is this bratty ass of yours. I’m not entirely sure why you act this way yet but we’ll get to the bottom of it soon enough. I’m going to give you some incentive now, and then take you home so I can finish teaching you how to behave and you’re going to stand there and take it like a big girl, aren’t you?” 

You sway unsteadily in his hold, thoughtlessly dropping your bag so you can lift your uncaptured arm to brace a numb hand against the wall. What were you even supposed to say to that? And never mind the fast pumping adrenaline of fear and remembered pain suddenly pumping through your system, why on earth were you starting to feel tingly all over as if … almost as if you were excited?

That couldn’t be, though. It couldn’t. 

There was simply no way he’d unlocked something so perverse and dangerously immoral in you the last time he decided to play this nasty game. You didn’t like it — gods, you barely even liked him! You didn’t, didn't, didn’t, didn’t - - 

“Little miss,” He abruptly intones, snapping you back to reality with a sharp, haggard gasp. “When I ask you a question I expect an answer.” 

“Y - yes, sir.” You blurt, dull surprise washing over you at your own obedience. What was happening to you? 

“That’s better, but what are you telling me ‘yes’ to?” 

You blink owlishly at the wall. Couldn’t seem to tear your gaze away from it, like you were in a trance. “I … I’ll stand here. Like a good girl.”

Drawing a slow, stilted breath, Wriothesley finally lets up on your ass in favor of rubbing over the fleshy swell through the now wrinkled back of your dress. His palm is broad and rough even through his fingerless gloves, and you sensitively shiver at the contact. “You know that means no screaming. No crying. No carrying on like a child, as if you haven’t earned a much needed correction for yourself carrying on the way you have. You wouldn’t want someone to come running just to find you getting your butt spanked, would you?”

“… no, sir.” 

“Good.” His hand abruptly retreats only to come cracking back down with a blinding swat! and you jerk forward at the impact, sputtering on a half realized shriek. “Today we’ll be working on your ability to accept what you're given and show gratitude for it. I want you to thank me this time instead of counting, is that understood?” 

Still wincing at the lingering sting of that first hit, you draw a slow, shuddering breath and lean your forehead against the wall. You couldn’t believe this was really happening again any more than you could believe your willing compliance on the matter. Surely there had to be something very wrong with you to be acting this way.  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” 

Swat! 

“Eek! Thank you, sir …” 

“Good girl,” He murmurs, giving your arm a brief tug to pull you closer to his side as he shifts to truly loom over you now. You whimper when you feel his hand cock back, preparing for the next swing, but it doesn’t immediately come. Instead, his mild tone drifts over you again like a warm, prickling mist. “Spread your legs a little bit for me and lean into the wall. Come on. I know it’s hard to do right now but it’ll be much easier on you this way. I’ve got you … that’s it. Just like that. You’re already being so good for me now.” A sudden snort of laughter from him makes you twitch. “I had a feeling this was exactly what you’d need as soon as you walked into my office. Glad to see I was right about that.” 

Screwing your eyes shut against that soft praise, you anxiously shudder and squirm in place when every single nerve ending in your body seems to vibrate with the lingering anticipation of when the next hit would come. What a tortuous feeling. You didn’t like it, you didn’t. 

“Thank you, sir …” 

Swat! 

You groan at not only the burning sting but also the way your ass jiggles from the force of the hit, somehow humiliating you even further and driving the hurt home. It doesn’t take long for you to figure out why he’d wanted you to bend forward. The crease of your sit spot already felt like it was on fire from just that one slap and he hadn’t been able to strike it when you were holding yourself straight and stiff as a board. Now, though, he’s free to pepper the tender area with quick, rapid fire strikes to leave you trembling against the wall, gasping each time his hand makes contact. 

“Ow! Thank you, sir … eek! Ooh - oh! Nnghnn, thank you, sir! Nghn! T - thank you, sir …” 

“Excellent. You’ve really taken to this like a duck to water, haven’t you?” He drawls, still bringing his palm down across your shuddering ass again and again, and again. Completely at ease and frustratingly collected about the whole thing, as if this wasn’t even affecting him at all. “Tell me, little miss. Have you received many spankings before?” 

“N - no, sir … ahhn! Thank you, sir! Yeow! Ow, ow, ow, thank you, sir!” 

Wriothesley hums in consideration, barely heard over the intense pounding in your ears. “That’s interesting. I didn’t think so, of course, but,” Swat! “It’s still of a certain interest to me. You’re surprisingly obedient for someone with so much attitude.” Swat! “You wouldn’t happen to be enjoying this, would you?” 

You go ramrod stiff, eyes widening to the approximate size of dinner plates, but then the next slap comes and you lurch with a wounded grunt. Your head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton now as you ever so slowly turn your head against the wall to look in the opposite direction so he couldn’t see your face. You weren’t exactly sure what kind of expression you were making when you felt so hot and flustered, and jittery, but you were certain you’d wither away to nothing if he looked directly at you right now. 

“O - of course not, don’t be ridiculous! I hate it almost as much as I hate you!” 

Wriothesley barks out a sudden laugh. “Is that so? You know there’s a way to check, don’t you?” 

Stiffening, you go so utterly still you think you’ve forgotten how to breathe. In fact, you’re certain you have, given the way your heart sputters and skips a harrowing series of beats. It makes your lungs constrict painfully tight and, at last, when you start to grow dizzy, you force yourself to draw a thick, suffocating inhale. He couldn’t be serious … 

“What are you talking about?” He couldn't be serious …

“I’m sure I don’t have to explain it to you.” He couldn’t be serious … “Shall I check?” He couldn’t be serious … “But I hope you know if I find out you’re lying you’ll be in even more trouble.” He couldn’t be serious …

He could not be serious! 

His calloused fingers slipping under the back of your dress snap you out of your horrified trance with all the lurching force of a sack of bricks and you gasp — no, you heave so hard it feels like your soul is slipping right out of your throat. You jerk upright so suddenly and so fast you actually stumble and start to collapse in a tangle of noodly legs but the hand gripping your arm just bodily hauls you back up again to shove you flush against the wall. You think you would have screamed at that very moment, damn the consequences, but you can’t quite seem to pull enough oxygen into your lungs to accomplish it. All you can do is blubber hysterically as he pins you flat by pressing into the back of your shoulder, applying enough force to bring you up on your tip toes, while his other hand indelicately bullies its way up between your legs to cup your pussy through the thin layer of your panties. 

You jolt at the contact and go still again, panting excessively for as short as that brief struggle had lasted, and Wriothesley noises a quiet sound before carefully curling his fingers back. The blunt tips of them press into you, stiltedly rubbing over the lips of your cunt with slow, indescribably heavy passes that make you tremble wildly. You can’t quite seem to get a hold on it no matter how hard you try to stop it though, your teeth clenching tight enough to hurt when he twists his hand so he can slip those long digits into the leg hole of your underwear. A flood of tears pricks at your eyes when he finds your slit again and starts to press in, but he doesn’t have to go very far before finding sticky slick waiting for him. 

“I knew it.” He announces without much aplomb or intonation to clue you in on his thoughts. Archons, what an insufferable man. 

“Are you satisfied?” You practically spit, as furious with him as you were with yourself. 

“Quite. And you? Are you satisfied?” His tone drops an octave lower to accompany the slow, teasing glide of his fingers through your cunt, tracing from the back up to the front while pointedly avoiding any real pleasure inducing spots along the way. It makes you quietly seethe and hiss, straining against the hand keeping you against the wall, but it’s no use. He’s got you trapped. 

“What do I possibly have to be satisfied about?” 

“Well, you’ve earned yourself another paddling, for starters.” 

Your entire body seizes at that and, noising an incoherent blubber, you finally twist your head back around to look up at him with big, wet eyes. “W - wait, you don’t mean that - -“ 

“I do. I’m very sincere, in fact. Not only have you lied to me but you even continued to lie after I gave you a chance to make a better decision. You have to know that’s not acceptable, don’t you?” 

Blatant confusion marches across your face and then camps there, drawing your mouth into a warbling frown. Seeing this, Wriothesley allows his own to curl in a small, taunting little smirk that just sets every single alarm bell in your head off all at once. Whatever he was about to say, you weren’t going to like it … 

“You didn’t really think I had no idea, did you? Come on. I had you spread you out over my lap without anything covering this cute pussy of yours. Just because I was mainly focused on your ass, that doesn’t mean I was oblivious to everything else going on at the time.” 

Try as you might, you just couldn’t make any sense of it. “But … but - -“

“But?”

You swallow. Very, very hard. “But … but you — you didn’t say anything?” 

“Was I supposed to?” 

“That’s not what I mean and you know it! I swear, you are absolutely, positively, irredeemably - -“

“Yes, yes, you hate me. I’m sure we’ve already covered that.” Breathing out a stiff sigh, Wriothesley finally relents and withdraws his fingers from your cunt. You can’t quite manage to bite back the whimper that rises in your throat at the loss, but he pays it little mind and instead busies himself with casually gathering up the back of your dress. “If you want the truth of it, I very strongly considered acting on it then too. I thought about it a lot, actually, but then I regretted not doing anything besides rubbing cream on your sore bottom and sending you on your way. Why do you think I mailed off that first letter to you the very next day? And the one after that when you didn’t respond, and the one after that?” 

“You - you were hoping for this to happen?” You squeak, trying in vain to twist away when he hikes your skirt up around your waist and cool air wafts against the hot burn throbbing across your ass. 

Whimpering, you try to reach back with your free hand to yank it back down or at least cover yourself from anyone that might be walking past the open lip of the alley in the seemingly far distance, but you don’t quite make it that far. Suddenly releasing his hold on your shoulder, Wriothesley quickly snakes it around your middle and locks your arm to your side in the process, too fast for you to properly react. A flood of protests erupt from your mouth as he tucks you in tight against him so he can hold you in place just like that no matter how hard you squirm. He then takes his time casually juggling the bulk of your dress into his other hand before reaching back down to grasp your panties which he slowly pulls up on to make the fabric ride up and press into you. Potent, swimming embarrassment makes you feel dizzy with it while he nudges the cotton until the swell of both cheeks slips out from the bottom to leave you vulnerable and exposed. The skin feels hot and splintery against the air, and you grimace when he smooths his palm over it to really rub it in. 

“I wouldn’t say I was hoping for this specific situation to happen,” He drawls in that perpetually unapologetic tone of his. “But I did want to see you again, yes. I’d thought I might try to woo you and make up for how our first meeting went in the process but you’re certainly a stubborn little thing, aren’t you? Not that I’m disappointed, mind you. This suits me just as well too.” 

You waver at that, whimpering softly at the implication. “Is that the only reason, your grace?” 

Pausing, Wriothesley just lets his massive hand rest across your ass for a long moment while you try to blink back the sudden onslaught of tears making your eyes turn misty. At length, he draws a carefully controlled breath. “No. That’s not the only reason. We can talk about it more in depth later but … I really would like a chance to woo you, if you’d be kind enough to let me.” 

You very nearly burst out in hysterical laughter at that. What an absurd thing to say when he had you pinned and immobile against his side, the back of your dress crudely hiked around your waist and your underwear meanly pulled up to expose your red bottom to all of Fontaine. It was ludicrous and insane, and unthinkable, and preposterous, and — and - - 

He didn’t really mean that … did he? 

An abrupt, halfhearted swat to the meat of your ass startles you back to reality with a soft yelp. “Don’t go drifting off on me now, little miss. You still need to show me you know how to give appreciation for the things I give you. I didn’t forget that last one.” 

Your cheeks burn somehow even hotter at that reminder. You had indeed let it slip your mind and you were quite tempted to tell him exactly where he could shove his thanks but you were a bit too caught up in the pitter patter skipping across your chest to truly fight it. His methods were the very definition of crazy but you couldn’t exactly deny that they were working. Damn him. 

Breathing deep to calm yourself, you let it out with a slow, shuddering exhale. “I’m sorry, sir. I won’t forget again.”

Wriothesley presses his mouth to your hair and murmurs a quiet, “good girl” that makes you go cross eyed from how intensely you shake because of it. You feel the shift of his arm but you don’t even have the presence of mind to ask him to wait. 

Swat! Right across the bare strip of your ass. 

“Nnghn! T - thank you, sir!” Swat! “Thank you, sir! Oh - oooh, nnghah! Thank you, sir!” Swat! “Hahhn! Ahh! Thank you, sir … nghn! Thank you, sir …” Swat! 

Wheezing, you hang limply in his ironclad hold now, only having the strength left to jerk at the impact of his hand and twitch from time to time as the prickling heat gradually spreads and strengthens over your defenseless backside. Same as the last time, Wriothesley falls into an easy, steady rhythm that alternates between both cheeks, pausing only long enough for you to speak and then immediately cracking down on the opposite side. It doesn’t take long for your bottom to start throbbing in hot, attention grabbing pulses that make you feel woozy with whatever trance comes over you whenever he strikes you like this. You don’t understand it — aren’t even really sure if you wanted to understand it at this point — but the Duke of Meropide is true to his word, and he maintains his unfaltering hold on you even when your legs slowly turn into limp, shuddering noodles under you. 

Over and over, and over again, he spanks you until the world seems to spin around you at a nauseating pace, but your voice keeps you grounded and present in the moment. You couldn’t escape the blistering sting of his hand in any capacity, not mentally and certainly not physically, so the only thing you can do is simply accept it. Not just the punishing bite of his palm striking the same tender spot repeatedly but him, specifically, too. The greater point of this lesson was not lost on you but you did almost wish it could have been accomplished a different way. Perhaps if you weren’t always so stubborn …

“Ohh! T - thank you, sir!” You seethe, squirming against the mind numbing sting, but the next strike doesn’t come though. So lost under the intoxicating medley of endorphins and adrenaline, you actually start to wonder if you’d actually thanked him out loud or if you’d only done so in your head. Panting raggedly, you swallow down a mouthful of air and then try again. “Thank you, sir …” 

“Don’t worry, I heard you the first time.” He murmurs, the note of humor in his voice inspiring a fresh shudder in your aching body when he gives your hip an approving pat. “You did well, little miss. No screaming, no crying … how’s your bottom feel?” 

Rather cruelly, Wriothesley drags his palm over the throbbing swell of your ass, and you tense up in his hold with a sharp hiss. “It feels wonderful, sir.” 

He actually laughs at that — a real, genuine laugh that leaves you reeling and so surprised you can only blink in wide eyed disbelief as he carefully untangles himself from you so he can get you settled on your feet again. “That’s what I like to hear. You’re never going to lose that sharp tongue, are you?” He looks at you steadily, big hands cradling your hips to give you another moment longer to recover without needing to worry about falling over, and you just look back at him in perplexed silence. 

Slowly bringing your arm up, you wipe at the evidence of tears on your hot face, and maybe just a tiny little bit of snot too. You would be glad for a wet rag when you got home. “I'm afraid not.” 

“Good. I like a girl with sass.” His smile edges into sly mischief territory, pinning you with a clear look of challenge. “I’ll never run out of excuses to keep punishing you so long as you keep that up.” 

Sniffing primly, as if you hadn’t just gotten your ass beat, you offer him a flat, unamused scowl. “Yes, well, I really wish you hadn’t pulled on my underwear like that. So unnecessary.” With a click of your tongue, you start to reach back with every intention of tugging them back down into place, but he reaches out to snag your arm before you can follow through. 

“No, leave it.” 

You sputter indignantly. “I beg your pardon?” 

“I said leave it like that. It’ll give you something to think about on the way home every time your dress brushes against your sore bottom, and keep you in suspense for the second part of your punishment.” 

“… you were serious?” 

“Terribly.” 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You could not believe you were doing this. 

You absolutely, positively could not believe you were doing this! 

Stealing a quick, surreptitious glance over your shoulder, you find Wriothesley right where you left him just a second ago. Standing at the foot of the stairs that lead into your small, cramped little flat in the city, one hand holding your leather bag at his side and the other expectantly braced on his hip while he patiently waited for you to get it into gear and unlock the door. A fresh rush of nervous anxiety crashes into you all at once, and you whip back around to fiddle with the key some more. 

Dear archons above, you couldn’t believe you were actually doing this! 

Not only had you blithely accepted your fate and taken him straight to your home like a good, obedient pet, but you’d even been naive enough to find yourself somewhat excited to have him there on the way over. Even the constant throbbing that encompassed your poor bottom was not enough to distract from the eager pitter patter you’d felt in your chest but now that it was really happening and the full weight of the situation was bearing down upon you, you were suddenly consumed by a smothering sense of fear. What exactly was he going to do to you once he got you inside? Was he really planning on spanking you some more? Paddling you? What if he expected you to have sex with him after that brief exchange back in the alley? 

Oh, bless the seven, what kind of horrible mistake had you made? 

“Do you need any help?” He calls behind you, almost startling you enough to make you drop your key. 

“No, no! Everything’s under control! Nothing to be concerned about!” You titter nervously and fumble to get the key inserted into the lock but your shaking hands keep missing and it felt like you were right on the brink of a full blown panic attack. Far be it that you were in any position to actually understand anything about this contemptible man but you were really going to have to make an effort to figure out what exactly it was that came over you every time you crossed paths with him, because now that it was faded to a mere afterthought you were a jittery mess. 

It was almost like … almost like he was drugging you, the effects so calming and soothing that your mind couldnt help but recede to a narrow pinpoint that consisted entirely of Wriothesley, his hands on you and the pain making your body sing. But he’d never had a chance to slip you anything. You’d declined having any tea in his office, and you hadn’t left your drink alone even once back at the cafe. So then what the hell was it? 

He’s suddenly leaning over you, beefy chest brushing against your shoulder, and you jolt so hard you really do drop your key this time. “Eek! What are you doing?” 

Sending you a slow, mild look of questioning, Wriothesley sedately bends down to retrieve it from your feet and then straightens back up to his full, towering height again. “I’m helping you. Relax. You’re going to pop a blood vessel one day, getting yourself so worked up.” 

Ignoring your indignant sputtering, he reaches around you to soundly insert the key into the lock on the first try, giving it a good turn to make the inner mechanism give way. He turns back to you with a vaguely pleased smile and you narrow your eyes at him in warning, holding out your hand to accept the key which he deposits neatly into your palm. You close your fist around it as he gestures you in first and, nose in the air, you huff your way inside with as much dignity as you can muster. 

The sound of his heavy boots thumping after you and the subsequent swing, click and turning lock of the door quickly sobers you though, and you fretfully glance around the main room. You weren’t exactly slovenly but it would have been nice to have some warning that he would be coming over beforehand so you could have cleaned. Your morning coffee cup was still sitting out on the table and - - 

“Nice place.” 

You subtly twitch at the sound of his voice. “I’m sure it’s nothing compared to what you’re used to, your grace.” 

Noising a noncommittal sound, Wriothesley wanders further into the flat, depositing your bag onto the table when he passes by it and then he pauses at the threshold of the small kitchen where he turns to look back at you. “May I?” 

“Knock yourself out.” You murmur, crossing your arms somewhat defensively. He ducks his head in a brief nod and then promptly disappears into the next room where you can hear him walking around what sounds like the whole perimeter. Brow quirked, you curiously trail after him only to find the Duke of Meropide himself inspecting the contents of your icebox. “Are you looking for something?” 

“I wanted to see if you had something that could be used as a substitute salve for your bottom. Cryo slime condensate and some mint should work well enough in a pinch, but …” 

He trails off in thought and you can’t quite help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. “Didn’t come prepared then, I take it?” 

He closes the lid on the icebox and sends you a meaningful look across the room. “Don’t worry, I won’t make the same mistake again.” 

This time you do laugh. “Awfully presumptuous of you to assume there will even be a next time, don’t you think?” 

Wriothesley hums a sound that could mean any number of things or nothing at all, giving the kitchen a final look over before breezing right past you back out into the main room. Bewildered, you quickly trail after him hot on his heel. 

“I mean, just look at the situation! Don’t you think this is all a little odd from my perspective? You said you wanted to woo me but you’ve certainly done a banger job of that so far and more to the point — wait!” 

You scramble forward, hands desperately reaching out to grab him when you realize he’s turning straight into the bathroom, but you’re a fraction of a second too late. Rounding the doorway with your heart lodged in your throat, you come face to face with a scene straight from your worst nightmares. A handful of your brassieres, some plain and cotton, others lacy and ruffled, hanging out to dry over the clawfoot tub, right out in the open. 

And that was to say absolutely nothing of the panties hanging from the dainty drying rack right next to them!

“You fiend! Don’t look!” You scramble to get around him so you can reach up and frantically wrench a handful of your unmentionables loose, clutching them protectively to your chest, but the sound of his laughter gives you pause. You can practically feel steam coming out of your ears as you turn your head to glare daggers at him, knowing he would’ve dropped dead on the spot if only looks could kill. 

“Cute.” Is all he says before turning on his heel and strolling right back out, leaving you standing there in your gaping confusion. 

“What the — hey! Wait a second!” 

Very nearly tripping over your own feet, you lurch after him but this, too, is much too late to stop. You watch him swing your bedroom door open like he owned the place, disappearing inside without a second thought, and you come dashing in behind him just a second later. 

Quickly inserting yourself between him and the rest of the room, you furiously throw your lingerie down on the floor and put your hands on your hips. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” You demand, breathing a little heavier than you would’ve liked. “You’re a guest here, not the damned landlord! You can’t just waltz in here and start showing yourself around! What are you even looking for? I don’t have anything of worth if you’re thinking about trying to rob me!” 

A bemused look settles across his face, sapphire eyes dancing with obvious mirth. “You know better than that.” 

“At this point I’m not so sure anymore, your grace … somehow every time we meet I just find myself caught up in a whirlwind and I can’t make any sense of it. I don’t understand you.” 

The last part is barely more than a whisper but his expression softens again, in as much as it ever does. With a deliberate slowness, like he was dealing with a terribly skittish animal, Wriothesley carefully steps closer and brings his arms up as if to pull you in against him. You twitch, instinctively tensing up, but you grudgingly allow him to gather you up against the firm wall of his body. It reminds you of the last time in his office and your mildly sore behind gives a muted throb at the lingering memory even as you breathe out a terse breath. Slowly, you start to relax against him. He certainly did smell nice … 

“Forgive my poor manners. I did not mean to invade your privacy, little miss.” He tells you softly, matching the quiet intimacy of the bedroom and pulling you further under his damnable spell. “I only wanted to see how you lived so I could better understand you. You’re not the easiest person to get a read on either, you know.” 

You want to prickle defensively at that — know you should — but you can’t quite seem to find the strength to be upset anymore. Hesitantly, you bring your hands up to clutch at his waistcoat with hands that feel incredibly small against him. Dainty, even. “Did you mean it?” 

“Hm?” His burly arms give you a lingering squeeze, one of his hands stiltedly rubbing over your back, and it makes you shudder against him. 

“What you said earlier … about wanting to woo me?” 

“Ah. You’re still thinking about that.” Chuckling quietly, Wriothesley shifts against you and you feel him tip his head back, speaking up at the ceiling now. “I did. I may be a no good scoundrel and a brute, but I wouldn’t tell you something like that if I didn’t mean it. I think you’re a lovely young lady, even if you are a pushy, hardheaded brat half the time. A pretty face and the smarts to match … a cute butt,” His hand slides lower, curling over the swell of your bottom to give it a taunting pinch, making you whimper at the reignited ache in the skin. “And a cute pussy, too. You’re the whole package as far as I can tell. Though, I do suppose we’ve done things a bit out of order, haven’t we?” 

You shake your head, face buried in the lower half of his thick chest. “You are certainly a scoundrel, you’re right about that.” 

Dragging his hand back up, Wriothesley takes your hips and starts to gently nudge you back. “Come, let’s sit.” 

You almost fall for it, so caught up in the hazy shroud that seems to befall you every single time he touches you, but then you abruptly remember what’s behind you. The bed. The one and only chair in the bedroom was in front of the desk, on the opposite wall. Your heart instantly slams into overdrive and you jerk back in his hold with a ragged gasp, hands coming up to shove at him. “No!” 

