#i think the next step is not to increase her con but just figure out how to make her harder to hit

[rodimissliveblogs]

I keep forgetting to make a proper post introducing the character I'm playing, but suffice it to say, "I need you alive, you need me strong" is honestly a pretty convincing argument for letting a vampire drink your blood to a woman who has one (1) more hp than the squishy wizard, and who has one (1) cantrip that does damage and zero (0) leveled spells that do damage. That's it. That's all she's got. She's got Eldritch Blast and a rapier. She is a support caster, and the spell of support she's cast tonight is "become juicebox".

[tenaciouschronicler]

August 2 and 3 2024 2009

I fear I really will need to put all my posts into a word doc.

Lets work through the lore shall we.

So, back on page 251 when the Kernel divided it 'hatched' upon arrival to The Medium. These Kernels, one light and one dark, upon situating themselves in their respective Orbs activate the Imps present giving them characteristics from the prototyping, in this case harlequin clothing.

Im gonna put the rest under the cut, this post got away from me.

Again working from top to bottom, These Orbs are situated upon one of Four Spires which make up the throne of either sides Sovereign Power; the Dark throne is purple while the Light throne is gold. The first Kernels arrival is the catalyst that starts the 'true game', increasing the board to a 12x12, adding more pieces and actually placing the kings on opposite corners. Light is also always destined to lose. Im curious if each game can only be played by four players or if only the first four are placed in the spires and subsequesnt players dont have any effect on the Sovereign Powers? Could you play with less than four players and how would that game play out?

John and WV both wonder what the point is then if Light always loses and Nanna says that is The Ultimate Riddle they have to solve.

This part made me remember way back on page 82 when the narrator said:

The game presently eluding you is only the latest sleight of hand in the repertoire of an unseen riddler, one to engender a sense not of mirth, but of lack. His coarse schemes are those less of a prankster than a common pickpocket.

His riddle is Absence itself. It is a mystery dispersing altogether, like the moon's faint reflection, with even one pebble of inquiry dropped in its black well. It is the most diabolical riddle of all.

At the time I wrote, "Googling Absence gives us "the state of being away from a place or person". So his riddle is a state of being away from others... I feel like the following statement gives more but I cant discern what." Could this be The Ultimate Riddle Nanna is refering to? I still cant tell what the riddle is, maybe after I put all the Lore together I can at least try to add more to this. (After stepping back and re-reading it I figured out the 'diabolical riddle'; the nature of Absence is transitory and evanescent, here one moment gone the next. Looking for answers only serves to hasten its absence, obscuring itself with more questions.)

For now, John has to climb towards Skia by passing through the gates utilizing the games building funtion to reach. In that way he can save Dad! And what about Earth?

Nanna drops the bombshell that Earth is done for, regardless of how well they do in this game.

Finally done with her duty, Nanna heads off to bake John cookies! For the first time we see her phase through the walls leaving blue goo on the Con Air poster. We didnt see her doing that earlier but maybe theres more goo around the house.

WV is All About them cookies and pushes John to pursue. We learn John hates any and all baked goods "totally abjur[ing] the hell out of that idea."

Roses Pesterchum image is annoyed now, having tried to get Johns attention this whole time and is now trying to use a box to the head.

Unfortunately for her I think this is Johns last straw and hes having a well deserved scream. After everything hes gone through and learned, I think he needs it.

In the meantime and probably against better judgement, theres still a fire raging Rose, shes gonna update the GameFAQ. And apparently get sassed by a dead cat. It's pretty much all his fault you're in this mess in the first place, so he can just button it.

Whatever you say Rose.

[cherienymphe]

Crave (Peter Parker x Reader)

WARNINGS: DUB-CON, NON-CON, vampire!Peter, bloodplay, mentions of animal cruelty, mentions of murder, mentions of X-Men characters

DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU

divider provided by @/k1tty4rk

summary: when Peter goes missing while on a mission, he’s not exactly himself when he returns. His appetite is a little different now, and you soon find out that he’s hungry for more than just blood

~

You should’ve known that something was wrong when your phone went off at nearly 3 in the morning. No one ever called you that late, not even Peter. Your best friend was more likely to slip through your window if he needed something. Groggy with fatigue, it took you a moment to realize that you had not plugged your phone up before going to sleep like you thought, and that it was instead in your sheets somewhere. 

“Hello?” you finally grumbled, eyes still closed as you wondered just who in the world was calling you.

“Kid, it’s Tony. Is Peter with you?”

You were suddenly wide awake, blinking your eyes open as you forced yourself to sit up.

“No…? I thought… Isn’t he on a mission?”

Worry began to bleed into your heart, and it only increased at Tony’s words.

“He was, yeah.”

You threw the covers off of you, hurriedly sliding out of bed as you searched for some shoes.

“What do you mean ‘was’?”

The older man sighed, and you noted that his voice shook a little bit. You froze, heart dropping into your stomach as the severity of whatever was going on registered. Tony Stark was worried.

“He was supposed to check in 2 days ago. He was supposed to be back today. Neither of those things have happened.”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

Your pitch had risen, and you didn’t bother to mask your fear. 

“I don’t have much time to explain. Capsicle and Robocop are coming with me to see if we can find him. We’re leaving shortly, but my coordinates show that he’s still in Bulgaria. That’s where we sent him. We just haven’t heard a word from him and can’t seem to get in touch with him.”

You could hear things going on in the background, and you figured that they were only moments away from leaving. Your stomach churned, and you felt like you might be sick. If Tony Stark with all of his gadgets and resources couldn’t get ahold of Peter, then something was really wrong.

“Look, I have to go. If he shows up there, let us know immediately.”

He hung up before you had the chance to tell him that you were coming straight to the compound. You stared at your phone for a bit, brows drawn together as you processed this news. You hadn’t thought anything of it when you hadn’t heard from Peter in a few days. He wasn’t a kid anymore, had graduated college alongside you only last year, so his presence on the team was needed a lot more. His missions were less juvenile, so losing touch for a week at a time was nothing new.

As you threw on a coat to combat the biting New York air, you tried not to dwell on the worst. It couldn’t be helped though, and as soon as you stepped into your apartment hallway, shoulder grazing your door, tears filled your eyes. If Tony could see where Peter currently was...and he wasn’t able to get in touch with him...then that meant he was dead right? You shook your head, locking your door and tightening your fingers around your purse. There could be so many reasons for that. It didn’t mean he was dead.

The entire drive to upstate New York was a quiet one. You couldn’t even find it in yourself to fill the car with mind-numbing music to distract you. Your fingers were tight on the wheel, legs so tense that when you finally arrived at the compound, they actually hurt when you stepped out of the car. You leaned your back against the vehicle, the warmth seeping through your coat, and you released an unsteady breath.

You had known Peter since high school, easily finding a place with him and Ned, and eventually, MJ too. When Ned and MJ took their college education elsewhere, you had remained. You told yourself it was to save money, a partial truth, but you never wanted to admit that it was also to stay by Peter’s side. You couldn’t imagine being away from him. It was pathetic really, but Peter was more than some guy you loved. He was your best friend.

“I had a feeling you’d show up here.”

The familiar voice reached your ears, and you looked up at Wanda just as she floated down next to you. Her auburn hair was ruffled with a gentle breeze, her eyes sympathetic as she reached out to pull you into her side.

“They will find him,” she assured you.

You could hear Sam on the phone as soon as she guided you inside of the compound, and he sent you a tense smile and wave, which you returned. You could faintly hear other voices as well, and you figured that everyone who stayed back was wrapped up in doing whatever they could to get in contact with Peter. You felt helpless.

“What can I do?” you asked Wanda, already knowing the answer.

“Just be here,” she told you, making you sigh.

“Wanda…”

You gave her a reproachful look, and she smiled at you.

“We know you’re worried just like the rest of us, probably even more than the rest of us,” you swallowed at her knowing look. “...but everything will be okay. The last thing we need is you putting yourself in harm’s way or bursting a blood vessel.”

You nodded, heeding her words. You made your way to your room with a heavy heart. You were far from being a member of the team, you could barely throw a proper punch, but seeing as you came over so often with Peter, sometimes in the dead of night, Tony decided to have you a room put in. Right next to Peter’s.

One of his old college sweatshirts was on your desk, still there from the last time you borrowed it, and without thinking, you got undressed and put it on. It still smelled like him, and with the scent of your best friend filling your nose, you laid down and sought out sleep.

The next day brought bad news. They had found Peter’s suit, but no Peter. It explained his stationary location and their lack of success with getting in touch with him. You had just stepped into the door of the room when Tony told them, his virtual face wracked with fear and worry, something you weren’t used to seeing.

You could tell that you weren’t meant to hear the news just yet by the way Nat’s eyes widened when she finally noticed you. The rest of the team turned as she hurriedly rose, making her way to you just as your face crumbled.

“Y/N-.”

“Wh-what does that mean? What does he mean?”

Tony’s voice faded as she pulled you from the room, and you almost tripped over your feet as your legs shook.

“Hey, Y/N, it’s going to be okay,” she said, attempting to calm you.

“What does he mean by that? Why doesn’t he have his suit- where is he?”

You were in your room now, and she shushed you as she guided you to your bed. You sat down, staring at your feet as your brain whirled. You hadn’t realized how fast your heart was beating, and your whole body shook as you fought to process this news.

“I don’t understand,” you mumbled, more to yourself than the spy before you.

She came into your vision as she knelt before you, her hands taking yours.

“Me neither,” she mumbled.

You fingered Peter’s shirt. You were still wearing it, just with some jeans, and Nat observed the movement.

“How long?” she quietly asked.

She didn’t need to elaborate. You knew what she was asking.

“Since…” you shrugged, releasing a heavy breath. “...practically since forever.”

“Does he know?”

You sadly shook your head. She pursed her lips, red hair framing her face as she studied you.

“We’re going to find him, and when we do, you can tell him. Okay?”

You nodded.

“Okay,” you quietly replied.

Nat didn’t stay for long, and you guessed that she needed to get back to the team to plan the best course of action. You barely left your room for the rest of the day, not having much of an appetite nor energy for anything. It was late in the evening when you found yourself making your way to Peter’s room. You lost count of how many times you slept in here, but Peter was usually with you, and if not, he at least showed up at some point. You liked waking up to the sound of his soft snores.

It felt weird with him gone, even weirder when you accounted for the fact that you didn’t know when he’d be back. If he’d be back. Your face almost crumbled at the thought, and you laid down, grabbing one of his pillows and hugging it to your chest, unable to stop the tears that spilled over, no matter how much you tried.

You slept in his room for days, and for days there was still no sign of him. The team was beyond worried now. You knew it, no matter how much they tried to portray otherwise. They were getting restless and scared. You couldn’t exactly say that you were any different though.

Sleep was hard to find, and even when you did, you found yourself tossing and turning throughout the night. Every time you woke up, you kept hoping that he’d be there, that you’d hear his voice. You were met with a dark empty room each time though, and it always broke your heart. After Peter had been missing for 8 days, Wanda finally came to you.

“I think you should go home,” she told you.

You were sitting cross legged on Peter’s bed, and she sat before you, hands in her lap with her feet on the floor. You frowned at her, wondering if you had overstayed your welcome, but she continued.

“It’s not that we don’t want you here, because you know we love having you around, but… You do not look good, Y/N.”

You squirmed under her concerned stare, clearing your throat.

“I’m fine,” you quietly argued.

“You’re not, and that’s okay. You just...you look exhausted and worried, and you’ve lost weight. A considerable amount in such a short time. What would Peter think if he came back right now and saw that you weren’t properly taking care of yourself?” she wondered.

Guilt flooded you, and you reluctantly nodded.

“I know that being here brings you some comfort, but I don’t think it’s worth the toll it’s taking on you.”

Your shoulders sagged, and you reluctantly admitted that she was right. You wanted to be near Peter in any way you could, but constantly waiting and listening out for any news was stressing you out.

“Go home. Sleep in your own bed. Get some rest. You can always come back,” she said.

“Okay.”

So, you did. You took a shower as soon as you made it back to your apartment, finding another one of Peter’s shirts he’d left. You forced yourself to at least eat something of substance, and when you had all you could take, you made a cup of tea. You had tried to watch tv, but funnily enough, the news was reporting on a crime that Spider-Man’s had helped solve months ago. Unable to stomach it, you turned the tv off and opted for bed.

Strangely enough, you were able to sleep better in your own bed. It happened quickly, and you didn’t toss or turn much. The first time you floated back to consciousness, it must have been around 3 in the morning. It was the longest you’d slept in days, and you knew that you’d be drifting back soon. However, you faintly noted that goosebumps had erupted over your skin, like you were cold.

Considering it was cold outside, you kept your heater blasting.

You blinked, staring at your window. It was closed, but the curtains were parted, and you could see that it was snowing outside. For the first time in days, a small smile tugged at your lips, and with a sigh, you rolled over. A dark figure was standing beside your bed, and the scream that you let out echoed through the apartment, filled with terror.

You fought back against them as they reached for you, struggling to get away and move further back on the bed. Their hands were cool, like they’d been outside for a while with no gloves. You were sitting up, pushing against them when they reached over and flicked on your lamp. When light flooded the room, your eyes widened.

Peter stood before you, dressed casually in dark clothes and looking completely unharmed. You sharply inhaled, all of your breath leaving you as your lips parted, eyes welling with tears. You blinked a few times, feeling like you might have been dreaming, but Peter remained. You reached out to him with shaking hands, and your vision had started to blur.

“Hey, breathe. Breathe, Y/N,” he softly ordered, brows furrowed.

You did as he said, and your chest burned as you moved closer. You slid off of the bed, moving to stand up, but your legs were unsteady. Peter caught you just as you fell into his arms, wrapping your own around him. You buried your face into his chest, your tears wetting his shirt, and he enveloped you in his arms as he shushed you.

You were shaking so much, and you just couldn’t stop. You couldn’t believe that he was here, and he looked perfectly fine. You sobbed into his chest, and you felt him tighten his arms around you. You clung to him, maneuvering to bury your face into the crook of his neck, feeling guilty about his shirt. You could feel him do the same, his nose brushing against your skin, and he took a long inhale, breathing you in.

“You’re okay,” you blubbered.

“Yeah...yeah, I’m okay,” he whispered.

You pulled away from him, roaming your eyes over him before meeting his own eyes.

“Where...where have you been? Everyone is looking for you,” you softly told him.

“I know,” he replied, looking sheepish.

“We have to call Tony,” you said, reaching for your phone.

Peter stopped you before you could, his hand tight on your wrist, and you found yourself wincing at his harsh grip. You looked at him with a frown, heart skipping a beat at his sudden dark countenance. He swallowed, and your eyes were briefly drawn to the subtle movement in his throat before he eventually let you go.

“I can’t...I can’t go back,” he told you, shaking his head.

Your eyes widened at him, and confusion filled you. What?

“What are...what are you talking about? Everyone is worried sick, more worried than I’ve ever seen them. Peter, they have no idea where you are or if you’re even okay! We should at least tell them-.”

You swallowed the rest of your words as you noticed that he made to leave.

“I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have come here-.”

“Wait, wait!”

You grabbed onto the back of his shirt. You weren’t any match for him, but you were thankful that he halted. You wrapped your arms around him from behind, your lips brushing his shoulder as you spoke.

“Stay. Please stay,” you whispered.

His shoulders heaved as he sighed, and you continued.

“I’m sorry, okay? We don’t...we don’t have to tell them anything. If you don’t want to go back that’s fine, but… I’ve been so worried.”

That last part was said so softly, it was a wonder he even heard you. He didn’t say anything, nor did he move for a while, but eventually he turned around, and you let your arms fall. When your eyes met his again, you watched the way they narrowed, forehead creasing just a bit. You didn’t understand why until he reached up to press his fingers to the skin beneath your eyes. You could see the disapproval in his eyes, and all you could offer was a shrug.

“I was so worried.”

Peter blinked, face falling before he pulled you into his arms again. You returned the hug and let your eyes fall closed, just basking in the feel of him. You could hear his heartbeat, so slow...and so faint, something that seemed impossible. You told yourself you were imagining it.

“You’ll stay, right?”

He threw you a small smile when you pulled back to look at him, and you watched the way his dark eyes ran over you, lingering on your neck a tad longer than the rest of you before his eyes met yours again.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

You smiled at him, pulling him towards your bed. You settled in, only just realizing how cold you had gotten, while Peter got in behind you. Your head hit the pillow just as he turned the light out, and you frowned when you noticed that he wasn’t completely laying down. He was on his side, facing you with his head propped up onto his hand.

“You’re not tired?”

His eyes trailed to your window, staring out into the night for a moment before he shook his head.

“No...not really.”

You chuckled.

“So you’re just going to watch me sleep?” you wondered.

He reached towards you with his other hand, brushing his fingers along your neck and collarbone, fingers cool against your warm skin. A shudder passed through you.

“I missed you,” was his only answer, and it made your heart soar.

You knew that he didn’t miss you like you missed him, but it made you happy to hear that nonetheless.

“I missed you too.”

He didn’t respond, and you closed your eyes, the feel of his fingers on your skin oddly soothing. He always made you nervous, but not tonight. You wondered if it was because you had gone without him for so long, unsure if he would ever return. Sleep was just within your reach, but something weighed on your mind that prevented you from grabbing hold of it.

“Why don’t you want to go back?”

Your voice was small in the otherwise quiet room, and when Peter didn’t answer right away, you peeled your eyes open. He had stopped touching you, fingers curling into the covers as his jaw clenched.

“They won’t want me back.”

You frowned, forcing yourself to sit up. You blinked at him a few times, lips parting as you processed what that meant. Why wouldn’t they want him back? Peter was part of the team, one of the most loved members of the team. Said team was practically sick with worry, had been for over a week. Despite the fact that Peter was right in front of you and seemingly safe and sound, worry began to take hold again.

“Why wouldn’t they want you back?”

Your best friend didn’t answer you, and your worry grew, heartbeat picking up. Peter’s eyes were on you now as he sat up too, so focused and intense.

“What happened on your mission, Peter? What happened in Bulgaria?”

Again, Peter didn’t respond, but the minute you moved closer to him, he snatched your arm. Startled, you almost fell over, but his fingers curled around your wrist and pulled you closer, guiding the palm of your hand right to his chest.

Where his heart was.

Again, like before, you noted that his heartbeat was so slow. And even fainter. It was almost nonexistent, and your brows crinkled. You had felt and heard his heartbeat many times before since he’d become Spider-Man, and you knew that this was no effect of the spider bite. You had a hard time wrapping your mind around what you were feeling, and you looked at him again.

“I have...I have to tell you something…”

You fought to keep your worry at bay, noting the way Peter’s voice shook.

“I may even have to show you...but you have to promise me…”

His hand tightened on your wrist, and he released a shaky breath.

“...promise me that you won’t be scared.”

Scared of Peter? He was your best friend, and you couldn’t ever imagine being afraid of him. Still, you felt like he needed this so you nodded.

“Okay.”

Peter’s side of the bed was empty when you woke up, and your heart lurched in a mild panic before you realized why. The sun shone through your window, bathing your room in the warm rays, and you swallowed as you wondered where he could’ve gone.

“I’m right here.”

You snapped your head up to find him standing in the hall, just outside of your doorway. He was out of the sun’s reach, and you slid out of bed to join him. He was watching you like he couldn’t anticipate your next move, and you sent him a smile to reassure him.

“Do you...need anything…?”

You didn’t come right out and say it, but you both knew what you were asking. He studied you for a moment before shaking his head.

“No. I...ate before I came here last night,” he told you.

You nodded and folded your arms over your chest with a long sigh. You could feel his eyes on you as you looked away.

“Look, Peter...I know you're not going to like what I have to say, but…”

You chanced a glance at him and found his dark eyes narrowed at you.

“I think you need to tell Tony.”

He briefly closed his eyes before letting them fall to the ground, hands shoved in his pockets.

“If anyone can help you, he can.”

Peter scoffed, a humorless sound.

“Help me with what? It’s not like he can fix this, Y/N. This goes past Tony Stark and all of his intellect,” he practically spat, frustration coloring his tone. “This is what I am now.”

You grabbed his hands, squeezing them as you moved closer.

“I know, I know. I just meant...maybe he can help you safely get what you need.”

His eyes met yours, albeit reluctantly.

“...and maybe he can help you control your appetite better. That way...that way you won’t hurt anyone else,” you quietly finished, recalling everything he’d told you.

Guilt passed through Peter’s features at the reminder of what he’d done. He closed his eyes, practically squeezing them shut as his shoulders heaved, a small sigh escaping him.

“Maybe...you’re right,” he hesitantly admitted.

You could see the war going on within him when he opened his eyes, conflict and guilt and self-loathing all passing over his face.

“Hey.”

He looked at you.

“You’re still you. You just...your diet’s a little different now, that’s all.”

He cracked a smile, a small chuckle leaving him, and you joined him.

“When the sun goes down, we’ll go to the compound, and...and everything will be okay,” you promised him.

He nodded, and hours later, when the sun was safely behind the horizon, that was what you did. You drove. Peter was still wary of his new strength, strength that far surpassed what he had before. Your wrist was still sore from when he’d grabbed you last night, but you didn’t want him to feel any worse than he already did.

Having called Tony on the way, he was waiting outside when you arrived. As per requested, he was the only one. You didn’t want Peter to get overwhelmed. You weren’t exactly sure of what he was capable of now, neither one of you really were, and you didn’t want to stress him out.

Tony had pulled him into a hug the minute he reached him, and your heart clenched for many reasons. You hoped that you’d made the right decision. Tony loved Peter. He’d help him, right? When he pulled away, the bearded man’s eyes flickered between the two of you with a frown.

“So you’re going to tell me what the hell this is all about?”

Before you could respond, Peter moved to pull him inside.

“It’s a long story, Mr. Stark…”

His voice trailed off as they went inside, and with a small sigh, you eventually followed. Neither one of them were present, and you figured that they went to the lab. You had a feeling that everyone else was there too, or at least not far off. They’d been worried sick and now Peter was back, seemingly unharmed. Of course they’d be concerned and curious.

Wanda was the only one who greeted you, and her eyes were wide as they met yours. They were a bit accusatory, even fearful, and you pursed your lips. She probably didn’t mean to, but it was easy to guess that she’d been inside of Peter’s head. She knew, and there was no telling what she saw. 

“Y/N…?”

You shook your head.