To your great relief he actually stops at the near hysterical edge in your voice, giving you a funny look even as he cautiously releases his hold on you so he can lift his arms in surrender. “I’m sorry. Just calm down. Can you tell me what’s wrong?” 

You would’ve liked to breathe out a sigh, glad that he was, for whatever reason, taking you seriously now, but you were a bit too jittery with nerves to draw a full breath for that. Instead, you just offer up a tittering laugh and try to wave it off. “Of course nothings wrong. It’s fine. Really. I just don’t want to sit right now, that’s all. Still so many things to do!” 

It feels like your face is on fire as you quickly duck around him to make a beeline for the door so you can get out of here and put some much needed space between the two of you, but Wriothesley stops you with a gentle yet firm hand on your elbow. Whimpering softly, you make a valiant attempt to twist out of his hold but as usual his grip on you is as good as iron and you soon find yourself pulled right back around to face him. 

“That was a rather big reaction for it being nothing. I’m sure I could figure it out for myself in due time, but I’d greatly appreciate you being honest with me now so I don’t make the same mistake again going forward.”

“It’s nothing …” 

Wriothesley outright scoffs at that. “Pardon my language, little miss, but that’s bullshit. I’ve never heard you sound like that before, not even when I took that brush to your behind in my office. If I thought you were simply being dramatic or acting up I wouldn’t humor it but that’s not what’s going on here … is it?”

You don’t immediately answer, not quite sure what to say or how to say it, and at length he draws an infinitely patient breath. 

“I could probably guess,” He says almost thoughtfully, like he already had a sneaking suspicion. “Is it the bed? Are you scared of being in here alone with me?” 

Keeping your eyes downcast and firmly locked on the toes of your shoes, you give a slow nod in response. Archons, was he actually going to make you say it out loud  … 

“I don’t understand why, though. I’ve had plenty of chances to force myself on you if that was what I planned to do.” 

“I’m a virgin.” 

A visible startle dances down his arm. You screw your eyes shut, not quite sure what you expected him to say or do with that information and, for a horribly long beat, he doesn’t seem to know what to do with it either. The long stretch of silence that follows your admittance is static charged and heavy. Cloyingly thick. Suffocating — though that very well could have just been from where your lungs were constricting painfully tight, braced for the pin to drop. You almost wished you were just being dramatic or bratty, and the thought of being stretched out underneath his massive body didn’t scare you quite so much. 

Finally, eventually, Wriothesley looses a slow puff of air. “Thank you for telling me. Although I do wish you’d said something sooner, before I … well, it doesn’t matter, I suppose. All I did was touch you back in that alley, but I hope you realize how risky that could have been.” 

“I’m sorry, sir …” It’s all you can think to say. 

With a mild click of his tongue, he gently tugs you into him again, and this time you can’t stamp down the urge to fling your hands up and cling to him. “There isn’t anything for you to apologize to me for.” He murmurs, comfortingly rubbing across your back while the other hand slides up to cradle the curve of your skull. “Luckily I’m not actually that much of a brute and I’m capable of controlling myself. I won’t deny that I strongly considered sliding my fingers inside you back there but I decided to wait until we got to your place because …” 

He trails off, sounding ever so slightly ruffled, and you shift against him in your surprise. “Because why?” 

“Because I wasn’t sure if you were going to be a screamer or not.” 

Your stomach gives a sudden lurch at the implication and you nuzzle your face deeper into his body, whimpering softly at the way your pussy flutters in unmistakable interest. You were undoubtedly curious, keen even, but … despite its potency that eager gushing excitement wasn’t quite enough to dispel your concerns on the matter. He was just so big, you could only imagine whatever was hiding in his pants must be rather large too. Never mind the fact you’d only just met the guy not that long ago, how were you supposed to rationalize the size difference here? 

You’re still trying to work that out in your cotton stuffed mind when, eventually, Wriothesley gives you a final, reassuring pat and then carefully moves to extricate you from himself. “Alright. Come with me. Let’s talk in the other room then. I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want.” 

Unable to stop it, you shoot him a sharp, unamused look but he just gives you that small, secretive smile as he guides you through the door which he reaches back to close behind himself with a soft click of finality. You were loath to admit it but you did feel marginally better having the bed closed off away from the both of you. It seemed less dangerous, somehow. 

“Nothing like that.” He amends, steering you over to the table in the main room where he tugs out a chair and drops himself into it. Much to your squawking surprise, however, he then half lifts, half pulls you on top of him to sit on his thigh and you waver nervously on your perch. You weren’t used to being manhandled in such a way — or any way, for that matter — but he steadies you with a firm hand, taking a moment to make sure you’re situated comfortably before leveling you with an unexpectedly sincere look. “Let’s make a deal. We’ll continue on as we have been, and nothing changes. I’d still like to work with you on your proposals for the inmates, because I think you have a good head on your shoulders and your heart is generally in the right place, even if it is at times a bit misguided. I’d also like to keep seeing you, if you’ll permit it. I won’t force myself on you and we’ll take it at your pace, whatever you’re comfortable with. You just need to be honest with me about these things, and I think we’ll do just fine.” 

Slowly, your gaze starts to wander in thought, but Wriothesley reaches up to take your chin and turn you back to look at him again. 

“I’m serious, little miss. You can still be a brat and talk back to me all you want, and I’ll just keep putting you in your place. I can correct you as many times as you need me to. But you have to be upfront about this. I’m not a mind reader, and I can’t know what you’re feeling unless you tell me. Do you understand?” 

You search his face for a moment, admittedly taken aback by the weight in his gaze. It was … a lot. But Wriothesley, as a person, was also a lot. You couldn’t read him, didn’t understand him, could barely stand to be in the same room as him, so … why then did you suddenly want him to kiss you so badly? Surely it was just that muddied, intoxicating daze that fell over you every time he touched you influencing your judgment, right? 

Right? 

“Yes, your grace. I understand.” 

He relaxes somewhat, some of the tension draining from his broad shoulders as he gives your hip a reassuring squeeze. “Excellent. Are you ready for the rest of your lesson now?” 

Sending him a wary look, you decide to test the waters some. You were always good at that. “What if I tell you I’m not comfortable having you spank me like a child every time the thought strikes your fancy?” 

“Then I’d tell you that’s too bad. I’ve already seen for myself just how quickly you get yourself in order with the right incentive, and I’m also well aware that you secretly like it. More importantly, however, I know you need it. You felt good after the last time, didn’t you?” 

You scoff at that and turn on his lap to affix your gaze to literally anything other than him. “I wouldn’t describe barely being able to sit down on the aquabus just to get back to the city as feeling good. I was miserable for days!” 

“You deserved it.” He teases you, his tone taking on a playful edge as he brings his hand up to capture your chin again. You fight it though, twisting on his thigh and leaning as far back as you can manage without falling right off, but Wriothesley is persistent and he just follows after you, easily brushing off the smack of your hand when you try to slap him away. Finally, he manages to successfully get those long fingers around your jaw and he pulls you close until your nose comes to a stop just a scant few millimeters from his. “Come on, just look at me for a moment. Rather than physically, how did you feel mentally? Refreshed, right? Like you’d been flushed clean and filled back up again. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say like you’d been disassembled and then put back together.” 

“That’s not an inaccurate way to put it …” You relent at last, though not without a fussy huff. “But I still don’t know if I’d call that feeling good, your grace. I don’t … I’m not sure what I felt or why I liked it but —“ Abruptly choking on what you’re saying, you look into the steady blue of his eyes with yours wide and round as deeply felt embarrassment creeps into your face. Why in the world did you say that? “W - will you kiss me, my lord?” 

“Hmm. Do you want a kiss before or after your spanking?” 

“That’s not - -“ 

“I am not so easily distracted, little miss. You would do well to remember that.” Softly, Wriothesley soothes the blunt, calloused pad of his thumb over your cheek, still just looking at you. Still waiting on an answer. “Shall I make the decision for you?” 

Eyes flashing dangerously, you rear back to escape his hold and, surprisingly, he lets you go. Emboldened, you primly find your feet and he lets you do that too. You feel strangely victorious as you half turn away from him, hating the jittery, almost eager excitement that starts to course through you now. How shameful to react in such a way when you knew what was going to happen to you and there would be no escaping it. Had you always been such a masochist? 

“Perhaps I no longer want a kiss from his grace if that is how he’s going to be about it. I’ll accept my punishment but you needn’t worry yourself with silly things like kisses or hugs, or anything of the sort.” 

Snorting a quiet laugh, Wriothesley leans back in the chair with a soft creak. “Alright. Go get me one of your hairbrushes.” You give a little jerk and whip your head around to outright gape at him, but he just pins you with that usual smile. “A sturdy one. Nothing flimsy, or I’ll add twenty more on top of what you’re already getting.” 

You open your mouth to protest, think better of it and slowly press your lips into a thin line instead. Hands clenching into tight fists at your sides, you storm off to the bathroom where you dig around inside the cupboard for a prolonged moment before eventually locating a broad backed wooden brush you no longer used which looked relatively similar to the one he’d had in his office. With your heart in your throat, you take it back to him and he accepts it with a small murmur of thanks. 

“Anything else, your grace?” 

“I’m glad you asked, actually.” He pauses to set the brush aside on the table and then looks at you again. “Take off your panties, please.” 

Your brows shoot up in stark surprise, making him chuckle. 

“Relax. I have no intention of doing anything untoward with you. I just want to see if you’ll willingly take them off and crawl across my lap or if I’ll have to drag you again. It’s hard, isn’t it? Knowing what’s coming but still putting yourself in that position anyway. I wonder how wet you’re getting just thinking about it.” 

“Y - you just said - -“

“I said I wouldn’t do anything untoward. Not that I wouldn’t tease you a little bit.” 

The sly, mischievous twinkle in his eye irritates you a great deal, and you shyly avert your gaze elsewhere as you hesitantly reach under your dress. “You are a terror!” 

“I’m sure your ass will be in agreement with that soon enough.” 

Groaning very softly, you hook your fingers into the waistband of your panties and carefully shimmy them down your legs so you can step out. Wriothesley watches attentively as you straighten up again, anxiously holding the balled up cotton to your chest even as you not so subtly rub your thighs together. You were indeed wet, you were more than a little horrified to realize. But he already knew that from earlier, or so you try to tell yourself, and you hesitate for only a moment when he expectantly holds out a hand to you. Shuffling over, you try very hard to ignore the way your heartbeat threatens to choke you as you carefully reach out to place your palm in his. Wriothesley pulls you even closer until your knee brushes his thigh and he reaches up to gently pluck your wadded up underwear from your slack fingers. He watches your face while he does it but you aren’t sure what he sees looking back at him when you were feeling so many surging emotions all at once, and he just carelessly tosses them on top of the table, not far from the brush. 

“Lay down for me?” 

You give a tight lipped nod but you don’t move. Can’t move. You just stand there for a long, drawn out beat with your hand clasped in his, trying to will your legs to move, but it’s like you’re rooted to the spot. Gradually, your eyes start to widen. Were you paralyzed with fear or … something else? 

Shifting forward in his seat slightly, Wriothesley tips his head to look at your downturned face. “Do you want some help?” 

“No!” You rush to say, jerking your head in a quick shake. “That’s quite alright, your grace. Just, ah …”

“I told you it was hard. Knowing what you’re submitting yourself to can really impact your mental state going into a spanking, which is precisely why I wanted to see how you’d react. Though, if you want my personal opinion,” He draws a brief, stilted breath. “I don’t think you’re quite as strong as you like to believe yourself to be, and I don’t say that disparagingly. There’s nothing wrong with needing help from time to time. If you ask me, I’ll give it to you.” 

Softly, you start to shake. Your first instinct was, of course, to snap at him and put on a brave face, and impulsively throw yourself across his lap just to show him, to spite him. But you were feeling a little too vulnerable after everything that had happened today — and a lot had certainly happened between you and him. You’d reached some sort of tentative understanding though, hadn’t you? Had even admitted to something deeply personal and intimate (a few something’s, if you were being honest) and he’d met you with sincerity and honesty of his own so … 

Maybe it really was okay to be vulnerable with him? 

“I —“ You choke on that one single word and have to swallow before trying again. “I’m scared, your grace. I want to do it but I can’t bring myself to … and I don't know why. It’s silly, isn’t it?” 

Your voice cracks on the last word, something in you shattering when Wriothesley dutifully reaches out to take gentle hold of your hip. The first tears streak down your cheeks as he positions you between the wide spread of his legs so he can gather up the front of your dress while you mewl and swipe at your face. You don’t know what’s suddenly come over you but everything abruptly comes rushing out in a flood that leaves you shuddering in front of him. 

Satisfied that he had enough of the material gathered up to prevent it from getting caught under you now, he brings the other hand up to grab your waist. Under his steady guidance, you find yourself stiffly bending forward to lay across his thigh, vibrating at an ever increasing frequency when he tugs you more firmly into place to nudge your butt into the air. 

“Are you comfortable like that, or would you prefer to lay across both my legs?” 

“This is fine.” You thinly respond and, without any further preamble, Wriothesley flips the back of your dress up. Squeaking softly at the sudden rush of cool air against your already sore bottom, you lift both hands to cover your face with a quiet whimper only to yelp a beat later when he cups the meaty swell of one cheek before doing the same to the other. He gives this one a short, lingering squeeze to make you hiss at the residual pain and then returns to the other side to do the same. 

He takes his time with it, just casually alternating his touch between both sides of your ass, rubbing and caressing the heated skin, offering it occasional pinches to really get the nerves sensitized. The anticipation of waiting is it’s own special brand of torture, and you start to feel well and truly dizzy with it long before he decides to get started. You really couldn’t believe you were doing this entirely of your own volition … not only had you wanted him to do it you’d even let him help you place yourself on the chopping block. What in the world was wrong with you? 

“I’m going to start,” He intones at last, drawing his heavy palm over your ass one final time. “You don’t have to count or thank me for this. We’ll save that for your paddling at the end. For right now I just want you to focus on what it is you’re feeling, is that understood?” 

“Yes, sir …” 

“Good girl.” 

His hand suddenly retreats and — swat! 

You immediately lurch forward with a wounded, faltering sound of agony, tipping straight forward onto your toes in an instinctive attempt to escape that blistering swing. His thick arm tightens around your middle though, giving you enough room to squirm and dance, and writhe, but not nearly enough for you to slip loose. The security that comes in knowing his hold on you is so absolute is surprisingly reassuring though, and you allow yourself to freely feel every single moment of the following few minutes in unrestrained misery. 

Just as every other time he’s spanked you, Wriothesley starts in on your sit spots first and he pays them extra special attention now, alternating back and forth between one and the other at a steady, unfaltering pace. Even trying to curl your legs up does nothing to dissuade him, and you just end up futilely kicking at the air while he continues to rain blow after blow, after blow upon your upturned ass. The insidious nature of him warming you up in the alley first and then letting the sting settle and fester, and recede to a dull ache before starting up again makes itself immediately known and it only becomes increasingly worse as it goes on. It feels like you're being pricked and stabbed by a million tiny needles all at once, and you choke on a half strangled wail when fresh tears soon start to stream down your face. 

Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! 

Over and over again, until it turns into a constant, painful blur. You’re vaguely aware of snot dribbling from your nose but you don’t quite have the wherewithal to reach up and swipe it away, much too consumed by the fiery burn spreading across your bottom to care very much about that right now. All you could really seem to comprehend in that moment was that it hurt. Bad. And with that sudden, clawing surge of pain came more tears, more sobbing, more hissing grunts that get caught in your raw throat and seem to cling there. It was overwhelming in a way that made your brain struggle just to process it, the ultimate culmination of too much buildup and not enough time to truly understand any of it. 

Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! 

It’s all you can do just to keep breathing through it. Was he actually hitting you harder this time, or was it something else making you squeal so much? All the livewire tension between you and the Duke of Meropide had finally crested, reached its breaking point after skirting around each other and the ever present looming threat of this all day, and it was — it was somehow both better and worse than the first time. It felt amazing to let your mind slip from the material world to a distant, dreamy place somewhere far, far away but it was also agonizing and teeth rattling in equal measure. Your ass felt like it was melting under the heavy crack of his palm. You hated it. You loved it. You had no damn idea what you were feeling anymore. 

Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! 

And suddenly … it stops. 

Bonelessly rocking forward at the sudden reprieve, you let out a faltering, wet little gurgle that prompts him to slide his anchoring hand up to rub over your violently shuddering back. You probably would have found it quite reassuring had you not felt like you were going to be sick. 

“How are you holding up, little miss?” 

“I’m fine …” You slur out, still gasping for breath. Wriothesley pauses a moment, seems to think about it, and then shifts under you in the chair. 

“Here, let’s get your legs up as well. The way you jerk so much it’s a wonder you haven’t pulled something yet.” He leans over you to reach down, gathering up your bottom half, and you wordlessly groan in protest as you weakly struggle against his hold. “Hush. I know it hurts but be a good girl for me, okay? There you go … isn’t that better? A little less strain on your middle, right?” 

He pets you, very softly, and you tuck your face down against the side of his thigh with a pitiful tiny sniffle. You couldn’t feel much of anything other than the continuous, throbbing burning that blankets your entire backside, but if he said it was better to lay out across both his legs like this then it probably was. You were just so tired. Exhausted. You barely even had the energy left to cry anymore. 

And that’s when it hits you. What he’d been talking about earlier. It did feel like you’d been flushed clean, every single thought, emotion and memory you’d ever possessed effectively wiped right out of existence and in its place was an empty blank canvas just waiting to be filled up again. For the moment at least you were free, and suddenly the tears start coming again even harder than before. 

Wriothesley holds you through it, gently shushing you and rubbing your back when the tremors start to become too much, threatening to shatter you into a million fleeting pieces right there on his lap. It takes what seems like a very long time for you to start to calm yourself but eventually, finally, you slowly come down from it one jagged shard of you at a time. It leaves you wheezing in the aftermath, hiccuping every so often, and still he just keeps holding you. 

It was … it was kind of nice, actually. 

“Are you in the right headspace for your paddling now?” 

Grimacing slightly, you sensitively squirm and shake on his lap. “Must we?” 

“I’m afraid we must.” He agrees solemnly, tracing his blunt fingertips over the small of your back. “Remember what I told you last time about reinforcing the lesson and making sure you’ve been paying attention? Can you tell me what it is you’re being punished for?” 

It takes you a very long moment to remember. “I didn’t want you to pay for my lunch but you insisted, and I got mad … you make me really mad sometimes.” 

Wriothesley snorts a quiet laugh. “So I’ve noticed. What else, little miss? What else did you do to earn this hairbrush?” 

Your head spins from thinking so hard but at last you manage a soft, “I lied.” 

“Good. What did you lie to me about?” 

“I … I lied about not enjoying it.”

Humming, he traces the path of your spine up to the bunched fabric of your dress, following the curve of every individual divot and bump. “Why did you lie to me about that?” 

You really aren’t sure. Try as you might you just couldn’t seem to recall but, at last, you eventually settle on, “Because I don’t want to enjoy it. I don’t know why I do. Actually I’m not even really sure if I do enjoy it, or if you’re just tricking me.” 

“How would I possibly accomplish that?” 

“I don’t know …” 

“Well, sweet girl, let me tell you something. There’s no shame in enjoying it and I am certainly not tricking you into it either. What is it that you like about it, specifically?” 

You have to labor over that one too. Why was he asking you such complicated questions now of all times, when your head felt like it had been split open and pulled apart? “I guess I like the way your hands feel on me. I like how big you are, and how strong. I feel very small with his grace.”

A pause, thoughtful and curious. “Do you like being made to feel small?” 

Brows knitting as a little bit of the fog starts to peel back, you bring your head up with a heavy, sluggish groan. “Stop asking me so many complicated questions. You are an insufferable man, your grace.” 

“Well, then. My apologies.” He huffs, playing at offense, but you don’t miss the note of laughter in his voice even in your intoxicated state. Turning your head when he leans forward to grab the brush, you stiffen slightly with the realization that, yes, he was indeed about to spank you with it and you can’t help the curling tendril of fear at that as he settles back again. “Do you feel up to counting today, or would you like to just get it done and over with?” 

“That doesn’t seem like much of a choice …” 

Another amused snort. “It probably doesn’t. But you have been awfully good for me since we left that alley. Don’t think I didn’t see those big googly eyes you kept throwing at me.” He teases and, groaning, you reach up to cover your face again while he quietly laughs at your expense. “How about this - you count and I’ll give you a reward at the end. That sounds a bit more fair, doesn’t it? 

“Fine. I don’t even care, just - -“

Swat! 

It hits you out of nowhere and leaves you reeling, sensitively gasping and struggling just to stay in one piece. You shake for everything you’re worth, toes painfully flexing at the suffocating sensation while you twist against it. The brush hurt so, so bad. It felt like it was going to break you. 

“Don’t start getting mouthy just because I gave you a chance to rest for a little bit. Goodness, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anyone bounce back as quickly as you do.” Wriothesley seems to give his head a brief shake, readjusting the position of his legs under you to subtly angle your ass a bit higher and your top half just a pinch lower. The change in position leaves you blubbering for as slight as it is, and you furiously cling to his pant leg in a grip so tight it makes the knuckles scream, but a soft, attention grabbing tap of the brush against your hip soon draws you back into the moment. 

“I’m waiting.”

“O - o - one, sir …” 

Swat! 

You nearly come right up off his lap from how hard you jerk, but his free hand presses down on your lower back to keep you pinned. Teeth gnashing, you viciously hiss and seeth, impotently kicking your legs against the blinding sting, but it does very little in the way of good. The hurt just sinks in, spreads and then lingers with a tingly, pinprick throb. Suddenly you weren’t so sure you could do this. 

“I … I - I c - can’t —“

“You can, little miss. Although it looks like you might be a bit bruised by the end of it, I have nothing but the utmost faith in you.” 

As if that made you feel even one iota better about it! 

With a pitiful, sobbing mewl, you tuck your face down against his leg in defeat. There was nothing else you could do. “T - … two, sir.” 

A short pause and then — swat! 

You positively shriek, shaking so hard across his legs it’s probably a miracle he manages to stop you from sliding right off. This was terrible, and you’d barely even gotten started! 

“Oooh, gods … th - three, sir. Eeek! Oohhooo! Ohh! Ooh … nnghhnn, f - … four, sir. Aghhn! Ahhaaa … aaahhnn, five, sir! Waaahh!” 

The tears were starting to come again, or trying to, anyway, but you seemed to have cried everything out already. Your eyes just burn and swim with unshed films of mist as you rock against Wriothesley’s legs with each punishing blow. You could feel your skin crawling with every sickening pulse across your bottom, and that was to say nothing of the way your stomach lurches as if to shoot right up out of your throat. You didn’t feel quite as sick as before, but you were still pretty sure that you were going to be sick all over. 

Swat! 

You almost lose count, then you suddenly remember you’re only on seven. 

Hysterically, you start to wail. 

“S - seven, ss - sir … eeek! Hahhnngh … ha - eight, sir, please, don’t — yaaahhah! Oooh, nooo … you’re so mean, ahhn! Haahn! You’re mean, mean, mean!” 

“Am I now?” He drawls, barely heard over your own delirious blabbering. You’d never felt like this before. Never been so incredibly caught up in such all encompassing, dizzying pain, and all you can seem to do is wheeze through it while you uselessly squirm in his lap. 

“Ss - surely I’m not the — the first person to tell y - you that …” 

“You’re not. However, I think you can come up with a much better way to stall than that.” 

You laugh, hysterical and thin. He really was cruel. Quite possibly the meanest person you’d ever been unlucky enough to meet, which just further begged the question … why did you secretly feel so drawn to him, if he was nothing but mean to you? It didn’t make any sense. But, then again, neither does the way you mindlessly push back to arch your searing hot ass up in the air. You really couldn’t fathom what’s come over you, but you don’t stop long enough to linger on it or figure it out. 

“Nine, sir!”

Wriothesley doesn’t even hesitate. Swat! 

Writhing uncontrollably, you force yourself to seethe through it as fast as you’re able to so you can get the next one done and over with. This had quickly turned into an effort in strength of will rather than any kind of physical endurance, but you’d let him beat your ass a bit too much to tap out now. You would push through this just so you could slap him across his stupid smug face as soon as you’d recovered enough to do so! 

“Ten, sir! Ahhn! Ah, ahhh, nngh … eleven, sir!”

Swat! 

Archons, you really were going to be sick. 

“T - twelve, sir! Waaahh! Ohh, gods … thh - thirteen, sir!”

Swat! 

Legs kicking out violently, you take a moment to just shriek into the meat of his leg to muffle the sound. You were so close though … just a few more and you could finally be done with it. 

“Nnghn - hahh! Ahh … four - fourteen, sir! Yaahhghh! Ooohhooo … oww. Fifteen, sir …”

Swat! 

“Ahhgghh! Sixteen, sir! Eeek! Hehhee, eeh … s - seventeen … sir … yeowwch! Ohh, please! No more, no more, no mooooore!” 

Patiently waiting until you calm down enough to hear him, Wriothesley gives your hip a soft, comforting caress with an accompanying jostle to go with it. “You only have two left, little miss. Are you sure you can’t do it? Hm? It seems like it would be such a waste of your efforts to take your punishment like a big girl only to give up now … I can give you a short break, if you want.” 

Struggling not to hyperventilate, you suck in a series of quick, wet breaths and try very hard not to think about how badly your ass hurts. “Y - you’d really stop?” You squeak out, sounding threadbare and pitiful. 

“If you truly needed me to, yes. But there is a big difference between you simply not wanting to do something and you being unable to do it. I think right now you’re just overwhelmed, is all, but do correct me if I’m wrong.” 

You think about that for a long beat, frantically trying to blink away the thick tears lingering in your eyes. If it had been any more than two you were quite certain you wouldn’t have been able to do it but … two wasn’t so bad. It could have certainly been worse. 

Finding your resolve, you viciously fist his pant leg in your hands and force your shuddering body to go still, thinking perhaps that would somehow help you get through the last of it. “Eh - eighteen, sir. Please.”

He shifts against you and — Swat! 

It punches the air right out of you, leaves you gulping for oxygen like a fish out of water, but you don’t stop long enough to let it fully sink in. You couldn’t. “Nineteen, sir!” 

Swat! 

“Twenty! Ooooh, oh god, oh god!” 

“Shh. Deep breaths. Just breathe it in and then let it out. There, you’ve got it. Keep going like that and you’ll be running your mouth again in no time.” He murmurs, making you groan in agony. As if the splintering, eye rattling pain wasn’t bad enough, now you had to listen to him crack jokes too. Amazing. 

But, much to your chagrin, it does work, and you gradually start to come down from it enough to think a little more clearly as the minutes continue to tick by. It’s not by much but at least it lessens enough so that your brain doesn’t feel like it’s bobbing in the tumultuous current out at sea. Even the first time he’d done this you hadn’t felt quite so drained and exhausted … but surely he hadn’t been taking it easy on you back then, right? 

Right? 

“Doing good over there?” 

You draw a slow, stilted breath to steady yourself. “Yeah … no thanks to you, though.” 

“Hah. And what did I say? I knew you weren’t going to stay down long.” 

Gingerly, you start to push up, eager to get out of this uncomfortable position on your stomach, but Wriothesley is quick to grab you so he can control how fast you go, how quickly you can slide jelly filled legs to the floor and make an attempt to stand, but you just shake all over like a newborn fawn even with his help. With a soft click of his tongue, the Duke of Meropide reaches up to grab under your arms and non too gently hauls you right back into his lap again despite your halfhearted protests. The only difference is, this time, you suddenly find yourself straddling his thick thigh and you jolt like he’d zapped you when the pressure digs up into your cunt. 

Noising a wordless sound of confusion, you dazedly glance down to take in the sight of your legs bracketing his thigh, the material of your dress bunched and pooled around you in an inelegant, wrinkled heap. You have no idea what to make of this sudden development, how to even begin processing it. All you know is that the body heat bleeding up from him into you makes your pussy tingle warmly, and you abruptly realize just how wet you really are. The thought that immediately follows that one makes your eyes go big in horror. 

“W - wait —“ You stammer, trying to stand again, but he just firmly holds you in place with those big rough hands on your hips. “Your grace, that’s - -“

“Hush. It’s nothing for you to worry your pretty little head over. Just relax. You want your reward, don’t you?” 

Quaking, you cautiously lift your attention back to his face. “R - reward?” 

Blunt fingers digging into you, Wriothesley keeps his gaze locked on yours as he slowly starts to lean forward. You’re so confused and jittery that you don’t know what to make of it at first, have no clue what he’s planning to do, but then — he kisses you. And suddenly everything seems to screech to a standstill. 

It’s a soft yet firm press of his lips against yours, so featherlight and brief that it probably would have barely registered in your punchdrunk mind were it not for the intense spark of static energy that zaps through you all at once. You give a tiny little jerk against him, too surprised to react for a long, drawn out beat in which he simply keeps his mouth pressed to yours and nothing more. Like he was waiting. Anticipating how you would respond, if you would respond, when you would respond. 

Abruptly, a delayed shudder finally tears through you hard enough to make you sway on his thigh. A soft gasp followed by a faltering groan. Your lashes sensitively flutter at the sudden rush of heady, sharp arousal that crashes into you all at once and you lift your hands, cautiously slow, to clutch at his impossibly broad shoulders. Wriothesley breathes out a soft sound of approval, spurning you on as he tips his head slightly to better accept the warbling kiss you shyly press back into him. He lets you test the waters on your own for a drawn out beat, his mouth steady under yours when he occasionally moves his lips with yours to further draw you into the motion despite your trembling uncertainty. 

You like the way he tastes, you’re a little surprised to find. You also like the way he feels against you, under you, encompassing you, practically smothering you, and it doesn’t take long for a strange sense of desperation to creep in, prompting you to cling to him tighter. Kiss him more fervently and stiltedly rock into him in a blind search for more of what only he seemed to be able to give you. 

As if that was the cue he’d been waiting for this whole time, Wriothesley starts to kiss you back in earnest now, suddenly dominating the exchange to leave you feeling lightheaded and dizzy. At the same time his hands on your waist tug your pelvis forward to drag your bare cunt across the swell of his thigh, and you sharply gasp at the intense sensation it causes. Nudging his leg up a little higher to make your toes inch up off the ground and leave the majority of your weight centered on your core, he settles into a tortuously slow pace of push and pull, guiding you through the motions with the ever secure anchor of his hands on your body. You quickly succumb to it, all of it. The sensation dragging against your slit as much as the ever present throb across your ass that seems to mirror the wild rhythm of your pulse, the mind numbing way he kisses you, the smell of him as much as the taste of him. You were drowning in it all, sinking alarmingly fast. 

Finally unable to take it any longer, you weakly turn away from his demanding mouth to keen into the air, soft and thin. He doesn’t even hesitate to latch onto the side of your neck, pecking at your jaw and the pounding pulse point he finds a little lower, and you soon shudder at the warm, wet drag of a hot tongue when he laps at your skin. It really was too much. He was too much. 

“Aah … y - your grace, please, I — I don’t understand - -“

“I know, I know.” He shushes you in a low, rumbling growl that has you instinctively arching your back, the glide of your cunt stuttering over his thigh at the overwhelm but his massive hands just keep tugging you back and forth, back and forth. “Just relax and let me take care of it. I’ve got you, okay? You know that don’t you, pretty girl?” 

His mouth works its way back up, kissing along your cheek to claim your mouth again. As if he’s trying to consume you, pull you into his body, and he drags another stilted whine from the back of your throat with the dizzying motion. The lingering sting of tears rises in your eyes once again as you continue to rock against him, hips squirming eagerly in his hold, but no matter how wild you get he just keeps at that same unhurried pace. It’s almost as tortuous as the throbbing pulse that spears through your heated bottom with every little shift or jostle, but it inexplicably seems to make you even wetter. You were soaring unlike ever before. Reeling and heaving, gasping into his mouth. Having no other choice but to accept what he gives — whatever he gives you and however he so chooses — you slump into him and wrap your arms around his neck, clinging for dear life while the tension thrumming through you ratchets higher and higher. 

You’re so caught up in it you almost miss the first sign that this is having any effect on him at all when Wriothesley reluctantly drags his lips off yours in favor of groaning against the side of your face. “Shit, you’re so wet I can feel it bleeding right through my pants leg … you said I was a terror earlier but I honestly think the same thing of you.” A clipped, almost strained laugh. “I fear you may yet be the death of me at this rate, little miss …” 

You whimper at that, tightly screwing your eyes shut as you ride the gradually creating waves washing over you, each a little stronger than the last. “I’m sorry, your grace … I - I’ll have it dry cleaned for you, if — if you’d like …” 

“Nonsense.” He growls, turning his head so he can take a quick nip at your ear to make you gasp. “Say anything like that ever again and I’ll take you right back over my knee, do you hear me? Soak them for all I care. Come on, I know you want to cum … I can feel that cute little pussy of yours throbbing on my leg. Feels like you’ve got another heartbeat down there, doesn’t it? Bet it matches the one in your ass too …”

Crying out in stricken distress, you shudder so violently your hips grind to a sudden halt even when his hands try to keep you moving. He could force you to, if he really wanted, and you knew this, but instead — and much to your gasping surprise, Wriothesley digs his fingers in tight enough to bruise and starts bouncing his leg under you. The sound that suddenly bursts out of you is hysterical and high pitched as you sway and jolt on his lap, hands scrabbling to clutch at him somehow more fervently. The building tension in your body was too much and it locks up every single muscle, sets every single nerve ending to vibrate even while you suck in a haggard mouthful of air that doesn’t seem to be enough. Your lungs are constricting, they won’t expand, and you choke on it, disoriented in the potent flood of endorphins that bears down on you with all the force of a raging hurricane. 

It felt like you were going to vibrate right off his lap. 

“That’s it. Cum for me, lovely girl. Let me see how you look when you’re cumming for me, all nice and pretty. You’re so good for me, when you want to be … but you secretly like being a good girl, don’t you? You want me to keep praising you and rewarding you just as much as you want me to keep putting you in your place. Yeah, I’ve got you all figured out now. Don’t be scared. I won’t let you fall, just let it go. Cum for me, baby, scream for me - -“ 

You’re completely blindsided when the coil finally snaps and you do indeed scream, shrieking plaintively as your legs jerk and try to find purchase on the floor, try to push yourself up to escape the onslaught of sensation, but he just holds you in place even when you devolve into a mindless fit of spasms on top of him. Wailing in pleasure so potent it almost hurts, you judder through your orgasm and shove your face into the soft fur embellishing his coat, muffling the sound just enough to stop it from echoing endlessly inside your head. The persistent nudge of his leg right against your squeezing cunt seems to drag it out, encouraging tremor after quaking tremor to tear through you until, at last, you can take no more and you go boneless against him with a frazzled, heaving groan. 

Finally, Wriothesley slows the bounce of his leg and then stills all together. Giving you an appreciative pinch around the waist, he slowly drags his hands up your sides to wrap around you and tuck you more closely against him while you weakly twitch through your post-climax haze, struggling to calm your breathing. He lets out a terse, shuddering breath of his own and rubs across your back in comforting circles, sounding a bit dazed himself when he eventually speaks again. 

“Archons, you're perfect.” 

Offering up a soft whine, you give your head a numb shake. “Don’t say that.” You murmur into his collar. 

“But it’s true. I wouldn’t lie to you, little miss. Not about anything.” Silence settles over the two of you for a long stretch, just sharing the mutual body heat between each other and the lingering haze of static energy in the room. Eventually, though, Wriothesley turns his head to tuck his face in close to yours, pressing a featherlight kiss to your temple. “We need to get you cleaned up and situated but I just want to make sure you know I’m proud of you.”

You go stock still at that, your fingers sinking deeper into his shoulders. “What?” 

Snorting, he nuzzles further into you until you have no choice but to turn your head, grudgingly allowing him to press his forehead against yours. “For everything, but especially for finishing your paddling.” He murmurs softly into the razor thin space separating you from him. “I know that was exceptionally hard for you to do but you took it well and you pushed through. I’m also quite pleased that you were able to cum for me. That satisfied me a great deal too.” 

“It’s not like I really had much of a choice …” 

“That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? To give you what you need, even if you don’t realize you need it yet.” 

Huffing a brief sound of fluster, you quickly gather your resolve and force yourself to pull away, even though you would have gladly clung to him for the rest of the day if you would have allowed it. That seemed like it probably wasn’t the best idea though. Too tempting to reconcile in your mind, so you carefully untangle from him and move to stand up. You’re quite relieved that he lets you go without a fuss, helping you find your balance and get your legs under you again, but you regret it almost as soon as you take a step back and see his pant leg. 

The wet stain bleeding through the fabric is rather obvious on the light gray material, and embarrassingly spread out too. Gasping in unmitigated horror, you quickly slap your hands over your face and make an impulsive, blind dash for the bathroom to lock yourself away and wallow in your own embarrassment in peace. And Wriothesley, for his part, just laughs at your reaction, evidently not at all concerned about either getting his pants clean or being able to coax you back out later. 

Burn that dirty, rotten scoundrel!

⭐

Crossposted: here

[restinslices]

Everything pt2

PJO Show Ares X Child!Reader (no gender specified)

Word count: 6168 (I realized a bit late that majority is me setting up the scene. If you just wanna see their talk, read after the “~~”)

Summary: You haven’t seen your father since the last time you talked, but of course with your luck he finds you again and you’re forced to make a big decision.

Warnings: Reader is going through it, poor attempt at a fight scene, the lore and timeline is probably fucked up but ignore that, OOC Ares probably and as of typing I’m realizing MAJOR SPOILER FOR THE TITANS CURSE. To avoid this, scroll until you see “I don’t have any friends that come over” or “~” if you wanna be extra careful.

You’d love to say that not seeing your father after your last talk was some sort of surprise, but it wasn’t. Thankfully (is that selfish to think?) none of the demigods had a real good relationship with their parent. Well, Percy seemed to have a solid relationship with Posideon, but it’s not like he saw him everyday. And as selfish and heartless as it sounded, that offered you a bit of relief and comfort. It’s not like your father was sensitive and loving to you and you screwed it up. Everything was pretty much back to normal. 

 It was a pretty somber day at camp. Percy, Grover and Thalia had managed to save Annabeth and Artemis, but it didn’t come without casualties. You weren’t necessarily friends with Bianca or Zoë but you still grieved over them. The hardest part though, was watching how sad your friends had gotten, especially Percy. You knew what Percy was like. Percy was extremely loyal but that loyalty led to carrying a lot more weight on his shoulders than what was necessary. If your suspicions were right (and you knew they were), he’d blame himself for Bianca’s death. That made zero sense to you. He told you exactly how she died and to you, it seemed like Bianca made a choice. Percy couldn’t have done anything to stop it. He didn’t see it that way and you weren’t sure why you insisted on telling him over and over again and trying to cheer him up. 

 “Nico?” Percy raised to his feet when he saw you approaching. You shook your head,

 “No sign of him. He’s been missing for a week now Percy. If we were gonna find him, we would’ve found him by now”. Percy looked defeated. You were sure he knew the chances of finding him were slim to none, but you kept combing areas of the woods for him to keep him somewhat at peace. If he thought there was a chance, he wouldn’t be as depressed hopefully. 

 “I’m gonna say it again-“

 “Don’t”

 “Well what should I say to calm you down?”

 Percy thought for a moment but just shrugged and started heading inside his cabin and you followed. Percy collapsed on his own bed and you took it upon yourself to sit on the bed next to his. You didn’t know if it was because you held resentment towards your father, or if you actually liked Cabin 3 but you really wished this was your cabin instead. “Must be nice having a cabin all to yourself. No obnoxious cabin mates, no extra noise, nobody leaving their shit on the floor”.

 “I guess” was all he said back to you and you sighed. You didn’t wanna keep repeating yourself but you genuinely didn’t know what to say but not saying anything made you feel like an asshole that was ignoring the situation. 

 So you tried to change the subject. 

“Is it like this at home too? Just you and your mom? No friends over?”. 

 “I don't have any friends that can come over”

 “None at school?”

 “None”.

 That made you frown. You were older than Percy by a few years, so you had time to adjust to how lonely life could be as a half-blood and by now, you didn't return “home” either. Camp was your home now year round. You understood why Percy kept going home though. You heard about his mom and she seemed like a nice woman. You were grateful he at least had that. 

 But instead of saying something sweet and nice and voicing your thoughts, you made a joke instead. “That's why your little ass keeps getting into trouble. You have no one out there watching out for you”

 “My mom watches out for me plenty”

 “But she's not keeping schools from being blown up now is she?”. Percy rolled his eyes, but he didn't look as sad as before so you took this as a sign to keep talking “if I was watching you, you'd be alright. At least you'd have help”

 “You're tryna live with me now?”

 “Sure”, you said with a shrug. “A cool mom, random blue food, stopping you from exposing yourself - it all sounds grand”. You both laughed at your joke because that's what it was. A joke. 

 At least… it was at first. 

 Either Percy didn't know what a joke was, or he was pretty fond of having a big sibling when he was home because the next day he told you he sent an Iris message to his mom and she was fine with getting an air mattress for you. You almost told Percy that it was just a joke, but then you thought about how lonely he must be at home and how annoying it can be only having his mom to talk to about this demigod stuff. Plus, it hopefully wouldn't hurt to get a break from camp. 

 You didn't know why you decided to pray and tell Poseidon about this, but you did. The sun had set and you slipped out of your cabin and snuck into the woods. You made a mini fire and threw two candy bars the Stoll brothers managed to sneak in, which was a real shitty offering but it was all you had. You couldn't do it during the feast. You had too much to say and someone would hear. 

 “Terrible offering, I know. I hope you're listening anyway” you started. “I'm gonna be following Percy around when he goes home and I'm gonna try and keep him and Sally somewhat safe. I don't know how safe Percy can really be but I'll try anyway. I hope that's not a problem. I'm not tryna step on your toes or anything”. 

 In all honesty praying and giving offerings felt strange. You were supposed to pray to Ares everyday and give him an offering, but you stopped doing that after your last talk. The first time you threw food in a fire and didn't say his name, you thought you'd combust as a punishment. You didn't though, so you kept doing it. Occasionally you'd give offerings to other gods but it was mainly Athena. Partially because she was like Ares but not really and partially because you hoped it would upset Ares. Was it childish? Yes. But compared to someone as old as Ares, you were a child. 

 “That's all I really have to say. If you don't want me to go you can drown me in my sleep or maybe send a letter. Whatever works for you”. You looked around, expecting for some paper saying “absolutely not” to land somewhere around you but nothing happened, so you put out the fire and snuck back into your cabin. 

~

 You don't think you have a huge ego, but you definitely felt you deserved a pat on the back for how good your work was. 

 You were able to convince your own lousy family to hand over any legal documents to Sally and thankfully Percy's middle school had a highschool right next to it. Although the demigods weren't supposed to use phones, a minor text here and there saying “hey, I think there's monsters here” didn't hurt anyone. There were plenty of times you had to sneak out of your school and into his, and if you weren't so busy fighting for your life, you'd audition to be in some spy or assassin movie. 

 Thankfully though, you weren't always busy helping Percy. You figured you might as well help Sally out so you got a job at a nearby bookstore inside of a mall and honestly? You'd prefer fighting monsters over dealing with bratty customers. Seriously though, how can you be a bitch at a bookstore? 

 “I've already told you ma'am” you said in a monotone voice, “we can't give you a refund if you do not have a receipt”. 

 The black hair woman scoffed and looked at you as if you caused the problem she was having. “A receipt? Do I seem like the type of woman who keeps a receipt?! When I bought Twilight, I expected better and I hate it and now I want a refund and as the customer, I am always right!”. 

 The entire conversation made you wanna explode in front of her and change the trajectory of her life, but unfortunately it didn't happen. What was with mortals and not understanding basic store rules?

 “I would love it if you were right but you're not. No receipt. No refund”. She scoffed again and you wanted to grab her by the throat and stop the noise from ever leaving her mouth again. 

 “Well what do you expect me to do?!”

 “Pick up a different book then get out maybe?”. 

 You couldn't put a finger on the noise that came out of her next. It was some deep throaty sound with a mix of anger and disgust. “Do you know who I am? I'm Holly Holiday-” you accidentally cracked a smile at her stupid name and that just fueled her rage. She pointed a finger at your name tag and said your name, followed by “you are so done for! I'll have you eaten alive for this!”. 

 She turned on her heels and left in a huff. Fucking finally. 

 You looked over at your coworker Harper and pretended your fingers were a gun and shot yourself, getting a laugh out of her. Harper and her twin Hazel shared a few classes with you and by some coincidence they also worked in the mall. Harper was with you while Hazel worked at the costume store downstairs. You couldn't tell them apart and you weren't sure if you'd ever pass the “we talk sometimes” stage but it didn't matter right now. 

 “I know it's closing time but are you ok if I take a bathroom break really quick? I can help out when I get back”

She waved dismissively, “take your time man. Hazel'll be coming up here too”. You nodded with a small thank you and stepped into the mostly vacant mall. The mall was usually lively but with it being so late at night, the only people around were other people like that annoying customer and workers who had the misfortune of still working this late. 

 It was eerily quiet. Sure, you thought you were used to how silent it was at this time of night, but you still got the creeps and did not take your time alone in the bathroom. 

 Maybe you should have though, because once you left the bathroom that same annoying lady was waiting outside, which she definitely should not have been doing. 

 “I told you I did not like that book”. 

 Seriously? She was still complaining? She was still here after the store had pretty much closed? 

 You said something that would've gotten you fired if your boss was around, “yeah? Tough shit lady. No receipt, no refund, it's as simple as that. Don't buy books you haven't read. Now get out the mall and go take care of your kids”. 

 She snarled. A genuine snarl that made you start to sneakily slip off the bracelet you were wearing. You didn't know if gods could give other kids gifts, and either it had been allowed this whole time or Poseidon didn't care since shortly after your “chat” after hours you received a dagger that could transform into a bracelet. You thought maybe Ares had sent it, but his gifts didn't smell of the ocean and a fresh breeze. 

 Regardless of who gave it to you, that snarl didn't sound good. 

 “I don't think you're very good at your job”

 “I guess I'm not. Now do us both a favor and just leave”. 

 She didn't leave. Instead she smirked and that was all the confirmation you needed to know something was wrong. The bracelet slipped off your wrist and while the monster was transforming, you gripped your weapon and brought it up through the bottom of her mouth. You pulled it out, but not through the entry wound. You pulled it towards you, letting it split her face in half. 

 Just in case, you stabbed her in the heart, twisted the knife then pulled it out of her through the side of her chest. You didn’t have to wait for her to crumble. It was game over. A surprisingly easy win. 

 You grabbed some nearby napkins so you could wipe your dagger clean then returned it back to your wrist. 

 “What happened?” Harper asked once you stepped back inside, which was really odd for multiple reasons. 

 Firstly, you looked like you usually did. Nothing about you was particularly out of place. At least you didn't think so. 

 Secondly, she didn't sound curious. She didn't sound concerned. She sounded frustrated, like you did something wrong. 

 “Nothing” you lied. “It's nothing. Let's just clean up, yeah?”. 

 “I'm sure it's not nothing Child of Ares”. 

Your brows knitted together and you hoped you just heard wrong. You turned to look at Harper and that's when it started to click. 

 Harper. Hazel. Holly. 

 Harpies. 

 They were too lazy to pick a different initial for the first name and you fell for it like an idiot. Plus the “I’ll have you eaten alive” comment. But in all fairness, who actually takes those comments seriously? If you took every threatening comment seriously, you'd be sent to an asylum. 