“He’s still him, Wanda. Okay? Everything is going to be fine.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue as you moved past her to go to your room. You didn’t see anyone else the rest of the night, and you knew that they were all caught up with Peter. Figuring out how this happened, running tests, coming up with the best course of action. You were in and out of sleep when you heard Peter come into your room in the early hours of the morning.

He wrapped his arms around you as he slid in behind you, and even though he wasn’t as warm as he used to be, the familiarity of it all immediately relaxed you. You felt him bury his nose in your hair, taking a deep breath as he breathed you in, fingers brushing over the skin of your arms.

“Everything okay?” you mumbled, referring to Tony and the rest of the team.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “He wants me to drink pig’s blood, but yeah. Everything’s okay.”

You chuckled at that, sleep finding you once more as you smiled at Peter’s joke. However, it was the next day when you discovered that he hadn’t been joking at all.

“You’re serious?”

Peter nodded with a frown, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the counter.

“He wants to start weaning me off of human blood and start transitioning to animal blood,” he grumbled.

You noted that he wasn’t happy about that, and your curiosity got the better of you.

“Is that bad?”

“Not necessarily, no,” he sighed. “He thinks it’ll help me. That maybe I’ll...crave human blood less and it’ll lower my chances of losing control around someone.”

You blinked, wondering if you agreed with that.

“I mean, he doesn’t exactly know. This is all just trial and error, right now, because probably for the first time in Mr. Stark’s life, he’s stumped,” Peter said with a shrug. “...but it’s worth a shot.”

You felt like there was more to it, like he wanted to say something else.

“He doesn’t know that I already tried that,” he whispered.

You leaned against the opposite counter, watching as his frown deepened, eyes troubled.

“When I woke up...I felt like I had swallowed fire,” he murmured. “My teeth hurt, my throat burned, and my mind was going a mile a minute. I felt like I was losing it.”

He sounded angry as he glared at the floor.

“The only thing that even smelled slightly appealing was…”

He trailed off, shaking his head, a light chuckle leaving him.

“I must have killed at least 100 animals. Anything I could get my hands on… It was like an itch I couldn’t scratch, only 1,000 times worse. It wasn’t until...it wasn’t until I came across those hikers…”

He swallowed his words, letting his face fall into his hands. You neared him, resting your hand on his arm.

“It was the first time I’d felt okay in days. I could finally freaking think,” he said through clenched teeth, letting his hands fall. “There I was...covered in blood...surrounded by bodies of innocent people...and I was finally at peace.”

You pulled him into a hug as he recounted what he’d already told you. You knew that Peter wouldn’t ever forget that moment, but God, you wanted him to. That wasn’t who he was, you knew it, and you wanted him to know it too. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, nose brushing over the skin, and his hands rested on your waist.

Your conversation with Nat weighed on your heart. Like she’d said, Peter was back, and you could finally tell him, but it didn’t seem appropriate. The man had been attacked and turned into something you thought only existed in books. This was a hard time for him, and it seemed silly to drop one more thing onto him, one more thing that could definitely wait.

“I wouldn’t get too close to him if I were you, Y/N. He might mistake you for a quarter pounder.”

You pulled away just as Bucky’s deep chuckle reached your ears, and you turned to see both him and Sam enter the kitchen. Sam seemed pleased with his little joke.

“You’re not funny,” you told him, completely unamused.

“It’s a little funny,” Bucky disagreed, and you huffed.

You felt Peter pull away, and by the time you looked over your shoulder, he was gone.

“Seriously?”

You threw them an incredulous look, and Sam shrugged.

“Look, we’ve got to find some humor in this okay? The kid’s got fangs and he lives off of blood now,” Sam said like it was the most absurd thing in the world.

Considering that you all were friends with literal Gods and even a woman who controlled the weather, you were inclined to disagree.

“This is hard for him, okay?”

You weren’t sure if they knew the full extent of what he’d done, but you heard Sam sigh, and Bucky at least looked a little sheepish.

“I’m sure he’ll joke about it when he’s ready, but please let him do it in his own time. His whole life has changed...again.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to the club,” Bucky sighed.

You rolled your eyes and turned away with a scoff.

“What’d I say?” you heard Bucky ask, but you were already making your way to Peter’s room.

You were surprised that he told you to come in when you knocked, and you slowly stepped inside. He was on his bed, hand behind his head as he scrolled through his phone.

“You okay?”

He let his hand fall, greeting you with a smile.

“Yeah, I’m good. They don’t mean any harm, so I’m not going to let it get to me,” he replied, reaching for you.

You joined him on the bed, laying your head on his shoulder as he told F.R.I.D.A.Y to turn on the tv.

“Want to watch a movie with me? As silly as it seems, all I could think about was curling up with you and watching a movie the whole time I was away,” he confessed.

Your heart fluttered, sure he could hear it, but he didn’t comment on it. His arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer, and you nodded.

“Yeah, I’d love to.”

His hand tightened on your hip as you figured out what movie to put on.

Every day, Peter went to the lab with Tony and Bruce, and every time he returned, he always seemed irritated. You tried not to comment on the harshness of his eyes and tautness of his jaw, but eventually, you had to express your concern.

“It’s nothing,” he told you one day. “They just keep treating me like some science experiment gone wrong.”

He played it off like no big deal, but you could tell that he was genuinely bothered.

“...and its this stupid diet or whatever you can even call it! It’s not working. It’s not satisfying or fulfilling, at all. I can’t taste a damn thing, I’m just drinking to get full? If that’s what you can even call it. It does absolutely nothing to satisfy me or quell this desire…”

He trailed off at your light chuckle. 

“Alright, Edward Cullen.”

He threw you a hard look, and you swallowed your laughs. While he was finally making jokes about the situation himself now, you realized that now was not the time.

“Sorry…”

He heaved a long sigh, turning to stare out of the window.

“You wanna get out of here?” he suddenly asked.

You blinked at him.

“Now?”

He glanced at the clock, and so did you. It was almost 2 in the morning.

“I can’t think of a better time,” he replied.

You chewed on your lip.

“Where?”

“Anywhere,” he shrugged. “Just for a little bit…”

He hadn’t left the compound in weeks, Tony far too paranoid, and you could see how much he needed this.

“Okay.”

That was how 40 minutes later, you found your car parked near a small pond while you and Peter leaned against it, staring at the full moon. Neither one of you had said anything since you left, and you guessed that Peter was in his thoughts. You couldn’t blame him.

“You know, if I’d been bitten by a werewolf, we’d be having a totally different night, right now.”

You barked a laugh, and he joined you.

“If you were bitten by a werewolf, I’d be trying to play fetch with you,” you replied.

He chuckled again, and the two of you fell into another easy silence. Your eyes narrowed a bit as something weighed on your mind, and you suddenly crossed your arms over your chest.

“Why won’t Tony let you have any human blood? I mean, blood banks exist…”

Peter sighed, a frustrated sound, and you turned to look at him. The cool nightly breeze blew his dark hair around his face, and his jaw clenched.

“He thinks it’ll make me crave it more. Kind of like an addict, you know?”

You shook your head, disagreeing with that.

“...but...it’s not. This is part of your DNA, now, is it not? He shouldn’t be looking at it like a drug but instead like...food. It’s what you need to survive, now,” you explained.

“You’re right...but that’s blood I’d be taking away from people who need it. Besides, it’d be pretty messed up of me to…‘convince’ some stranger to let me drink from them and then alter their memory of the whole thing,” he mumbled.

“That’s right. You did tell me you can do that, now,” you mused.

“I’m pretty sure it’ll come in handy during missions. You know, if I ever go on one again,” he complained.

Your heart hurt for Peter. His entire life had been turned on its head again. He couldn’t go on missions, couldn’t even see his aunt, and on top of it all, he couldn’t even satisfy the craving his body had for what it actually needed. You pursed your lips and glanced at him again. You were positive he noticed before, but this time he commented on it.

“What?”

You glanced away from him, heart speeding up a bit as you wrung your hands together.

“What about me?”

He didn’t respond right away, and when you looked at him again, his eyes were on you. They were narrowed, hard, but you could see the spark of something in them that gave you hope that maybe this wasn’t such a horrible idea after all. Peter’s lips parted, his sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight before he snapped his mouth shut. He cleared his throat.

“You...you would do that?”

“Of course,” you said with a frown, turning your body completely to face him. “This is what you need, and you’re my best friend, and I’m willing. So you don’t have to let your morals get in the way.”

Peter stared at you for what seemed like a long time, eyes roaming over every inch of you. You watched as he swallowed, the conflict written all over his face. You could see that he was scared, afraid that he’d hurt you, but you could also see the fire in his eyes, the desire to take you up on your offer.

“Worst case scenario-.”

“You die?”

You rolled your eyes at him, stepping closer.

“You won’t let me die, Peter. We both know it,” you whispered, pushing your sleeve up and holding your arm out.

Peter’s dark eyes snapped to the bared skin, no doubt tracing the veins that you couldn’t see. Hesitantly, he grabbed your wrist, taking a deep breath before slowly lifting your arm as he bent his head. His breath, like everything else about him now, was cool against your skin. You watched as he closed his eyes, dark lashes contrasting against his fair skin, before opening his mouth. You barely got a glimpse of his sharp canines in all of their glory before they were sinking into your arm.

The reaction from you both was instantaneous. 

A loud gasp escaped you, but not from pain. No. Your body heated up like never before, blood on fire as Peter let out an equally loud groan. An addicting sense of euphoria descended over you, and you felt your legs shaking, lashes fluttering as you struggled to keep your eyes open. Sensing this, Peter reached out with his free hand and tangled it within your hair, pulling you closer until your head leaned against his shoulder.

You could feel him moving forward, and he didn’t stop until your back was against your car. His hand tightened in your hair, almost painfully, but all you let out was a moan, your breath choppy and lips trembling as he pressed his leg in between yours. Your free hand clutched his jacket, attempting to pull him closer, and a low moan escaped his own throat as he pushed his thigh more firmly against your now heated core.

You faintly noted that this was a lot more erotic than you anticipated, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. He was still pressing your head to his shoulder, and your lips brushed the fabric of his jacket as you murmured his name.

“Peter...Peter…”

You couldn’t tell if you were asking him to stop or not, but considering this was the best high you’d ever been on, you concluded that you were not. Suddenly, all too soon, Peter practically ripped himself away from you, and you would’ve fallen to the ground if he hadn’t caught you. Your chest was heaving, so was his, and when you peeled your eyes open, his own wide ones were focused on you.

“Shit,” he cursed, looking like he was seconds away from getting in trouble. “Shit, shit, shit. I shouldn’t have done that. Mr. Stark is going to kill me…”

“Hey...it’s okay,” you panted, weakly reaching up to brush a dark strand out of his face. “I’m okay. How do you feel?”

He seemed stumped by the question, and he suddenly blinked, brows drawn together as he stared down at you. His lips were stained with your blood.

“I...haven’t felt this satisfied in weeks,” he whispered, looking at you strangely.

You weakly chuckled, eyes fluttering closed.

“Good.”

You had only been seconds away from falling when he caught you, and he finally straightened as he lifted you into his arms. You could feel yourself on the verge of sleep...or was it the verge of death? Either way, you were happy that Peter was happy. He gently deposited you into the passenger’s seat, strapping you into place. Your head lolled as he shut the door, facing him as he settled behind the wheel.

You could feel his eyes on you, and with difficulty, you opened yours again. He was staring at you with that look again, and you were sure he thought you crazy for putting your life in danger like that. The car was quiet, just the sound of your shallow breathing could be heard, and you thought to yourself that you kind of wanted to tell him you loved him. However, before you could, Peter leaned over and pressed his blood-stained lips to yours.

It was quick and soft, just the barest of touches, but it made your eyes widen nonetheless. You stared at him as he sat back and started the car, and you wanted to keep staring at him, wanted to ask him what the hell was that, but sleep finally got to you before you could.

It was days before you finally discussed what had happened, and that was only because it was days before Peter needed to “feed” again.

“I think I can go longer without when it’s human blood...because it’s what actually satisfies me. What my body needs,” he murmured one night while you were watching a movie you’d both seen a million times.

“That’s a good thing. Surely Tony will see that this is the best thing to do. This is what will keep you in control and allow you to go on missions again...see your aunt May…”

You had decided to keep what happened between the two of you, but you didn’t exactly feel right about it. Peter sighed and shook his head.

“No. I think he’d send me away,” he quietly told you.

You quickly moved your head to look up at him, your cheek on his chest as you stared at him with wide eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s been doing research, trying to find others like me. I think he has. I overheard him talking to the captain and Sam one day. He’s thinking about sending me somewhere I can learn to control my thirst and utilize my new…abilities or whatever,” he grumbled.

You fully sat up now, looking down at him with a stricken expression. His eyes finally moved away from the screen, and he smiled at you, rubbing your back in a soothing manner. 

“I’m not going to let him send me away, Y/N, but he’ll definitely try if we tell him what happened.”

You nodded, forcing your heart to slow before you laid back down. Peter’s hand was still on your back, tracing patterns into your, well, his shirt. You listened to his slow heartbeat, the organ pumping what was left of your blood through his body. Your lashes fluttered when he dragged his fingers up to your neck, the appendages playing with the hair there. You found yourself humming when he tightened his hold there, and you looked up in confusion, prepared to ask him what he was doing when his other hand gripped your arm, and he pulled you up.

His lips met yours in a kiss that was nothing like the first one. You gasped against his mouth, and he wasted no time before taking the opportunity to taste the inside of yours. Peter moaned into the kiss, circling both arms around you now as he rolled the both of you over. He settled himself between your parted legs, and you sharply inhaled at the bulge you felt there.

Peter’s hand traveled to your neck again, grasping the hair at the nape, holding you in place as he dragged his mouth down. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he bit you, throwing your hands out to grasp anything you could. Your right hand hit the lamp on the nightstand, and it fell to the floor with a soft crash. Peter’s other hand pressed into your back, forcing you to arch your chest into his.

His hips were rolling into yours, his clothed member pressing against the most sensitive part of you so deliciously. You let out a soft moan, one hand clawing at his shirt, pushing the fabric up to drag your nails along his back. Peter had you completely pinned in between him and the mattress, every curve of his hips sending pleasure through you.

“Peter,” you moaned, reaching up to drag your hand along the headboard. “Fuck, Peter.”

You could feel your blood crawling past your neck, staining his sheets, but he didn’t seem to care. The bed shook a bit from his movements, and you hooked one leg on his waist as he continued to grind into you. You could feel yourself fading, and you welcomed it, and before you could, one particularly slow roll of his hips sent you over the edge.

You were a moaning mess as you came beneath him, his teeth still embedded in your neck. Your whole body shook, legs practically vibrating as they fell around him, chest heaving as he finally pulled away. He licked at your neck, and your arms fell to the bed, soft murmurs leaving your lips to which Peter chuckled at. He brushed his thumb over your lip before leaning back down, lips grazing your ear.

“Go to sleep,” he whispered. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You did, he was, and he greeted you with a kiss, further filling you with confusion as you wondered just what you were. You didn’t want to ruin it, didn’t want to break the spell by trying to make him define this. You simply wanted to enjoy whatever this was, and enjoy it you did.

Every few days or so, you found yourself squirming beneath Peter one way or another. Sometimes he simply pressed kisses along your neck as he rolled his hips into yours, sometimes his teeth were in you, and sometimes his fingers were in you, the sound of it so loud as he thrust them in and out of your fluttering core. The rest of the team was none the wiser as you both satisfied each other in more ways than one. It was usually in the dead of night when everyone else was asleep, and Peter was wide awake.

“Ngh, Peter,” you panted, fingers twisted into his dark locks.

You were completely naked before him, a first, as he swiped his tongue over your wet folds, another first. His own fingers were pressed into your thighs, holding them down in a way that hurt so good. The cool air hit the bite mark on the inside of your left thigh, and you hissed as Peter slid his tongue past your slick walls, tasting every inch of you that he could.

A thin layer of sweat covered your frame, and you realized that you lost track of how long Peter had been alternating between tasting your blood and tasting your lips. His mouth completely covered you, and you shuddered when he sucked on your little bundle of nerves, sharp teeth grazing your sensitive skin.

You could feel your...3rd? 4th? Or was it the 5th climax of the night that you felt approaching? You were so tired, but Peter didn’t seem to have gotten his fill of you, and his lips kissed along your mound before traveling to the space in the crease of your thigh before he swiped his tongue over your thigh itself, the unmarked one. It was dark in the room, and when Peter glanced up at you, dark promises in his eyes, you noted that they almost seemed to glow in the dark, like that of a feline.

He wasted no time before sinking his teeth into your skin again, and you pressed your hand to your mouth to keep from making too much noise. You knew that he’d ordered F.R.I.D.A.Y to soundproof the room, but it was a force of habit by now. Your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave, and that was how you fell asleep that night, with Peter’s face in between your legs, drinking from you in any way he saw fit.

“Look who decided to grace us with her presence,” Bucky sarcastically greeted as you walked into the kitchen the next morning.

Steve threw you a sheepish smile, visibly sorry on Bucky’s behalf for his behavior.

“Cut it out, Buck.”

“I’m just acknowledging that the princess has been holed up in her room more often than not as of late. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought you went home, but I noticed that you’re still eating my cereal, the only other person who eats the kind I like, so…”

You rolled your eyes as he trailed off, and he reached out to pull on your shirt as you neared.

“What’s with the turtleneck, squirt? I know it’s freezing outside, but in case you haven’t noticed, it’s 77 degrees in here.”

You tensed at his words, and you ignored the way Steve eyed you over his mug.

“I just think I’m coming down with something is all. I’m a little chillier than usual today,” you lied.

He simply hummed, and that was when you finally noticed his attire. Steve too.

“Are you guys going on a mission?”

“You’d know the answer to that if you actually left your room once in a while,” Bucky grumbled, and Steve lightly shoved his shoulder.

“Yeah, the whole team’s heading out. Well...except…” Steve trailed off, and you nodded. “...but Nat and Sam are supposed to be returning from their assignment today, so they’ll be back later.”

You nodded at Steve’s words, not quite liking the way that he was studying you. You hurriedly poured your own cup of coffee, quietly telling them to “be safe” before moving to get out of Steve’s watchful eye.

Hours later found you and Peter on the couch, hardly paying any attention to the movie before you. You had the compound to yourselves, something you looked forward to, but Peter had other ideas than that of what you were thinking.

“You want to...leave?”

You frowned at him, unsure that you heard him right. Peter was facing you with his elbow on the back of the couch, propping his head up as his other hand traced your collarbone.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Mr. Stark...I think he’s getting serious about sending me away for a while. I think he suspects us, but I’m not sure.”

You mulled over his suggestion, unsure of how you felt about it.

“They couldn’t even find me last time. I’d make sure they’d never find us,” he told you.

“I...I don’t know. I mean, I love you, but I’d miss everyone else,” you replied.

When you looked to him, he looked surprised, and his lips parted as he blinked at you.

“...what?”

Your brows drew together.

“What?”

He scooted closer, a slow grin forming on his pink lips.

“You love me?”

You scoffed at him.

“Of course. Peter, I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember,” you finally confessed.

You thought that it would’ve been obvious by now, but Peter just looked as if you told him he’d won a million dollars. Before you could register it, he reached out to pull you into a kiss. It was passionate and full of yearning...and hungry. You wrapped your arms around his neck and moved closer, Peter’s hand pressing into the small of your back. His lips trailed from your own down to your jaw, pressing kisses there and to your neck. You’d changed shirts as soon as everyone had left.

You knew what he wanted, what he needed, and you welcomed it as he pressed his teeth into your skin. A breathy moan climbed out of your throat as he laid you down. Your heart was going haywire in your chest, the realization that Peter returned your feelings finally hitting you. His hands ran over you, brushing over your breasts and down your sides before he hooked them underneath your thighs.

He pressed his bloody lips to your décolletage, nipping at the skin there before they grazed the swell of your breasts. He bit into the flesh that spilled over the top of your shirt, and you trembled beneath him, a loud moan escaping you. He growled into your skin, fingers pressing into your thighs almost painfully. You weren’t sure how long you remained beneath him, lashes fluttering and lips parted as ecstasy clouded your mind, but eventually, you felt yourself fading in a way you had never felt before.

Your vision blurred, and you could feel your heart starting to slow.

“Peter,” you worriedly murmured.

He seemed preoccupied with releasing himself from his jeans, fingers brushing over you as he reached underneath your skirt. You opened your mouth to protest, but all that came out was a choked sound, the sound transforming into a breathy gasp when he thrust into you.

“Peter,” you weakly called.

You could feel yourself fading fast, and Peter’s own breath was harsh as he drank from you, snapping his hips into yours with every thrust. You could faintly hear a door opening, and you wanted to warn him, but you could hardly move, let alone speak. Darkness creeped along the edge of your vision, and the last thing you heard before going under was a feminine scream.

You knew that you were in the infirmary before you even opened your eyes. The steady beep of the monitor next to you told you that whatever condition you had been in was pretty serious. You struggled to open them, but when your eyes finally peeled open, you noticed that the room was empty.

“Ms. Y/L/N, you’re awake,” F.R.I.D.A.Y noted. “I will inform Mr. Stark immediately.”

You cringed, squeezing your eyes shut at the mention of the last superhero you wanted to see. You just knew that you were going to get an earful, and you didn’t really care to hear it. You just wanted to know where Peter was and if he was okay.

Tony burst through the doors a lot sooner than you would have liked, and you avoided his eye. He didn’t say anything, and you knew that he was angry, because when did Tony Stark ever have absolutely nothing to say?

“Are you insane?” he finally wondered, and you sighed.

“Where’s Peter?”

“That doesn’t matter right now,” he snapped, and you finally looked at him as he stomped towards your bed. “You could’ve died.”

You shrank underneath his cold stare and harsh words, glancing away.

“Do you get that, Y/N? When Nat and Sam got here…”

He trailed off, face reddening as he was no doubt recalling what he’d been told, probably what he’d even seen thanks to F.R.I.D.A.Y. You watched as he swallowed, releasing a breath.

“Any later, and you would’ve been dead,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry,” you quietly told him. “I just wanted to help him.”

He heaved a long sigh, a tired and exasperated sound.

“I know you love him…”

You frowned at that, wondering if the whole damn team knew.

“...but he needs help from people who can help him. Help him to control himself, hone his new skills, help him so that he doesn’t kill you,” Tony finished, and you blinked back tears. “Go home and let us handle Peter. When the time is right, he’ll be able to see you again.”