 Harper's short red hair looked like flames now. Her green eyes looked hungry for your flesh and her sharp teeth glistened in the light as feathers grew from her arms. Realistically, you should've been scared. There were two alive harpies in the building, but something about a monster with a gray shirt with mini white books decorated on it really made you wanna laugh. She must've sensed this since she sneered, 

 “You think I'm funny?”

 “Do you want an honest answer?”

 “You won't think I'm so funny soon you spoiled demigod!”. You wanted to make a joke about how calling children with severe abandonment issues “spoiled” was silly, but you decided this wasn't the time. Instead you took the bracelet off. 

 Harper laughed in your face. “You think that will stop me?” 

 “Handled your friend pretty well. How about you stop trash talking and come over here so we can see if you're any different”. You don't know which comment got her so angry but she leapt at you. 

 You sidestepped her and planned on delivering a quick stab to the neck, but she must've seen it coming. She grabbed something and quickly turned to bat you in the face with it, making you stumble back. It took you a quick second to realize she hit you with a book. A Goosebumps book no less. 

 “You are incredibly childish” you mumbled and you wished you could laugh it off. Maybe you were childish too because you picked up the book and launched it at her face, feeling a tad bit disappointed when she dodged it. 

 You swung at her but she caught your wrist and squeezed hard enough to make you drop your dagger. You were quick on your feet though and you brought your available elbow down on her inner elbow (you were sure it had a scientific name but honestly who cares?). You heard a crunch and Harper screeched. Her grip loosened enough for you to snatch away while kicking her, her flying and hitting the railing. 

 You grabbed the dagger and threw it. You meant for it to hit somewhere fatal but she moved and instead it hit her directly in the eye, which made her screech even louder. 

 You snatched your necklace off and the object quickly took the shape of a double sided sword. It was a gift from your father and although he was probably pissed at you, you figured he probably wasn't watching and wouldn't care. 

 You charged at her and swung the sword. Although she was screaming in pain and was no doubt in agony, she slid under the blade. As she turned to face you, her hands moved and a sharp gust of wind knocked you off the third floor. 

 To make matters worse, Hazel decided to make an appearance. She was right below you, cackling, arms outstretched and you knew if you landed in those arms she'd devour you. 

 You did the only thing you could think of with such short timing. You angled the sword vertically and aimed directly for her mouth. She seemed to understand but it was too late. You came crashing down, your sword along with you and it slid directly in her mouth and down her throat. Because of the sword having a solid middle so you could hold onto something, it didn't go all the way through and you stumbled a bit, but you were better off than her. She stopped all movement and to make sure the job was done, you ripped the sword through her, cutting her in half. 

 “MY SISTER!”,  Harper screeched and you looked up at her with your messy sword in hand. 

 “You want more from the Child of Ares?!” You claimed you hated trash talk and you especially hated being called his child but the adrenaline was really getting to you. “I have plenty to give!”. 

 She flew up higher and started to come down fast towards you. You readied your sword, prepared to end this but suddenly she stopped and started trembling. 

 “L-L-Lord Ares. I-”

 Before you could ask any questions and she could finish her sentence, you were being launched into the air. The scream you let out was embarrassing but it didn't matter in the end. You both collided and hit the wall and instead of being knocked out or injured like you thought you'd be, you were completely fine. Your sword went straight through her chest and pinned her to the wall behind her and you were hanging above the ground, grasping onto the hilt of your sword and hoping your hands wouldn’t start sweating. 

 “L-L-Lord Ares. I-”

 No. No way. It couldn’t be. But who else could’ve launched you in the air like that?

 You looked down and there he was. You don’t know why, but you expected him to look somewhat different. Maybe a new haircut or a new jacket. Maybe he’d try contacts, but no. He looked exactly the same. You didn’t know if you were comforted or unnerved by it.

 You wished you had something cool to say but all you said was “what are you doing here?”.

 “Saving your life”. Yeah right. You had everything 100% under control. He chuckled and you started to wonder if he could read your mind. When you screamed internally though, he didn’t flinch so that theory went out the window. Maybe you looked annoyed and didn’t know it. 

 “Are you gonna catch me?” You asked.

 “What for?”

 “Because you threw me all the way to the fifth floor and it’d be nice not to break something”

 “You need me to warm up milk up for you too?”.

 Fuck it. You’d risk the broken leg.

 You tightened your hands around the hilt and planted your feet on the wall then pushed off with all your might. Fortunately, you got the sword out the wall. Unfortunately, you were now falling from five floors up. 

 You braced for impact, but instead of falling and hitting the floor, you fell into someone’s arms. You looked up, thinking that maybe someone was with your father that you didn’t see before, but no. It was him. He caught you. Something you weren’t expecting but you weren’t against.

 You mumbled a thanks and stood on your feet. The year was 2006 when you last talked. It was early in 2008 and while that wasn’t that big of a gap, the talk you had last time made things more awkward. 

 “I thought you’re not allowed to interfere”

 He raised a brow at you as if saying “you care about rules now when you’ve been breaking them?”. Were you breaking them though? Sure you were encouraged to give offerings to your parent but you hadn’t been punished… yet. If it was so bad you wouldn’t be walking right now. And you doubted he paid enough attention to notice. He was probably relieved to have one less kid bothering him.

 Gods, you were a downer.

 “Are you gonna tell on me?” He asked.

 “If you hadn’t caught me”

 “And now?”

 “My lips are sealed”. You didn’t see his expression. You were too busy looking down at your shoes. A habit you hated you developed. It made you feel small. But you guessed demigods were supposed to be small in comparison to their parent. That’s why you showed them respect but they hardly returned the favor. 

 A moment of silence passed before he spoke up again.

 “You have money on you?”.

 Was he gonna rob you now? “Uh, yeah”.

 “You’re paying for dinner. Let’s go”

 He started walking away before you could even respond, and like a reflex you grabbed his arm to slow him down. “I can’t”.

 “Can’t?” He said so calmly it kinda scared you.

 “Yeah. I can’t. My uh…” you decided not to tell him the entire truth about staying with Percy and Sally. “My ride… mom. She���s coming to get me. You don’t want mom knowing you’re in town, right?”. 

 He looked you up and down and you tried your best to not seem nervous. You weren’t sure he believed you but he let it go for the night.

 You wished it stayed that way. That he’d just go back wherever he came from but instead he told you the name of a diner nearby and said to be there by noon tomorrow and that you were paying. 

 “Great. Thanks dad” you thought. “I always love our talks”.

~~

 The good thing about his random plan to go to a diner at noon was that you were allowed to clean yourself and sleep beforehand. The bad thing was that now you were sitting across from him and it was incredibly awkward. 

 Ares kept laughing at his phone and you debated on asking him what was so funny but he said “started a Twitter war about vaccination. It’s getting good”. You screamed in your head again, but once again he didn’t flinch. Maybe he just had a good poker face.

 “I’m happy for you?”. He glanced up at you and instead of going back to his phone, he set it face down on the table. You didn’t know if he seemed to glow because of the little war he started, or if a source of light was hitting him nicely. Maybe it was a god thing. 

 “You’re probably wondering why I’ve called you here”

 Was this an HR meeting? “I’m wondering why I’m paying”

 “Ask me”

 “You know I wanna know though so why am I asking?”

He didn’t respond. He just looked at you and you could hear his foot tapping on the floor.

 You rubbed your brow, already feeling a migraine coming on. You took a deep breath and let out a sarcastic response (which was not a good idea but your mouth worked faster than your brain). 

 “Ares, the amazing God of War. The Protector of Mistreated Women. Wearer of biker jackets. I come before you as your humble child, begging thee to tell me what required my summons and why you were at the mall last night. Please please please tell me. I’ll fall over and die if you don’t”.

 Sarcastic or not, he accepted it. He motioned towards the platter of burgers and fries, “this is your thank you. This is your offering to me since you haven’t been doing that”. 

 Well fuck. You didn’t think he’d notice. 

You leaned back in your seat and your fingers strummed against your knees and you had to remind yourself that running out probably wouldn’t end well.

 “You noticed?”

 “I did” he said simply. It reminded you of how emotionless he was the last time you talked. It reminded you of how frustrated you were that he talked as if nothing was wrong and as if your pain didn’t affect him. 

 “You demigods think you’re so smart. You have these big egos and think you’re ahead of us. You gave your offerings to Athena and Poseidon of all people ” he spat their names like it left a bitter taste in his mouth to mention them. 

 “And then you stay with that fish boy and his mom. Yeah. I saw that too. And I save your life and you don’t seem the least bit grateful”.

 Grateful.

 Something about that word you hated.

 Grateful? What was there to be grateful for? “Yeah dad, I’m super grateful my life consists of monsters trying to eat me and a dad I only see once in a blue moon. Totally grateful”.

 “We can’t interfere”

 “Didn’t stop you last night”

 He tsked, “I don’t get you. You complain about my absence then you complain when I’m here when I could be doing anything else!”. His voice rose but the people in the diner were either used to this or didn’t care enough to say anything.

 The nervousness and the fear rolled off you the more he spoke. Gratefulness? Doing anything else? You weren’t stopping him. 

 “Then go do those things. I’m not holding your hand and making you stay”. Your brain told you to shut up and apologize, but your mouth wasn’t having it. “And this isn’t about us and you know it. This is about you. This is about your ego being hurt. You don’t care about my safety. You didn’t go to the mall to protect me. You just love a fight and you were probably disappointed you couldn’t do more”

 “That’s what you think?” His eyes burned with something you couldn’t quite place. Anger obviously, but it seemed like something else was there. Or maybe there was literal fire in his eyes. Either way, it was clear he was upset and if you didn’t shut up soon, he’d probably turn you into a random animal.

 But who didn’t love animals?

 “That’s what I know. And I didn’t need your help. I was just fine. The only thing you would’ve missed if I somehow died was your little offerings. I don’t matter to you. Just admit it so we can move on”. Ares opened his mouth to say something, but you spoke again “and for your information Percy and Sally are very nice people. They feel more like family than you do”. 

 That shut up whatever he planned on saying. The last time you two talked you swore you saw an emotion cross his face. This time you were definitely sure you saw something cross his face before it went back to its default expression. 

 Was that regret? 

 No. That was stupid and you’ve had plenty of stupid thoughts. 

 It went silent. Weirdly, eerily silent. 

The diner wasn’t silent obviously but you two were.

You both were just staring at each other like statues. You wished you could read his mind. You hoped you would see thoughts of regret and sorrow and maybe hopefulness about your relationship going forward. You wished he had the same thoughts you had. Another stupid thought. Being hopeful didn’t work with him.

 For whatever reason, your mind wandered off to the late night talks you’d have with Sally and for whatever other reason, you started to speak.

 “Have you heard the song American Pie? Yes, it’s somewhat important to what I have to say. Yes or no only please”

 He looked bored and unamused but he answered anyway. “I don’t know. Maybe? Who cares?”.

 “There’s a line in the song that says this’ll be the day that I die. And for whatever reason it made me think about what I’d do if I were dying. If I woke up one day and I knew I was gonna die that day, what would I do? You wanna know what I realized?”

 He raised his brows for a second and leaned back in his chair. There was a possibility he was still bored but he seemed somewhat interested. “Shoot”.

 You smiled bitterly. Here he was so calm and fine and here you were, speaking slow and hoping your voice didn’t waver or crack. “I realized-” you failed. Your voice wobbled a bit and you cleared your throat a little too loud. “I realized I’d spend every second trying to make you love me”.

 You didn’t bother trying to read any expression he had next. You knew you’d always get it wrong and you’d imagine what you wanted to see. “And I uh… I don’t wanna be that way anymore”. You blinked rapidly, trying to prevent any tears from falling out. You didn’t have the rain to cover your face and blend in like you did last time. “And selfishly I hope that scares you”.

 “Gods don’t feel fear”

 “Well whatever you wanna call it I hope you feel it. I hope -and I’m gonna keep calling it fear- I hope you feel afraid for what that means for us”

 “Allow me to humor you for a bit” you felt as though the comment was supposed to be sarcastic but it didn’t sound sarcastic or aggressive. It was weirdly soft. “Why would you not wanting to spend your last day with me scare me?”

 “Because that means I won’t admire you anymore” you answered. “You don’t get it. You don’t get how much you mean to me. You don’t get how much I used to idolize you. Before I was claimed, I was already intrigued by you. Once I was claimed I read every single story that had to do with you. I was honored to be your child and tried to show you how honored I was everyday. I didn’t do all this for me. The training, bettering my Greek, learning everything I could about mythology. I didn’t do that for me. I did that so I would never shame your name and make you look like you raised incompetent idiots. The way I would defend your name and what you represent, you’d think I was being paid”

 “Me not admiring you anymore means I won’t care about defending you. It means I won’t care anymore about our family relationship. And I hope the idea of me calling you Ares instead of dad terrifies you. That emptiness or indifference I’ll feel when I hear your name… I know it hasn’t happened yet but thinking about it terrifies me too. Maybe I’m just selfish and don’t wanna be alone”. You used your sleeve to wipe at your wet face, a mix of embarrassment and relief for finally getting this out of you. “I could be right. I doubt it. I’m probably just making all that up but either way I need you to stop doing this. Seeing you at all, it gives me hope. I don’t want an enemy for life. I’m not Percy. But this is just gonna make this harder and if you hate me I am begging you to have mercy and leave me be. No visiting. I won’t come to see you when we do that little field trip either. I’ll stay at camp or I’ll go bother another god. Hermes is really nice. And if I break my end of the deal you can do whatever you want to me. Turn me into an ant, rearrange my fingers, throw me down a flight of stairs at full force, whatever”.

 There you went again making up shit. Swearing you saw something worse than sadness on his face; grief. That was impossible. Your eyes were just playing tricks on you like they always did. 

 You didn’t know what you wanted him to say, but you didn’t expect “you think, but you don’t know anything”.

 “Then tell me what I don’t know”. He didn’t say anything. He went silent and you were getting real tired of his silences. You sighed, “Sally’s been waiting outside so…”

 “Yeah…”. He let out a breath. Annoyance. Had to be. “You want this?” He asked.

 You were honest. “No” you said instantly. “No I don’t but this just seems like the best thing to do”. He didn’t argue with you. 

 Your hand went to reach inside your pocket for money but then he spoke again “keep it”.

 “It’s no problem-”.

 “Just keep it”.

 You nodded. 

 You stayed sitting down. Why was it so hard to stand? Why did your legs feel so wobbly and your throat so dry? Why did your chest feel like a huge weight was crushing it? Weren’t you supposed to feel the opposite? Free and lively? Feel like you could float?

 Another stupid thing escaped your lips. “Can you do me a favor?”.

 “Another one?” He asked lifelessly- no. He was not lifeless. He was happy. You were sure of it. You’d leave and he’d cheer because he wouldn’t have to deal with another kid anymore. You knew it.

 “It’s not a favor if you don’t wanna see me either”. Another bit of silence but you weren’t surprised. “Can we do that thing mortals do? You know, when they hug and say they love each other before they go their own way? Or maybe just the ‘I love you’ part”. He looked at you for a bit and you were about to apologize for making it weird and leave but Ares stood up. 

 You stood up.

 It’s strange how something you’ve never done before can feel so right. Like it was always meant to happen or always supposed to be this way. You weren’t necessarily cold and Ares wasn’t a heater, but the second he wrapped his arms around you and you did the same for him, you felt much warmer. Not a burden type of warmth. The kind of warmth that brings you relief on a freezing cold day. That crushing feeling stayed the same though.

 “I love you dad” you said and it fell out so naturally, you’d forgive anyone for thinking this was a normal occurrence. That the fight you had was just a small disagreement but otherwise you two had an amazing relationship.

 You didn’t know how the words “I love you too” would sound coming out of his mouth, but it sounded better than you hoped for. It once again sounded natural and genuine even if you knew it wasn’t. 

 You thought it wasn’t.

 No. You knew it wasn’t. This was no time for brain tricks and delusions. 

 Pulling apart was probably the hardest thing you had to do and your job was keeping Percy Jackson safe. That sudden coldness fell over you again and the crushing got worse.

 It didn’t get any better when you left. You didn’t have the guts to look at him one last time, afraid you’d call off your deal right then and there if you made eye contact with him. 

 Luckily Sally was an intelligent person. She was smart enough not to ask how it went. Even if she did, it’s not like you could answer with the huge lump in your throat. 

 “Do you want ice cream dear?”.

 You shrugged. There was that word again. Want. You didn’t know what you wanted anymore. You thought you did but it all felt wrong. There was no weight lifted off your shoulders and you didn’t feel light on your feet. You felt cold and hollow. The weight got worse and pushed down on you with so much force, you didn’t know it was even possible. 

 Then your eyes landed on his bike and it all came out. Your head fell into your hands and you let out sobs that were lodged deep in your chest. Your ears were ringing and you were sure you looked and sounded like the most pathetic person alive but you couldn’t care anymore. Sally, once again being an intelligent woman, took that as a sign it was time to go and pulled off. You assumed Sally would’ve dropped Percy off after you went inside. You assumed he wouldn’t wanna wait out here for you while you talked to one of the people that hated him the most. His hand patted your shoulder, notifying you that he was in the car still. Usually you’d make a joke and tell them that you were fine, but nothing came out but borderline hysterical sobs. 

 You grew jealous of Percy. He didn’t see Poseidon much but at least he knew deep down that Poseidon cared for him. Sometimes you’d get that feeling but you thought it was all a delusion. Fuck. Why did you keep doing that? You knew it was all a delusion. 

 That choice had to be the right one. It needed to be the right one.

 That didn’t stop this wave of agony from drowning you, and you’d fight a thousand harpies if it meant this feeling would go away.

Omg y’all I did it😭. I mixed two ideas someone suggested with my own ideas and here we are. I hope y’all like it even though a huge portion is me yapping but to be fair I didn’t realize until after I was done and summarizing all of that didn’t seem like it’d sound right, yk? There was definitely a way I could’ve done it but I’m stupid soooo… yeah. Anyway, OOC Ares but this is my angsty fantasy so I’m making him care about his kids. In my head the whole “I hate my own kids” is him trying to convince himself he doesn’t care for them so it’s easier to stay apart from them. Idk, maybe I’ll make a part 3 from his perspective and answer why he said he was saving their life. I make no promises tho. And I know I said it’s show Ares so skipping ahead doesn’t make sense but we know what’s gonna happen Taglist: @kyuupidwrites @chadmeeksmartinswifey @lebguardians @beansficreblogs (one asked to be tagged, one asked for more dad fics, then one commented plus reblogged and one reblogged, so although majority did not ask, imma just assume y’all would wanna see a part 2😀. We’re getting the band back together like this is Phineas and Ferb)

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [29] - Hemlock

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: Every artist has a different idea of inspiration.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, angst.

Word Count: 3400

Series Masterlist

Well, this had to be the infamous heartbreak all those artists and writers never shut up about.

And as far as you could tell, you hated it.

It was as if sadness had taken all the energy out of your body for the last couple of days. You hadn’t really seen Benedict since that fight at the breakfast, he had spent all his time either outside or in his studio and you had spent your time in your room or the library, mostly sulking.

“My lady?”

You opened your eyes and sat up in the bed as your maid walked inside. It was afternoon, you had taken your breakfast in your room and had curled up on the bed again with a book in your hand that you had no idea what was about.

“Yeah?” you croaked out and Paula offered you an apologetic smile before showing you the envelope she was holding, making your heart drop to your stomach.

“Who’s that from?” you asked, your voice shaky with fear and she checked the name.

“Lady Margery Sutton?”

The relief that filled your system was so sudden that it made your head spin before it was quickly replaced by confusion.

“For me?”

“Yes ma’am.”

You held out your hand so that she could give you the envelope, and you opened it to scan the lines.

“A dinner party tonight?” you muttered, trying to remember whether you had ever given a promise like that but you couldn’t quite figure it out. You frowned slightly and lowered the invitation, then looked up at her.

“Is Benedict home?”

“Yes ma’am, at his studio.”

You nibbled on your lip and thought for a moment, then pushed yourself off the bed and grabbed your dressing gown. You put it on and threw your shoulders back, then left your room to make your way down the hallway. Your heartbeat was so fast that you had to take a deep breath and scold yourself in your head before you reached the open door of his studio. For a second, you just let yourself take in his handsome form while he worked on the canvas, your heart clenching in your chest and you swallowed thickly, then knocked on the doorframe before you could change your mind.

His head whirled around immediately and a painful light flashed in his blue gaze as soon as his eyes fell on you, but it lasted less than a second before he pulled himself together.

“Yes?”

You blinked a couple of times and forced yourself to snap out of it, then held up the invitation in your hand.

“I didn’t mean to disturb,” you said drily. “But Margery sent a letter about a dinner party tonight and apparently we’re attending?”

He closed his eyes for a moment and let out a breath, running a hand over his face.

“I told her we would, before…” he trailed off and you raised your brows.

Oh.

The night of the party.

“Right,” you said. “Okay.”

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“It’d be rude,” you replied with a shrug of your shoulders. “It’s alright. At 8 she says?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

A silence fell upon the room and you licked your lips, then took a deep breath.

“Then should we—”

“We don’t really need to talk to each other,” he said calmly and your head shot up, that bitter taste appearing in your throat again before you nodded your head.

“Sure,” you said, your tone completely stoic. “Agreed. I was just going to ask whether we should still act all…you know. When we’re with other people.”

“Lovesick?” he suggested and you shrugged your shoulders again.

“Whatever it is.”

He scoffed a stiff chuckle.

“I don’t think it’s worth the effort at this point,” he said. “I mean I don’t really care what anyone else thinks, and I already know how you feel, so…The rest doesn’t matter anyway.”

You could feel the burning at the back of your eyes before you blinked fast a couple of times to stop the tears before they could reach your eyes.

“Uh huh,” you ended up saying, folding the paper just so that you could do something with your hands. “Yeah.”

“Did you want to?”

“No,” you said almost too fast. “No, it’s a relief to hear that we won’t do that anymore actually.”

A bitter smile curled his lips.

“I’m sure it is,” he rasped out and you cleared your throat, biting at your tongue to focus on anything other than that pang in your chest.

“Great,” you managed to say. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Alright,” he said, his gaze still on you. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” you muttered more to yourself before you turned around and walked away, your eyes still burning. You entered your room, scrunching up the invitation in your hand and Paula turned to you.

“Shall I pick a dress for tonight then?”

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, then smiled at her.

“That sounds good,” you rasped out. “Thank you.”

                                                *

The carriage ride to Lady Margery’s house was very quiet, but tense. Unlike the other times, this silence between you and Benedict didn’t possess any kind of peace, it just made you feel like you were about to walk on the edge of a sword throughout the night.

When you and Benedict walked in, most of the other guests were already there in the drawing room and Margery quickly made her way to you as soon as she saw you.

“Oh welcome!” she said, kissing you on the cheek before turning to smile at Benedict. “You’ve made it! Hello Benedict.”

“Hello Margery,” Benedict said, making you pull your brows together at the lack of honorifics but Margery didn’t seem to mind it at all, on the contrary it made her smile widen, making your heart skip a beat.

“We were just about to go to the dining room, almost everyone is here except Henry and Gordon,” she said. “But Lucy says they will probably be late. Anyway, Y/N you should’ve been at the party, you missed so much!”

You raised your brows and nodded.

“So I’ve heard,” you said. “Perhaps the next time.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” she said airily and turned to Benedict. “And how about you, Mr. Bridgerton? It took me a day to sober up for good, I’m guessing it took you a bit longer than that?”

Dear God, you couldn’t do this, not tonight.

You turned your head and thankfully caught the sight of Felix, so you cleared your throat.

“Excuse me,” you muttered and walked away from them to Felix who gave you a bright smile.

“Y/N!” he said. “It’s been a while.”

“Mm hm, you have been quite busy with my brother-in-law,” you joked half-heartedly and he looked down with a smile, then raised his glances.