The tears finally spilled over, and with a shake of his head, Tony left you. After a few more days in the infirmary, and several blood transfusions later, you did as Tony instructed. It felt strange to be back home after spending nearly 2 months at the compound with Peter. As you entered your room, sitting on your bed, you felt silly.

Tony had been right. You had almost died. You recalled the feel of your life literally slipping away as Peter drank from you, too lost in the taste and feel of you to notice that he was losing control. You had only wanted to help him, and you had ended up making things worse. Was Tony right to treat it like an addiction? Had you hindered Peter more than you helped him? You didn’t know. All you knew was that your actions almost led to your death at Peter’s hand, and that Tony’s actions had not.

You didn’t know where Peter was, but you had faith that he was alright. You hoped that Tony didn’t give him too hard of a time for what he’d done, but you knew that was unlikely. Nat, poor Nat, had literally walked in on him feeding from you and fucking you. There was no telling what the poor woman thought, and you hated the idea of them treating Peter like some wild animal that needed to be caged.

It was 3 nights later when you woke up to the feel of fingers ghosting over the side of your face as you slept. It took you a moment to register what was happening, but when you blinked your eyes open, you were surprised to come face to face with Peter as he stood over you.

“P-Peter?” 

You struggled to sit up, and you rubbed your eyes, noting the way his own dark ones lingered on your neck. 

“What are you doing here?”

“We’re getting out of here. C’mon,” he said, reaching for you.

You frowned at him, and you watched his own face fall.

“I don’t...I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you honestly told him.

He frowned at you, and guilt tore through you for more reasons than one.

“Don’t listen to Mr. Stark-.”

“Maybe I should’ve. Maybe...maybe he knew what he was talking about,” you said, cutting him off.

His hand fell to his side, and his dark eyes narrowed on you.

“You’re afraid of me,” he murmured.

“No! No...not really-.”

He cut you off with an angry sigh, and you folded your arms over your chest.

“I almost died, Peter!”

You watched the conflict on his features, brows furrowing ever so slightly.

“...and you would’ve never forgiven yourself...and I feel like it’s my fault…”

Peter stood over you, dressed plainly but darkly, chocolate locks kissing his forehead as he stared at you. He didn’t look happy.

“So you’re taking his side,” he surmised. 

“I just think you should hear him out,” you whispered. “We tried it our way...and look what happened.”

He didn’t say anything, and neither did you. You sat there, and he stood there, both of you just staring at each other. You watched the way Peter’s jaw clenched, and he suddenly reached out to tangle his fingers in your hair, pulling you into a kiss as he neared. You pressed your hands against his chest, but Peter forced his way onto your bed, knees pressed into the mattress on either side of you as he moved his mouth against yours.

“Mm, Peter,” you protested, turning your head away.

“They think I raped you, you know,” he quietly said, the loud sound of tearing fabric filling the room as he ripped your t-shirt straight down the middle.

Your eyes went wide at his words, and he chuckled, the corner of his lips quirking upwards into a smirk.

“Oh, yeah. They think I coerced you with my new abilities or even just flat out bit you and took you anyway I saw fit,” he whispered.

The irony of the situation was not lost on you, and you desperately fought against him. Your underwear was next, and you were no match against Peter’s newfound strength as he batted your hands away, moving to remove his own clothes.

“They don’t know that I had you squirming beneath me, purring and mewling like a desperate kitten.”

His voice was husky, thick with the desire to sink both his teeth and cock into you. He gripped your legs, separating them like it was nothing despite your efforts to keep them closed.

“They think that you’re bad for me…”

It was embarrassingly easy for him to slide into you, your velvet walls giving him a wet welcome. He sighed out as he pressed into you, dark eyes somehow darker.

“...they think I’ve formed some supernatural bond with you, some kind of blood tie…”

A choked moan slipped past your lips as he started to thrust into you, and Peter leaned down to press kisses to the corner of your mouth.

“...and they might be right, but it only cements what we both know.”

His hands pressed into the sheets beside your head, his labored breathing reaching your ears as he pulled back and snapped his hips into yours again and again. Your head was spinning from the way he dragged his cock through your clenching walls, completely unrelenting in his pace. While this technically wasn’t the first time he fucked you, it was the first time you were coherent enough to truly feel what was happening.

“Peter,” you murmured.

His nose brushed against yours with every thrust, and he released a shaky breath.

“...and what do we both know?”

There was a desperation in his eyes that took you by surprise, and your heart clenched.

“Say it...for me…”

You swallowed, lashes fluttering as he slowed down his thrusts.

“I’m yours.”

His own eyes fell closed at the admission, slowly sinking himself into you, basking in the feel of you wrapped around him.

“You gave me your blood...your body…”

He leaned down to trail kisses along your neck, rolling his hips against yours.

“...and you’ll give me your soul. You’re mine in every way a woman possibly can be. In every way a human can be,” he purred, sharp teeth grazing over your warm flesh.

His words made your stomach flutter, walls clenching around him, and just then, your phone buzzed. Like that first night, it was in your sheets somewhere, and the continuous buzzing told you that it was a phone call. You had a guess as to who it could be and what they wanted.

They were looking for Peter.

You looked to him when he paused, watching as his face darkened. He wrapped his hand around your noisy phone before throwing it at the wall, the device shattering upon impact. His dark eyes met yours again, and he kissed you, stealing your breath away as he moved within you again.

“They want to know if I’m with you...if you’re safe…”

You could feel him smiling against your lips, and your nails pressed into his sides, hanging on as he pushed his knees beneath your thighs, widening your legs and forcing a guttural moan from you.

“They think you’re in danger around me...and they’re probably right, but not the kind of danger they’re thinking of.”

One of his hands fisted itself into your hair, pulling your head back, baring your throat to him, and you knew what was coming.

“You don’t know how much I fought with myself that first night...how badly I wanted to tear into you anyway I could,” he whispered, voice strained. “You were all I thought about when I was attacked...when I changed…”

His hips sped up, the sound of slapping skin filling the room as he pistoned into you.

“For your sake, I’m glad you gave yourself to me, because I planned to take you from the very moment I stepped into your bedroom.”

His teeth pressed into your neck, breaking the skin, and your climax washed over you, euphoria clouding your mind and senses as Peter drank from you. His thrusts didn’t stop, and one hand pressed into the headboard above you, blood staining your pillow as the bed shook from the movement of his thrusts. You knew that Peter was far from done for the night, finally claiming what he felt was rightfully his.

~

tags:  @darkficreposter​ @xoxabs88xox​​​​​​ @harryspet​​​​​​ @readermia​​​​​​ @opheliadawnwalker3​​​​​ @nickyl316h​​​​​​ @captainchrisstan​​​​​​ @sebabestianstan101​​​​​​ @villanellevi​​​​​​ @lokislastlove​​​​​​ @notyourtypicalrose​​​​​​ @coconutqueen21​​​​​​ @hurricanerin​​​​​ ​​​ @hyoyeoniie​​​​​ @kellyn1604​​​​​ @sherrybaby14​​​​​ @cocoamoonmalfoy​​​​ @mandiiblanche​​​​ @gotnofucks​​​​ @oneoftheprettynerds​​​​ @doozywoozy​​​​ @sapphirescrolls​​​​ @threeminutesoflife​​​​ @searchforanotherway​​​​ @mcudarklibrary​​​ @ksjksjkv​ @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​

[rocorambles]

Hit It Till It Breaks

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, Mafia AU, NSFW, Drug Dealing, Dub-Con/Non-Con Sex, Dub-Con/Non-Con Drug Consumption, Drug Addiction, Manipulation, Humiliation, Degradation, Prostitution, Slight Pet Play

Prompt: Hard At Work

Summary: Growing up, you’d always loved fairy tales and happy endings. You’d always believed that despite how bad things might seem or get, there would be a light at the end of the tunnel. But you’re quickly realizing that this isn’t a fairy tale, that there is no happy ending, and that sometimes, you only go downhill, farther and farther from the light. 

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist to see how everyone decided to run with this spicy prompt.  

(Thank you as always @sawamooora for helping me keep this a coherent degenerate mess~)

It’s hard to believe that bright eyed girl holding her college diploma in the photo on your nightstand was you not that long ago. And your heart clenches when you remember how hopeful you had been. So excited to venture out and experience life. Ready to enter the job market. Ready to be an adult. 

Doors opened and closed. But you hadn’t let it deter you at first. It just wasn’t meant to be. You can’t expect to get the first job you interview for! 

But then more and more doors opened, only to be shut in your face.Your rose-tinted glasses began to crack as your funds quickly dwindled, as you lowered your standards, desperately mass applying to any small time company vaguely related to your major, only to be turned away at every step. 

And now, here you are, barely able to make rent, barely able to even feed yourself with the little you have from odd part-time jobs you’ve managed to stitch together into some sort of financial life line. 

Well, you HAD been barely able to make rent, but your hands tremble when you stare at the letter notifying you that your rent will begin to increase starting next month, mind speeding into a panicked haze as you unsuccessfully try to think of what to do, how you can possibly afford to live even in this dump anymore. And before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re scrambling, stumbling to your bathroom, throwing open your medicine cabinet as you rummage for the little pills that you know will help slow down your racing thoughts and provide much needed clarity. 

You swear everything seems clearer as soon as the smooth texture hits your tongue and you can finally breathe, slumping down on the cold tiles of your floor, pill bottle still clutched in your hand as you allow yourself to relax, praying for any ideas to flow through you. And it hits you like a ton of bricks when your grip on the plastic container accidentally loosens and the bottle clangs against the floor. 

A humorless chuckle slips past your lips as you stare at the rolling cylinder. 

Drug dealing. Fucking drug dealing. 

You can’t believe you’re even thinking of going down this route, but your mind flashes back to old roommates, old friends, old classmates who had nonchalantly made a pretty bundle on the side, carelessly tossing around and selling all types of prescription drugs on campus. And you vividly remember how simple they had made it seem, how they had all gotten away with it. Scrumptious meals, pricey alcohol, far beyond a college palette, and beautiful clothing were the only “consequences” for their crimes. 

If they could do it, you could too. Or so you’d like to think. 

But as naive and ignorant as you are about this line of work, even you know there’s a difference between selling to silly college students on campus, and selling it at a popular nightclub owned by an infamous crime syndicate. 

Even as far removed as you are from the more seedy underbelly of the new city you live in, you know of the Seijoh Syndicate. Everyone in town does. It’s hard not to when they literally run and own the entire place. 

Oikawa Tooru and the rest of the Seijoh Four run their domain with an iron fist. They’re practically nonexistent, merely a scary story to keep people in line, for those who abide by the laws and keep their noses out of trouble, but an all too real nightmare for those who choose to defy them. And you shudder, remembering the horror stories you had heard of exactly what happens to those who decide to try and start their own nefarious business and practices on Seijoh streets without Oikawa’s permission. 

But surely they wouldn’t pay you any mind? Right? Surely a mere girl in her early twenties selling the leftover prescription medicine she has in her cabinets for one night won’t do any harm? 

Maybe it’s stupid to go to such a prevalent and well known club, especially one that’s notoriously favored by the Seijoh Four. But you convince yourself that it’s the most crowded venue in the area with a target demographic who’s guaranteed to buy you out, even at the obscene prices you plan on charging. How would anyone even notice you? Where else could you go? What options do you even have? 

So despite the nervous pit swelling in your stomach, you soldier on, plastering a cheery smile at the bouncer who easily waves you in without a second glance, slipping into the sweaty mass of bodies, going deeper and deeper until you’re surrounded - skin, bones, and muscles pressing against you on all sides, safe from any prying eyes. 

Or so you believe. 

You know who the Seijoh Four are. You even know their names. But never have you met them, never have you ever seen a picture of what they each look like. Not that it would help you if you did when you’re so laser focused on finding potential customers, not even bothering to look around to see if anyone’s watching you. So you carry on, unaware of the four sets of eyes looking at you in amusement from their roost high above the writhing crowds. 

There’s nothing subtle about the way you sloppily nudge people, practically shoving your pills in stranger’s faces, almost wildly waving your merchandise around you in a desperate attempt to pull in buyers. Sweaty nervous hands fumble as you exchange little plastic baggies for wads of cash and Matsukawa raises a brow in disbelief while Hanamaki cackles when you drop your merch and payment, getting on all fours on the trashed dance floor to recollect your goods. 

It might be the most amusing show they’ve had in a while, but Iwaizumi feels a pang of pity at the wild hopeless look in your eyes and he swiftly stands, brusquely telling the other three that he’s going to go down and tell you off with just a warning, only to be stopped when Oikawa smoothly stands to his feet, effectively blocking Iwaizumi’s path. 

“Now, now Iwa-chan. Don’t be so hasty. Let me go talk to the cutie. I’ve been so bored recently and she looks like she’ll be fun! Plus you’ll make her cry with that scary face of yours.” 

Suddenly the sight of you bumbling around isn’t quite as entertaining as the remaining three men watch the brunette prowl towards you, heavy realization of what’s to come sombering the mood.  

 You’re frantic, flitting about the throngs of flailing limbs and swaying bodies, frustration from not being able to get through your supplies fast enough weighing at your conscious. Sure, you’ve managed to accrue some cash, but it’s not enough, not nearly enough to even feed yourself for the coming week let alone make a dent in the daunting rent that looms over you. And you can feel hot tears prick at the corner of your eyes when you see that it’s almost closing time and you’re still stuck with more than half your inventory, no closer to figuring out how to survive. So when a hand firmly rests on your shoulder, you whip around, ready to take your anger out on the poor soul who’s managed to catch you at the worst time. But you freeze, vicious words stuck in your mouth when you see the handsome man beaming down at you, a thick wad of rolled up bills haphazardly dangling from his fingers. 

“I heard you might have some stuff I’d be interested in.” 

You wonder if this is all a dream, if the man in front of you is (ironically a devilishly) handsome angel swooping into save you when he casually asks you how much stuff you still have, how much you’d be willing to sell everything for, not even blinking an eye at your outrageous price tag. You’re so stunned by how quick he is to call it a done deal, not resisting even a bit as he wraps his hand around your wrist, pulling you after him, saying some vague comments about wanting to go somewhere a little more private since it’s a bigger trade. All you can think about is how you’ll finally be able to eat something other than instant noodles and not have to worry about rent as you throw yourself back into interviewing, too lost in thoughts to be wary of how you’re being dragged farther and farther away from the rowdy crowd. 

But the sound of a door slamming shut behind you jolts you back to reality and Oikawa fights back a laugh at how adorable you are, eyes blown wide like a deer in headlights as your head swivels side to side, dismay and panic making you tremble when you survey the private room you’re in, throat nervously gulping when you notice the three other occupants. 

You’re so predictable and Oikawa just rolls his eyes fondly at how you swiftly turn around, trying to lunge towards the door in an attempt to escape, taking his time to leisurely make his way towards you, brown orbs taking in every inch of you as Matsukawa and Hanamaki hold your writhing body in place. 

It’s so satisfying watching you crumble to pieces before his very eyes at just the mention of his name, despair and fear swirling beautifully on your face when he continues to introduce the rest of the Seijoh Four. It never gets old, that deliciously addicting feeling of power he feels when people tremble from just a few syllables and he relishes in your pleading apologies and your tears, patiently waiting for you to finish your little sob story, barely listening to the details as he focuses in on how gorgeous you are, broken and vulnerable. 

And really, there’s no need for him to pay close attention to your blabbering anyway. It always comes down to one thing…

 “So you need money, cutie? How about working for me?”

 “Oye! Oikawa-”

“I’m just asking her some questions, Iwa-chan.”

There’s tense silence and your eyes nervously flicker back and forth between the two imposing figures staring each other down, green and brown eyes clashing in a silent argument. But as if they’ve somehow come to a conclusion, Iwaizumi tsks and looks away while Oikawa turns his attention back to you, a sickeningly cheerful grin on his face. 

Blood curling fear lances through you and you’re almost grateful for the two pairs of strong arms holding you tight, their grip keeping you from falling to your knees as your legs threaten to give out under the pressure you feel as Oikawa thoughtfully looks at you. 

You know the smart answer would be to adamantly say no and promptly figure out a way to leave this moment far behind you, even if it means forfeiting any money you had made tonight. But...a job is a job, right? And surely a job in the Seijoh Syndicate would be more lucrative than anything you’re doing now, right? 

Oikawa hides a smile at the way he can see the cogs in your head turn, apprehension turning to curiosity as you stutter out questions about pay and what the job would entail. Desperation is a good look on anyone, but it suits you particularly well and just like that, hook, line, and sinker, he has a new cute live-in maid to replace the recently vacated role.  

Working as Oikawa’s maid is more...normal than you would have expected. Not that you’re complaining and other than the embarrassing maid outfit he makes you wear, complete with frilly bow and garters, the chores are mundane. Bring breakfast to him and wake him. Clean his room and do his laundry when he’s away at meetings or jobs. Make sure guests have refreshments when they come over to his large estate, a mansion you now also call home. 

If you’re honest, it’s much more relaxing than the multiple part-time jobs you had been juggling previously, and with free board, free food, and the substantial paycheck that regularly makes its way to your bank account, you can see your future brightening up again. When your duties are done for the day, you resume practicing for interviews and keeping up with the industry, feeling emboldened and empowered to finally resume working towards the career path you had always dreamed of. 

But the more time you spend with Oikawa, the closer and more entangled in your life the brunette becomes. Alarm bells ring wildly in your head as you’re forced to join him for meals, forced to dress in elaborate gowns and jewelry while you’re waltzed around on his arm, forced to travel around the world with him, and attend to him like a glorified assistant. He’s too charming, too familiar, too bold, and you can’t help but feel like you’re racing towards some inevitable crash as he easily brushes aside any boundaries between the two of you. 

You know so many women would kill to be in your shoes and you can understand why, not completely immune to his playful smile and the lilt of his voice yourself. But you know better, know exactly how dangerous it would be to get involved with a man like Oikawa Tooru. 

It’s clear from the crimson stains on the clothes he leaves for you to either dispose of, or have cleaned. It’s clear from the wails and sobs of woman after woman he uses and tosses aside like garbage on an almost daily basis. It’s clear from the guns, knives, and weapons, most of which you don’t even know the name of, filling up all the walls, drawers, and cabinets.  

So you do your best to keep your distance, building titanium walls around your heart. Always polite, too terrified of what would happen if you pissed him off, but cold enough to deter him from more amorously or intimately testing his boundaries. 

And it seems to work as he turns his eyes towards other women, leaving you alone after throwing a few flirty comments and winks your way and ultimately falling in bed with some other poor damsel. But you nervously gulp when it’s just the two of you one night and just as you’re ready to make yourself scarce after turning down his bed and laying out his pajamas, his voice beckons you over and you anxiously bite your lower lip at the sight of pills of all shapes and sizes splayed out across his desk.    

Other than your prescription medicine, you don’t have a lot of experience with drugs other than the few blunts here and there during your college years and you had always strictly kept to your recommended doses, never even entertaining the idea of taking more. So the sight in front of you is overwhelming and you hesitantly stare anywhere but at the table surface, anxiously waiting for Oikawa to explain why he called you over. But what you’re not expecting is the warm hand gently grasping your wrist and holding your arm out, small objects being carefully placed in your outstretched palm, and soft coaxing from Oikawa to “give them a try”. 

Every part of you is screaming to throw the pills and make a run for it, begging you to come up with some excuse or just outright reject his offer. But it’s as if your body is frozen and he firmly pushes your hand to your mouth, grip tightening enough to make you wince when you hesitate to listen. The slight pain is enough to remind you that you’re not exactly in any position to negotiate and you force yourself to down the pills and gulp down the glass of water he holds to your lips. 

The last thing you remember is the unsettling feeling of beginning a descent to an unknown place from which there is no return as Oikawa pulls you to his bed. And then euphoria floods through you as your body slots against his larger frame. 

It feels good. Too good. Unnaturally good. But it’s intoxicating and you can’t help but let yourself drown in the hazy waves crashing down upon you, feeling lighter, freer, happier than you have for years. You vaguely register roaming hands, a hot wet mouth, a body on top of yours, something hard pressing against the apex of your thighs, filling you, consuming you in heady pleasure only amplified by the drugs coating your insides.  

Bliss. Pleasure. Pure unadulterated joy. And then nothing. 

When you come to, the weight of what had happened last night comes crashing down on you, making your foggy mind throb even more and you can feel bile rising inside of you as a toned arm around your waist tightens its hold on you. Oikawa grunts in annoyance when you claw your way out from his hold, scampering on shaky legs to his bathroom, heaving and expelling the contents of your stomach, trying futilely to cleanse yourself of your employer’s touch. 

You flinch when you hear footsteps approach, shrinking into the corner of the tiled room, body crouched and curled into a tight ball as you try to save any shred of dignity you still have by hiding your naked body as much as you can from his prying eyes. Salty drops threaten to trail down your face when he hovers over you, sweetly cooing down at you “not to be like this”, “you liked it so much last night”, “come back to bed with me” only to stream down your face when his countenance swiftly changes, handsome face glowering down at you before brusquely turning away and snapping at you to “get on with your work then if you’re going to be an annoying bitch”. 

It’s easy to convince yourself that you’re just being smart, just trying to survive as you obediently wash up and don your humiliating uniform, that it isn’t just you being a coward as you submissively go about your usual work day, still sitting with thighs pressed against Oikawa’s legs at meals, making no move to brush off the heavy arm he slings around your shoulders, only slightly flinching when his fingertips teasingly play with the hem of your skirt as he converses with the rest of the Seijoh Four. 

But you can’t deny that all you are is a weak fool, desperate to live when you shakily accept the pills he pushes towards you again that night, silently crying yet not doing anything to prevent the inevitable as you swallow any self-respect or pride you had along with the smooth pellets under his watchful gaze, too scared of the glimmer of gunmetal you see on the inside of his jacket to even think of resisting. 

And history repeats itself. Over and over again. 

Oikawa smiles at how different you are from that skittish creature who fled from his every touch, smirking at how naive and innocent you still are as you try to hide how eager you are for your daily dose, unaware of how he’s slowly been increasing it every night, ignorant of how you unconsciously lean into his touches, pretty lips wrapping around his fingers as he hand feeds you. 

Do you know what an animal you are in bed these days? Do you realize how little there is left to differentiate you from one of his filthy whores when you’re so doped up on whatever he gives you, moaning like a pornstar and leaving vicious red claw marks on his skin as you bounce on his cock? 

And he knows it’s time to move onto the next phase of your conditioning when there’s not even a speck of shame in your clear eyes when the sunlight begins to filter through the window, knowingly smiling in satisfaction when instead of slinking off to wallow in your regret you shimmy down between his legs and begin to nuzzle and mouth his morning wood, face full of nothing but wanton desire as you take his cock in your mouth. 

He doesn’t give you anything that night. Or the next night. Or the one after that. He doesn’t so much as even look at you outside of your usual eye contact, not a single flirtatious word slipping past his lips.

You should be grateful. This is what you wanted, right? To keep things strictly professional between the two of you. To not be coerced into the artificial pleasure you’ve been swallowing on a daily basis for the last month now. To not feel like just another warm body for Oikawa to taint. 

Your interview notes and open tab of job listings are right there, begging for your attention, practically screaming at you to pursue the life you’ve always dreamed of. 

Yet here you are, not even a week later, on your knees in between Oikawa’s legs as he leisurely reclines in his chair, peppering his inner thighs with kisses and rubbing your face against the growing bulge in his trousers, begging and pleading for another dose, feeling utterly empty and cold inside, unable to sleep, unable to focus, unable to function without the nights of hazy ecstasy. 

Your heart drops at the long disappointed sigh the brunette releases. 

“Drugs are expensive, cutie. I was just being nice and letting you try some new batches we’ve been producing, but now that they’re on the market, I can’t just keep on giving them to you for free.” 

He rolls his eyes when you adamantly tell him you’ll pay whatever the price is, a condescending smirk splitting his face from how quick you are to shut up, soul crushed when he reveals the extravagant cost, a price he knows you can’t afford with the salary he’s providing you with. 

But he artfully softens his smile as he begins to unbuckle his pants, sliding the fabric down and letting his throbbing cock spring into view, chuckling when it lightly slaps your face as it’s released from its confines, wondering if you’re drooling from the sight of his erection or the pills he’s playfully placing along the length of it. 

“I know you don’t have that money, cutie. But I’d be willing to accept other forms of payments.”

The words are barely out of his mouth before you’re rushing to take him in his mouth and he loudly laughs at how obscene you look, slobbering all over his length, fervently bobbing your head up and down, hastily trying to deep throat him to reach the pill strategically placed right at the base of his shaft, lips puckering as you inhale the drugs, swallowing around him in a way that has him groaning as you stuff your face full of chemicals and pre-cum. And it doesn’t take much longer for him to wash your mouth and throat with warm rivulets of sticky white fluids as he watches the goods take effect, his balls tightening and cock straining with arousal as you reach between your legs, fingers playing with your tight dripping hole while your lewd moans vibrate against him. 

It’s pathetically endearing how you can’t keep off of him after that, insisting on sitting on his lap during meals, your cute ass grinding against his clothed cock, always dropping to your knees in between chores, warming his cock in your greedy mouth, always asking him how many pills you’ve earned so far. You really are just his little slutty drug addict now, aren’t you? 

But he needs you to be more than that, needs you to learn that you belong to anyone who’s willing to give you the high you crave, needs you to realize that you’re just a free use drug addicted whore for anyone and everyone to use. 

So despite how tempting it is to just plunge balls deep inside your tight little pussy, he shoves you off of him one night as you try to grind against his body, feigning exhaustion and boredom of your body, watching in amusement at the panicked crazed look that flashes across your face at his words. Well aren’t you a beautiful sight, throwing yourself at his feet and groveling, saying you’ll do anything for another dose. 

Anything, huh? 

In your defense, even through the daze of your withdrawal, there’s still a wary expression on your face when Matsukawa and Hanamaki enter the room. Maybe you aren’t as broken as Oikawa had thought. But when you see the little baggies filled with the tablets you’ve become far too familiar with twirling between the duo’s fingers, you practically lunge at them and Oikawa finally allows himself the pleasure of reaching into his pants and stroking himself to the debauched sight playing out in front of him. 

Maybe he needs to fuck you in front of a mirror more often if this is what you look like from an outside perspective. It’s like you were made to be used, to be just a warm toy for men to use and Oikawa can’t help but think you look best like this, cocks penetrating both your front and back holes, your body squeezed between two bodies. And he fondly smiles at how you have Hanamaki’s face between the palms of your hands, your lips locked in a sloppy kiss as your tongue ravages the strawberry blonde’s mouth, searching for the pills the man had playfully placed on the tip of his tongue in front of your very eyes before winking at you and telling you to come and get them yourself if you wanted them so badly. 

They keep your daily training a surprise, mixing up who gets to wreck your body each day, how many cocks and rounds of cum you’ll need to pay with, what pills and dosage you get. Always keeping you lost and confused, making sure your mind is just a muddled mess that can only think of reaching your next high by any means necessary. 

Hell, even Iwaizumi takes part when he realizes that you’re beyond the point of no return, that Oikawa wasn’t joking when he said that there is no other choice for you anymore. This is your life now. This is who you are now. This is your “happily ever after”. He knows all that, can see all that in the way your dazed eyes only come to life at the sight of your addiction, your otherwise listless body perking up at the sound of the tiny objects rattling in their container. And yet a small sliver of guilt has him growling at you to get on all fours, ensuring your face isn’t visible, turning you into just another body for him to mindlessly use as he pleases. 

It’s an uncomfortable position, borderline painful as your knees rock back and forth on the hard floor with every brutal thrust of Iwaizumi’s hips. But you don’t care, the aching pain in your legs just dull background noise as you fixate on the tablets scattered on the floor in front of your face, dropping your entire upper body low to the ground, only your hips raised high as your mouth snaps forward. You’re so close and you mewl as your lips make contact with the first pill, uncaring of the pitiful sight you make licking and lapping the floor, whimpering when a hand firmly grabs you by the hair and roughly pulls your face away from your feast. 

“Maybe we should get you a dog bowl, cutie. It’s humiliating even for you to be eating from the dirty floor like that. Hold her hair for me, Iwa-chan.” 

You crane your neck back and forth, jaw jutting forward as you frantically fight against the tight grip holding you back, mouth drooling and tongue extending like a ravenous animal. But it’s no use and you whine, too focused on your unfinished “meal” to notice how Oikawa is still standing in front of you, cock pulled out from his pants, his hands rapidly fisting the shaft. And only when thick white spurts glaze the remaining pills do you whip your attention towards him, staring with hopeful wide eyes when he crouches in front of you and grabs your face. 

“When Iwa-chan lets go of your hair, you’ll get to have the rest of your treats, but you also have to eat the special seasoning I’ve generously given you, okay? If I see even a speck of it left, you’re not getting anything tomorrow, understand?”

Oikawa laughs at how vigorously you nod your head and with a nod in Iwaizumi’s direction, you’re released and the two men watch on as you lick the floor until it’s sparkling clean, slumping your face in the mess of your own drying saliva as you reach euphoria once more. You wail as Iwaizumi shoves you off a cliff and into floating clouds of bliss with one last thrust, the drugs in your system weaving a comforting cocoon around you that you melt into, unable to escape its soothing pull, giggling in content as his seed fills you to the brim. 

There’s silence as Iwaizumi pulls out of you, tucking himself back into his pants before sitting besides Oikawa, joining him as he continues observing your used and drugged up body sprawled across the floor, a dopey smile on your face as cum begins to leak out of your spent pussy. 

Minutes pass and Iwaizumi sighs, knowing what Oikawa is waiting for him to ask despite how insistent he has been over the years about not wanting to be involved in this particular side of the business...

“Are you going to have her start working at the brothel soon? She seems just about ready.” 

“Not yet. I want to give her a few test runs first before I have her work full-time at that establishment. She’s only been with the four of us, so I’m curious to see how she is with a complete stranger. It’s perfect timing too since Sawamura is coming over for a meeting soon and I know he won’t damage the goods if I gift her to him for a night or two. Plus, she hasn’t completely lost her mind yet so we can get some more use out of her before we toss her aside...”

The brunette rambles on, tone light and airy as if he’s just discussing the weather or a TV show he watched, as if he’s not mere feet away from a woman he’s utterly destroyed and rebuilt into just another brainless profit-making doll. 

And Iwaizumi tunes him out, already having heard almost this exact speech countless times by now, unable to even keep track of how many others like you there have been in the past, unwilling to think about how many more there will be in the future. But he snorts at Oikawa’s typical closing line.

“I guess it’s almost time to find a new cute maid.” 

[ratmonky]

Tangible Phantom

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: non-con, invisible smexy time, stalking, breeding, mild gore

AO3 Link

The internet was a magnificent invention of humankind. It made everything easier. At the same time, it was accessible to almost anyone and it brought people together.

There were so many things one could find by typing some letters on a browser and with a click of a mouse.

Whether it be cute animal videos you could share with your friends, porn to watch late at night as your fingers slid inside your panties beneath the sheets, or disturbing images of people who had or were taking their last breath. You could find it all on the internet.

Morbid curiosity led you to the furthest parts of the internet like on strange websites where you could find pictures of deformed bodies.

There wasn’t any explanation on why they had been deformed like that but their death cause was all the same, heart failure.

Although you weren’t anything more than a normal citizen, you felt like what you were doing was wrong. Looking at those images and scrolling down to see more of the distorted faces of what used to be people who had a family, a life, and goals that you would never know about should have been enough to make you click away. Yet, you always found yourself logging into your laptop every night to check if there were more.

It wasn’t illegal nor it was hurting anyone. It was just… unethical. Somewhat felt like you were feeling guilty of what happened even though you had nothing to do with any of these people.

Nevertheless, it made you wonder if you would feel the same way if those people were someone you knew. Or if it were you.

Pfft.

As if that would ever happen.

~~~

It was a late night when you were walking the same route to your place with your mind clouded by what to eat once you got home. The streets were rather silent at this time of the night, no cars passed or a single soul was outside, so the only noise was your footsteps that echoed in the empty street.

Although you were only about a full two minutes away from arriving at your place, you suddenly stopped in shock when you saw a dark figure sitting in the dark under the bridge you had to walk through.

Alone at night, standing stiffly in the dark, looking desperately down at your phone screen and then to the man, you considered turning back and walking to the nearest bus station. You could stay at your friend’s place again rather than take your chance to walk past someone who looked like a predator waiting for its prey.

You considered calling one of your friends and being on the phone with them until you arrived home. Decidedly, you called your friend’s phone but they didn’t answer. If it was them calling you, you would answer right away, they knew how you didn’t call anyone without a reason.

While the phone was ringing again, you kept muttering under your breath about how much you were going to yell at them once they answered you but they never picked up.

Your other friend wasn’t in town and you could never call your friend to ask if her brother could escort you to your place again, you only made everyone question your sanity when you asked for favors like that.

You made everyone around you uncomfortable, they think you were out of your mind. Why were you so scared of walking past a possibly homeless man?

This was why most of your friends hated you, this was why they didn’t answer your calls anymore.

Huffing in annoyance and disappointment, you put your phone against your ear to pretend to be on the phone with your father as you started walking again.

The man noticed you, you saw his head moving when the sound of your footsteps alarmed him of your presence, all of his attention was on you now.

You tried ignoring the instincts that told you to turn back and run away.

It was probably just a homeless man.

There was no way that he would try to do anything to you.

You were just overreacting like you always did.

You refused to acknowledge the man’s existence as you increased your speed to pass him as soon as possible and go on with your night like you weren’t already having a panic attack.

The man was doing nothing but watching you intently, he hadn’t moved.

Yeah, you were just overreacting before.

“Yes, I’ll be home soon, dad! I’m walking!” you started basically yelling, hoping that your acting was believable.

Maybe not.

The man got up, blocking your path.

Startled, your hand gripped tighter on your purse and you started yelling to your phone. “Dad! Can you come outside the building and wait for me?! I’m right around the corner once I pass the bridge!”

You were scared to look at the man. As if you didn’t notice him getting up, you ignored his presence and tried to walk around him but he stepped to the side to block your way again.

This time, your lips started trembling in fear, you actually were believing you were talking to your father. “Dad, I’m scared, please come get me!”

“I can see that you’re not on the phone,” a husky voice said. “Your phone screen is lit up.”

You shrieked upon him talking to you. When his hand reached for your face, you jerked away and took a couple of steps back.

“Don’t touch me!” you screamed, your eyes finally meeting his eyes that were sparkling with vicious intent. “I’ll call the police!”

Ignoring your threat, he took a step closer towards you which only made you panic more.

You looked for an exit. To your right was a concrete wall and to your left was the large sewer gate. Running past the man was impossible.

“Stay away from me!” You turned on your heels to make a bolt towards the sewers but the man was faster than you. He grabbed you by your hair and pulled your back flush against his chest.

You started to scream as you struggled in the man’s hold. It was barely midnight, someone would hear your screams for help.

Normally an attacker would chicken out if their victim was struggling and screaming this much but your attacker seemed to not have a care in the world if he would get caught or not.

As he started dragging you towards the sewer gate, you shook your body violently, kicking helplessly in the air and yelling on top of your lungs.

He started shushing you and clapped a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet while proceeded to drag you further inside the sewers.

This was the end, wasn’t it?

~~~

On a regular night, Mahito usually read his book to the sounds of the rats or the water splashing sounds in the sewers. The steady and faint noises were enough to lull him to sleep but tonight his peace was disturbed.

A woman was screaming for her life. Something he heard more often than regular since it was usually him who was the cause of their screams. This woman’s screams were echoing in the sewers, being muffled by something as a man’s voice kept shushing.

Out of curiosity, he put his book down and walked to the source of the loud noises.

It took him barely a minute to find you and your attacker. The man had you under him, his chest pressing on your back as he was hastily pulling his pants down.

“Oh, how amusing,” Mahito chuckled, getting closer to watch your face stained with tears.

He crouched right next to your face, humming cutely. “You’re quite adorable,” he said, his hand reached to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Really my type.”

“Help!”

Your sudden yell made Mahito pull his hand back. Whew, you had startled him.

“Nobody will hear you,” the man assured with a breathy laugh, his hand rubbing guiding his cock between your thighs.

Mahito pouted his lips and tilted his head to the side. “It’s no fun when I’m left out, you know.”

The man was busy pulling your panties to the side.

“Please, please, please don’t!”

“Don’t ignore me,” Mahito furrowed his brows and tapped on the man’s shoulder.

You were still struggling under the man’s weight when he suddenly stopped moving. With a burst of an adrenaline rush, you pushed yourself up from the concrete and threw your attacker tumbling back.

Almost immediately you got up on your feet and swung your purse at the man, hitting him in the face with your eyes closed shut in fear.

The impact made a splash sound as if you had hit something soggy. What? Your eyes hesitantly opened and it took you a long moment to register what you were seeing.

“Wow.” Mahito stood beside you with a smile on his face. “He looks nice like that, don’t you think?”

You dropped your purse.

Your mouth opened to scream but what were you going to gain from it? You closed it back again.

It looked unreal, nothing like the photos you had seen online. You wanted to look away but you couldn’t.

“Heeeeyyyy~” Mahito stood in front of you, waving a hand to your face. “I don’t even get thanks?”

The man’s disfigured body and face were covered in blood. The sight was enough to cause trauma and make any normal person collapse on their knees, heaving. His body was twisted to the point you couldn’t tell if he was a human or not.

What you were seeing wasn’t human.

You couldn’t tell if it was a human.

Your brain disconnected it from your mind that he was a real, living, and breathing person only a couple of seconds ago.

The fact that you couldn’t even process what you were seeing right in front of you made you burst into a peal of hysterical laughter.

Mahito took a step back. “Ah, you’re one of those who goes insane…” He shrugged, watching you lose your sanity was fun too. His eyes landed on the panties which were halfway down on your thighs that you hadn’t even bothered to pull up and then his stare landed on your unevenly hoisted skirt. A grin spread on his face.

Your laughter died down quickly and sobbing replaced it. You couldn’t stop your tears. Your vision was getting blurry from your tears and you tried to revive your brain to think of what to do next.

Could you just leave this man here?

Even though he attacked you with full intention to rape you, it… it was wrong to leave him like this.

He was dead. Disfigured. Not human.

There was nothing you could do. Whatever caused this man to turn into this inhuman thing could have happened to you.

You felt a shiver run down your spine and up your shoulders. As if the cool evening breeze had hands, the chilly air caressed your skin.

A quiet sob left your lips and you lifted your hand to wipe your tears but stopped when something firm pressed on your back.

“You’re definitely my type,” Mahito snickered, pulling his hand back.

With a shriek you jumped forward, whipping your head around to look behind you. There was nothing.

You had to be going insane.

You put a hand against your forehead and looked around the sewers. The most logical thing to do was to leave. This rapist deserved to rot here, you didn’t care. You wouldn’t care. You knew you couldn’t care less.

“Heeey~~ I’m Mahito, your savior.” He poked your nose and you itched where he had touched you. “You should thank me for saving youuuu!”

Once you got home to your bed, you would browse on the websites to stare at disfigured humans like him. This was nothing. You had seen worse on the internet. You didn’t care.

Mahito crouched down to open your purse. He looked around your stuff and tried to find something that had your name on it but it was futile.

You weren’t going to wake up tomorrow and think about its face.

“Hey, what’s your name?” he asked.

No, you weren’t going to remember about this thing the day after tomorrow.

“Hellloooo~~ What’s your name?”

Definitely, you weren’t going to think about this thing whenever you closed your eyes.

“What’s your name?” Mahito put his hand on your shoulder. You reacted to his touch and flinched but didn’t answer him. “Ugh! This is the third time I’m asking, sweetheart.”

You were being paranoid, that was for sure.

It felt like ghostly hands were touching you.

“Let’s see how far we can go before you see me.” Mahito grabbed you by your shoulders and pushed you down.

Fear came rushing back and you started screaming. Something you couldn’t see had tackled you on the cold concrete. This wasn’t a figment of your imagination, this was real.

“You know, a friend of mine said that humans can see curses when they’re in a life or death situation.” His large hands massaged your shoulders as he spoke. “I wanna see if we can have fun together even when you can’t see me.”

Your breathing became uneven and you started struggling against the unknown force holding you down.

Mahito moved his hands to your shoulder blades and slid them lower until he grabbed you by your hips. You gasped when he pressed himself against you. “Oh, so you can feel this .” He slowly grinded against you.

Your hands balled up to fists and you pressed your forehead against the cold concrete. There was something on top of you, something firm and thick was pressing on you. You were rocking back and forth with a very familiar feeling of a cock on your ass.

Mahito’s grinding became harder to get a reaction out of you. He pushed his growing clothed erection against your ass to explicitly stimulate the movement of fucking you.

You bit your lips to hold back a moan. You hadn’t gone insane yet, there was something humping you. There was a small moment where you tried to move and crawl away from this entity but your body became frozen when you felt your skirt was getting hiked up.

“You’re so cute~” He pulled his own pants down. “Very pretty.”

The weight on top of you disappeared, taking the opportunity you tried crawling away but your body got flipped around.

Now, you were facing the ceiling of the sewers with nobody in sight yet there were hands fondling your tits.

“Stop,” you whimpered. “Please.”

Mahito smirked, getting his face awfully close to yours. He let his tongue loll out from his mouth and licked your lips.

You let out a startled scream, you tried kicking your invisible attacker but it was useless to even try. You couldn’t fight something you couldn’t see.

“Mm, you taste so sweet,” he whispered. His lips pressed against yours experimentally and bit your bottom lip. You reacted by turning your face to the side.

Boring.

Having had pulled his pants down before, Mahito grabbed his fully erect cock. He stroked it from the base to the pink tip glistening with precum as he relished on your view.

“I really wanna know the name of  my cute new doll.” He used a free hand to spread your legs, although you tried fighting back, he quickly outpowered you. He pouted when you didn’t say anything regarding what he had said.

“Please,” you whispered, starting to pray for whoever was listening. Your hand went between your legs to cover yourself but it stopped midway when you felt something firm press and move against your clit. An involuntary moan left your lips.

Mahito chuckled at your reaction and tapped his cock on your clit before dragging the tip between your folds to cover it with your juices. “You’re wet only because of me, right?” he asked, smirking.

Your lips parted as he lined himself up on your entrance. He waited until your tense body relaxed and shoved his cock inside you in one go once he caught you off guard.

You let out another moan but it got muffled by Mahito’s lips. While you were tensing and yelping because of the girth of his cock stretching you out, he was snaking his tongue inside your mouth with dark amusement.

Whether it be because of fear or pleasure, your gummy walls were clenching around his cock. It was more than enough to let Mahito know that he could move now.

Pulling his hips back and face back, he slammed into you abruptly to force a moan out of you. However, you didn’t make a sound. He looked down at you to notice how you were pressing your lips together, refusing to make it fun.

He sighed but didn’t let it ruin the mood. Instead, he frantically started fucking you. His hips surged forward with frenzy, he was whispering praises but you heard none of them.

Your pussy was being forcefully stretched by something thick and firm, you didn’t know exactly what it was but you also knew. You just didn’t want to acknowledge it.

It moved in and out of your pussy, stroking only the right spots and massaging your gummy walls enticingly. Your juices were gushing out of your hole that was being fucked, making disgustingly wet sounds.

One of your hands went to your pussy, unable to fight back the entity, you tried blocking it with your hand from ravishing you.

A sharp thrust of his hips was all it took to make you squirm and fall back on the concrete.

Mahito put a hand on your clit and started rubbing tight circles on your nub as he continued his animalistic pace to hammer into your pussy.

Arching your back, you moaned. Your pussy was spasming around his cock, begging for more.

“At least your body is honest.” Mahito watched you convulse in pleasure with a chuckle. He pushed your legs up to your chest and began pounding deeper in your pussy.

Your eyes rolled up, hands trying to grab onto something to steady yourself but there was nothing on the concrete. This was it, you were close.

“Do you think a cursed spirit and a human can make a baby?” His pace slackened, your clenching walls had caught him by surprise. He chuckled before languidly answering his own question. “Let’s try and see, yeah? Whaddaya say, sweetie?”

You quivered when his cock kissed your cervix. Your mouth gaped open in a silent moan as your orgasm shook you to your core.

“Haha, you look so needy and dumb!” Mahito’s cock twitched inside you, he groaned loudly. He tried holding himself back and stealing a couple more thrusts into your pussy before the fun ended but his thrusts had started becoming shaky. His hips lurched forward one last time, pushing as far as he could to spill his seed deep inside your womb and filled your pussy until it overflowed.

Mahito pulled back and held your hips up to hold his seed inside you without letting another drop go to waste. This was going to be one of his experiments, he decided with a sickening smile on his face.