“He’s amazing.”

“You only think that because you have never seen him hungry, I suppose,” you deadpanned, taking a look at the other couple in the drawing room and Felix glanced at you, then cleared his throat.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Is everything alright?”

“What?” you asked, turning to him. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “Nothing, it’s just—you’re glaring at people again.”

“I always glare at people, it’s a part of my charm.”

“Not lately—” he started but was cut off when you heard Lucy’s voice.

“Did you two have a fight?”

You looked over your shoulder, then turned to see her better. “Hello to you too, and what?”

“You and Benedict?”

“…What makes you say that?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat and she shrugged.

“You’re not near each other for once?”

“We don’t have to be in each other’s orbit all the time,” you said and Lucy and Felix exchanged glances.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Is this why you weren’t at the party?”

“Lucy…”

“What?” she asked, feigning innocence. “I’m curious by nature, you know that.”

“Everyone?” Margery called out. “Time for dinner, please follow me to the dining room.”

You, Felix and Lucy followed the only other couple to the dining room and when you entered the dining room to take your seat, Benedict pulled your chair for you. You offered him a small smile, then took your seat and he sat down next to you while the others took their seats.

As the footmen began to serve the soup, one of the guests –you recognized him as one of Benedict’s friends, Lord Thomas Bousfield– turned to Lucy.

“So when exactly can we expect the next party?”

“When I sober up for good,” Lucy replied with a laugh and Margery tilted her head.

“I know how you feel,” she said. “I might throw the next party Lord Bousfield, but only if you promise you will be a part of the art room.”

Oh, she could remember the honorifics just fine when it was other people then.

Lord Bousfield held up his hands. “No promises.”

“Oh come on!”

“You have your promising artist there,” Lord Bousfield motioned at Benedict. “Tell him instead of me.”

“I will make him, no worries,” Lucy said. “Or I’ll ask Henry to.”

“There is no need to make him, his inspiration sits right beside him,” Felix said and you and Benedict exchanged glances but before either of you could say anything, Henry entered the dining room.

“Our biggest apologies!” he said and went to kiss Margery’s hand as another man entered the room after him.

Ah, this had to be the infamous Lord Gordon Easton, Benedict’s hero in art.

He was older than Henry, judging by the grays in his hair and neatly trimmed beard, and handsome by anyone’s standards. He had an air of calm charisma that seemed to surround him and even you could tell he was aware of it, which made you think it probably came from the endless admiration of everyone around him.

An artist indeed.

His eyes fell on you and he raised his brows as if he was quite impressed, then he smiled at Benedict and made his way to Margery to kiss her hand as well.

“My lady,” he greeted her and Margery narrowed her eyes playfully.

“At last the guests of honor are here,” she said and motioned between them. “Which one of you should I blame then?”

“Me,” Henry said as he took his seat beside Lucy. “As much as I hate to admit, it was on me this time.”

“At least you’re honest,” Margery said with a chuckle and Lord Easton sat down as well.

“What did we miss?”

“Inspiration,” Lucy said and Henry grinned.

“Oh that’s impossible to miss, it’s everywhere.”

“Is it though?”

“It’s a cruel mistress,” Lord Easton said, “A fickle one too.”

“Hear hear,” the lady sitting beside Thomas said and he chuckled.

“As if inspiration is ever cruel to you Jane.”

“It has its moments,” she said with a smile while you sipped your drink. “And Felix?”

“I have no issues with inspiration, it’s my canvas that is cruel to me.”

“You will get there,” Lucy assured him. “It just takes time.”

“And patience,” Henry added. “Which is something you must learn, Felix.”

“I’m trying.”

“How about you Ben?” Lord Easton asked, “What does our promising young artist think?”

Benedict snapped out of his thoughts and cleared his throat.

“About what?” he asked and Margery let out a laugh.

“Are you alright Benedict?”

“Sure,” he said, taking a sip of his wine. “Zoned out for a moment. What are we talking about?”

“How hard it can be to capture the inspiration,” Henry said. “Do you think the same?”

Benedict shrugged his shoulders.

“Sort of,” he said. “I mean it is rather difficult to get inspiration when my life is perfect, so I just create issues for myself and make huge life decisions just to capture it, nothing more.”

You raised your brows, an irritated chuckle spilling from your lips as you dragged your tongue over your teeth, swirling the wine in your glass.

“Y/N disagrees,” Margery teased and you shook your head.

“Not at all,” you said before turning to see Benedict better. “A rather interesting idea, how did you come up with it?”

“I’ve had a good teacher,” Benedict stated, his blue gaze locking in yours and you could swear you could hear the crackles of lightning between you, tension almost palpable.

“Sounds like a brutally honest one,” you pointed out and Benedict tilted his head.

“Brutal yes, but honest?” he asked. “Debatable.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I don’t think honesty is up for debate, you are either honest or not.”

“Is everything alright between you two?” Henry asked while Lucy shook her head, and both you and Benedict turned to him.

“Sure.”

“Of course,” you said at the same time and you sipped your drink, ignoring the curiosity etched in Lord Easton’s face.

“Well then,” Margery raised her glass slightly. “To inspiration. May it be gentle with all the artists but especially the ones at this table.”

                                                *

After the dinner, you excused yourself to get some fresh air in the garden while Margery took everyone else to the art gallery at the first floor so that they could see the newest paintings she purchased from all over the world. The cool air on your face did nothing to soothe the slight headache making its way to your temples and you sat down in the gazebo, then leaned your head back, stealing a look at the flowers around you.

Of course Margery’s garden looked perfect.

Of course.

You heaved a sigh and leaned your head back, the moonlight falling on you. You fixed your gaze on the starry sky before you followed the familiar shape with your eyes, a scoff escaping from your lips.

Andromeda.

The footsteps coming closer made you turn your gaze back to the garden and you raised your brows as you saw the figure.

“Lord Easton.”

He offered you a small smile and bowed his head.

��Mrs. Bridgerton,” he greeted you back. “Benedict’s infamous beauty.”  

You arched a brow.

“I’m not anyone’s anything,” you corrected him and he nodded.

“My apologies,” he said. “May I join you, Mrs. Bridgerton?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why?”

“It’s not every day I’m in the presence of a muse.”

“You’re still not.”

“Oh I disagree,” he said. “I’ve met many people who want to be artists and I’ve also met many people who they saw as their muse, but you two? A promising artist with actual talent and a muse with intriguing beauty? That’s rarer than you’d think. Once in a blue moon, as one would say.”

If it were anyone else you would have thought he was just throwing you compliments, but somehow you knew he was not. Perhaps because of his matter-of-fact tone, perhaps because you knew he was widely successful and famous therefore he had no need for compliments to gain someone’s interest, but you just knew he was not interested in you in a traditional manner, in an affair or not.

There was intrigue in his eyes rather than desire.

He took out a cigarette to light it, and offered one to you but you shook your head.

“No thank you.”

“Of course,” he said and huffed out the smoke. “So how did he break your heart?”

Your head snapped up and you blinked a couple of times. “Pardon?”

“One cannot be an artist without observation as their second nature,” he said. “And observation is a part of inspiration as many artists throughout the history agree. So? How did he break your heart?”

Your jaw clenched, yet you kept your gaze on him in complete silence.

“I would ask how you broke his heart,” he said. “But I don’t think I will get an answer to that question.”

“And you think you will get an answer to the other one?” you asked back and he chuckled.

“Perhaps,” he said. “So how did he?”

You watched him in silence for a couple of seconds, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Lord Easton—”

“Gordon, please,” he told you, waving a hand in the air and you clicked your tongue.

“I’m not planning on getting that familiar with you,” you pointed out. “And I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No?”

“Not at all.”

“No heartbreak?”

“Impossible,” you stated. “I don’t have a heart.”

“Ah,” he said, then nodded. “I see.”

“You don’t sound convinced,” you said and he took a drag of his cigarette.

“Call it experience.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a hedonist?” you asked. “I remember Margery saying something along those lines.”

“I am,” he said. “But I’ve had my fair share of wounds of heart.”

You let out a small laugh. “Is that not an occupational hazard in your line of work?”

An amused smile curled his lips and he nodded.

“It is,” he said. “As it happens, it’s also an occupational hazard in Benedict’s line of work.”

That was enough to make any trace of a smile disappear from your face and you crossed your arms.

“Sounds like you should be talking to Benedict, not me,” you said. “You’re both artists after all.”

He paused for a moment.

“You know he will be a big name in the art world right?”

You nodded your head. “I’m heartless, not blind.”

He snorted a laugh. “I doubt you’re heartless, Mrs. Bridgerton.”

“Why?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“Because there’s a fire behind your eyes,” he said. “That you share with him. That one doesn’t come alive unless your heart is involved. Trust me, it takes a special kind of pain to lure it out.”

“And the cure?”

“The poison is the antidote.”

“Love?” you spat. “I’d rather not take the antidote then.”

He heaved a sigh.

“Judging by what I’ve seen just now at dinner?” he said. “I’d say it’s already in your system.”

You licked your lips, then shook your head.

“Nah,” you said. “It’s a trick.”

“Love?”

“Yeah, it’s yet another luxury only artists can afford to dwell on,” you pointed out. “Nothing more. It’s not my—it’s not my issue.”

“No?”

You shrugged your shoulders, your throat getting tighter.

“I never asked Benedict to love me,” you said as if daring him to disagree and he raised his brows.

“I see,” he said. “Did he ask you to love him then?”

You pulled back, swallowing thickly and he offered you a small smile, then stubbed his cigarette.

“Let me give you a secret, Mrs. Bridgerton,” he said. “One that no one around you ever told you. You two would have led much easier lives if you married other people.”

You pulled your brows together.

“What?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Odds are, you and he would have had a normal life, a couple of kids along the way and a tolerable companionship at best with others if you hadn’t met each other. Granted something was always going to be missing, but most people learn to look the other way whenever that realization dawns on them. But… dear God, you two married each other.”

You stared at him and he shook his head slightly.

“It is understandable why you’re fighting tooth and nail,” he said. “This kind of love is something else, and of course it terrifies you. The person who holds the key to your true happiness is the same person who can give you the worst pain you could ever imagine.”

You tried to ignore how badly your eyes were burning.

“And that’s what all artists crave?” you asked. “I thought it was supposed to be soft and pleasant.”

He shot you a knowing smile.

“Show me one artist who claimed love is soft and pleasant.”

You frowned at him in silence, trying to wrap your head around what he said.

“You still think the storm and the shelter are separate things here,” he said and stood up. “They’re not. Benedict knows it, and that’s why it will be much easier for him than it will be for you.”

You blinked back the tears as he bowed his head slightly.

“Good luck, Mrs. Bridgerton,” he said. “Muse or not, I’d say you’re going to need it.”

With that, he walked away from you, leaving you there alone. You clenched your teeth and blinked back the tears, then let out a shaky breath.

“Yeah,” you muttered. “I’m going to need it for sure.”

Chapter 30

[pandoa]

the henchman: a grimmer tale

where another overblot strikes night raven college, and the prefect is prepared to face the dark magic alongside both grim and their friends to save the day yet again. but... where was grim to begin with?

part two/prologue to this fic in grim's pov !! can be read separately grim x platonic!gender neutral reader

warnings: angst ~based off of the theory that grim eventually overblot and mc will be forced to fight him~

“Grim?” You called out into the empty hallways of your school, searching for your cat-like friend among the deserted classrooms of Night Raven. Through the windows of the college, you sensed that another event of chaos was brewing from the way the sky seemed to darken in black, foreboding smog as students from all over the campus began quickly making their escape from whatever discord that struck the premises of the school. 

Another overblot? The thought crossed your mind as you continued searching for Grim after being unsuccessful with finding him in his usual napping spot back at Ramshackle. Really, the thought of another overblot cursing Night Raven was not a surprising one. For something that was known to be a rare occurrence in a mage’s life, it was awfully common in the school you had happened to stumble upon after being taken away from your life back in your own world. Truthfully, all you wanted to do was to find your dear friend Grim and get this overblot over with.

But since when did things ever go your way in Twisted Wonderland in the first place?

“Grim?” You called out again, this time a little louder, until you spotted the familiar silhouettes of your four friends—Ace, Deuce, Jack, and Epel—approaching you in their usual group. Relief flooded over your senses as you hurried to meet them halfway, a thankful look to your face before you spoke. 

“Hey, have you guys seen Grim anywhere? Maybe somewhere near Ramshackle? I have to go get him before we go out to deal with that overblot again-”

“(Y/n),” Jack’s voice called out your name, his tone stern with a cold warning surrounding it, “Grim is the one who is overblotting. You won’t find him back at Ramshackle.”

You stopped in your own tracks as you turned to your friends. The slight shake in your voice was enough to make a few of them shift in regret. “W…what?” you managed to choke out.

Jack continued with his cold, direct tone, leaving you with no room to truly process what was actually happening, “We don’t know how it happened or what triggered him, but all we know is that Grim is overblotting right now as we speak. You do not want to see the state he’s in right now, not with everything you’ve been through together. It’s not safe either. Even the strongest mage in Twisted Wonderland would have trouble overcoming the blot in Grim.”

“It’s too dangerous to be out there, (Y/n),” Epel explained softly after Jack as he carefully walked closer to you. It was almost as if he was so scared that you would run away from them if he made any impulsive movements. The purple-haired first year then continued to speak while placing a sympathetic hand to your wrist, a gentle tug urging you to turn away from the havoc around you.

“Crowley sent us here to make sure you didn’t try to face Grim…” 

Epel and the rest of your first year friends all watched as your expression turned into one of bafflement at each of their actions. There was no way they were telling you to do what you think they wanted you to do. Grim was their friend too. They cared for him. They loved him as much as you did—or that’s what you always thought. There was no way they would just leave him to destroy himself in flames and dark, oozing blot…

No way.

“And you all were just going to what? Stop me from saving my best friend?” you spat as your eyes twitched in disbelief.

“...It was Crowley’s orders.”

The downcast gaze of each and every one of your friends sent a flurry of rage and anger through your veins. That answer was not enough. Not enough to turn your gaze away from your feline friend who absolutely needed you right now.

“To hell with what Crowley orders us to do!” A yell was heard from your form as you roughly yanked your wrist out of Epel’s grip, twisting to turn your attention back to Ace, Deuce, and Jack as well. 

“I don’t see him helping anytime soon!”

Ace interjected your outburst, clearly trying to at least reason with you. But nothing Ace or anyone else said to you would change your mind. That, you were sure of. “(Y/n), you know we would usually be on your side on this. But this time Grim’s overblot is just too danger-”

“It’s because it’s Grim out there that I have to help now!” You interrupted him back with a strain to your voice as you bit back a crack in your throat. A certain type of vulnerability no one had ever seen from you. Not until now. “He’s the only family I have left to hang on to!” 

“What do you guys not understand?!” 

You continued to shout as the group of first years noticed the small shaking of your hands. “(Y/n)... You know you can’t save everyone…”

… What?

A sharp pang then struck your stomach at those words as your expression contorted and ached into despair. Confusion filled the trembling of your form, the world around you suddenly going silent and suffocating. At that moment, everything surrounding you made you feel as if there were boulders being mounted onto your back as you stared into the grueling eyes of your friends in front of you, their gaze piercing and scrutinizing.

Why were they looking at you that way?

You’d never seen their expressions look so… distraught. Like they were lost and had no idea of what to do next. Even after everything you all had been through together—from dangerous spells, estranged housewardens, and random magical adventures—you still had never seen the faces of Ace, Deuce, Jack, and Epel appear so conflicted. So desolate. They were almost unrecognizable.

“Do you guys really think we should just let him suffer out there alone?” You glance up once more, ignoring their expressions as your voice softened. A sliver of pain was entwined in the way you could barely even bring yourself to finish your sentence.

“Ace? Jack? Epel?” You asked each and every one of them one by one, causing the young men to stand in silence as if even they, themselves, were ashamed of their own actions. A sigh then escaped your mouth at their reluctance to answer. 

“Even you, Deuce..?” You faced him, hoping that at least one of your first year friends would be on your side. But with the way Deuce just stood there, stance unwavering, you realized that for the first time since you met the people of Twisted Wonderland, you were inherently alone.

The deafening silence lasted for what felt like days until you managed to free your legs from the ground to begin slowly walking away, leaving all four of your friends to drown in their own thoughts. They clearly made their choice. And you would make yours. “I… I have to go,” you mumbled as you gradually turned running towards the shaking halls of Night Raven College. The first years remained rooted to the floors of the school as they wordlessly watched you flee, their expressions filled with worry and shame.

A sigh was then heard from Ace as he interrupted whatever thoughts were swirling through everyone’s minds. Walking the same path you had just been on, Ace then dragged Deuce with him as the two followed you into the trembling hallways surrounding you all after attempting to reassure Epel and Jack that they would handle this.

“We’ll go talk to them…” the two promised as they tried to catch up to wherever you had gone…

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

“(Y/n)!” Ace’s voice rang in the flaming room, catching a certain prefect’s attention.

“What in Twisted Wonderland are you doing?!”

You turned to face your two friends, Ace and Deuce, with a petrified but unwavering look present in your eyes. Grim was out of control and if Crowley refused to help you for the thousandth time, someone had to stop him. 

Even a mere human with no magical abilities such as yourself would have to do.

“I’m saving Grim!” you replied back.

The Adeuce duo glanced at one another, concern for their friend clearly shown in their facial expressions.

“Saving him?! (Y/n), you’re insane if you think you can stop this!” 

Deuce added on to Ace’s chiding, his tone a bit softer as he gazed at the prefect, “(Y/n), there’s a big chance you won’t survive...”

You sighed, sorrow woven in the next words you said.

“Then I suppose I’m taking that risk. For Grim.” Screeching roars that could destroy one’s hearing enveloped the mirror chambers as the magicless freshman faced their beloved cat companion and friend.

You couldn’t comprehend why your friends tried to stop you. All you had wanted was for Grim to come home. Was that such a difficult thing to understand?

Tears began to threaten your eyes as you made your way towards what was left of the quickly disintegrating Night Raven mirror chambers as you left Ace and Deuce’s unreadable faces behind you. A combination of ashes, dust, and wet tears stung both of your eyes as you practically sprinted towards the raging chaos.

Blue flames mockingly danced around you as the heat radiated onto your sweltering skin. But despite the inevitable obstacles, you remained determined to bring your friend back to you as you took a deep breath, whispering your final string of hope into the smoke-filled air.

“Grim… please just come home… Please.”

a/n: alexa play i bet on losing dogs by mitski

[yandere-genji]

Do you plan on writing for Ramattra cause I have a lot of thoughts

my first full ramattra piece, i hope you enjoy!!

nsfw

TW: dubcon, yandere

contains: kidnapping, blood, injuries, fingering, human pet, mentions of reading being young and pretty, mention of doomfist/reader

reader is gender neutral

Drones whirled above your head, obliterating everything in sight. You kept yourself hidden amongst the rubble and searched for any sort of sanctuary. Most structures in the town square had been dusted by now, mounds of debris and glass in their stead. Running behind whatever cover you could find, you were fortunate enough to find a storefront still standing. The hum of lasers harmonized with the cries of warriors and civilians alike and you sprinted through the street. As noise began to taper off in the opposite direction of the little building, you could feel your heart pounding with you feet as you ran to safety.  

Once inside, your hands shook frantically and you tried to force your nerves to calm. It was no use, nothing could relieve you from the horrors you had just witnessed. Without thought, you wrap your arms around yourself and collapse to your knees. At any moment, omnic forces could come barging through the broken glass windows of the store front and wipe away your very life. But you couldn’t fight, couldn’t do anything but sink into yourself and try to process the carnage you had just witnessed. 

You shuffled yourself behind the cashier’s counter. that. Coins still littered the counter top. What had happened to the people in this shop once the omnic forces fell upon the city? Were they just far enough from the locus of the attack that they were able to escape? Or were they shot down by the drones that you witnessed kill so many others? 

You remember how quickly tensions rose in the city once Null Sector declared they would incite their war on cities like yours. Next to Kings Row, yours was among the highest rated in anti-omnic attitudes. You had seen it, too, especially before the attack. People openly mocked the threats from the Null Sector. Omnics, they can only follow orders, how would they be able to win any fight against humans? You heard from a far away discussion amongst your coworkers. Omnics would never be able to gain the upper hand, that was the general opinion. Whatever empty threats Null Sector was spewing was all bark and no bite. Omnics were far too passive to make a move. 

You were raised alongside omnics your whole life and had received nothing but kindness from them. Really, you had seen no difference from them to yourself and never quite understood the stigmatization. In fact, most were more sensible than the humans you knew. Sure, your family had tried to explain to you that omnics can’t really be compared to humans, and they were nothing but a liability - rogue computer programs. But you didn’t feel that way. The only thing their rhetoric had done was open your eyes to how desperate humans were to claim superiority over others. 

A part of you thought maybe you were getting what was coming to you. For being complacent in a society that profits from the suffering of others. You were always too scared to interfere when insults or fists were thrown to those poor omnics who would cross the line in any way, dare to question societal norms. You were no better as a bystander than the bullies you admonished in your mind but were too cowardly to confront. 

“What a pitiful little city,” your thoughts were interrupted by a metallic voice, “It brings me great pleasure to bring them to their knees.”

They were inside. To your right. Blocking the door. 

“And with Talon by your side, you will be able to dust much more impressive cities than this,” another metallic male voice responds, “This is just a taste.”

You were surprised the pounding of your heart didn’t give away your position to the omnics just behind the counter. Metal scrapped against the linoleum floor as they walked past you, farther into the shop. 

“I have grown so tired of waiting, brother,” the first omnic spoke, voice a bit deeper than the other, “To see these plans come into action…it moves me.”

He seemed to be droning into some monologue that dissipated as they continued into the shop, the opposite direction of the very exit you were scanning for. Carefully, you shuffled onto the floor trying to be as quiet as possible. Thankfully, their footsteps echoed louder than the fabric of your clothes against the floor. The door was right there, right in front of you.

But maybe you were too eager and grew louder the closer you were to freedom. Or perhaps you were just unlucky, and the omnics decided to turn around at the worst time. But you were caught, cold hands clawed into your skin as you were pulled up into the air by your ankles. You yelped, weeped, and writhed under his hand. 

“Ha! And what have we here! Another bug to squash. Look at how you wiggle like a worm,” he was enjoying this, you were going to die at the hands of a killer.

Though you wanted to plead your case, your words were choked by your sobs. It seemed to amuse him even more, his laughter was like nails on a chalkboard with the way it pierced your ears. Fresh, warm blood tickled your legs as it streamed down from the hands gripping you. You heard the male omnic beside him scoff in disgust. 

“Please, Ramattra, I prefer to keep out of the dirty work,” you look over to him and he seemed like just the type. Dressed to the nines in all black that matched the glossy black metal of his hair. 

“Another obstacle in our path to freedom, brother,” he lifted you higher in the air and your eyesight lined up with his wide chest, “what shall we do with a pest like you?”

“Let the damn thing go,” the other omnic spoke, “It’s just a human, and a young one at that. We have more important matters to attend to.”

“No,” Ramattra spoke, his tone dark with intent, “This human would show us no such mercy if they were in our position. No matter how innocent or young they may seem, I know their cruelty. They’re nothing short of beasts with insatiable appetites.”

“Please,” you managed to whimper, “Please…I wouldn’t hurt you, ever. I just want to go home…”

Your pleas hiccuped back into sobs. You must’ve looked a mess, tears running down your forehead onto tiled floor. Your face as red as the blood that trailed down your leg. Whoever Ramattra was, he was not going to be your saving grace. The other omnic, however, might be the one to let you free. Even if only because of the fact he didn’t want to get himself dirty with your blood.  

“Ugh, pathetic little thing. A pleasant appearance, though. I can always use an extra pet for Akande. He’s always looking for another toy to play with, it seems,” he was eyeing you, now. You didn’t like the way his eyes roamed your body like he was inspecting you. 

“He would treat it too well,” Ramattra began, “A human from this degenerate city should be treated just as harshly as they would treat an omnic.”

“Trust me, it is not pleasant what Akande does to his concubines,” he chuckled to himself and your eyes widen in fear. Whatever fate you were going to get out of this encounter would be nothing short of agonizing. These omnics were treating you worse than a dog, debating whether or not you were worth keeping alive. 

“I want it sedated. Then we will decide what to do with it,” Ramattra demanded as he dropped you to the ground, “If you obey, I may spare your life.”

You froze, leg pulsing and burning with pain around your newly freed ankle. The wound was open and blood pooled around you. Your mind went dizzy, everything was fuzzy. You felt drunk, your pulse quickened. This was it, you tried to focus on anything around you, tried to get a vision of the world around you before you bleed out. Nothing could come into view, but you could hear the omnics discuss something among themselves. You heard the hum of their voices, growing fainter and fainter as the world went black. 

———

When you regained consciousness, you eyes seemed to be sealed shut. But the stinging in your ankle kept you awake, you wouldn’t be able to go to sleep with the  pulsating pain from your calves to the rest of your body. It was dark, wherever you were, and smelled like rust. Computer monitors and holo-images illuminated the room in a dim glow. You could heard the familiar sound of metal against metal behind you. 

“Awake, are we?” Ramattra’s voice startled you and you jumped, “You may consider yourself lucky, human. But let me assure you, you’re anything but.”

Before you could react, his face met yours, his cold metal grazing over your warm flesh, fog forming on his forehead where you met. He looked like the visage of death himself, white as a skull with beads of glowing red. You stared into the dark slits of his eyes, mouth agape and mind running with ideas of how to escape the situation you’ve just found yourself in. 

“Nothing to say?” you could feel his hatred through his gaze, like he wanted you to burst into flames. 

You lips shutter when you spoke, “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t know what for, but it was all you could think to say. You felt more sorry for yourself in that moment than anything else. Sorry that you had been born and raised in the wrong place at the wrong time, sorry you didn’t die with the city you left behind, sorry you got yourself into this mess. 

Ramattra growled in response, “You will be.” 

Hands like steel gripped your throat, slammed you down onto the floor. Your cheek hit the ground and you could feel a crack in your nose before it began to bleed. Again, he threw you against the floor as if for good measure and you coughed out a groan. 

“Your people have tormented mine for far too long,” he dragged you by the neck and pinned you against the wall, legs dangling in the air, “I’ll make sure you get your comeuppance.”

You coughed, blood spraying from your nose and onto the rags around his neck, “I’m sorry.”

He slammed you against the wall again and you felt the back of your head ring in pain, “You think that will save you? Begging for forgiveness?”

He freed you from his grip and you fell to the floor, hands reaching up the feel the mark across your throat. You could feel the skin already swelling. It was going to leave a nasty bruise. For a moment, you were able to catch your breath, but it didn’t last long before a swift kick to your stomach had you gasping for air. 

“Go on then. Beg.”

“Wha-?” the moment you hesitate, you’re met with a fist to the face that knocks you back down, “Please, please, I’m so sorry.”

“Louder,” he almost sings when he speaks, lifting a clawed foot over your torso and threatening to put weight on it.

“I’m sorry!” you’re shouting now, as much as you can muster through the blood, saliva, and tears, “Please, I don’t want to hurt anyone. I never meant to hurt any-“

He pulls you up by the collar and onto your knees while looking down at you, staring at the mess you’ve become, “You humans are all the same. You spin the same tale, always the innocent victims of the world around you, right? Oh, you poor thing. How mistreated you are.”

You fall to the floor, unable to lift yourself up when Ramattra lets go of you. You’re tired, what little fight you had at the beginning of this encounter was completely drained. But it seemed like Ramattra still had a lesson to teach you as he dragged your limp body across the room, onto what looked like some sort of examination table. 

It’s the softest thing you’ve felt since you woke up, a welcome sensation as you lean against the firm cushion. You lift a hand over your injured side, right where Ramattra had struck you. You couldn’t tell if you had been sweating profusely or bleeding again. All of the pain was beginning to overwhelm you. 

“If I could, I would’ve stopped it,” you began, thinking out loud, “I don’t know why they do it, I never understood why but I couldn’t stop it.”

“What on Earth are you talking about?” Ramattra scoffed, hand firmly holding your calf just above the injured ankle, “Speaking as if you’re the victim in all of this. You’re only in pain because of the pain you’ve caused.”

“You’re right,” you concede, wincing when your ankle stung alive again, “I’m no better than anyone else. I should’ve stopped them. No one deserves that…”

You believed what you were saying, it was a deep insecurity that lived inside of you for a long time. Your cross to bare, the guilt of watching it all happen and doing nothing. But in this moment, that internal struggle was manifesting itself. The justice that those suffered omnics so rightfully deserved was now your burden. 

“My brothers that were bound by the ways of your city - your people - have now been freed. They celebrate now in the rubble of what you once called home. All shattered to pieces to be rebuilt in the name of our liberation,” he spoke to you with great pride in his voice, spoke more to himself than anyone else, “The world as you know it will cease to exist, I will see to that myself. As for you…”

He looked down at you. Really looked down at you. Like when you look to wipe gum off the bottom of your shoe. Something to rid oneself of, that’s what you were in his eyes. If you had made it this far, maybe he had some sort of plan for you. 

“I hope you’re right,” you say just above a whisper, fearful to misspeak, “Where I’m from…that’s not the way it should be. And I’m just a coward that was too scared to say anything about it.”

“That much is certain,” his voice soften, “You still are a coward. Letting me do to you as I please without an ounce of protest. Most would try to fight or flee, yet you don’t. There must not be a single thought in that pretty head of yours.”

Pretty? You’re confused, heat rose on your cheeks as you registered what he said. Though it was an insult thrown to you by your captor, the word itself wasn’t one you were used to hearing. You couldn’t help but feel flattered, however inappropriate at the time. 

“I’m sorry,” feels like you were always going to be sorry as long as you were here, “There must be some way I can reconcile with all the pain that I’ve caused besides…this…”

You gesture to your injured body and you could see the way Ramattra obliged you. His eyes trailing over your injuries, observing the marks he had made. He was slow and silent, deliberating over your words, hopefully thinking of some way to honor your request. 

“What a hopeless soul you are. Need me to tell you how to repent, need me to make you realize the wrong that you’ve done, to knock some sense into you. Still, you have the nerve to ask me my command,” his words were harsh but his voice was almost jovial, “I see you’re the type of human to be kept as a pet.”

He seemed to be enjoying this, judging by the tone of his voice. Just as he enjoyed digging his fingers into your ankle when he had first caught you. Something about seeing you hopeless appealed to him. If that’s the case, you might as well try to lean into it. 

“A pet? What do you mean?” you play along, furrow your eyebrows and put on a breathy voice. 

“Curious, are you?” his voice lowers, silky smooth yet metallic, “Yes, plenty of talon members have their own human pets. Nipping at their heels endlessly, at the beck and call of those who own them. I suppose it’s a fitting punishment for someone like you.”

It seemed to be working, but the direction of this conversation was anything but in your favor. Though it was probably a marginally better punishment than death by Ramattra’s beatings. And Talon…it sounded familiar but you honestly had no clue what he was talking about. Some sort of Null Sector faction or something? 

“What sort of work is involved as a…” you pause for a moment, it was difficult to formulate the words the more real the discussion was becoming, “human pet?”

He chuckled lowly in response, takes a moment to think before answering, “One might think to say comfort, but the word sounds far too optimistic. I imagine stress relief would be a more suitable term.”

“I’m not sure I understand…” but you do, just don’t want to admit it.

“Good lord, you really are dull,” he brought a hand to your side, “Do you need me to demonstrate it for you?”

It’s not a question and you’re given no time to respond when he pulled himself onto the examination table. His body loomed over you, his shadow casting everything in darkness. You swallowed, thickly and muscles tensed. He hooked his fingers onto the waistband of your pants, pulling them off. The cold air left goosebumps on your exposed thighs and you began to panic. There was that fight in you he was talking about. But before you could wiggle your way out from under him, another arm - massive, purple - pinned you down by the throat. Then another just like that one pinned your right wrist, then your left. 

He makes quick work in removing your underwear and pulling them with your pants down to your ankles. You were completely exposed, body shaking and breathing becoming increasingly more difficult. He hums, warm and curious, like he had never seen something quite like what he was seeing now. You feel a glossy, slick finger rubbing the inside of your thigh. It’s cold and you flinch at the touch and you hear a small oh. It seemed like he was experimenting with you, observing the limits of the human body. 

That same glossy finger stretched the entrance of your hole, you can’t help the whimper that escaped your lips. It burned, fire building higher and higher the deeper he pushed inside of you. It was worse when he pulled back, the emptiness making you need something to fill it but wanting anything but to feel that burning sensation. He brought another finger inside, and it felt impossibly tight. If he were human, the pressure might’ve suffocated his skin. But the tightness wasn’t an issue as he kept pumping in and out of you. 

The sensation started as painful as the burning soreness on your throat, but the more adjusted your body had become, the less painful it was. Your whimpers began to die down, becoming breathy sighs. It seems that wasn’t enough for Ramattra because he curled his fingers up into you and elicited a scream, both in pleasure and in pain. It felt good, he hit somewhere deep inside of you that you hadn’t reached before. 

“Like that, did you?” his tone was different than ever before. It was playful, like speaking to a dog. A pet. 

You breath comes out in a stutter, trying to recover from that sudden feeling. It hits you again, making your eyelids flutter. He curled into you deeper, and then began to scissor his fingers into you. You could feel a knot forming in your core and shamefully your hips followed the motion of his fingers. The last place in the world you wanted to be fingered until you were a drooling mess would be in some omnic’s lair, but fuck did it feel good having Ramattra’s cool, slick metal fingers pumping in and out of you. 

“Please,” you whine, “I’m so close…”

“Are you?” he spreads his fingers inside of you again, stretching you and you pray for something to fill the emptiness, “Good.”

He stops, pulls out of you and the air feels so much colder. Your hips roll instinctually, searching for some sort of friction to get you off, but you don’t find any. Left high and dry, desperate. Ramattra’s large, purple hands keep you in place but he lifts his body off of the table. But your body craves for him, for the release that only he can give you. 

“Please!” you almost scream it, and your cheeks become red with shame. You didn’t even recognize your voice. But Ramattra wasn’t impressed, even his larger hands left your body. 

“That’s enough satisfaction for you today,” he pulled you by the wrist off of the table, clothes still pooled around your ankles, “You haven’t earned the right, understand?”

Your mind was so pliable in that instance, you would say anything that might get his fingers back into you, “Yes.”

“Yes, master.”

“Yes, master.”

“Good,” he walks toward you and for a moment you think your plan must’ve worked, “Now, put your clothes back on, pet.”

You do as you’re told, disappointed at the command. Your mind sobers up a bit and you’re starting to realize what’s really happening. This image that Ramattra had for you to be his comfort slave. Then you remember the sensation you had felt just moments ago. A part of you was eager to enter into this arrangement but the other part of you that could still feel the stinging in your ankle, the dried blood on your skin, was not. 

“Does that gives you a further understanding of what your purpose is?” his voice interrupts your thoughts. 

“Yes, master.”

“That’s right,” his hand cups your face, squeezes your cheeks, “You are a toy and I will use you as I please.”

You didn’t even know where you were. Your home was destroyed, presumably with everyone that you knew. Could you be considered a prisoner or war? As far as anyone knew, you were dead with the rest of them. There was nowhere for you to go. No one was going to save you. The only option you had now was to pray for the mercy of your captor and buy yourself enough time to escape in one piece. 

“Yes, master.”

[woniechronicles]

RA

type: smut with afab reader, not gender specific

includes: penetration, squirting, mirror sex, semi-public (?) sex, choking, hair pulling, soft dom! jungwon, slight overstimulation, raw (wrap before you tap), spanking (kinda), aggressive/rough (consensual), pet name (slut), edging, creampie - i think that’s it

word count: 1.1k

a/n: my first enha smut! please be nice to me lmao

one thumb in your mouth as his other hand squeezed around your throat, your breath shortening every few seconds as he would loosen up his grip teasingly. drool escaped the sides of your mouth, moving down your chin to your jawline and slithering down your chest. the sight of you in the mirror caused the corner of jungwon’s lips to turn into a smirk, his ego increasing with each stifled moan that left your mouth. he knew he was the only person who could make you feel this good, the only person who could make you get on his knees and open wide; and you knew that too, all too well.

whenever you so much as tried to turn away, there was his free hand cupping your cheeks to force you to face straight ahead. “look in the mirror,” he growled, his lips grazing the tip of your ear. “look how pretty of a slut you are for me.” followed by a slap to your ass, earning a choked out yelp from you.

the feeling of your tongue swirling around his thumb made his mind hazy, getting flashbacks from when you would give him head in his dorm room. when you would come over just because you missed him filling up any of your holes, and as your RA how could he ever say no? especially to someone like you. after a long week of midterms, a party was just what he needed to release all of his stress. he just never imagined being gone from it the whole night to please you but, again, who is he to complain?

upon seeing how attractive your RA was at the beginning of your semester, you just knew you had to get with him somehow. but being quite reserved and not good at meeting new people, you weren’t sure about the first steps. but to your surprise, you didn’t have to do much to catch his attention. at the first meeting when he had to introduce himself to everyone in his assigned dorm hall, you would catch him looking directly at you with his small dimples making your heart flutter.

it wasn’t until one late night when you came back to the dorms after a late night class that you both finally spoke- a month after your first meeting. just as you were walking down the hall in your pajama shorts and oversized graphic tee, freshly washed and wet hair, did you see jungwon say goodnight to a crying student who was thanking jungwon for listening to her troubles. the sight made you think: wow, this jungwon guy is really sweet and caring. followed by, yet again, another heart flutter. you just watched the girl scurry down the hall in the opposite direction and turn the corner.

and truth be told: you weren’t wrong about jungwon at all. he was sweet and very caring, and he always made sure you and everyone else in his dorm hall were taken care of (especially you). but when it came to late nights in his solo dorm room, late night drives down to five guys, or even once in the janitor's closet on the third floor, he was someone else entirely. you never expected this embodiment of a sweetheart to be so consensually rough with you, marking up any part of your body where only he would be able to see. or sometimes on your neck or collarbone so he could pass by when your friends were asking so who did you have over last night? knowing damn well it was only him you had eyes for.

jungwon knew your body well at this point, he knew when you were almost there but not quite yet. wanting to fasten the pace, he brought his hand from your mouth to your clit. the warm sensation of your saliva dripping from his thumb to your nub made you gasp out in pleasure, earning a squeeze from the hand still wrapped around your throat as his hips crashed deeper into yours from behind. your moans became faster and higher in pitch, signaling a close release. as you clenched around jungwon, you felt the familiar sensation at the bottom of your stomach.

“i’m so close.” you spoke when he loosened his grip again, meeting his eyes in the mirror. they were dark, full of lust- not an ounce of innocence was seen like the one you had witnessed for the first time months ago.

“not yet.” his voice was deep as he trailed kisses on your neck, his fingers picking up the pace on your clit as the other moved from your throat to cup your right breast. “hold on a little longer for me.”

a deep groan vibrated against your neck, making you clench around him once more. jungwon was so close, too. but for some reason your moans were still so quiet, too quiet for his liking. “whyre you so quiet, baby? don’t want everyone to know who’s fucking you right?”

you shook your head slightly, letting out a little louder moan before responding “i don’t, want to, get caught.” the pauses between your words signaled you were trying your hardest to hold back your orgasm- and all for him, too.

jungwon pounded into you harder as his fingers continued their movements on your clit, his moans pouring out of him like a waterfall. “let everyone know who’s making you feel so good. don’t be shy, baby- fuck.”

the last word was nearly yelled as he felt you release onto him, your juices squirting all over his carpeted floor and dripping down his leg. just as you released, he did as well. his hot seed hit you in all the right places, causing a shiver to run down your spine and the overwhelming pleasure to make your mind fuzzy for a few moments. it wasn’t until you felt jungwon start pulling out of you that you had a realization.

big widened eyes, you turn around wobbling to face your friends with benefits. “i didn’t come when you told me to-“

you were shut up with a quick kiss, jungwon smiling against your lips as he felt your saliva still at the corner of your lips. pulling away, he slides his hand down your hips and stops at your inner thigh. “it’s okay, you can make it up to me next time.” he looks down to see you dripping with his cum, catching some on his fingers and pushing it back inside of you- earning a quiet moan.

smirking, you grab the back of his head and crash his lips on yours unexpectedly. the way his lips synced with yours so perfectly drove you crazy; you could never get enough of them and his taste. you just hoped that he stayed your RA for the rest of your college years, because this? you could never get sick of.

[honkceasar]

PT. 2 OF WEIRDLY SPECIFIC PRIME DEFENDERS HEADCANONS I HAVE!!! ENJOY!!!!!

-William trans guy real!!!

He went on T during the timeskip after season one and totally forgot to tell Dakota about it when he came back. Then, upon realizing kota didn’t know, he tried to gaslight him into believing he always had a deep voice before eventually telling him

Dakota also just like,,, refuses to believe pre-transition William is the same person. Will showed him a picture of him when he was little one time and Dakota just said nuh uh that’s not you repeatedly (this one I’m absolutely projecting my friends do this to me all the time)

-Fuck it enby Vyncent canon too

Maybe gender works a little different in Vyncent’s world so there isn’t really a binary established like in prime. So he like,,, wouldn’t really be considered trans in his homeworld but is considered trans in prime. It’s all very confusing and dudes a superhero so he has bigger things to worry about. Bro is not about to unpack all that

-The gang all cuddle pile for sure. William always in the middle cause he’s cold. Dakota just kind of lays out flat and expects someone to crush him. Ashe isn’t really a fan of it but he’s joined in a couple times. They did it once while Mark was around and he was,, Deeply confused

-Dakota is flexible in an athlete way. William is flexible in a hypermobile way. Vyncent can’t even touch his toes

-Ashe maladaptive daydreamer real not fake they literally stay in the house all day listening to music what else is she gonna do?? NOT daydream uncontrollably???? I’m not fucking projecting shut up shut up shut up

-I could see Vyncent liking boxing

Dakota considered getting into it with him until he realized it’s all arms

-Ashe can’t swim

-Vyncent is pretty boring style-wise but all the other boys are some genre of alt and sometimes they just randomly force him to have drip

-William chronic pain truther also he floats a lot instead of walking cause it’s not as hard on his legs, probably used some genre of mobility aids during his powerless arc but I’m not smart enough to know which ones

-William definitely did all his piercings himself (maybe except the industrial I give him I literally don’t know how he’d do that one) and all of them are fucking crooked and wrong somehow. His gauges are also probably fucked up and blown out. His septum isn’t even close to the right spot but somehow healed anyway.

He probably pierced Vyncent’s ears for him too because imagine going into a tattoo parlor with those fucking ears dude. Big ass motherfuckers. Also Vyncent probably has so many fucking ear piercings he has so much room he’s gotta dude

-I think Vyncent would use origami’s powers to just,,,,, literally make origami. He’s made so many pretty little things out of paper I’m sure of it

-I need one of the prime defenders to be into photography. Idk which one it suits but I just,,,, I need it. I want to give it to Dakota because I don’t really have any hcs with him and artsy hobbies but also William would so be the type to infodump endlessly about vintage cameras

I’d like to imagine one of the boys has a Polaroid of the whole gang and Ashe in their phone case (if they even have phone cases??? I know everything’s like high tech futuristic but let me live)

[beneathashadytree]

Hey! I’m new to your page but I love it so much and your writing is literally amazing!! I don’t want to say you have talent because that under mines all the hard work you’ve put into writing but you are amazing :< My request is a one piece fluff with Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, Kid, Law, Robin, Nami, Killer and and any of your favorite characters too ^ I don’t know if this is considered modern or not but basically them asking you to go grab their wallet and you see their drivers license or ID picture and it’s such an old crusty caught off guard picture like (sanji’s wanted poster bad) and they get embarrassed about it once they see you start laughing 😭. It can be modern or even within the one piece realm I just thought this would be so funny since this just happened to me 💔 Have a good day!!!

-aif

TEENAGE DIRTBAG - SANJI, ZORO, LUFFY, KID, LAW, ROBIN, NAMI, & KILLER X READER

Warnings : modern AU, cursing, lighthearted teasing from the reader, Kid always has a couple of empty threats at hand, they are all disasters, this is not proofread, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : fluff, crack

Word count : 2.4K words (oh shit)

Additional notes : Ahhh, you’re being so unbelievably sweet! I’m so so glad you enjoy my writing. I loved this idea so much because it’s the perfect mix of playful and cute. Sadly, I’ve only ever seen Killer like twice and he’s barely said anything, and I haven’t really graspd his personality yet, so please excuse me if he’s OOC🥲 I just wanted to give you a heads up that I only write for a maximum of 6 characters per post, and in headcanon form. If fluff pieces were what you wanted, then I only take single characters per post🫣 I did them all anyways and as fluff pieces because I’m sure you didn’t know this, given that you’re new to my blog. I hope you enjoy this, nonnie! Let me know what you think💗

Requests : Are open! Check the rules over here.

Want to support me financially? Here’s my CashApp!

Masterlist

“Could you grab me my wallet from my bedside table, sweetheart?” Sanji called from the kitchen, “I’m a little busy at the stove right now, and the set of knives I ordered last week should be here in a few minutes. They’ll need my identification.”

“Sure thing.” Getting up from the living room couch, they went to snatch his wallet off his table. It was a little messy, filled with tiny coupons and various credit cards (yes, including the ones he froze years ago after his estranged biological father had practically forced them upon him). Struggling to pull out his ID amidst all this jumble, they said, “You really should sort out the stuff you don’t use anymore. I’m pretty sure at least half of these coupons have—“

They paused, their fingers finally picking at his ID. “Oh my fucking God,” they choked out, before a wheezing laugh escaped them, “Sanji, what on earth is this?”

“Hey!” he cried out, thumping sounds coming from the stove as he no doubt was switching the knobs off, “Stop looking at that!”

“It looks nothing like you,” they laughed, as he ran to their side. “What’s with the terrible frown? And why did they edit your face to look so… boxy? And—“

“Yes, yes, very funny dear,” he scowled even deeper than in the picture, cheeks burning red with embarrassment. He snatched it from their fingers, as they continued to shake with laughter. “Stupid shitty photographer didn’t even give me a chance to blink before he took it.”

“You do look like you had your eyes open for hours,” they chuckled behind their hand, trying to stifle the sound as he stuffed it back into the wallet, preferably for burial. Shaking their head, they sweetly kissed his cheek, enjoying his raging flush.

“Oh well, might as well keep your handsomeness for my eyes only.”

“Zoro, did you pay our taxes?” they asked, frowning as they stared at the letter that had been sent to their mailbox.

“…No, I forgot,” their boyfriend grunted from the next room, continuing to deadlift in his little private gym, “Just use my phone and do it online.”

“Fine,” the sighed, making to get up, “Where do you keep your wallet? I’m gonna need your ID.”

“Probably on the coffee table.”

Humming in response, they followed his instructions and began to take out what looked like his ID, before they loudly cursed bloody murder.

“What’s wrong?” Zoro’s voice was worried, and he soon appeared in front of them with a concerned look on his face, drenched in sweat and a little flushed with the exertion of effort.

“This fucking jumpscare,” they managed to cry out, choking on a laugh as they thrust the ID in his direction, “You look like you’ve been convincted of twenty cases of homicide. What are you glaring so hard for?”

“Shut up. It’s only cause I couldn’t see well,” he grumbled, blushing furiously as he stomped over to reach for it.

Swooping out of his way, they snickered at him, “Was your “not seeing well” also the reason behind the tongue in your cheek and hardened jaw? Or is your face just programmed to permanently look like you want to deck someone?”