You were far too exhausted to feel anything other than the warmth that filled your tummy.

The rest… was a blur.

~~~

Although what happened that night was supposed to be traumatic, nowadays; you found yourself feeling a lot safer walking home at night. Whenever someone followed you or someone with malicious intent tried getting near you, there was a guardian angel that stopped them with a small price of you letting it indulge in your slick heat.

[wolveria]

Inside Your Wires - Ch 6

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

Chapter summary: Connor gets his new assignment. He's not thrilled.

AO3

Story moodboard by @uh-kitty-got-wet​

Chapter 5 art by @semains​ (18+ only)

November 6th, 2038

Saturday 09:56AM

There was a time when Connor didn’t have to come in on Saturdays. He remembered the days when mandatory overtime was few and far between.

Not anymore. 2038 seemed to be the year shit just kept happening, and now that he thought about it, quite a few of it seemed to be because of androids. Ones gone missing. Disobeying orders. And now, homicidal.

Connor rubbed the bridge of his nose after putting his car into park, regretting how enthusiastically he’d hit the bottle last night. It wasn’t too bad this time, just an annoying throbbing behind his eyes, but it made it more difficult to see and he’d had to squint through his windshield.

Whatever. The reason for his shame-drinking was no longer relevant. Connor just had to survive until lunchtime, and if he were lucky, Hank would let him go early. He tried not to itch at the butterfly bandages on his cheek, applied himself after he’d woken up in a haze with blood on his pillow having completely forgotten the injury existed.

Connor kept his head down as he walked through the lobby of the station and through the security checkpoint to the bullpen proper. He tried not to be completely antisocial, however, and sent weak smiles at the coworkers who bothered to notice he was there.

Helen, Alexander, and Rupert all acknowledged him with various degrees of warmth, some colder than others, and all pretty much deserved. Ralph gave Connor a nervous smile from his chair, though it quickly faded as his eyes flickered to something across the room.

Frowning, he followed Ralph’s eye line across the bullpen and scowled when he spotted Colin leaning casually against Connor’s desk, talking to… someone. He couldn’t see who, Colin’s figure blocking them from view.

Against his better judgement, Connor drew closer, pressure building at the back of his neck, an uneasy feeling of dread that increased with each step.

“Con’s just gonna love this. But seriously, if he bitches about it too much, or gives you a hard time, you can always partner up with me. I won’t mind one bit, promise.”

Connor would have rolled his eyes at his brother’s typical cocksure demeanor, but instead, he went stock still at the familiar voice that answered.

“While the offer is appreciated, Lieutenant, my instructions stipulate that I must assist Detective Anderson with his new, specialized caseload. I’m sure you can understand that CyberLife only wishes to cooperate with the DPD and does not want to interfere with police procedure—“

“What the hell are you doing here?”

The YN800 model blinked and turned its head to meet Connor’s eye, its little blue light blinking for a moment before solidifying again.

It was sitting in Connor’s chair.

“It’s good to see you again, Detective,” it answered, chipper as ever as a fake smile graced its features.

Connor looked the prototype over, his nose crinkling at its appearance. The suit must have been brand new, there were no stains or bullet holes, and her—its hair was once again pinned upwards into a perfect knot.

He felt his insides churn at the near slip, at thinking for even a split second that this thing was a person. Shoving down the crude thoughts of the night before, Connor gave the order through gritted teeth.

“Get. Up.”

The prototype did as it was told, for once. It rose out of his chair, not even having the decency to look chagrined as it straightened its jacket of nonexistent wrinkles.

“I’m sorry, Detective, but I tried to call your phone and left you a message. It was not my intention to surprise you—“

“Oh, no, it’s never your intention to do anything, is it?” Connor snarled back. His headache was in full force now, and he swore he could see the bright lights of the station brighten in time with his heartbeat.

“Aw, c’mon!” Colin slapped him on the shoulder. “Be nice to the temp.”

“Temp?” Connor answered, voice pulled as taut as a wire.

“Yeah, you know. The temporary assistant. The new girl. The—“

He shoved Colin’s hand off his shoulder, leveling a glare at both of them. Colin merely shot him a shit-eating grin while the YN800 stood there, hands clasped behind its back at parade rest, polite and perfect as ever.

“Connor!”

All three of them turned toward the voice booming across the room.

“Get in here!”

Connor glared at the android, as if Hank’s shouting were its fault, which was probably the case.

He turned without a word and stalked to the captain’s office, shoulders hunched as his heart raced and his hands shook at his sides. He let the glass door fall shut behind him, but when he didn’t hear the whoosh of it close, he glanced over his shoulder to see the YN800 had followed him inside.

Great.

Connor stood in front of the desk with his arms crossed.

Hank sat down in his chair, pointedly looking at the chairs in front of his desk. Connor remained standing.

The older man glared, answering Connor’s attitude with a look and a heavy sigh.

“Bet you’re wondering what that’s about.” Hank jerked his chin over Connor’s shoulder. The prototype had taken a spot at the back of the office, observing politely with its hands clasped in front of its hips.

“Yeah, I am.” Connor was a little too cranky this morning to try a more diplomatic approach. “What the hell is it doing here?”

“I’ll get to that. First on the docket, I got a shit ton of android-related cases filling up our database every day and I’m at wit’s end.” Hank took a deep breath, bracing himself as he met Connor’s eye. “Which is why I’m assigning all of these cases to you.”

“You’re what?”

Connor stared at him, dumbfounded.

“You think that case last night was a one-off? We’ve got more android-related crimes rolling in, including assaults and homicides just as bad as the Ortiz case, and right now, you’re the one with the most experience.” Hank leaned his elbows on his desk as he leveled a formidable glare his way. “Is that going to be a problem, Connor?”

 “Yeah, it is a problem, Hank! Why the hell do I have to do this? What about Colin? He was with me at the crime scene and was there for the interrogation!” Connor shoved a finger at the glass wall to prove his point.

Hank’s jaw tightened. Connor had seen that behavior enough times to recognize how he was pushing his luck.

“CyberLife asked for you specifically.”

“What?” Connor blinked, dumbfounded once again, racking his brain but coming up empty. “Why?”

“The hell if I know!” Hank barked back, rising to his feet as he pointed a finger at Connor, “and frankly, I don’t give a damn. Colin’s got enough on his plate—“

“—and I don’t?” Connor interrupted, scowling. Hank sighed and rubbed a hand down his face, and Connor almost felt guilty for his outburst.

Almost.

“That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you implied.” He tried not to sound like a hurt child, but, well, that’s exactly what he sounded like.

“For fuck’s sake, Connor! There are more people that are gonna start dying from this!”

“Yeah, I know, but—“

Hank lifted his hand, palm forward, effectively shutting Connor up.

“You saw what one of those deviants was capable of last night, and that was with three of you and another android trying to get it under control! You think the average person stands a chance against one of these fucks? That a little ol’ grandma can defend herself against the murderous robot gardener coming at her with a pair of shears? What the hell happens when a nanny bot decides to take a human kid for itself? Oh, wait, that’s already happened, and you would know that if you checked the goddamn case files I sent you!”

Connor was silent as Hank deflated. The older man leaned back against his desk as he looked through his glass wall out over the bullpen. His voice was rough but much quieter for the next round.

“We’re totally in the dark, Connor. We don’t know how bad this is gonna get and how many androids we’re dealing with. This has the potential to turn into a fucking nightmare with Detroit as ground zero.” Hank’s gaze drifted over Connor’s shoulder to the elephant, or the machine, in the room. “CyberLife was gracious enough to send us a state-of-the-art prototype until this issue is contained. It’s gonna be your partner until such a time that these androids are no longer a threat, and then you’re free to go back to being a misanthropic son-of-a-bitch as much as you like.”

Connor was thoroughly shamed by the end of Hank’s speech, that old familiar feeling of disappointment making his gut roil with nausea, but his anger hadn’t entirely flagged. He clenched his hands tightly to his thighs, fingers desperate for either his coin or his cigarettes.

Connor hadn’t felt the need for one in months. This was bad.

“Hank,” he tried again, his voice soft and pleading in that way he knew Hank couldn’t ignore. “I’m not saying this just to be a pain in your ass. I understand the stakes, but I genuinely believe I’m not qualified for these types of cases. I’m not a CyberLife technician, or an AI specialist, or a computer engineer. I’ve never even owned an android.”

That last one was technically true but only in the barest sense, and Hank gave him a knowing look. It wasn’t without sympathy, and his own answer was given with more kindness than he probably deserved.

“I know, Connor. I also know you’re the sharpest pair of eyes on the force, not to mention the quickest brain and the best instinct. You see shit other people don’t, even Colin, and you’ve got this creepy knack for taking one look at a person and knowing what makes ‘em tick. I’d say you’re almost like an android yourself, but I know how much that’d piss you off.”

Connor gave him another narrow-eyed scowl, and Hank immediately put up his hands as a sign of surrender even as a smirk played on his lips.

“My point is, I need you on this, son. I know it’s not ideal, hell, it downright sucks, but I know you can do this. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

And there it was. As effective as Connor’s pleading expressions could be, they were nothing in comparison to his need for Hank’s praise. The old geezer knew it, too.

And throwing a “son” into the mix was a goddamn dirty move, but Connor couldn’t even muster up annoyance. He just sighed, gave Hank the smallest hint of a smile, and said, “All right. But only until these cases are solved. Once the deviancy issue is addressed, the prototype is going back to CyberLife and you never give me an android case again.”

“I’ll pay for the postage to ship it back myself,” Hank said, smile wide and pleased as he patted Connor on the shoulder before returning to his desk. “And I want daily reports on the progress you and your new partner are making. Gotta make sure CyberLife’s best is pulling its weight.”

“I can assure you, Captain Anderson, I am worth every penny. And considering it took a small fortune to build me, I—“

“Yeah, yeah,” Hank interrupted the prototype, using that catchphrase that Connor and all of his brothers had picked up years ago. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

The android blinked almost comically before giving a slow nod. It then turned to face Connor, straightening its back at attention, and he rolled his eyes. He was still being handed the shit end of the stick, but he couldn’t deny that the cases were piling up and Hank really did need the extra help.

But why, out of all the androids in the world, did it have to be one like that.

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Connor turned and left Hank’s office, not waiting to see if the android would follow, knowing with a sinking feeling, it would.

Next Chapter

[harryspet]

plaything | sebastian stan

[Warnings] dark sebastian stan x reader, dark chris evans x reader, lots of dub con bordering on non con, spanking (aftercare?), dub con sex/oral sex, humiliation, seb wants you to call him daddy, impregnation, over/stimulation, abusive relationship, seb domesticating reader, manipulation, seb being a jerk and chris being creepy

A/N: This is for @sherrybaby14​ ‘s Prompt Challenge! If you’re not already following her, please do! The original prompt was “ Bucky fic where the relationship is already well known to be dark. Maybe he views her as a plaything and likes to do things that set her up for failure so that he can punish her. Maybe some gas/lighting too”. I’ve been watching a lot of Sebastian interviews lately so this fic was inspired by that. I know both Sebastian and Chris a super nice guys in real life but I had a lot of fun imagining them as bad guys! 

In which you can’t seem to escape Sebastian’s punishments.

Please like, reblog and let me know what you think!

word count: 3.1k

You watched Sebastian on the TV in your kitchen, licking a spoon covered in fudge batter. He was being interviewed by Jimmy Kimmel and he was as captivating as ever. You chuckled a bit as he made a joke and the crowd erupted in laughter. 

“Y/N, it’s not lady-like to lick the spoon,” Delilah, Sebastian’s chef, said to you. You were in the middle of yet another cooking lesson. You just could never get your food tasting the way Seb liked, “At this rate, I don’t think I’ll be getting fired anytime soon.”

The dessert was in the oven and now the older woman was placing the finishing garnishes on their steak, “He likes his steak medium-well, remember that,” Delilah went on but you couldn’t concentrate. 

You know you should’ve paid attention but you knew deep down you’d never be a good cook. At least, not in the way Seb wanted you to be, “You don’t think he’ll notice it’s microwaved?” You asked Delilah who had previously agreed to your scamming. You’d pretend that you made what she had. 

“He shouldn’t notice because my food is delicious either way. But, it may taste a little different and you can blame that on the fact that you made it,” You nodded nervously. 

“Thank you, Delilah,” The older woman only smiled as she began to gather her things. Everything was laid out and now you could put everything in Tupperware and microwave it tomorrow before Seb arrived. 

You put your oven mitts on and walked over to the oven. You lifted the pan of brownies out of the oven and set it on the stove. The interview on the TV was ending now and you watched as Jimmy told the audience the opening date for Seb’s new movie. 

Seb hadn’t been back to your million dollar apartment in two weeks because he was doing press all day and night.

You almost didn’t hear Delilah say from the foyer, “Mr. Stan, you’re home early,” Your heart dropped. 

“Delilah,” You were sure they were hugging now, “I thought I wouldn’t be seeing you for a while. You look as beautiful as ever.”

You quickly put away all the spices and cutting boards, just throwing them in a random cabinet. And then the plates of food … you stacked them and threw them into the garbage can. You panicked, he couldn’t know that Delilah had made the food after you promised you’d do better. 

“Well … I- oh look, my husband is calling me,” Delilah rushed out, “Have a good evening, Mr. Stan!”

When Sebastian entered the kitchen, you were smiling wide, a dash of flour on your cheek and apron that you had just put there, “I thought you were going to be in L.A. for the rest of the night,” You said to him, kissing his cheek as he approached you. He didn’t return the affection, his eyes tired from his flight. He was wearing a plain black t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants, “I just watched you on TV … you did great.”

“I finished up earlier than I thought. I wanted to see you,” He looked down at you, his eyes burning holes into you. He knew something was up. 

“You look exhausted but I know what will wake you up. Your favorite midnight brownies! Because, you know, we usually eat them at midnight-” He took one look at the brownies and turned back to you.

“Why was Delilah here?” He interrupted, reaching a hand to wipe away the flour on your cheek.

Your smile fell, “S-She came to give me the recipe for the brownies,” He didn’t believe it and you bit down nervously on your bottom lip nervously, “I asked Delilah to make dinner and I was gonna pretend that I had made it myself.”

Seb sighed, a smirk tugging at his lips, “And where’s dinner now?”

You pointed towards the trash can, “And you wasted the food too?”

“I panicked,” You tried to explain yourself, “But I’m gonna make dinner for real tomorrow. I watched Delilah do everything so-”

You yelped as he suddenly grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you closer to him. His breath fanned over your face and then he leaned down to your ear, “You haven’t cleaned either, there’s dust on the painting in the foyer.”

“I-I was going to do it tomorrow before you got home,” You whispered, your heart pounding. 

“Do I ask for too much, Y/N? I’m not sure why you like frustrating me.”

“I-I don’t like frustrating you, Seb.”

“You do,” He insisted, “Why else would you throw schemes like this together?”

“I-” He shushed you and you swallowed your words. The look in his eyes was crazy and you weren’t sure what kind of beast you had awoken this time. You tried to remember a time when things weren’t like this. When he chased you and you thought you might be more than his plaything. 

+

You met Sebastian at one of his interviews. Of course, you didn’t expect him to spare you a second glance because he was the celebrity and you were the girl running to get everyone's coffee. You were practically an assistant to the assistants. You only did the job because it paid slightly more than minimum wage and you were late on your rent. 

You carried three different trays of coffee into the dressing room. It was a smaller production company then he was probably used to. There were at least three other Avengers in the room getting their makeup touched up. You handed the coffees to each of their assistants and then to your boss. 

You would’ve walked away but you saw him take a sip, his eyes still narrowed on you, “This is four sugars …” 

“Yes,” You said quickly, looking over the receipt. Your face visibly fell as you read it, “Well, it’s three but I can find you some sugar, sir. It’ll only take a moment.”

“You can’t seem to get anything right on the first try, can you? I order this drink a million times a week. The other coffee girls can get it right. Why can’t you?”

You took a deep breath, “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

“You’re right because you’re-” You closed your eyes and waited for him to say you were fired. A tall figure emerged behind you and you slowly opened your eyes. 

“I’m sure one sugar isn’t the end of the world, sir,” Seb had said, a hand pressed to your lower back, “If you’re going to treat your staff so poorly, in front of everyone I have to had, then maybe Marvel shouldn’t be giving you their business.”

Your boss was practically jumping out of his skin, “I-I apologize, Mr. Stan,” 

As your boss scurried off like a mouse, he stepped in front of you, “I’m Sebastian.”

+

“I work such long hours, I have to fly around the world, but I take care of you, don’t I?” You nodded vigorously, “I just … don’t like to be lied to. You know what this means, don’t you, pet?”

Pet.

He loved to call you that when his temper got the best of him. Yes, of course, you knew, “Sebastian, not tonight, please-” 

He forced you to look into his eyes, “But I know you like it, Y/N,” With his other hand he gripped your waist, pulling up your skirt. You never seemed to avoid it. There was always something you did wrong that led to this. 

He pressed his lips to yours and you were surprised how gentle he was. Your lips moved in sync with each other as he pressed you against the kitchen island. He was untying your apron and it fell to the ground. Then he was reaching into your panties, easily finding how wet you were, “That’s my girl,” He smirked against your lips, starting to rub circles over your sensitive bulb. 

You ground against his fingers, wanting more friction between you. He kissed the side of your mouth, then your chin and down to your neck, “Ah,” you moaned as he played you like a piano, a song that he had spent the last year memorizing, “Seb, Seb …” 

“Call me Daddy,” He demanded and you moaned as you neared your climax. 

“Oh my god, Daddy,” You were about to tilt your head back when he suddenly removed his fingers. Not in a teasing way and your eyes widened you realized he wasn’t in a playing mood. He grabbed your hips roughly and turned you around. He pressed on your back until your chest was against the marble, “Only good girls get to cum, Y/N,” You felt him walk away and you didn’t dare look back at him, You heard a drawer open and slam shut. 

He lifted your skirt and as he pulled down your underwear, you closed your eyes shut. The impact didn’t come as you expected. You thought it stung much more than when he used his hand. You whimpered, your hands balled into a fist, “You remember what to say, don’t you, pet? I’m giving you twenty and I’m sure you don’t want any extra.”

“Thank you, Daddy!” 

He’d rub a circle and then hit your bottom with the wooden spoon again. You thanked him for each one. As the spanks increased, you squirmed around and Sebastian decided to pin your arms behind your back to hold you in place. 

When he was done, tears were streaming down your face, “Good girl, Y/N. Very good,” Sebastian let go of your wrist, gently helping you up before lifting you into his arms. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he carried you out of the kitchen. 

You cried as he set you on the bed you shared and as he rubbed aloe vera over your bruises. Sebastian held you, placing a kiss on your forehead, as you cried yourself to sleep.

+

You thought your punishment was over but as you exited the shower the next morning, you found a surprise waiting for you on the bed. A “surprise” was probably the wrong word to use. You picked up the pair of black stilettos and set them by your feet before picking up the note. 

Wear this. No panties. Finish cleaning the house and then come meet me in my office. My bookshelves need dusting. - Your one and only love, Sebastian

You balled up the note, tossing it to the side, as you took a deep breath. You decided that he wasn’t going to break you down this time. You dressed in the black, satin, mini dress and your mouth dropped open as you realized it ended an inch after your bottom. The top was basically a corset that pushes your chest up and the clear straps that held them up were flimsy. A matching white apron accompanied everything but even that seemed to be mini-sized. You could barely get on the heels without your whole bottom showing. 

You gritted your teeth, pacing the room, as you tried to get used to the heels. You reminded yourself again that you’d do this with a smile on your face. You pulled your hair back with a tie and left the master bedroom. 

You cleaned almost the entire house with those heels on. Your feet ached and every random draft of wind sent you shivering. If you moved in a certain way, you could feel the satin rubbing against the bruises on your bottom, a reminder of the punishment you suffered the day before. 

You wiped a drop of sweat from your forehead as you finished wiping down the kitchen counters. After you carried the duster to Seb’s office and as you knocked you heard, “Come in, pet,” And you spotted Seb leaning against the front of his desk. 

His eyes were dark and as you met Captain America’s blue-green eyes, your heart dropped to your stomach, “Seb-”

“You know Chris, right, Y/N? You met at that wedding a few months ago?” Sebastian asked, gesturing over the muscular man perched on Seb’s leather couch. 

You remained silent, not wanting to meet the other man’s eyes. You shifted uncomfortably in your dress, pulling at the sides, “Y/N looked very different then … but I have to say that I prefer this look much more,” You could feel his eyes taking in your body. 

You had promised yourself you’d get through this unscathed but you hadn’t planned for this. You wanted to die of embarrassment and it was only as Seb said, “Don’t mind us, pet. We’re just talking business. You have a job to do.”

Your mouth was dry and you felt frozen, “Sebastian, please-”

You cut yourself off because the glare he gave you was deadly. It took you a moment to get the courage to take a step. Your heels clicked against the hardwood floor as you paced over the tall bookshelves that were placed opposite the couch Chris Evans was sitting on. 

You began to dust his collection of books and you cursed the fact that man loved reading about space so much.

Both of their eyes were raked in your body. They muttered a few sentences talking about some director but you knew they were just trying to fill the air. Their focus was you and only you. 

You reached the lower levels but as you had to reach the top one, your dress rode up. You quickly pulled it down but it happened a few more times, “I don’t think you’ll do a very good job if you’re pulling at your dress the whole time, pet,” You almost shot an accusing glance towards him. 

Instead, you stopped holding onto your dress before politely saying, “I don’t think I’m tall enough to reach the top shelves,” You spoke through gritted teeth. 

Seb glared at you sharply but Chris only smirked, “You might’ve hit the lottery with this one, Stan.”

In any other context, you might’ve appreciated the compliment. 

“The coffee table is a little dusty too,” Sebastian lied and you tried to scowl. You walked over to the coffee table, bending down to dust the table. You were close to Chris now and you saw him lean forward, elbows resting on his knees. 

“Look at me, Y/N,” Chris had told you and you did, keeping eye contact as you dusted all the knick-knacks that Seb kept on the coffee table. Yours were on him but he was trailing down to your chest. You guessed he had seen enough of your bottom while you were dusting. 

You stood up straight then looked at Seb, “Did he tell you to stop looking at him?” And you winced as you turned your head back to Chris. 