“Should’ve done these taxes myself if you were gonna be a little shit about it,” Zoro swore, his entire face blooming red down to his neck. The mortification won over, and he grabbed his ID.

“You probably should’ve, yeah,” they giggled, leaning over to kiss his jaw, much to his chagrin, “Guess you’re not photogenic. Doesn’t matter, you’re the best looking man to me.”

When Luffy asked them to go for a trip of snack scourging at the supermarket, the implication that they would buy booze was very clearly there. His hands busy with all the bags of food they’d bought, he’d pointed out the bottles of sake and beer he’d wanted, but hadn’t been able to pull out his wallet with his hands full.

“My hands are full, can you get that for me?” Luffy begged, after having huffed and puffed for a few minutes trying to pull it out of his pocket with only his pinky finger.

Chuckling, they nodded and did as their boyfriend asked, before glancing at his ID photo and choking on their spit.

“Holy shit, babe,” they wheezed out, body trembling with their laughter as they handed it over to the cashier, “What’s with that face? Constipated much?”

“Listen, I was hungry,” he moaned pathetically, one of his busy hands pressing onto his stomach as he pouted at them, “Like right now. And the man kept stalling for no good reason. I thought I was going to pass out.”

“So you somehow ended up looking like a wilted flower?” they arched their brow at him as they carried their drinks and tugged him by the arm. “Should I worry about you dying out on me now?”

“Yes, if you don’t hurry and drive us back quickly.” Luffy looked dead-serious as he started moving so fast that it turned into him pulling them along and not the opposite. “Unless you want me to eat the snacks right now—“

“Coming, coming!”

As per their almost-monthly usual, they got pulled over by the police in the middle of the road, and Kid could only grit his teeth and hiss out a “Fine” when asked for his driver’s license (because past experience taught him that calling an officer bringing him in for speeding a “cunt” was a sure fire way to end up in jail).

He fumbled with his pockets, before realizing that his wallet wasn’t there as it usually was. Before he could ask for it, they found it in the space between the driver’s seat and the gearstick. They quickly pulled out his driver’s license, briefly glancing at it once before their eyes blew comically wide and they slapped a hand on their face, trying to muffle their laughter.

Kid murderously glared at them, before finishing the routine up with the officer. As soon as they drove past him, they let their hand fall and howled with laughter.

“The fuck do you find so amusing?” he growled after they grew increasingly more hysterical.

“Your-your face!” they cried out, tears now falling down their face, “You never told me you had an emo phase! The black bangs, piercings, smokey eye…” they trailed off, interrupted by their loud laughter.

“I think I’m going to actually fucking kill you,” he hissed, despite the light dusting of red on his cheeks, which only fueled their amusement even further.

“Was this another one of your catchphrases in your teenage years?” they chortled, wiping away their tears and very clearly enjoying this.

“I’m parking right fucking now and kicking you out of the car.”

“Got everything?” they asked Law at the doorstep, pulling their suitcases along behind them.

He nodded, but still went on to flit through his waistbag, checking the stuff along as he did. Their flight was still in a bit, but he didn’t want to turn around halfway through the drive to the airport. “Passport, visa, cash, credit cards, ID… wait. The driver’s license.”

Cocking their head to the side, they looked a little confused. “What do you need that for? We’re vacationing abroad.”

He gave his partner a very pointed look, and they shrugged and went to get his license nonetheless. “Weren’t you the one who insisted on visiting every single monument around the city? We’ll need a rental car for that, and I’m the one that has an international driver’s license.”

Before he could say anything else, a howl of laughter erupted from the bedroom, growing louder as they came up to him. Exasperation in his eyes, he turned to them, already knowing the reason behind their extreme amusement.

“Yes, haha, very funny, Law’s squinting at the camera,” he drawled, holding his hand out, “Now could we get this over with? We’ll run late.”

“Oh no, you’re not getting out of this,” they smirked, clutching the license close to their chest and taking another peek. “The squint’s not so bad, honestly. I can tell you just weren’t wearing your lenses. My problem’s with the god-awful hair.”

“Mullets were a thing when I was 18,” he snapped, trying to come up with an excuse—and clearly failing, if their peels of laughter were any proof. “And most teenagers don’t have much of a sense of style.” Law finally snatched the driver’s license from them, and took his suitcase rolling behind him on the way to where their Uber would pick them up.

Locking up behind him, they grinned, shaking their head. “Not much of a sense of style now either, love…”

“Robin, darling, I love you, and I would buy you anything you ask for, but we’re going to find ourselves broke by the end of the month if you keep spending ludicrous amounts of cash on book shipments,” they sighed, hurrying over to the bedroom where their girlfriend sat perched on her armchair, book in hand, “I think you need an intervention.”

The girlfriend in question chuckled, setting her reading glasses down, “Oh dear, that must’ve been last month’s ARC package. Let me get my wallet.”

“I already paid for it, but they asked for your ID for confirmation of the delivery. Is it in your wallet?”

Robin looked thoughtful for a moment. “No, I think I left it out on the coffee table when I came back from buying wine for our date night.”

They nodded and made their way out. It was silent for a few moments, before they snorted with laughter. “Oh God,” they choked out, before muffling the sound and opening the door once again. Moments later, it shut behind them, and they exploded into a fit of laughter, bursting into their bedroom.

“What’s so funny?” Robin smiled patiently, watching them fail to catch their breath.

Patting their chest, they finally managed to speak. “Y-your-your face! Why do you look so murderous?”

The woman chuckled, closing her book and walking up to them to glance at the ID. “I think I’d been woken up pretty early that day to take this picture, so I was rather grumpy. The photographer had made an inappropriate comment, and this was the only way I could express my displeasure.”

Their laughter quieted for a moment as they mumbled, “Fucking bastard,” before they glanced at the picture again and giggled, “And what’s with the half-shaved head?”

Robin shook her head, swiftly taking the ID from their fingers and pocketing it stealthily. “Let it be a reminder to not let teenage bullies stick gum in your hair.”

“There’s a lot to unpack in that statement…”

“I’m telling you, sir, I’m definitely old enough to be driving this.” Nami gritted her teeth, trying her best to smile sweetly at the police officer. “As a matter of fact, I’m old enough to carry out every single legal procedure in this country.”

“No driver’s license, no passage,” he firmly said, though he did hesitate for a second afterwards, probably after noticing just how stunning she was as she fluttered her eyelashes like that.

They placed a hand on her arm. “It’s alright, Nami. I’ve got your wallet in the drawer. Brought it just in case.” Pulling it out, they began to rifle through her numerous cards, before blurting out, “Holy fuck,” and bursting into laughter that they desperately tried to muffle behind their hand, their other hand giving their girlfriend her license.

With a look that could kill, she snatched it and gave it to the waiting officer, who soon sent them on their way. Revving the car back up, Nami glared at them.

“What, you didn’t expect me to comment on that picture?”

“What do you say we forget about that and turn on the radio?” Nami forced a big grin on her face, though the vein in her forehead remained prominent.

“Aw, it’s not that bad,” they cooed, before cracking up, “I mean, of course there’s the outdated perm, and the garish blue glitter eyeshadow, and the very obvious fact that these are not the eyes of anyone even remotely sober…”

“You’re paying for today’s date and next week’s one too,” Nami snapped, before exhaling loudly and slumping in her seat. “God, why’d you have to see the worst photo I’ve ever taken? I’d even had a terrible acne breakout then, so my face was in pain the entire time.”

“It’s alright, love. I still think you’re the most beautiful girl in the world,” they said as they leaned across to kiss her cheek.

Tension left her body, but she still managed to say, “You’re still paying for the next two dates.”

“Fuck, I’d been hoping you’d let that go.”

Killer had been stopped at the entrance of the concert arena as usual. With his mask almost always on, the security guards always needed to check he was of age by asking for his ID. He didn’t say much, knowing that this was a routine procedure, but he did tense a little with annoyance at having to take time out and possibly miss out on the best seats up front.

“I’ve got both of ours’ here,” they nodded from beside him, taking out both their wallets from their pockets and pulling each of their IDs. When it came to their boyfriend’s, however, they couldn’t help the snicker that left them at the sight of his picture.

“You’re having too much fun with this,” he grumbled, before taking it and handing it over to the man, briefly lifting his mask for a second for him to confirm his identity.

As they began to walk in, they took his hand in theirs, still laughing a bit. “Not my fault you never told me you used to imitate Kid’s punk style.”

“He was the only friend I had, of course I’d want to look like him,” Killer shrugged, “No one told me that straightening hair like mine does that much heat damage though…”

“Can’t believe you had a side part, Jesus,” they chuckled, shaking their head, “Not to mention the patchy beard. And what’s with the panda makeup?”

“Again, Kid’s idea,” he sounded a little annoyed, a light dusting of pink climbing down his neck, “He was all for the kohl-rimmed eyes, but neither of us knew how to apply it—hence why it got all smudged.”

They hummed, squeezing his arm lovingly. “Love the bright red lipstick-hair combo, by the way, but I still prefer the light purple lipstick on you. It’s very… you.”

Killer cocked his head curiously in their direction, wondering what they meant by that. With one last chuckle, they said, “As… interesting as other colors look on you, purple suits you best because it goes well with your pretty blue eyes.” Before he could get flustered and grunt that they were being foolish, they began to drag him by the arm. “We gotta hurry, there’s only 2 front row seats left.”

Taglist: @stories-that-shaped-me @wifeofkyojuro @finch-ya @livwritesfics

[spiralling-spires]

Guys something happened and im back on my she ra nonsense. Help all my recent tabs are tma fanfic i need to go deep in my bookmarks to pull out the she ra stuff and follow a ton of she ra posters bc its been like two years since i was substantially aware of she ra BUT THE HYPERFIX IS COMING BACK I CAN FEEL IT AAAAGH

Its 12:44 am and i’m going to write all my thoughts and theories and you are going to enjoy them

1. Beast island is actually sentient and the reason it makes that signal is because it’s achingly lonely and doesn’t want its new friends (anyone who comes to the island) to leave. Little does it know it’s forcing its depression upon everyone that visits

2. Etheria and Eternia are actually twin planets, the First Ones are humans, and Eternia is far-future Earth (idk, Earth got a neighbour and then we colonized it? Sure sounds like humans to me). This explains why the First Ones’ language is made up of English phonemes and includes English words, and why Adora looks human.

3. Horde Prime used to be an Eternian, a very long time ago. His current form is the result of hundreds of years of incredibly vain genetic engineering and experimenting. He still isn’t fully pleased with his appearance and tweaks his clones every generation in an attempt to find “purity”.

4. Hordak’s “defect” is a result of this tweaking. Imagine inbreeding, except it’s one guy who keeps turning random genes on and off and switching out base pairs to see if it’ll make him prettier. Turns out there were some nasty genetic surprises in Hordak’s version of the code. As with any other clone that had such genetic conditions, Prime tossed him out in the next major fleet movement without running any analyses first. Running an analysis would force him to confront the fact that he (gasp) made an error!

5. The “general” thing wasn’t actually complete bs. Prime threatening to take Catra’s body as his own, was. See, Prime really wants to be this one perfect thing. Why would he waste time being a cat when he could be perfect? He has a special line of “generals” whose sole purpose is to house his mind. They have two additional eyes, the ability to grow those weird chin/cheek spikes, and the capacity to be much taller (all hidden unless he gives them specific hormones in preparation for inhabiting them). All this to say: Hordak might just wake up with four eyes open one day and promptly freak himself (and everyone else) out.

6. Entrapta has been in the center of a lot of explosions (esepcially when she was a teenager and hadn’t figured out the right balance of “pursue knowledge” to “lab safety” yet) and has replaced a startling amount of her body with prosthetics covered in a synthetic skin.

7. Hordak’s body wasn’t repaired by Prime in season 5. Prime just injected him with a bunch of painkillers (not enough to not be in pain, but enough to function) and covered up the arm holes. About an hour after the finale, the painkillers wear off and Hordak all but collapses. Having a chronic muscle/joint condition + being electrocuted + being possessed hurts. Man, he really went through it, didn’t he?

8. Based on Wrong Hordak, it’s going to be… really hard for the clones to get used to being outside of the hivemind. They will form cults. They will make new pieces of technology that will mimic the hivemind. They’ll scrounge for the chips and try to implant them in each other. They will find and beg (or threaten) Entrapta and Hordak to put back the hivemind. Hopefully people will have enough compassion for them to help them get used to being individuals.

9. All Eternians have the capacity to activate the Sword of Protection and become She-Ra (or gender-correlated equivalent). Horde Prime is, initially, Eternian, based on the other headcanons here, so he hypothetically could. Any clone could. Hordak could.

Wow! I forgot about some of these headcanons! This was pretty neat. Hope you guys like em too. Also I haven’t watched canon in like a year so there might be some inaccuracies, but at some point I figured that holding onto the thoughts until I rewatched canon just wasn’t worth it. And lo and behold now you can see all my random thoughts too!

[matthyeu]

perfect boy ― zh.

pairing ⇢ zhang hao x ftm!reader 

genre ⇢ hurt/comfort

warnings ⇢ gender dysphoria

word count ⇢ 792

synopsis ⇢ you can always count on zhang hao to cease your worries about your gender.

hao was not expecting silence upon entering the apartment. usually you were ready to greet him every time he came home from a long day of work. it was unusual for it to be as quiet as it was. if not waiting for him, he would expect you to be immersed in your latest tv show obsession. 

however, it wasn’t completely silent. once he stopped his steps, he could hear some faint sounds coming from inside your shared room. he furrowed his eyebrows, walking towards the door to find out what it was. 

his face shifted immediately from a confused expression to a worried one when he realized this wasn’t any sound. it was you crying. 

without any further hesitation, he pushed open the door to reveal you face down on the bed. the way you held the pillow over your ears probably muffled everything, so you might have not known he had come home. you were like that, always tuning out the outside world in times of despair so you could listen to yourself. whatever happened must have been serious. 

he carefully sat on the bed, the sudden dip pulling you out of your session. you whipped your head around, meeting eyes with your boyfriend. “ah, when did you come home?” you asked, voice breaking halfway through. 

“shhhh it’s okay i just came home. don’t worry about it,” he whispered, trying to keep the calm mood up for you, “what happened?” 

you looked hesitant to tell him, but he would never force it out of you. he wanted you to always be comfortable with him, so he made sure to respect your boundaries. he didn’t expect you to tell him, not to mention what you told him. 

“do i really look like a girl?” 

“huh?” 

immediately, you started breaking down again, forcing your head back into the covers. it seemed his answer, well lack thereof, triggered it again. regret came over him. it just caught him by surprise, so it wasn’t his intention to not deny your worries. 

panicked, he placed a hand on your back, trying to console you as much as he could with his touch. you wouldn’t hear him if he started now. he had to wait until you stopped your session again to say anything. 

luckily, it worked, the feeling of his thumb rubbing circles on your back always seemed to bring you some sort of solace. you took a deep breath, trying to suck in all the tears you could. 

“i’m sorry–” he cut you off right there. 

“don’t be sorry dear, i’m sorry for not being able to respond to your worries right away. i was just caught by surprise because in no universe would you look like a girl. you are the most handsome boy i’ve ever seen.” 

“are you sure?” 

“positive.” 

“but…” oh here was where he’d get the story of who made his love cry. “it’s just. i felt so comfortable today. i picked out such a great outfit. i looked in the mirror, and for once, i actually felt so comfortable. i looked, and there really was a boy there.” 

“there’s always a boy there,” he corrected, not wanting you to try to downgrade your own gender identity. 

you rolled his eyes at his interruption but felt very happy he did intervene on that day. it made you smile a bit before continuing your story. 

“besides the point. i went to the café, and after taking my order, he said ‘have a nice day ma’am.’ just…what part of me looks like a ma’am? i thought i looked so masc today, but that made it all crash down. i couldn’t even say anything.” 

“well that person’s just stupid,” hao finally responded, not letting you continue. he didn’t want you to relive that experience because it was utter bullshit. 

“you think?” 

“dearest, you are my wonderful boyfriend, the only boy i could ever have eyes for. you do not look the slightest like a girl. i can’t believe people are that blind. maybe they just need extra thick glasses to see past the transphobia. they don’t know anything. please don’t listen to them. you are so much more than what they have to say.” 

when you broke down again, crying into his shoulder, another wave of panic washed over him. had he said something wrong? 

“dear, are you okay? did i say something wrong?” he quickly asked. 

you shook your head quickly before throwing your arms around his neck. “you are just so perfect, the perfect boy. i can’t believe i have someone like you.” 

he laughed, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull yourself close to him. “no, you are the perfect boy, and i don’t want anyone telling you otherwise.”

[accidentally-in-fictional-love]

Can I please request 🤹📖🩹❤️

Please Stay a While Longer (Please Stay Forever) - Abner Krill/Reader

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst, doctor!reader, gender-neutral reader, no use of Y/N, S.T.A.R. Labs era!Abner, training injuries, brief implications of parental abuse/neglect.

Wordcount: 1600

Summary: He was in your office again today, and you really wished you'd never have to see him sitting there ever again.

Notes: If you wanna join me in the Misery Parade, listen to this song as you read ;w; this ended up being a LOT more angsty than I expected when I saw the prompts, but man sometimes things just write themselves and you gotta go with the flow, y'know? I'll do something more comfort than hurt the next time I get that prompt, I promise!

The sight before you was a familiar one, you’d seen it almost every day since you’d started working there a year and a half ago. You were in your office when they’d arrived, almost as if on cue, the clock reading just after 4PM; training had started an hour ago, 3PM sharp as usual, he’d lasted longer this time, but still, he was there all the same, outfit torn and body sporting new burns.

You’d commended him at first at the growing knowledge of his strength, impressed with his ability to hold it in as salve was pressed to circular marks, angry and blistered but never drawing blood, so unlike the people he’d gone up against. Now you just felt sad, knowing that it wasn’t strength, it was resolve, acceptance, something forced upon him so they could drag him out again the next day to do it all over again.

He was used to it, numb to it, that’s all it truly was.

His jumpsuit was undone and bunched around his hips as you examined him, his eyes anywhere but on you and himself as he occasionally let out the odd hiss or whimper when your medical tools poked and prodded a little too hard, a whisper of apology falling from your lips each time. You didn’t want to hurt him any more than he already was, you’d learned during your short time here that that was always a possibility for him and his siblings, but he’d gotten banged up pretty hard during the training session today and it needed to be taken care of before She let it get worse.

And She would, if you didn’t do anything about it now, he was only allowed to visit your little office because it was close to Her personal corner of the building and he complained too much otherwise, after all.

‘This will only hurt a little,’ you promised him, seeing the way he braced himself as his hand clenched over his thigh when you raised the antiseptic-coated cotton swab to his side where one of his older wounds had been reopened. The coldness of it made him flinch for just a second as you offered another apology, but he didn’t accept it, something like that was nothing compared to what he was there for. Thankfully, his powers would do most of the work, the colourful dots inside of him mercifully offering him the ability to heal faster along with the curse to destroy in an instant, but you still wanted to do this much for him before it faded away to yet another scar.

He was covered in them by now, the dots never breaking the skin unlike his targets but still leaving behind reminders that he hadn’t been careful enough, he’d been too distracted or tired or, worst of all, stopped caring enough to want to defend himself anymore, and you once again found yourself wanting to offer him more than just a fresh bandage and a silent wish (plea) that you wouldn’t have to see him again the next day. But it was an impossible dream, more impossible than the virus that showed itself under his skin if he didn’t keep training, lighting him up from the inside with the constant threat of bursting, his scars a mesh to hold it all in until they couldn’t any longer.

Your hands hesitated as the peroxide bubbled over the wound, your throat tightening as he waited patiently for you to be done so he could go back to his room and wait to do this all over again tomorrow.

‘Why do you let her do this to you?’ you couldn’t help but ask, fingertip brushing against the edges of a pale scar long since healed. He didn’t answer at first, you two never talked when he could get away with staying silent, and today your voice seemed to catch him off guard, your soft tone so unlike what he normally had to hear.

‘Do what?’ he asked back just as softly, like he truly didn’t know what you were talking about.

‘Hurt you like this.’ The liquid ran down his side and soaked into his outfit, three more polka-dots needing to be sewn into it to show everyone of today’s fumbles along with all the previous ones.

‘It was my own fault, I wasn’t paying attention, I’ll do better next time, I’m sorry.’ It came out so calmly, practiced like he’d said it a million times before and he probably might have considering who his mother was. It made your chest hurt to hear it, your lip quivering as you tried to be strong for him, but for all his silence and refusal to pay attention to himself, he was so observant of you, his eyes finally landing on the top of your head as you kneeled by the wax paper covered bed. ‘Why’re you sad?’ he whispered, like if he raised his voice any higher then his own might break, and when you blinked your vision blurred for just a moment.

‘If you could leave this place, would you?’ you wanted to know, his body stiffening in your peripherals as he thought about it, the silence stretching on for so long that it made you wonder if you’d offended him for making him think of freedom, of a life outside of the windowless room he called home, away from his remaining siblings and the woman who kept them all there.

‘I… I don’t know,’ he answered honestly, back arching as he slumped forward, his shoulders sagging and dark eyes so tired as you looked up at him.

‘Abner, you don’t have to stay here,’ you tried to tell him, your hand finding his on his lap, the first real contact you’d ever made outside of fixing him up; his fingers instinctively curled over you as he cautiously flipped his own hand to hold yours, probably the only kind touch he’d received in years. His eyes rested on your clasped hands before they finally met your own, a sadness unlike anything you’d ever experienced before hiding behind them making your breath catch in your throat like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

‘Yes I do.’

A tear rolled down your cheek before you could stop it, a miserable smile on his face at your empathy for someone as unworthy as him. The hand not holding yours reached up to brush it away before he caught himself, said sorry for touching you even as he held your hand a little tighter, unable to let himself let go. You let out a shaky sob as you rested your head on his lap, feeling him still again before letting his free hand lay over your head, almost pulling away at first before deciding otherwise. He ran his fingers through your hair, offered you comfort even though he was the one who was hurting, and you once again wished (begged) that you wouldn’t see him again tomorrow.

I love you, your mouth longed to say, you having fallen for him more and more with every visit ever since the first time you’d met him; your breaking heart was torn between longing to see him, this the only time he was allowed to leave the highly secured and reinforced floors he roamed, and never wanting him to have to visit ever again. Not seeing him meant he was fine, safe, unhurt for once in his life between the testing and the training and the pain and the loss that haunted him like a growing collection of phantoms. Not seeing him meant that he was okay.

You wanted so badly to get him out of there, to let him experience the world again after a near lifetime of knowing only this, but as you sighed into the costume that’d been so painstakingly tailored just for him, his rainbow-speckled prison suit with the gauntlets that allowed him not only the ability to destroy but also to keep himself alive as his silver slotted shackles that bound him to this place, to his siblings, to Her, you knew that it was impossible.

I love you, so please don’t go back there.

One of the scientists working for Her appeared in the doorway, still flipping through his clipboard and giving you just enough time to sit back up, his hands leaving you as he stood on command, suit back in place once more before you could finish your work; it’d still heal, but it’d be messy compared to the others without your bandages to shield him, the only protection you could offer as the man in the door motioned for him to follow.

He had a few more tests to do now that he’d ruined their training session, the man told him without even looking up, She wanted to see if exposing him to the dimension the dots came from again would allow him a little more resistance against them, maybe remove the need to expel them five times a day, your body frozen on the floor in the most unprofessional manner as he glanced back at you over his shoulder, a forced smile trying to tell you it’d be okay, he’d be okay.

‘Don’t go…’ you finally managed to say but it was too late, he was gone again.

It’d be okay though, just like he promised, you knew it would be as you curled in on yourself now that you were alone again, your hand burning like a peroxide-dabbed wound or a beautiful and deadly polka-dot.

He’d be back again tomorrow, after all.