Seb moved behind you but you couldn’t take your eyes off of Chris. Seb pressed himself against your back, lifted up the skirt of your mini dress. He roughly stuck his fingers between your fold and his fingers were wet as he pulled them away. How? How could that happen when you felt sick with embarrassment. 

Your face was probably bright red by that point, “And I thought you couldn’t upset me further. Now you’re getting turned on by another man. Right in front of me, I should add.”

“S-Seb I-I-” He grabbed you by the front of your neck, pulling you further into him, “I-I’m not, I promise!”

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N. You love the attention. Does Daddy not give you enough?” He spoke huskily into your ear, “Now you have to show Daddy’s friend who you belong to. Bend over, hands on the table.”

As you bent over, you couldn’t help but wonder how things had become so drastically different. You placed your hands flat on the table and it wasn’t long before you heard Sebastian’s belt come off. You thought he might spank you at first but you felt the hard tip of his length press against your entrance. 

He grabbed your hair, forcing you to tilt your head up and look at Chris. He was leaning back now, his hand over his crotch. You could see the hard on beginning to form underneath his jeans, “Only Daddy gets this hole, understand?” And before you could answer, he entered you all the way. 

You gasped, unable to find the words as you screamed out. “Right, pet?” He slammed into you deeply.

You nodded, “Y-Yes, Daddy. Only you.” Seb pounded into you, animalistic growls in his throat as you squeezed around him. 

Soon, you had both fallen to your knees but he only went harder, “Seb, Seb!” You moaned his name, already nearing your climax. The angle you were at let him hit your most sensitive area with every thrust. And as he bent over your body, his fingers rubbing your sensitive bulb, it wasn’t long before that wave of pleasure ripped through you. 

Your body shook and you tried to run away from the full force of it, Sebastian pulled you back onto him. He wasn’t done yet. Chris had pulled his hard member from his jeans and was stroking it as he watched you react to the over/stimulation. Seb had even pulled down your dress so your breasts were fully out. 

Seb didn’t let up on stroking you and, as your second climax came, you thought you might fall apart. “You like it when he watches, don’t you?” Seb groaned in your ear, “You want him to see me put a baby in you.” Seb’s stroke slowed but they were still deep as his song neared its crescendo. 

Seb knew that you were in the middle of switching your birth control methods. 

“Beg me to put a baby into you,” He said, pulling your hair tighter. 

“Ah,” you moaned, “Please give me a baby, Daddy! Please!”

With that, Seb’s hips tightened as he released into you. You felt the warmth deep inside you and you were still shaking as he pulled out, “Good girl,” He said, out of breath. 

You looked at Chris who was thrusting into his own hand. Seb smacked your bottom loudly, “Finish him off, Y/N,” You turned to Seb with wide eyes. As if he hadn’t humiliated you enough. He hit your bottom again, “Now.”

You hesitated before crawling around the table. You felt your own fluids and Seb’s running down your leg. You perched yourself between the older man’s legs and he responded by grabbing your face, pulling you up to his member. 

You closed your eyes as you took him into your mouth. Chris groaned, leaning back as you took him in deeper. You remembered how Seb liked it. Whatever your mouth couldn’t cover, you used hand, twisting around his length, “That’s it, such a good girl,” You gagged as you took him in further. Sebastian loved when you gagged and now you knew Chris did too. As Chris finished, he forced your head down, and you thought you might run out of air as he released into your throat. 

You fell back, gasping after you were forced to swallow it all, “I think I’m going to come to New York more often,” Chris gave you a tired smile.  

You looked to Sebastian who was already up, buttoning his slacks, “Straighten yourself up, Y/N, don’t be rude to our guest.”

+

Hope you enjoyed! Check out my dark peter parker fics and my new Bucky fic called Obedience!

[echo-hiraeth]

Chapter 3: “Es Tuyo”

Part of the “Illicit Limerence” series

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Summary: After having spent some days recovering and getting to her new surroundings the reader goes back to work where she seems to attract some male attention. Javier is displeased and on his breaking point.

Warnings: Major trigger warning: mention of pregnancy termination, cursing, angst, fluff, mentions of injury

Masterlist

A/N: that photo is totally Javi in that evidence closet

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“That is not how you pronounce that at all”, you cackled from the couch.

Connie threw her hands up in defence: “Well, then how? C’mon help me out here amigo!”

“Amiga”, you corrected, grinning as she set the plate down in front of you.

Your friend shook her head as she took a deep breath, lips curled up in a smirk. “You know, you’re supposed to teach me Spanish, not bully me.”

The door swung open as the both of you ate and laughed together, revealing a more than exhausted Steve. “Murphy, come sit with us, Connie made the most amazing pasta.”

He hung his jacket on the wall and kicked off his shoes before plopping down next to Connie, pressing a short peck to her lips. “What’s got you two all riled up?”

“Connie’s been drinking the night away and I am so sleep-deprived that even the telenovelas have become entertaining”, you answered, mouth full of pasta.

“What’s been keeping you up then?”, he asked while reaching over for a plate.

You shrugged your shoulders: “Just the thought of going back to work tomorrow.. I know it’ll just be paperwork but I-I’m just nervous I guess. I need to figure out a way to talk to Messina about resigning without raising any eyebrows and.. it’s just a lot.”

“You know I can get you another doc’s note”, Connie intervened, tilting her head at you.

“Yeah, I know, Con, I know. I just want to get up and get moving. No offense, but y’all can be boring as hell.”

She playfully threw a pillow at you, which hit you square in the belly, making you huff out a small laugh. “It’s not my fault we both have jobs to do, your highness.”

“When’s that first check-up-thingy of yours anyway?”, Murphy questioned.

“Next week, after hours, but I can get there myself, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Yeah, not a chance pal, the Sicarios know your face now, best to have a chaperone out there.”

Steve was right and deep down you’d thought about it too. Of course the narco-men already had most of the DEA’s information and agents in their databases, but you were still unknown to them. It was rare for a female agent to work in the field, let alone be placed in Columbia whatsoever, you’d been an element of surprise, but now even that had been taken away by Escobar. You knew a pregnancy meant the end of your career as a DEA agent, at least in the field. The past three days were meant for you to readjust to your temporary living space with your friends, but you’d really only spent it within the depths of your own head. There was so much you had to do and you couldn’t even figure out where to start, you had to tell Javier at some point, quit your job or risk putting him in danger as well and most of all.. tell your parents. The last one could wait, they wouldn’t care much anyways, you figured. But Javier couldn’t, even though you were just over a month along, you knew you’d have to tell him eventually, this kind of thing wasn’t something you could hide forever.

While you were zoned-out, caught within your own head, Steve and Connie watched you. The grip on your plate tightened, eyes staring straight ahead and chest rising and falling more rapidly. Connie carefully put her hand over yours, making you jerk you head towards her, sending a wave of pain through your left shoulder. “I-I think I’m gonna head off for the night”, you mumbled, quickly getting up and putting your half-empty plate on the kitchen counter.

As soon as you shut the door your lips started trembling, eyes burning from the effort of trying to keep the hot tears from spilling. You pressed your right palm to your forehead, mustering up every last ounce of strength to keep yourself at bay. Another deep breath, another memory of his lips on yours, another step towards the bed, another fading remembrance of his rough hands ghosting over your body. This had to stop, you knew it – hell – you’d known from before you even got into his bed. Javier Peña was a bachelor at heart, free of any commitment, who were you to think you could change his mind. Here you were, heartbroken, knocked-up with a fucked-up shoulder, on a pull-out couch in your best friends’ apartment, what a life.

You carefully grabbed a hold of your Walkman, slipping the headphones on and laying down on the bed. You closed your eyes as you listened to the Cure’s “Boys don’t cry”, reminiscing on the hot summer in the States, when you’d bought the cassette and played it on repeat in your car. A soft smile settled on your face and eventually you fell asleep just like that, fully dressed and headphones still on your ears.

Though the next morning, when the three of you sat around the breakfast table, you in yesterday’s clothes and the two of them in their work attire, there was a bit of an atmosphere going on. Not a word was said over breakfast, only increasing the tension even more, making you feel incredibly vulnerable, like a kid scolded by their father, it was odd. It wasn’t until later, on your way to the embassy in Steve’s passenger’s seat that he finally broke his silence.

“Who is it?”, he asked, tone harsher than usual.

You let out a nervous chuckle, quirking an eyebrow in confusion. “Mind giving me a hand here, I’m not sure I-“

“Who did you fuck?”, he interrupted you, voice rigid and determined.

“Steve”, you huffed, “what the hell are-“

“I’m no idiot y/n. Now tell me, who the hell is it.” His frustration started showing in his driving style, his braking much more abrupt than usual.

You scoffed at him, resting your hand on the door handle, at an attempt to feel somewhat secure. “That’s just not none of your fucking business Murphy.”

“It is if I’m losing a partner over it, maybe even two.”

“Peña? Don’t make me fucking laugh”, you lied, voice surprisingly confident. “He’s the biggest jerk there.”

“Then who? Santiago, Lopez, that FBI guy?”, he pressed as he parked the car.

You flipped him off before yanking the car door open, hurrying your way into the embassy. You didn’t bother to stop at the front desk or politely bid you co-workers a “good morning”, no, you just wanted to get to Messina, get your assignments for the day and get to work, away from both your partners.

As predicted, you were to write reports for the foreseeable future, Messina putter her faith in your ability to type them out with just one hand. You’d agreed, not wanting to argue or come up with an alternative yourself and made your way over to your office. Despite your request to be put into a confined space, away from Murphy and Peña, Messina insisted you’d just work at your regular desk, so the two of them could provide you some assistance if needed.

Luckily for you the two of them were out for most of the day, leaving you to work alone, in a comfortable silence. A fellow agent would step in to check if you were alright every now and then, helping you with carrying out file boxes or bringing in new ones. It was times like this that your reputation really preceded you, the sweet girl that would bring coffees on Fridays and bake cookies for birthdays and holidays. You knew your way around the office and compensated for your shortages (aka the fact that you were a woman) by innocent bribery. Lopez had even been so attentive as to bring you a hot lunch, which you gladly accepted and enjoyed in his company.

Steve and Javier were both surprised to see the two of you, laughing and just having a good time. Though they both had different motives, their suspicions aligned perfectly: he’s being too friendly. The two of them walked into the office, yet the two of you didn’t look up, no on the contrary, Lopez leaned in even closer, fidgeting with the sling on your arm.

Javier was not fucking having this today, so he loudly cleared his throat, both of your heads perking up in his direction. Lopez got up off your desk and gave you another smile before walking out of the now-way-too-crowed-with-testosterone office space. He gave the two of them a polite nod, muttering a “Peña y Murphy” before disappearing into the hallway.

“I fucking knew it”, Steve sighed, letting himself fall into his desk chair.

You threw a pencil at his face, chuckling when it ultimately did hit him square in the nose. “You’re a fucking idiot Murphy, Lopez was just bringing me lunch.”

“If you say so”, Steve mumbled, throwing the pencil right back at you.

 The day had stayed calm and you were able to go home without having to talk to Peña at all, to your great relief. The next few days had been the exact same, tonnes of fieldwork for them and an amazing lunch with some of the other agents for you. On Thursday night, when Steve and Javier were working late due to an unexpected lead, you tagged along with the guys, heading out to some bar, where you enjoyed a non-alcoholic beverage or two and even were treated to a lovely platter of grilled goods.

Climbing the stairs to their apartment, you smiled to yourself. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, you had friends and options, maybe Javier didn’t need to be in the picture, maybe it was meant to be this way. As you slipped your key in the door you took a deep breath, you felt at peace. Which was swiftly stolen away from you as a more than distressed Steve and Connie, baby held in his arms, were revealed.

Your keys hit the floor in surprise, face contorting in confusion. You quickly picked them up, nodded at Connie and walked into your room. A kid and an injured friend were too much for anyone to handle, you knew that, the story would follow, but for now you’d be heading back to your place. Steve gave you an apologetic look as you placed the key on the table, offering the both of them a genuine smile on the way out.

As you hauled your bag down the stairs, you let out a pained groan, your shoulder disagreeing with your every movement. On the next floor down, a familiar door swung open, revealing no one other than Javier, shirt halfway unbuttoned. “C’mon, I already made the bed.”

“Oh, no thank you, I’m fine”, you answered, bag falling off of your shoulder.

He shook his head before walking over to you, taking the bags as he urged you to follow him. “You take the bed, I’ll take the couch. Beer’s in the fridge, cigs are on the table.”

You hesitantly trailed after him, cringing a bit when setting foot in his apartment, the memories of the previous nights spent there flooding your mind within mere seconds. “Javi, I’m really fine, I’d rather just go home.”

“M’sorry hermosa, Murphy’s orders”, he said from the bedroom, coming back empty-handed. “We don’t have to talk, you can take a bath if you want, watch tv, just do whatever you want.”

You stood in the doorway, awkwardly watching as he made his way over to the couch, quickly laying down. “The kid..”

“Escobar.”

That’s all you needed to know, you could fill in the blanks yourself. A hand hovered over your abdomen, stomach turning in knots as the mere idea of something like that happening to you crossed your mind. You closed your eyes, a cold shiver running down your back, the bile starting to rise in your throat. It wasn’t just the news, you’d been “lucky” enough to have limited episodes of nausea, but when you did it was either early on in the morning or later at night, never throughout the day, which really helped your work situation.

“Hey, hey, hey, you sick again?”, Javier asked, quickly getting up and rushing over to you.

You braced yourself by placing your good hand on his chest, taking a few deep breaths. “I need to sit down.”

He gave frantic set of nods, putting an arm around your waist and leading you over to the couch, slowly helping you down. He sat down on his knees between your legs, eyes looking over your features, trying to read you. “Concussion?”

You quickly shoved him aside, rushing over to his bathroom where you dropped down to your knees, head hung over the toilet bowl. It didn’t take long for him to follow, one warm hand resting on your upper back and the other holding on to your hair. His eyes were laced with worry and concern, your pained cries mixed in with the retching breaking his heart. With every convulsion of your body your arm bucked along, causing an immense pain to course through your mending bones. When you eventually stopped and rested your head on your arm, which rested on the porcelain itself, he let go of your hair. He disappeared for a fraction of a second, quickly coming back with some water and a towel.

“Do you need to see a doctor?”

You took a sip of the water, eager to get the vile taste out of your system. “No, no, I’m fine, just drank too much.”

He nodded, despite not believing you. He’d seen you drunk before and this wasn’t that. There was no lingering smell of alcohol, no sexual advances, no sarcasm, you were just.. you – except you were lying to his face. Javier decided not to push on it, not wanting to bother you when you obviously weren’t feeling too great.

Eventually you managed to feel somewhat better and get ready for the night, Javier helping you into a fresh shirt, mindful not to hurt you. When it came to it and you went to bed you decided to ask him to join you, not wanting to be alone after having talked over what exactly had happened that night.

The two of you talked about the baby girl and the fucked up shit the sicarios did as you rested comfortably in his arms. It wasn’t anything sexual, you two were solemnly comforting one another after an incredibly rough day. As he spoke, chest buzzing in tune with his voice, his fingers traced weary circles on your side. He just kept talking and venting, knowing fully well you had passed out. That night Javier slept better than he had in ages, it was also the first time the two of you had stayed with one another until the morning. It was nice. None of you had to sneak out or slip away in the middle of the night and the sight of you when he woke up was a welcome one, making him feel at ease. He gently woke you up, helping you into the bathroom where you took a brief shower, the hot water working wonders on your aching muscles.

When you walked into the kitchen, towel wrapped around your frame, Javier was buttering some toast. “Hi, I hate to do this but I can’t quite get dressed..”

He gave a curt not, putting down the knife before walking over to you, taking the bra and shirt from your hands. “What’s with the shoes?”, he asked as he fastened the hooks of your bra.

“Well, don’t need to run for reports.. so no flats.”

Javier gave a low chuckle as he slipped the dress over your head, fingers ghosting over the tender skin of your neck. “Are you sure it’s not Lopez you want to impress?”

Now it was your turn to huff out a laugh. “Javier Peña, do I detect a hint of jealousy?”

“Should I be?”

As soon as you both were dressed and had somewhat of a breakfast you were headed to the embassy. The drive was quiet other than the radio, and surprisingly soothing. The domestic bliss stayed with you as you took a seat behind your typewriter, Javier’s gaze trained on your figure. You thought it was because of the dress, but in all reality he was trying to figure out why in the hell you would lie to him. Maybe you and Lopez were really becoming a thing or maybe the two of you had always been, maybe he was too late. All the more reasons to move on from you, the mere fucking idea of you.

By the time lunch rolled around Lopez found his way to your desk, a plate held in each hand. “Buenas Peña”, the man croaked out before walking over to your desk.

You uncrossed your legs and smiled up at the man, making Javier’s right eye twitch. Upon looking at the plate your face briefly fell, muttering an apology before declaring you were allergic to seafood. That was another fucking lie, Javier thought.

“But Javier enjoys crawfish”, you chuckled, “let him have my plate, I’ll run down to the market myself.”

Before any of them could protest, you grabbed your purse and fled the office, not wanting to experience a showdown of sorts. Javier took the opportunity to just smirk at the other man, grabbing the plate and shooing him out of the office. But not before providing the man with a sassy “piérdete, fracas ado” (get lost, loser).

The short walk to the market and back had given you the air you needed. Your head was spinning once again, the same thing as always: Javi. What the fuck was all this meddling about? He was so nice all of a sudden, domestic even, which wasn’t entirely uncharacteristic as you’d experienced him like this before.. but it wasn’t as if you were sleeping together again. Maybe that’s just what he expected to get from this. Of fucking course he’d take you in to his place. You scoffed before sinking your teeth into the spicy lunch you’d treated yourself to. Walking back into the office you were surprised to find all three desks empty. Well, you were aware that Murphy was unlikely to show up at all with his new responsibility, but Javier? Maybe he’d been requested for some field work.

You set your bag down before making your way over to the kitchen, wanting to grab a fresh drink. But before you could make it there you were pulled into the nearest evidence room, well closet more like, somebody pulling you in by your right arm.

“Mierda Javier ¿cuál es tu problema“, you yelped (Fuck Javier, what’s your issue?).

“I’m not the one lying to everyone’s fucking face”, he replied with a dark laugh.

You swatted his hand off of you and tried to shove past him when he blocked the door. “I’m not in the mood for this”, you warned, eyes locking with his.

“Missing your little boyfriend already?” Your mouth went agape in shock. “You’re not as clever as you think, hermosa.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, idiota celoso.” (jealous prick).

He wore a devilish smirk as he moved closer, lips ghosting over your ear shell. “Look who’s the whore now, huh..”

That one hurt, a lot. You pulled back from him, emotion catching in your throat. “Stop..”

“You been sleeping with everyone in the office then? Or were Lopez and I the only ones good enough for you.”

You could barely believe your ears, his evil words making tears form in your eyes. “Javier-“

“I at least thought you would’ve been smart enough not to get knocked up”, his words were laden with disgust and you stumbled backwards, feeling more unsafe than ever with him.

You tried to gather your thoughts and come up with a response but you could only manage a sad laugh as you looked at him. “You’re so fucking naïve.”

“¿Qué quiere decir?”, he inquired, lips pursed together. ‘What are you trying to say?)

“Es tuyo”, you declared. (It’s yours).

Those two words were everything he was so terrified of. You, him, a baby? Fuck. This was no place for a baby, he was no dad-material, shit man, he couldn’t even come to terms with the fact that he longed to be with you, let alone take care of you like that. He didn’t dese- no, you didn’t deserve this, all this- his misery.

“I thought you were fucking safe”, he shouted.

You felt incredibly small now, and even more terrified. “It takes two, you know”, you answered.

Javier took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as he desperately tried to calm down.

“I-I can give you the money”, he stuttered.

“What?”, you asked, deeply confused.

“To get rid of it.”

If you weren’t infuriated before, you sure were now. The mere mention of it, the mere fucking idea that he wouldn’t even own up to what he did. He’d done it now, but you know what, good. If this is who he really was, then it was best you found out now.

“I-I don’t want you to lose your job..”, he murmured, voice much quieter and soft now.

The tears were streaming over your face at a high speed, blurring your vision as you looked at him. “Move, please.”

“We need to t-“

“Get out of my way”, you screamed.

He hesitantly stepped aside and watched as you speed-walked your way out of there, loudly sobbing and wiping at your eyes. Everyone’s attention was on the two of you, everyone seemingly understanding what had gone down. And as if things couldn’t get worse, around the corner came a familiar tuft of blonde hair, Steve fucking Murphy, giving him the death stare. Well fuck.

Taglist: @peterhollandkait @ophelia-ingenue @pedritomando​ @radiowallet​

[tigerkirby215]

5e Aphelios, the Weapon of the Faithful build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Pan Chengwei. Made for Riot Games.)

(Shit meme by yours truly.)

Yes I hate Irelia so much I’m genuinely making an Aphelios build before her.

But I really don’t get the “Aphelios too confusing 200 years” memes. Don’t get me wrong his kit’s weird and certainly overtuned but it doesn’t take that long to figure out what his guns do. Calibrum has long range and fires a skill shot, Severum has lifesteal and attacks fast, Gravitum slows and roots, Infernum attacks in a cone for AoE damage, and Crescendum attacks very fast and creates a turret.

Just because I understand this does it mean I can play Aphelios? Fuck no. Did I learn all this from Legends of Runeterra by playing Labs with Aphelios? Yeah kinda. But all I’m saying is that if my stupid support-main ass can do midway decently as Aphelios on free-to-play rotation I really think the hype around him is overblown.

That’s enough hot takes from me. He’s the point where I list 5 goals for this build instead of 3 and make 200 years jokes.

GOALS

Calibrum - We’ll need a long-ranged weapon to harass our foes and pick them off when they try to run.

Severum - If enemies get too close or we get too low we’ll need a way to keep ourselves alive in a 1v1.

Gravitum - We’ll need to control our foes to always stay in an advantageous position.

Infernum - AoE damage is always useful to deal with crowds.

Crescendum - To take down the toughest of foes we’ll need to unleash all our firepower and even get our weapons to fir themselves.

Basically we need literally everything, all packed within 20 levels of D&D and 200 years of game design.

RACE

Aphelios is a human... but ellipsis means that another race makes more sense. Aphelios has his sister advising him wherever he goes in life, so to play two spirits in one a Kalashtar is a good choice! Your Wisdom score increases by 2 and your Charisma increases by 1. Alune’s Dual Mind grants you Advantage on Wisdom saving throws, and her Mental Discipline lets you resist Psychic damage. Alune also keeps you Severed from Dreams, meaning that you’re immune to spells that require you to dream (like the Dream spell) but not spells that require you to sleep (like Sleep.)

Aphelios doesn’t talk (unless you want him to) but Alune can make a Mind Link to speak telepathically with others! You can speak telepathically to any creature you can see that’s within a number of feet of you equal to 10 times your level. You don’t need to share a language with them, but they must be able to understand at least one language. You can also use your action to give that creature the ability to speak telepathically with you for 1 hour or until you end this effect as an action. To use this ability, the creature must be able to see you and must be within this trait’s range. You can only give this ability to only one person at a time however, as it ends when you give it to someone else. Oh and speaking of languages you know Common, Quori (which no one is going to have outside of Eberron lol), and one other language of your choice: Celestial probably makes the most sense but you can pick whatever you fancy.

ABILITY SCORES

15; CHARISMA - You’re a kpop pretty boy, because Aphelios has more guns than body types in League of Legends.

14; WISDOM - I mean you get advantage in Wisdom saves anyways: may as well make the skill good too?

13; DEXTERITY - You are a marksman but we aren’t really using DEX for combat. So in other words: something something Medium Armor.

12; CONSTITUTION - You are one of the squishiest ADCs in the game but you do have enough sustain to keep yourself alive.

10; INTELLIGENCE - You were trained spiritually, as opposed to academically. That being said Religion is an Intelligence skill for some reason.

8; STRENGTH - I mean look at Aphelios’ arms; kid’s a freaking twink.

BACKGROUND

Aphelios fights for him and his sister’s faith in the Lunari... bit unorthodox, but you’re certainly quite the devoted Acolyte. As an acolyte you get proficiency in Religion but I’d replace your proficiency in Insight with Medicine, which you’re probably used to after drinking so much poison. You also learn two languages that you won’t use because Aphelios is mute. (But yeah pick whatever you think will be useful and if you want to feel free to swap your languages for tools or something. A Herbalism Kit or Poisoner’s Kit actually works rather well given your favorite drink to keep close to your sister.)

Alune may be in the Shelter of the Faithful but you can return to the temple from time to time for solace. You and your adventuring companions can expect free healing and care at a temple, shrine, or other established location of Lunari faith (you have to provide any material components for spells though.) The Lunari will support you (but only you) at a modest lifestyle in the temples.

If you’re near your sister’s shrine you can ask the chosen Lunari priests for assistance, provided the assistance you ask for is not hazardous and you remain in good standing with your temple and your sister.

(Artwork by SixMoreVodka Studios. Made for Legends of Runeterra by Riot Games.)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - SORCERER 1

Starting off as a Sorcerer for proficiency in CON saving throws lol, but also for proficiency in Arcana and the Insight skill we skipped from our background. But Sorcerers get to choose their subclass at level 1 and to get closer to the Aspects grab a touch of the Divine Soul. As a Weapon of the Faithful you are Favored by the Gods, letting you add 2d4 to a missed attack roll or saving throw once per Short or Long Rest for a touch of Alune’s guidance. I’m going to mention now that a death saving throw is technically a saving throw, and I mention it because your AC is 11 and your health is 7. Level 1 ADCs, am I right?

Anyways: Divine Souls get Divine Magic for one extra spell from the Cleric spell list: technically you’re supposed to take one of the ones they suggest to you but I’d recommend Guiding Bolt for Calibrum’s Q: a long ranged shot that lets you shoot the target more easily afterwards.

And of course being able to cast spells implies that you have Spellcasting! You can learn four cantrips from the Sorcerer or Cleric list which means you can grab Guidance for a bit more of your sister’s help. You can also grab Word of Radiance to attack everyone near you with Severum’s Q, Acid Splash for some AoE damage from Infernum (should it be doing fire damage? Yeah probably), and Light to see with your dumb Kalashtar eyes. You can also learn two leveled spells like Sanctuary to protect yourself or your allies as long as they act peacefully, and Ice Knife for a more ranged AoE blast from Infernum.

If you want you can grab Mage Armor or something because your AC and HP are kinda uhhhhhhhhhh... trash?

LEVEL 2 - WARLOCK 1

Hopefully you didn’t die as a level 1 Aphelios with 7 HP and 11 AC; we didn’t even get 200 years of damage yet! Warlocks get to choose their subclass at level 1 as well which means you can shape yourself as the Fiend the Solari see you as. Dark One’s Blessing grants you temporary hitpoints equal to your Charisma modifier plus your Warlock level whenever you slay a foe for Severum’s lifesteal and passive shield.

You also get Pact Magic, which is like regular Spellcasting but your spell slots are funny! You can learn two cantrips from the Warlock list like Eldritch Blast to blast while you eldritch, and Chill Touch for some Grievous Wounds. You can also learn two Warlock spells like Burning Hands from the Fiendlock list to blast your foes with Infernum, and Hex to mark your foe for death under the moon.

LEVEL 3 - WARLOCK 2

Second level Warlocks get access to Eldritch Invocations like Agonizing Blast to agonize your blasts, and Lance of Lethargy to slow your foes with Gravitum. You can also learn another Warlock spell like Unseen Servant for some extra sisterly help. I mean, you’re probably going to replace these all next level anyways.

LEVEL 4 - WARLOCK 3

Third level Warlocks can choose their Pact Boon and truthfully? Just about any of them work. Pact of the Blade would be the most “in-character” but your Strength and Dexterity are both kind of bad and you don’t need to use weapons. Pact of the Chain will let you personify Alune on your person and get a shitty version of Crescendum’s turret but Aphelios doesn’t have a pet. Pact of the Tome lets you get Aspect of the Moon which is funny in its own right and more cantrips are universally useful. And hell: even Pact of the Talisman is useful for your sister to lend her aid to someone else in the party. Basically this is an elaborate way for me to say that your Pact Boon doesn’t matter much for this build, as we won’t be using any of the abilities or invocations from your Pact Boon much. So pick what you think will be useful and fun and make your own Aphelios!

With that being said: you can also learn second level Warlock spells now! Shadow Blade will serve as Crescendum’s blade that you can throw at the enemy, but it is based on your DEX which is kind of... bad? Well at least you can replace Unseen Servant with Misty Step, because a summoner’s Flash is more useful than your sister’s unseen help.

LEVEL 5 - WARLOCK 4

Man isn’t it fun to wait until level 5 to not die when the enemy support breathes on you? That uneven Dexterity score was done so you could grab the Moderately Armored feat for +1 to your Dexterity and proficiency in Medium Armor and Shields. Grab both to get hit less, basically!

You can also learn another spell like Hold Person for Gravitum’s root. And another cantrip like Minor Illusion for your sister to summon some props that you can hide behind.

(Artwork by Jennifer Wuestling. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 6 - WARLOCK 5

Hey that Medium Armor doesn’t really fit your outfit: how about the Mask of Many Faces invocation to put on some skins?

Third level spells are also useful! Vampiric Touch will let you heal in close range by damaging your foes with Severum.

LEVEL 7 - WARLOCK 6

6th level Fiend Warlocks get more guidance from Alune. The Solari may call it the Dark One’s Own Luck but all it lets you do is add a d10 to an ability check or saving throw once per Short or Long Rest. I mean hey: if you want a load of saving throw insurance this plus Favored by the Gods basically means you’re adding +10 to a saving throw!

You can also learn another spell but the only ones I’d want have very expensive components. Basically I want a Tasha’s summoning spell for Crescendum’s turret, but you’re going to be replacing it with...

LEVEL 8 - WARLOCK 7

4th level Warlocks can learn Summon Aberration which is a little more than just a turret! You can choose between a Beholderkin turret, Slaad tank, or Star Spawned Aspect! I’m not going to go too deep into this spell as you can read up on it for yourself but the point is you’ve got some backup now!

Alternatively if you want I think your sis could use some friends: Banishment will send them up to the temple where they’ll have to sit around and chat peacefully with Alune. Or if they’re not from the plane you’re in they’ll just be sent home.

Oh and you can also get another Eldritch Invocation like Eldritch Spear to keep your range with Calibrum.

LEVEL 9 - WARLOCK 8

8th level Warlocks get another Ability Score Improvement: you should probably increase your Charisma for more damage and accuracy with your weapons.

Speaking of weapons Dimension Door will let you head back to fountain to buy more weapons, or get out of danger and in range to use your weapons.

(Artwork by SixMoreVodka Studios. Made for Legends of Runeterra by Riot Games.)

LEVEL 10 - SORCERER 2

We’ve gotten all of out basic auto attacks: now I want some of Aphelios’ finer abilities. Second level Sorcerers get a Font of Magic for Sorcery Points which currently do nothing other than let you get more spell slots. You can melt down your Warlock slots however to get more Sorcery points, which will be useful later.

And of course you can learn more spells, but we’re going to wait for...

LEVEL 11 - SORCERER 3

Third level Sorcerers can finally learn Metamagic to empower their spells! You can take Quickened Spell for some Attack Speed, or Seeking Spell for some armor penetration to deal with higher AC enemies.

You can also learn second level spells like Icingdeath’s Frost (UA soon to be in Fizban’s hopefully) to blast foes with Infernum then Gravitum, or Dragon’s Breath to blast Infernum all throughout the fight.

LEVEL 12 - SORCERER 4

Would be good to cap off that Charisma, so go ahead and do so with your ASI.

You can also learn another spell like Spiritual Weapon for a turret you can move around a bit, and a new cantrip like Mage Hand for your sister’s help reaching the top shelf.

(Artwork made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 13 - SORCERER 5

5th level Sorcerers can get some Magical Guidance from their sister to reroll ability checks, because she’s been reading up on Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything.

You can also learn a new spell like Fireball... I mean I really shouldn’t need to justify this. It’s Fireball. Blast them with Moonlight Vigil for a burst of Infernum’s fire!

LEVEL 14 - SORCERER 6

6th level Divine Soul Sorcerers can use their Sorcery Points for Empowered Healing... wait you have healing? Well whenever you or an ally within 5 feet of you rolls dice to heal from a spell, you can spend 1 sorcery point to reroll any number of those dice once, as long as you’re not incapacitated. This technically doesn’t work with Vampiric Touch (since that spell does damage and then heals you based on how much damage it deals) but if your support heals you or a nearby ally there’s no reason not to give them an extra pick-me-up!

You can also learn another spell but I’m going to hop back to second level real quick for Mirror Image. It perhaps doesn’t fit as well (which is why I didn’t take it until now) but it’s very good to keep yourself alive, and as a squishy Lunari boy it’ll be very helpful to make it harder for the enemy to hit you.

LEVEL 15 - SORCERER 7

7th level Sorcerers can learn 4th level spells like Guardian of Faith for a turret that actually stands still! It shoots at anyone who comes close, and when it runs out of ammo it disappears. But what’s cool about this spell is that it lasts for 8 hours, which is plenty of time to rest through the night while your sister watches over you.

LEVEL 16 - SORCERER 8

8th level Sorcerers get another Ability Score Improvement or Feat: seeing as you’re mostly casting War Caster would be a good pickup to keep your Concentration with your bad Constitution and also hit those who come too close with magic. Or you could just get better Constitution maybe since it’s a bit late for War Caster tbh...

You can also learn another spell like Death Ward, for a Guardian Angel that you’re probably going to need seeing as you still have less than a hundred health.

(Artwork by Francis Tneh and West Studios. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 17 - SORCERER 9

9th level Sorcerers can learn 5th level spells like Teleportation Circle to recall back to base or to your sister’s temple. If you know the sequence of sigils to go back to a teleportation circle you can use this spell to link yourself back to it. You can also create a new circle over the course of a year. (And by spending a lot of gold.)

Basically this is my way of saying that we got all we wanted after level 16 tbh and I’m kinda just going through the motions of grabbing your last few levels.

LEVEL 18 - SORCERER 10

10th level Sorcerers get their third Metamagic option! Hurrah! By this point you have enough spells that force saving throws that Heightened Spell is a good option to make it a lot harder for your opponents to resist 200 years of magic!

You can also learn another 5th level spell like Hold Monster for Gravitum’s root against a ganking Fiddlesticks. And another cantrip: I somehow didn’t take Prestidigitation until now, so grab it for all sorts of basic Lunari magic.

LEVEL 19 - SORCERER 11

11th level Sorcerers can learn a 6th level spell! This is going to be your final, highest level spell; your ultimate ability! And I’d consider an ultimate from a fed Aphelios to be a Circle of Death. It’s a huge AoE that does a lot of damage: a simple nuke for a simple ADC that isn’t remotely confusing.

LEVEL 20 - SORCERER 12

12th level Sorcerers get one last Ability Score Improvement or Feat... I’m going to be honest: this doesn’t fit Aphelios but you likely have around 100 HP. Do yourself a favor and grab the Tough feat for 40 extra health.

FINAL BUILD

PROS

For every phase, a weapon - Wow who would’ve guessed building for versatility makes you versatile? You have a huge variety of spells for just about any occasion: AoEs to deal with crowds, single-target spells to take down big foes, crowd control to keep enemies in place, summons to keep enemies targeting them instead of your allies, and of course more than enough damage to shake a stick at.

In your hand; from my heart - Sorcery points also give you plenty of flexibility, notably in your ability to greatly increase damage output thanks to Quickened Spell on Eldritch Blasts and Seeking Spell to reroll missed Eldritch Blasts. But being able to turn your Warlock slots into ammo for your more useful guns is extremely useful and allows you to better adapt to various situations.

I am with you... shining above - Medium armor goes quite a long way! A Breastplate and Shield gives you a solid 18 AC, and if you’re willing to have Stealth Disadvantage upgrading to Half Plate gives you a respectable 19 AC!

CONS

You make yourself a weapon, so you do not have to feel - Skill proficiencies are reserved for those who don’t spend 200 years on damage. You have two skills from your background and two from your class and none of them are particularly great. Sure your Insight and Medicine skills are fine enough but you’re going to be beaten in Arcana by a Wizard and Religion by a Cleric also a Wizard, because Religion is an Intelligence skill for some reason.

Your life upon the altar, brother... - Even with the Tough feat your health is extremely poor. d6 hit die hurt and anyone with Power Word Kill can easily execute you. While I did give you good Wisdom for roleplay’s sake you could (and probably should) opt for Constitution instead.

An omen in your grasp - Your low health is kind of a problem when a lot of your spells force you into close range. There are ways to use spells like Burning Hands, Dragon’s Breath, Shadow Blade, and Vampiric Touch without getting too close (those methods being the Distant Spell Metamagic which we didn’t take; you could totally replace Seeking Spell if you wanted though) but Severum and Infernum are balanced around their low range. There’s no reason you can’t throw balance out the window to take spells that will likely be more useful.

But you are a weapon, sworn to carry your faith and show the world the light in the darkness. Your task is to slay those that deny the right of your people before they even know you are there... Sure confusing them as to what you are even doing is also effective, and I guess it doesn’t matter if your abilities make sense if they’re all dead. They’ll have 200 years to figure out how you killed them: I’m sure that’s plenty of time to read your ability descriptions.

(Artwork by @NAOMM29 on Twitter.)

[ladyeliot]

“Your stupid spider”

Superhero vs Villain!Reader Prompts

Request: Anonymous: Hello there! Could you write a Superhero vs Villain, where the reader is Peter Parker's best friend but also his enemy? You can use #3 if you want. By the way I love your stories and your writing. Lots of love.

Prompt #3: Truce? 

Pairing: Superhero!Peter Parker x Villain!Fem!Reader

Summary: Peter Parker is your best friend, and Spider-man is your enemy. You finally discover that they are the same person.

Warnings: Violence. 

Word count: 2446

A/N: Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

"If you are really interested in how I discovered the identity of my greatest enemy, please read on."

You. An ordinary girl, born in Brooklyn to a single parent family who had moved into a small flat in the Queens area with her mother. No drugs, no alcohol, no tobacco, your obsession was pancakes and syrup. You didn't do any chores, and you didn't sneak out of the housework. After school you went home with your friends to do your homework. You liked reading, and you listened to music with headphones so as not to disturb the neighbours. In short, a teenager that many parents wish they had.

However, your persona wasn't all rosy, just because Y/N was like that, didn't mean your alter ego was too. You had a secret, everyone has secrets, you might think, but it wasn't just any secret, it was "The Secret", and no one knew it. That's why you could say it was the best kept secret in Queens, or at least that's what you thought until he came along. Spider-man.

Everything went smoothly, it took you a while to assume your powers, your teleportation, but when you got it you enjoyed your solitude in your night outings. You discovered the reality of New York City, the nocturnal and dark atmosphere of being hidden in the shadows, that is to say, you had fun as only you knew how to do. Nevertheless, since the arrival of that Spider-man, your fun was over. That man had in mind to destroy the true essence of the city and that was something you could not allow.

Your first meeting was at the top of Rockefeller Center, a night like any other after the end of one of the most intrepid police chases in Midtown West. There you were, watching the chase unfold, and there he arrived. Remarkably, due to the concealment of your costumes, neither of you could figure out who the other was, and your voice-impersonation skills helped you never get caught. All in all, that was one of many encounters you would have in the wake of Spider-Man's popularity. But still, your life went on.

"Are you telling me you're going to stand me up this afternoon for helping your aunt bake a cake?" you asked Peter between complaints. "You know we have to study for the chemistry test on Friday. And that I'm nothing without you in chemistry."

Although you tried to show him the most apologetic face in the whole world, Peter was not immune to it. 

"Sorry Y/N," he closed his locker after grabbing his books. "I promised May last week, it's very important for her to give a good welcome to the new neighbours."

You rolled your eyes but finally came to terms with your defeat.

"Okay Parker," you gave him a little push. "But you've been letting me down in the afternoons for three days now. You'll make it up to me."

You winked and Peter's cheeks quickly turned pink, he gave you a shy smile and nodded goodbye. He was adorable. It was actually good to be free in the afternoons, since Spider-Man had gotten in your way, you had a complex relationship, playing cat and mouse, trying to hinder each other's actions, and it was interesting that week.

Like the previous days, after finishing your chores at home, you put on your black suit and disappeared. Your power was complex, you didn't fully understand it yet and you knew it would take a while, but you weren't scared. You could teleport to a specific place, teleport to another person or object, and even open portals to other places. But these superpowers had played tricks on you, sometimes you appeared in places you didn't recognise and then didn't know how to get back, or you had to return home by taking public transport. Everything has its drawbacks.

Dusk was falling over the island of Manhattan, it was a busy spring evening in New York, big businessmen were leaving their offices, dog walkers were wandering into Central Park and a group of elementary school students were leaving the Museum of Arts and Design. You caught your gaze on the broad clock of a prominent building and instantly there he was, coming from 8th Avenue.

You smiled, you were in the mood for fun and what better way than to open a portal right in front of him to get rid of Spider-man and send him a few blocks further south.

"Woah!" he exclaimed, stepping into the portal and disappearing, not for long.

You started laughing, he always fell into your trap and yet he was still funny to you.

"Hello Miss Holes!"

Within two minutes it landed next to you throwing a spider web which you dodged opening a new portal.

"Too slow, stupid spider," you said with a grin hidden under your mask.  "And too predictable to be the mascot of the Avengers.

The two of you began a small battle on top of that building, as if choreographed.

"Hey!" he exclaimed somewhat offended, dodging a new portal. "I'm not the Avengers' mascot."

"Then why is it your turn to do the dirty work?" you ran off, shaking off his cobwebs.

"What...?" began Spider-man somewhat confusedly pausing over the rooftop antenna. "What dirty work?"

You let out a small laugh and in an instant you teleported to his side.

"You know," you began to lower your tone."Robbing old ladies, selling drugs in the neighbourhood - oh, you even helped a woman yesterday who didn't know where to find the underground," you squinted. "Spidey, you're so bored that the most exciting thing in your life is meeting me."

You were so lost for words that you didn't see it coming. In that instant a spider web, a bit slimy for your taste, wrapped around your mouth like a gag silencing your every word. You quickly tried to get rid of it with little luck.

"Thank goodness!" exclaimed your opponent alejándose de ti. "Much better. Sorry about that, but we'll be doing us both a favour."

You touched solid ground again, and raised your hands in the direction of the satellite dish, teleporting it in the direction of Spider-man, who quickly dodged it. From that moment on, your rage intensified, increasing the tension of the fight, which usually ended without a clear winner, only exhaustion won out.

"Woah! That was a close one!" he exclaimed, leaping ten metres above you.

Your throat squeaked, but no sound escaped because of the gag. You tried to get rid of it by teleporting it away, but it wasn't possible. At that moment you would have made it disappear forever if you could, but finally you stopped throwing objects at it, to disappear from there yourself.

It wasn't being a good day for you, maybe it also had to do with the fact that you were sure that your best friend didn't have to make any cake with his aunt May, nor did he have to accompany her to dance classes or anything like that, they were all excuses and you didn't know why he was making them.

In milliseconds you were back in your room, rummaging through your things to get rid of that gag and remove the mask from your costume. Nothing was any good. You had no idea what that spider's web was made of, but nothing could break it.

In desperation you tried again to teleport it, but you were unable to concentrate all your attention on it. You had only one hope left, Peter, he would surely know how to get rid of her, although you would owe him a lot more explanations. You closed your eyes, instantly you were inside his room, luckily he wasn't there, nor was he inside the house, everything was silent. So you assumed that he was not baking a cake with his aunt.

A couple of hours passed, just enough time to come up with a plan before Peter arrived.You had taken a handful of sheets of paper, you knew that when he came in he would be scared and might scream, so you summarised your story as best you could on those sheets of paper.

You heard the front door close, Peter was talking to May and heading towards his room. You took the sheets of paper and positioned yourself in the middle of the room, waiting for him to come in, as if it was the movie "love actually". It was an embarrassing situation.  You watched as the doorknob turned and there he appeared.

It took a few moments for his eyes to settle on you, but at that very moment both of them widened like saucers.

"How the hell...!"

You quickly raised your hand, trying not to make your friend squeal or panic, and pointed hurriedly to the sheets of paper you were holding.

Peter closed the door behind him with a stunned look on his face.

"Please don't shout," he began, reading the posters in a trembling voice. "I'm not going to hurt you."