[mishibashimori]

Two Of Us || Cecil Stedman x Reader || Chapter 7

Synopsis: You are an alien who crash landed onto Earth. You have no name, and no more home to go back to. The Guardians of the Globe have rescued you and brought you to get intensive care under the great Cecil Stedman. In helping out your new home, Earth, will you develop a relationship with the coldest man you know?

General Info: AFAB Gender Neutral Reader, Cecil is Younger in the Beginning and it Will Lead to Current Events, Reader is a Bubbly Optimist, Reader Description is Intentionally Vague so You can Imagine the Alien Species They Are However You’d Like

TW: Verbal and Physical Past Abuse, Failed Pregnancy Mentions, Depression, Self Depreciation, Eventual Sexual Content

Specific Chapter TW: PTSD Panic Attack

———————————

The hospital wing of the GDA was alight with chatter. You had gotten the news only a few minutes ago that Alana had awoken, and you spent no time racing to her hospital room. Holly of course was also there, beaming with joy as she peppered her girlfriend’s face with kisses. Alana had been out of commission for a week due to her injuries. It was a lot better than the alternative, death, if you hadn't intervened and taken some of the damage onto yourself. Your wounds had healed just fine, almost as soon as the next day, and you would’ve done it a million times over to help her.

“We’re so happy to have you back,” Holly said to Alana, absolutely delighted, “we’ve missed you.”

“I’m happy to be back.” Alana gave her a kiss on the nose and turned to you. “I’ve been dying to see everyone again, literally. What did I miss?”

“Not too much, don’t worry.” You assured her. “But I bet you must be starving. Want me to grab you both something?”

“That would be great!” Alana exclaimed, sitting straight up in her bed. “The cafeteria has some bunny chow that’s to die for. It’s something my mom used to make all the time, and it sounds delicious right now.”

“I’ll take the same, thank you.” Holly smiled at you.

“On it!” You stood and headed out, happy to be doing something to help. Winding down the halls, you eventually came upon the cafeteria, ordered, and sat to wait.

It had been a few days since your last conversation with Cecil. You’d seen each other every now and then and said hello, but that was it. Despite your emotions you forced yourself to be patient on the matter. It couldn’t be easy for him to make this decision, and rushing him wouldn’t help matters either. So, you waited, distracting yourself with Earth television and puzzles; that really seemed to be all the entertainment they had available here. With Alana now awake though, you didn’t feel half as lonely anymore. Training with your friends, The Guardians of the Globe, helped too.

“You know that isn’t free, right?” You almost leaped out of your skin as Cecil’s voice sounded next to you.

“Sheesh! Do you ever make a noise?” You chided him lightly, a slight laugh to your voice. “And, wait, what do you mean?”

Cecil nodded towards the cafeteria. “Did you think the food was free here? It’s been going on my tab.” He smirked at you, the amusement in his eyes betraying his jokingly annoyed tone.

“No way,” you gawked at him, feeling stupid, “I’m so sorry. I really didn’t think too much about it.”

Cecil shrugged, taking a seat next to you. “It’s fine. Not like we’re paying you at the moment anyway.” There was a brief lapse in silence as you two sat together. It had been a while since you’d spoken at length.

You glanced at him. “I’ve been thinking about something.” He glanced back at you, quirking his eyebrow in question. “When I first got here, you said you didn’t know much about my planet, yet you knew the flower my people give to the sick.”

Cecil looked down at his lap, chuckling to himself. “After you arrived we sent some satellites to uh, ‘freshen up our knowledge’ on your species.” He scratched his chin. “I was curious as to how you knew English, yet you’d never been in contact with Earth. Didn’t know a species could have a part of their brain for translation.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “You learned all that from some satellites?”

“Science is amazing.” He snorted, looking back up at you. “But we learned the last bit from your brain scans. The satellites just picked up random strings of information. We always knew of your planet, just… never had a reason to interact until now.”

“I see.” You responded simply, impressed yet slightly disturbed. “You humans are thorough.”

“Just me.” He turned to look down the hallway that led to the hospital rooms. “I hear Alana’s awake, that’s good. The team’s not the same without her.” He turned back to you. “What do you think, by the way? About joining the Guardians. You’re keeping up well, and you definitely have the skills.”

Your cheeks burned at the sudden compliment. “Oh—uh, I like it.” Then you gave a slight tilt of your head, thinking harder. “But I don’t know. It’s terrifying to think about saving people. I’m happy to help, and I love the team but…” you trailed off, looking down.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, you still have time to make a decision. And I get it, believe me, it is a scary thing.” Cecil nudged your shoulder with his. “You’ll always have a home here, whatever you choose.”

“I can’t believe you’ve been so nice to me,” you blurted out. It had been on your mind since you arrived here, and while you didn’t mean to bring it up so abruptly, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. It puzzled you as to why this man- let alone this planet, would help you to this extent. To question it seemed to be looking a gift horse in the mouth, but the nagging in your brain burst through. “It scared me at first. I thought maybe it came with a price. It was hard for me to believe that people really- well, cared.”

“From what you’ve told me, I can understand why you’d think that. And I don’t want to lie to you, at first my intentions weren’t… something you might approve of.” Cecil leaned back in his chair. “Fix up an alien who might have useful abilities, and have them join the Guardians. Or just have you help on your own. I feel guilty about it now that I’ve gotten to know you, but my job, the world, came first. If I had an asset in my debt, it could mean saving lives.” He cast his eyes down guiltily, unable to look at you. “That’s why I didn’t want to get any closer to you, I felt horrible.”

You swallowed hard, anger flickering to life in your chest. His words were like a knife to the heart. “I was wrong about you.” You murmured in disbelief. “I’m so stupid.” Part of you knew it was ridiculous to have convinced yourself of anything else. Of course that was the goal. You were a stranger to this world, why else would they help you? This world had no obligation to you, and yet it hurt so bad when it was said aloud.

Cecil’s head snapped toward you, true panic etching his features. “I don’t— I don’t think that way anymore. I would never— I wouldn’t of forced you to-”

“How dare you!” You snarled, bolting up from your seat. Flashes of your past raced through your mind, an uncontrollable hurricane of hurt and trauma wiping away anything but fury. “I trusted you, and you wanted to use me?”

“No!” Cecil also stood, gently reaching his hand towards you. You shoved it away, tears starting to stream down your flushed face.

“You told me I’m not an object, you told me that!” Your voice was raising by the word, now a shout. An uncontrollable tremor shook through you. It felt awful to yell, and your mind was screaming for you to stop, but spite and a rising anxiety spurred you on.

“And I meant it, every word.” Cecil talked softly, but his voice trembled. “I wouldn’t dream of using any of that against you. That wasn't what I wanted to do, I swear. The more I learned about you, the more I couldn’t stop thinking about you. In-in a good way- ugh, this sounds terrible.” He rubbed his forehead, looking frustrated with himself. “If I’d known about your past from the start I wouldn’t have even thought that way. It was wrong, and I’m so sorry.” His distraught eyes searched yours. “I didn’t want to hurt you, I would never want to hurt you.”

Taking deep breaths, you tried to calm yourself. Your thoughts were still raging with painful memories, the hurt in your chest throbbing hotly, but you forced yourself to think straight. “You really mean that?”

“Of course.” He took a small step towards you. “Thinking about not having you in my life; it tore me up to no end. As hard as I’ve made it to believe, I just- I really like you.” He cringed to himself. “I’m horrible with words- I’m sorry, that sounded like a highschool confession. What I’m trying to say is: you make me feel normal, like a person with no responsibilities. When I’m with you it feels like—like all I have to do is just enjoy being alive.”

All you could do was stare in silence for a while. Conflicting feelings warred through you. This normally cold, steely man looked utterly heartbroken at the thought of hurting you. In the time you’d known Cecil, it wasn’t hard to figure out that the man had a guard. You had seen brief, genuine glimpses into him and relished every moment, but now was more than just a mere glimpse. His features were soft, his posture as harmless and open as he could manage. It was a first to see him this way, and it was because he was truly worried about you.

The previous years of being imprisoned were not easy to erase, to say the least. Your captor wouldn’t hit you per say, but directed his savagery to your brother. He knew you’d heal the poor young boy, so he maliciously manipulated you into transferring the wounds to yourself. It wasn’t something you wanted to talk about at length, at least not now. You’d told Cecil a little but the details seemed too hard to choke out. It seemed silly to think, as it was a horrendous thing for anyone to go through, but you didn’t know how much it had really, truly affected you until now. Sadness radiated through you; had you really become so broken? Had your captor stolen away your trust?

Cecil cast his gaze downward, breathing in deeply. “You have every right to hate me. I hate me too. It was out of line.” You stepped closer, hesitating for only a moment before slowly encircling your arms around him. His back stiffened at first, unsure of your touch, then he wrapped you up tightly. The anger in your body melted away.

“I believe you, and I forgive you.” You mumbled into his chest, relaxing against him. “I’m sorry. Just— so much of the pain in my past centers around being controlled and used. I’ve never come to terms with the trauma that was caused.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” He rubbed your head tenderly. Suddenly his eyes flicked past you, and his expression shifted. Confused, you followed his gaze and found a gaggle of cafeteria workers gaping at the two of you. Suddenly sheepish, you broke away from Cecil and shuffled towards the counter, grabbing the food and thanking them before slipping into a secluded part of the far hallway, out of sight.

Cecil joined you a second later. “Don’t worry about them. I’ll have a word.” He motioned for you to start walking, to which he joined next to you. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around much. I’ll make some time for us to talk properly, without anyone staring at us.”

“You’re busy, I understand.” You looked to the side, feeling a bit awkward. “I’m-I’m sorry for yelling, really. I should’ve handled that better.”

“You had an appropriate reaction to someone telling you ‘I was going to indebt you to me secretly’, I think.” Cecil responded, to which you have an uncomfortable chuckle. There was a silence for a moment before he continued. “I will do things to protect this planet that you might not like. I need you to know that. If we want to continue our relationship that’s… something that will need to be addressed.”

“We’ll talk about it.” You responded. “There are things I need you to know as well. And, um, do you offer therapy here, by chance?”

“Of course.” Cecil shoved his hands in his pockets. “If that’s something you’d like to start, we can make that happen. And don’t worry, our psychiatric medicine is some of the best, and trained to deal with more unnatural situations. They provide services to heros, after all.”

“Thank you.” You gave him a smile. “I think it would be great to get some of this off my chest. And learn how to handle it better.”

“I’ve had to do some in my time here, for sure.” Cecil gave you a sidelong glance. “It’s nothing to be ashamed about. I’m proud of you for taking that step. It’s a hard one.”

“Thank you, Cecil.” You both had come to Alana’s room.

Stopping outside the door, Cecil turned to you. “Here.” He placed a square device on the tray of food in your hands. “This is a phone, it’ll allow us to get in contact easier. It’s not the fanciest thing but it’ll do the trick.” He nodded towards the room containing Holly and Alana. “They can teach you to use it, it’s not too hard. I’ll be in touch, rookie.”

In a blazing flash of light Cecil vanished through his teleporter. At first it had startled you, but you’d gotten used to the bright assault to your eyes. You opened the door in front of you and stepped into the room, the smiling faces of Alana and Holly greeting you. “Hey!” You blurted out. “I’m going to therapy!”

——————

Author’s Note:

Hello everyone! I wanted to clarify that the reader of this story has a lot of emotional and mental stuff to heal, so the reader often thinks in a self depreciative way. Everyone deserves to love themselves and I do not want anyone to think that you deserve less or are “broken” because you are traumatized. I have PTSD myself, and I hope I wrote it in a way that can explain that it’s not always easy to think highly of yourself or express your emotions when you’ve been traumatized. I am indeed having the reader go into therapy to learn how to heal from these past traumas. Therapy is great and I really suggest everyone go into therapy, even if you’re not mentally ill. It’s a benefit to everyone!

Disclaimer:

I try to be as accurate as possible to the source material for this fan fiction, but at times I’ll get it wrong. The timelines for the Guardians of the Globe as well as Cecil are not as accurate as they should be but for the sake of wanting to have all the characters in here I fudged it. Just know that I understand not everything is accurate but let’s just try to have a good time regardless!

[get-wr3ckered]

|Karma- (GN Reader x The Bad Batch)|

Warnings: SW cursing, canon-typical violence.

Wordcount: 1,300+

Notes:

Reader has an established nickname/ callsign.

While reader is gender neutral, they're AFAB

I think I've added all the appropriate warnings and tags but if I've missed something or tagged it incorrectly feel free to let me know and I'll fix it asap!

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-Chapter Three-

Coming upon the Separatist encampment to find that one of the structures was already enveloped in a smoking mass of flames wasn't quite what Clone Force 99 had anticipated.

"No fair," Wrecker grumbled, a pout pulling at his lips. "The one time the higher-ups let us blow something up and some or'dinii goes and beats us to it!"

Clapping Wrecker on the shoulder, Echo offered him what little reassurance he could. “Maybe if we get this done quick enough there’ll still be something for you to blow?”

That was all Wrecker needed to hear before he was rushing off, charging at the first set of droids to cross his path without so much as a second glance at his brothers.

“Really?” Hunter sighed before he too was running headfirst into the chaos with the rest of the Batch hot on his heels. Well, ‘chaos’ wasn’t exactly the right word given the underwhelming amount of droids that could be seen.

Quickly catching up with Wrecker, they made swift work of taking out any clankers they came upon. Advancing through the encampment was easy enough, the five-man squad worked together seamlessly, like a well-oiled machine and soon enough they were within reach of, what Tech and Echo had predetermined to be, the detention facility. A quip about this all feeling a little too easy pushed its way past Crosshair's lips but was soon silenced by an unfortunate revelation.

The doors were sealed tight.

Scomp link at the ready, Echo didn’t have to be told twice as he began interfacing with the lock mechanism. His efforts were fruitless. “Someone’s triggered a system-wide lockdown. We’re not getting these doors open quietly.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Hunter gestured their destructive counterpart forward. “Wrecker-“

Before Wrecker could take even a singular step closer to the doors, however, a small droid was throwing itself at him from Maker knows where. Climbing the clone's oversized frame with ease, despite only possessing two appendages, the droid began beating against Wrecker's head, angry beeps calling out with every hit.

The droid's attack was harmless, serving only as a mild irritation to Wrecker who, try as he might, couldn’t shake the small droid. “Hey!- Someone get this thing offa me!”

Another ragged sigh was pulled from Hunter's lips before he was stepping forward to free Wrecker from his unwanted passenger.

At the first sign of movement, the droids beeping grew in volume and frequency- the rhythm being all too similar to that of someone uttering every curse they could think of. Balancing precariously on its left leg, the droid lifted it's right flexing its mechanical foot as sparks of electricity crackled over the conductive pads that had been retro-fitted in place. It didn't take a genius to gather that the droid was giving its best attempt at a threat despite its less-than-intimidating stature.

"The BD unit stated that-" Tech's words were interrupted by yet another string of angry beeps. Adjusting his google, he gave the droid a slight nod before clearing his throat. "My apologies, Buddy says that should we attempt to manhandle him he will have no choice but to tase us. I shall refrain from repeating the colourful analogy he used."

"We're wasting time," Crosshair groused, fingers flexing around his rifle.

Ceasing his attempts to swat the droid away, Wrecker cocked his head to the side as a grin pulled at his lips. "Hey, Buddy!"

Seemingly satisfied with his perch's surrender, and overly happy greeting despite the imminent threat of being tased, Buddy let his conductive pads die out before setting his foot back down on the largest of the group's shoulder once more.

"Did you engage the lockdown?" Echo piped up, his scomp waving in the direction of the sealed door as he made an attempt at getting them back on track.

"Boop!" The little droid chirped, head wiggling from side to side proudly. "Bewoop!"

"He did indeed," Tech translated for his brothers who didn't understand droidspeak. "It appears our new friend did so under Special Operative Karma's orders."

"Doesn't change the fact that we need to get in there," Hunter remarked, arms crossing over his chest as he eyed the BD unit. "Why'd they want the place in lockdown?"

A long series of beeps were emitted as the droid clambered down from Wrecker's shoulder... Only to soon take up residence upon one of the Sergeants.

"Well that explains the lack of battle droids," Tech hummed at the droid's response. His thumb and forefinger reached up to caress his chin as he thought over the new predicament that had been placed before them. "Buddy and Karma have succeeded in trapping Grievous and a great deal of his forces within the compound. Were we to override the lockdown in order to get in, we'd be relea-"

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If you never had the displeasure of finding yourself in a vent system every again it would still be too soon.

Swiping beads of sweat from where they'd begun collecting along your brow, you let out a quiet huff. Your arms and legs had long since grown stiff, your joints aching with the repetitive motion needed to traverse the confined space.

Having spent so long in captivity, you didn’t doubt that your sense of time was a little skewed. The ever present dryness in your throat, an after affect of the necessities that had been withheld from you over the past few days, wasn’t helping matters, time seemed to tick by slower as your limbs grew heavier under the strain of movement. What was in all likelihood only a handful of minutes felt like an hour long endeavour.

Manoeuvring around a particularly sharp bend in the vents, you were all to happy to see the minuscule streaks of daylight clawing through the vent opening at the end of the stretch.

A relieved breath fell from your lips before you were pushing forward with renewed vigour. Nimble fingers worked at prying away the vent cover, this one appearing to have been secured far better than the one within the cell you’d been in previously. With a little added exertion and another series of scratches added to your mechanical fingers, the vent cover finally fell away.

Now, you wished you could say that slinking out of the vent had been a graceful affair… it was anything but.

Tumbling out of the opening, tired limbs flailing at your sudden lack of purchase sent you careening a short distance butt-first into the dirt below. Reaching back you rubbed uselessly at the base of your spine as a dull ache set in. ‘Got all the grace of a Bantha on ice,’ you mentally scoffed at yourself.

It was then, as you sat massaging away the pain in your rear, that you became acutely aware of the audience you had landed before.

Five clones- although you did momentarily consider if they truly were clones given their considerable differences- stood, varying looks coating their similar features as they looked between you and the vent opening you'd appeared from. Perched upon one of the men's shoulders was none other than your pesky droid companion who was continuing his streak of ignoring your orders.

Scrambling to your feet, quickly dusting off the back of your pants, you offered the men a swift two-finger salute. "Fellas."

Your feet worked quickly as you moved around them, taking off toward the tree line that encircles the Separatist encampment. You were too tired to get yourself roped into another detachments mission and so making the decision to run the other way before they had the chance to utter even a single word was an easy choice to make. Whatever they were up to was none of your business and you'd be damned if you gave them the opportunity to make it your business.

Throwing a quick glance over your shoulder toward your droid, who dutifully was already clambering from his place atop the clone, you hollered as you went. "Let's go you little nerf-herder!"

“Was that…” Wrecker muttered as the Batch watched your fleeing figure, Buddy hopping up onto your back at his earliest convenience.

“Special Operative Karma? Yes, I believe it was.” 

A deep sigh fell from Hunter's lips. The Batch couldn’t have one simple mission, could they?

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[jaemsljn]

beautiful boy | M.L

-

A/N: i saw a video of this baby getting shots and his dad was singing to him to distract him, the baby didn’t even cry and i was like !!mark!!!! mark lee!! so i hope you enjoy my dad mark brain rot (i tried to avoid gendered terms for the reader or any physical description but lmk if there are any mistakes) this is unedited omg also the nurse calls mark “dad” a few times it's weird but nurses do that shit during baby appointments .. (the song is beautiful boy by John Lennon)

PAIRING: mark x gender neutral reader

WORD COUNT: 981

GENRE: fluff, angst if you squint

WARNINGS: Needles!!

“Babe, relax, I think you’re more stressed than he is.”

You pull your eyes away from the nurse preparing the needle and instead meet the gaze of your husband. You glance down at your son in his arms, who is indeed, far more relaxed than you.

“I’m just nervous. These are his first vaccinations and I feel like a terrible parent just bringing him here to get stabbed.”

Mark lets out a chuckle in front of you but upon seeing the affronted look on your face he quickly covers it up with a cough.

“I’m serious Mark! It sounds stupid and I know this is better for him in the long run but I just feel so guilty. What if he inherited my phobia of needles? and then he’ll forever hate me for forcing him to get a bunch of shots.”

You catch the quick upturn on Mark’s lips before he speaks, “Listen I get what you mean okay? It’s sucks having to let your kid get hurt but it really is for his own good. Imagine how much worse he would feel if he got Polio? or whooping cough?”

The nurse rolls her cart to stand beside you and your husband, you’d nearly forgotten she was in the room.

“Dad’s right you know? and I can promise you Baby’s not gonna remember any of this. Plus, I think he’s just happy he’s got his parents here with him, even if it’s scary.”

You gently nod at her words, feeling a bit more comforted.

“You’re doing great I promise, no parent likes taking their kids for vaccinations but it just shows that you’re a good one because you’re doing it anyway.”

You thanked her before looking back over to your husband. When your eyes met his you found complete adoration on his face as he stared at you. That soft smile and that tender look in his eyes that he only seems to get when he looks at you or your baby boy.

what.

you mouth to him, not wanting to be too cheesy in front of this poor nurse.

I just love you.

He mouths back. your heart grows impossibly more at the undying love the man in front of you has for you.

You’re interrupted from your love fest by the nurse clearing her throat.

“Alright, dad you ready? I’m gonna have you keep holding him like you are. Just a regular cradle and I’ll inject the shot in his upper thigh. Make sure to be ready to hold him more firmly if he tries to wiggle away. Oh! and don’t be shocked if he starts to cry, it’s completely normal.”

She looks at both of you with the last sentence and your heart breaks all over again imagining Mark having to hold Toby down while he cries.

The nurse kneels in front of Mark, cleaning your son's leg with an alcohol pad. Toby jumps a little at the coldness of the antiseptic and looks like he’s about to cry from the shock to his system. Before he's able to let out a single whine Mark is quick to distract him.

“Hey, dude you’re okay. it’s just a little cold. Daddy’s right here baby I got you.” You’re shocked at the way Toby immediately settles, smiling up at his dad like he hangs the stars in the sky (it seems he got at least one thing from you)

as the nurse reproaches with the needle and squeezes Toby’s chunky little thighs between her fingers you feel your heart drop into your stomach. Normally you’d be over there trying to comfort your baby as well but honestly, your nerves would probably make toby more scared.

Before the nurse can even push the needle in Mark is already distracting your baby boy. He puts his face close to his nuzzling their noses together, the most adorable grin on his face before he begins to sing.

“Close your eyes

Have no fear

The monsters gone

He’s on the run

and your daddy’s here.”

The nurse pushes the needle in.

“Beautiful beautiful beautiful,

beautiful boy.”

You see Toby twitch when the nurse injects the needle but you’re shocked at the fact he never breaks eye contact with Mark or loses that little grin on his face.

At that moment you think you’ve fallen even more in love with Mark Lee.

The nurse pulls the needle out, still not even a whine from Toby. Mark immediately begins to praise him. Telling him how well he did and how much daddy loves him.

You’re almost in shock at how well Mark handled that. He has to have some supernatural power to have been able to keep the baby’s attention through that. It seems the nurse had the same thought because she soon chimed in as she places a cute little kitty bandaid on his leg, “You’re a natural at that Dad! I’m honestly shocked a little, I’ve never seen a baby handle a shot so well. Even the best cry at least a little, but he was smiling the whole way through.” She finishes placing the bandaid on and turns to you, “you’re very lucky.”

You grin at her before speaking, “Boy don’t I know it.”

You take careful steps towards your two boys and kneel in front of them. You place a gentle hand on Toby’s forehead, who’s still smiling up at his dad.

“You’re fucking amazing do you know that?”

Mark lets out a bashful chuckle at your words.

“I mean, I do have to be pretty great to deserve somebody like you. But seriously babe I know that was hard for you, I’m proud of you for sticking through it.”

You elected not to speak and just leaned in to kiss your husband. Home will always be with Mark's skin on yours, and your sweet baby boy in one of your arms.