You dropped a sheet of paper on the floor.

"It's me, Y/N," Peter's voice dimmed, and it took him a while to react. "WHAT?!!!!"

You quickly raised your arms again in a way to stop him from screaming.

" Whoa, whoa, whoa!" exclaimed Peter again. "What are you saying?!"

Dejaste que los carteles se cayeran al suelo y saltaste sobre él intentando cubrir su boca con tus manos. En aquellos momentos estabas segura de que su tía May entraría en la habitación en segundos debido al ruido. Peter seguía gritando cosas inentendibles bajo tus manos, con sus ojos castaños abiertos como platos mirándote. Decidiste destaparle la boca, ya que no servía para nada y volviste a por los folios para ponérselos nuevamente frente a él.

“¡Esto es una locura!” se llevó las manos a la cara, pero continuó leyendo los folios. “Spider-man me ha lanzado una de sus telarañas,” cambiaste de folio. “Y no puedo deshacerme de ella, tienes que ayudarme.”

Peter stood still watching you, his eyes were red with nervousness and his nostrils flared every time he took in and released air from his lungs. You knew it was going to be a shock to your friend, but you didn't understand how it was affecting him so much. You raised your arms, quickly pointed to the spider web gagging your mouth, you needed to get rid of it and then you would give him all the explanations he needed.

A blushing Peter slowly approached you, stepped around you and in an instant you felt no more pressure. At last you could rest, your jaw and mouth were sore, but it was no surprise to you, what was surprising was that your friend had got rid of the restraint in a second.

Puzzled, you turned to him, who was still in shock and looked a little frightened. He carefully brought his hands to the top of your mask and slowly lifted it, exposing your face.

"I can explain," you said calmly. "I..."

"Oh my god," Peter interrupted you, sitting up in his bed.

"Listen," you shook your head and sat down next to him. "I understand your reaction, it's crazy, I should have explained it to you a lot sooner, but- Wait, how did you get that obnoxious fabric off me so fast?"

Peter put his hands to his head and sighed.

"It's synthetic spider silk," he explained without looking at you. "It's got the gigapascals augmented, with its web you can hold even a car in the air, but-"

"Wait," you stared at him.

Your mind worked fast enough to grasp enough information and connect it in a couple of seconds. You slowly rose slowly from his side and looked at him with a frown.

"What?!" you exclaimed this time. "That's impossible!"

"Yes!" exclaimed Peter getting up and holding his hands to his head. "That's what I was thinking! It's impossible!"

At that instant the door to the room opened revealing a smiling May.

"Peter yo - Hey Y/N!" she greeted with a frown.  "I didn't know you were here. Are you staying for dinner?"

"Hi, May. No, no," you said quickly in a bit of a daze. "Thank you very much, but my mother's expecting me for dinner."

"Okay," she smiled looking you up and down. "Nice suit!" your cheeks took on a ruddy colour. "Peter, dinner in half an hour."

"Thank you May," Peter replied a little shyly.

His aunt closed the door again.

"That's why you were always making excuses for me in the evenings!" you reproached him."And the Stark scholarship! How could I have been so blind?" "And the Stark scholarship! How could I have been so blind?"

"I know, I know," said Peter, as he paced around his room next to you. "By the way, your powers - they're awesome!"

You motioned for him to lower his voice again. This situation was crazy, you didn't know whether to be relieved, to teleport, or to teleport him to a place far away. You leaned your back against the wall, closing your eyes so you could think clearly.He was your best friend, had you been hating your best friend all this time?He was your best friend, had you been hating your best friend all this time? He was your best friend, had you been hating your best friend all this time?  Peter stood in front of you.

"Hey..." he whispered caressing your cheek, the place where your spider web had passed. "If I'd known... If you'd stayed a little longer I'd have taken it off."

You crossed your arms over your chest and looked up at him arching an eyebrow. "This is too much."

You looked straight into those brown eyes, they had been a weakness for you since fifth grade. Besides, his gaze accompanied with the caress of his fingers on your cheek lowered your defences.

"Please stay for dinner. If you want, we can study chemistry later," Peter said almost pleadingly.

"Really?" you asked in confusion. "You want to study chemistry after everything that just happened?"

"Truce?" Peter arched a somewhat hopeful eyebrow.

"You're one of a kind, you stupid spider," you said, unable to hide a grin.

"You stupid spider."

Requests/Taglist Open (DM)

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Taglist:  @indigo123789​ @mycosmicparadise​ @imerdwarf​

[fanfalc-616]

The Rights Of A Nindroid

Chapter Twenty-One

(Previous Chapter Here)

I was gonna post this tomorrow because it’s late right now, but... I don’t know I just have no impulse control and I’m posting it now lol

Unfortunately, even with the development of the Falcon, things aren’t much better.

See, Cryptor can’t let Kyle or any one know that he has access to the Falcon, so he has to just… keep on doing what he’s been doing. Following orders, being a pawn.

Still, he does have the relief of being able to easily talk to Zane and sometimes Sentry when in the sanctuary of the lockers. That makes things at least somewhat more manageable.

But that doesn’t make this damn illusion of a maze any easier.

He’s clearly not supposed to know that it’s a simulation, but with the help of Zane’s Falcon, it’s ridiculously easy to tell that it is.

"Come on General, you can do it! You say you're smart, right? Prove it!" Kyle’s voice echoes through a speaker- or an illusion of one.

Cryptor grinds his teeth, fighting to prevent his emotions from showing. “I’ll try, Master.” He gets out, still trying to concentrate. You can solve a maze by sticking to the right wall… he thinks he saw that somewhere.

He spends a few more minutes trying to figure out where he is before sighing, shaking his head. Did they purposefully make this to frustrate him?

Knowing them, they probably did.

Groaning quietly, he starts to go back to solving the damn puzzle.

Then he pauses. What if he climbs the walls? If he gets above it, he could easily see where he’s supposed to go.

Granted, he’s probably not supposed to do that, but no one explicitly said he couldn’t, and it’s worth a shot.

So he turns to the wall and starts fumbling for a grip, trying to see if he can haul himself up.

Once again, Kyle’s annoying voice shows up. "Wouldn't try that if I were you-"

It takes everything Cryptor has to avoid snapping at him. Can this brat just-

A sudden electric shock from the wall sends him tumbling downwards, and he lands shakily, barely managing to keep his footing.

"Told you."

Pure rage is building up inside of him, but Cryptor forces it down, trying to keep a hold of himself. He can’t act up. He has to behave. Even if Sentry isn’t at stake anymore, his way of contacting him might be discovered.

He takes a deep breath as he steadies his footing. “You did, Master. I should have listened.”

Cryptor fucking hates his life. How did he even get into this?

Right. Pythor was legally his owner and the government accepted Cryptor as a bribe so that the damn snake could avoid prison.

Which was illegal, but no one really cared.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Kyle questions.

Cryptor tenses at the words. Is he supposed to actually answer that? What the hell should he say?

“No thanks.”

Why. Why is he like this. What the fuck is wrong with him today? Or in general, really. He’s definitely got some issues.

Gee, maybe if he thinks real hard, he can come up with a reason why.

"Please reconsider?" He’s asking a question, but his tone implies that he’s not going to be taking no for an answer.

“What do my thoughts matter to you? You don’t-“ Cryptor cuts himself off. “I- I’m lesser, right? What I think and feel doesn’t matter.

The words are bile in his mouth. This really is how he lives now, huh? Just… lesser. Forced to be whatever they want him to be.

… eh, life could be worse.

He could be Zane and be in a relationship with a bunch of idiots.

Kyle sounds slightly annoyed. "Doesn't matter if the thoughts aren't interesting. I wanna know, so tell me."

“Well my main thought here is how much I want to beat your face in, but I’m guessing that-“

He freezes, sudden realization hitting him as he processes what he was saying.

“Wait-“

"Alright." Kyle’s voice is calm, but there’s a darkness behind it, something that’s showing that he’s barely holding back some kind of angry response.

“I- I didn’t mean to say that, I- I’m sorry, I-“ Cryptor fumbles to find words, but Kyle doesn’t want for him to bullshit his way through an excuse.

"Nice try." Kyle’s voice is tight with annoyance, that rage still hidden behind it. "Too late, though."

Why does Cryptor keep doing this to himself? Really, he should know better by now.

“... I’m going to go out on a limb here and say I’m in trouble.”

"Look at that, you are smart after all." Kyle’s voice is passive aggressive now; every time he speaks more and more of his emotion is bleeding through.

Cryptor curses quietly. “Don’t suppose I can talk my way out of it?”

"Because that worked so well five minutes ago, didn't it?" Yeah, Kyle’s definitely pissed off.

Wonderful.

“I- I’m gonna go back to solving the maze now.”

Cryptor hates the fear in his voice, he hates how controlled he is by this damn brat, but he is, and there’s nothing he can do about it, nothing but be a pawn in whatever game he’s playing.

At this point, the goal of the game seems to be to fuck up the pawns as much as possible.

So he goes back to the maze, silently debating the pros and cons of what would happen if he flipped off a camera.

He decides against it. He’s already in enough trouble.

Cryptor doesn’t say another word as he carefully does his best to solve the maze- and while it takes hours and hours and actually the entire day- he manages to make it out.

He looks over at a camera. “I’m not going to get to go back to my locker, am I?”

Even though it’s technically a question, there’s no doubt behind his words. He knows full well that he’s in trouble- and a lot of it, at that.

"Don't ask questions you know the answer to. Saves a lot of time." Kyle sounds almost indifferent now, but Cryptor knows that he’s still going to get hurt- badly.

He forces a nod. “Yes, Master.” He agrees, waiting for the guards to drag him off to the room that he actually never left.

The damn sensory manipulation is really getting on his nerves.

When the illusion is lifted and he’s able to see how he’s chained down again, Cryptor doesn’t bother trying to look up and make eye contact with Kyle.

He’s in enough trouble as it is.

"I'm not really in the mood to joke with you right now, so I'll make it quick." Cryptor isn’t looking at him, but he can hear the annoyance and frustration in his voice.

Biting back a snarky remark, Cryptor nods, breathing out softly. The sooner this is over, the sooner he can go back to the locker.

Before he gets the chance to blink, Kyle is suddenly in his face, grabbing him by the chin and forcing Cryptor to look him in the eyes.

"I'm starting to have enough of you.” He snarls lowly. “I'm the only reason you're not in pieces right now. Martha isn't at all fond of your… Personality. And I might just end up agreeing with her."

Cryptor feels himself tense up at the words, shock and near terror overtaking him as he processes them.

He’s not sure what to say- is he even supposed to say anything? Should he apologize? Stay silent? What the hell is he supposed to do here?

After a moment, he opts to remain silent, wishing he actually had his face plate so that he could close his eyes and not have to keep looking into the malice filled blue ones that stare into him.

"I'm getting tired of this. So I'm saying it one. Last. Time. Don't talk back to me like we're friends. I can accept the snarky remarks, but you were out of line. Way out. Either you correct your behaviour yourself or we have ways to make you. There won't be a next time. Nod if you got that."

Cryptor tries to ignore his terror as he mutely gives a shaky nod. He…

He doesn’t want to die.

When Kyle lets go and steps back, Cryptor drops his gaze to the floor, his whole body trembling in the sheer terror flooding through him. He knows the blond well enough to realize that he’ll follow through on the threat.

He’s unchained and is taken from the room, but they don’t have to drag him- Cryptor doesn’t resist.

But as they reach the doorway, Kyle’s voice calls out after him.

"I will break you,” he promises darkly, words dripping with venom.

"And you're going to thank me for it."

Cryptor feels his terror increase tenfold as he tries to make sense of the words. Before he can even begin to understand the true meaning behind the threat, he’s taken away, back to his locker.

The door is closed, but his mind is still racing, fear is still rushing through in every single wire and gear he has, and he feels almost nauseous- if it’s even possible for a nindroid to feel something so human.

(“Cryptor? Are you okay?”) Zane’s voice questions, but Cryptor can’t think of a response, he can barely even hear his own thoughts.

(“Please, just… leave me alone.”) He sounds pitiful, weak, pathetic. Just as worthless as he’s been told he is.

(“Cry, you can talk to me. I can hel-“)

Cryptor sucks in a deep breath. (“No, I can’t. I wish I- it’s not…”) He doesn’t have the words for the emotions tormenting him, he doesn’t have the words to describe the twisted feeling in his guts, he doesn’t know how to explain the sheer helplessness that’s overtaking him.

(“Stop talking, Original.”)

(“You weren’t given permission to speak.”)

[cherienymphe]

Unhappily Married V (Steve Rogers x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, dad!Steve, age gap (reader is a 20 something college student so that could range from undergraduate to graduate and Steve is late 30s), slight college!Peter x reader

DNI if this offends you!

Alright this is it! Thanks to everyone who has read and interacted with this story. I’m glad you all have enjoyed it!

summary: your dream job becomes a nightmare when your employers reveal their true colors.

~

You woke up the next morning with Steve’s arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him. Your entire form ached, but most notably your legs and your core. You could feel his breath against your neck, and part of you wondered if you could get out of bed. Yesterday, he’d promised to “fuck you into submission”, and you believed him.

However, one slight move from you and his grip was suddenly tightening. He groaned, pressing himself more firmly against you, and you cringed. His lips found a place on the back of your neck, and you tried to move away, but he only dug his fingers into your stomach.

“Morning,” he mumbled, voice husky with sleep.

You didn’t respond, opting instead for trying to get out of his grip. His hold didn’t loosen, and after a while, you felt and heard him sigh into your skin. Before you could register it, you were suddenly on your stomach, head facing the window, and your wide eyes landed on the rising sun.

His hard chest was pressed into your back, another groan escaping him as his already hard member grazed your butt. He leaned his head down to press kisses against your neck and cheek, hands sliding up your forearms to pin your wrists against the mattress.

You knew that you were no match for him, he’d proved that on more than one occasion, now, but that didn’t stop you from trying to fight him, anyway. He was quick to force one leg in between your own, the other right behind as he spread them. Your legs protested as he forced them apart, wasting no time before sliding into your throbbing core.

You yelped, fingers clutching the sheet as he set an unrelenting pace. His skin slapped against yours, and his breathing picked up as he thrust into you. You bit your lip, hating the way you clenched around him as if trying to stop his retreat every time.

“Peter called last night while you were asleep,” he suddenly breathed.

You gasped at that, struggling even more beneath him.

“It looks like he’s coming by today to get you, anyway despite what Sharon told him…”

You didn’t like his tone of voice. Something about the way he spoke wasn’t right, and it didn’t take long to figure out why.

“While I have your attention…,” he said, slowing down a bit before stopping completely.

You shuddered, out of breath, and you could feel him twitch inside of you.

“Let’s discuss the elephant in the room.”

You frowned in confusion.

“W-what are you talking about?”

“In an hour or so, Peter should be getting a call from my good friend Tony. He’s going to offer him an internship that he’d be stupid to refuse. It’s a great opportunity for him,” he whispered, slowly pulling out before sliding back into you.

You trembled, stomach clenching as you felt him press his forehead to the back of your own head.

“I’m sure he’ll be excited to tell you all about it, Y/N, and the perfect girlfriend that you are, I’m sure you’ll be excited for him, won’t you?”

You didn’t like the direction this conversation was going.

“You wouldn’t do anything to ruin this for him, right…?”

Your jaw clenched, and you pushed back against him, but he simply let go of one hand and pressed his own into your back as he sat up.

“One word from me, and Tony can snatch it back so fast. Hell, he could so much more than that. He could make it so Peter can never excel in his field of study.”

Tears spilled over as he groaned, coming inside of you. You squeezed your eyes shut, hands clenched into fists as his words suffocated you.

“Do we have an understanding?”

You didn’t respond, unable to hold back a sob as you let your head fall back onto the pillow. He pulled out of you, a low moan escaping as he did so, and the bed shook as he got off of you.

“I’m going to shower. You’re more than welcome to join me…”

You didn’t move as he exited the room, only burying your face into the pillow as your frame shook.

~ 

“A whole month?” you questioned, dread filling you as you helped Peter pack.

“Yeah,” he sighed, eyes still dazed, still in disbelief. “It came out of nowhere. I-.”

He cut himself off, shaking his head with a grin.

“This is like the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. Besides meeting you, of course,” he quickly added, pressing a kiss to your cheeks.

You swallowed, brows furrowing, and he noticed. Peter paused, eyeing you.

“Hey…are you still feeling sick? You told me you felt better when I picked you up,” he worriedly said.

He dropped the shirt he was holding as he approached you.

“I uh…I had just suddenly felt a little nauseous, but it’s passed, I think,” you lied.

Well, it wasn’t a complete lie. You did feel like you were going to be sick. You knew that Steve and Sharon and their crowd were rich, but it had never occurred to you that they were the type of rich with connections. There was no telling what else Steve was capable of, and that worried you.

Even if you told Peter, what would happen after that? Would he be safe? Would anything even be done about it?

“Hey,” he softly said, taking your hands as he sat down and pulled you with him.

His brown eyes were worried and inquiring as he looked at you.

“Is this about the internship?”

“What? No! No, of course not,” you hurried to answer, shaking your head.

Peter didn’t look convinced, and he sighed.

“Y/N…if you don’t want me to take it, then just tell me. I’ll stay-.”

“No, don’t do that. Peter, this is…this is an amazing opportunity for you. It’s perfect even, like it was tailor made. I just…I’m going to miss you,” you whispered.

He smiled, squeezing your hands.

“I’m going to miss you too. It’s only a month. It’ll go by in no time, and I’ll call you every day and facetime you and-.”

You cut him off, pressing your lips against his. He was taken by surprise but wrapped his arms around you. You curled your fingers in his hair, lips trembling as a few tears escaped. He pulled away with a slight frown, reaching up to wipe your face.

“Y/N…”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “I’m just so happy for you, and I’m going to miss you and-.”

He looked really worried, now.

“Y/N…is something else wrong?”

“No,” you lied, shaking your head.

He ran his eyes over you, gaze skeptical.

“If there was something else wrong…you’d tell me, right?”

You nodded with a small smile.

“Yeah. I told you, I’m just really going to miss you.”

He returned the smile, getting up to finish packing. You’d only have three more days with him before he left, and there was no telling what would happen after that.

“Hey, Peter…”

He paused, lifting his head to look at you with raised eyebrows.

“I love you.”

His face softened, a small smile on his lips.

“I love you too.”

You watched as he continued packing, heart clenching for a multitude of reasons.

 ~

Peter had only been gone for all of two hours before there was a knock on your door. You hesitated to answer, because you knew who it was without even looking through the peephole. You briefly closed your eyes, swallowing a sigh as you approached it.

Steve didn’t step inside, but he looked over you as he leaned against the door. You dug your nails into the painted wood, just staring at him like you would a pest.

“Get in,” he said, nodding towards his car behind him.

“Do I have a choice?”

You knew the answer, but you asked anyway. He smirked at you, blue eyes sparkling.

“You always have a choice, Y/N. Just know that those choices may have consequences…”

With a huff, you grabbed your keys off of the hook beside the door and your purse off of the coffee table before following after him. The car ride was silent, and your thoughts were all over the place as you wondered where you were going. You didn’t like how much control Steve had over both your life and Peter’s.

How had things gotten so twisted so fast? You felt silly for thinking you would be uninvolved in the drama between Sharon and Steve. Peter had even told you so. Little did you know that both of them were equally twisted people who were bent on screwing you over for their own gain.

When he turned into the familiar driveway, you blinked, confusion filling you. You didn’t understand why he picked you up just to bring you to his house. Your confusion grew even more when you spotted Sharon’s car in the open garage. You knew that she was only going to be away for a few days, but you didn’t know how many exactly.

You were hesitant to get out of the car, slowly dragging behind Steve as he made his way up the steps. Before he made it to the door, it swung open, an angry Sharon greeting him. You paused, one foot on the first step as she cut her dark eyes to you. You started to shrink in on yourself before thinking better of it, reminding yourself that you were in this mess because of her.

“What the hell is this, Steve?” she demanded, shoving some papers in his face.

You were too far away to really see what they were, but you had a good guess judging by her anger.

“Don’t you want to take this inside, honey? The neighbors will see.”

Steve’s voice was mocking, and it only served to further anger his wife. He brushed past her, and you refused to move until Steve aggressively called your name. You bit your tongue, following after him. You didn’t meet Sharon’s eye as she glared at you, brushing past her as well.

You didn’t know what to do as the door slammed shit behind you, and you decided to make your way upstairs to find Nathan. That was when the fighting began.

“You lying piece of…!”

Their voices were muffled as you shut Nathan’s room door behind you. He was holding onto the bars of his crib, eyes focused on you as you approached. You picked him up as the yelling increased in volume, and you rocked the blonde baby with the release of a shaky breath.

“Maybe I should stay around forever,” you murmured. “Without me, I fear you’d be one messed up kid in this household.”

Of course, he couldn’t understand you, but his soft gurgle was a nice comfort. You went to crack the door just a bit, listening in as you leaned against the wall.

“The only reason I even allowed this to happen was because you promised me I’d get what I want,” you heard Sharon sneer.

“Sharon, you can keep the house, half the money, your car...”

She scoffed.

“…but I am leaving. You can tell all of your little friends what a lying, cheating scumbag I am to make yourself look better.”

“Make myself look better? Please! That just makes it look like I can’t satisfy my husband. Either way you spin it, I will be a laughingstock! Do you think I will just take this and let you parade around with her on your arm?”

“After the divorce, what I do will be none of your business,” you heard him say.

“You’re not getting away with this, Steve…”

You could hear his footsteps, followed by hers. It sounded like she was following him.

“Do you hear me? If you do this, you will never see Nathan again!”

You walked out, slowly making your way down the stairs.

“Heh. That’s all he’s been to you, hasn’t he? A tool. His whole short life so far has been nothing but a means to an end for you. You had him to keep me, then you just paraded him around to all of our friends and neighbors to show what a wonderful mother you are. Now, you’re trying to use him again to keep me. Do you even love him?”

“He’s my son,” was her simple response.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

You were standing in between the living room and kitchen, now, eyes on them as they argued. Sharon caught your eye and pushed past Steve, snatching Nathan out of your hands as she glared at you.

“Are you enjoying this? Was this what you wanted all along? Playing innocent-.”

She cut herself off with a gasp, cheek reddening from where you’d slapped her. Nathan squirmed in her arms, but she only held him closer. Tears brimmed along your eyes as you looked at her like she was crazy.

“I am in this mess because of you,” you spat. “You didn’t have to go along with anything.”

“I-.”

“You what? Your desire for meaningless materialistic things outweighed your desire to not let your husband rape someone? I was never anything but kind to you, and you threw me under the bus. How dare you try to act like I wanted this,” you whispered.

She looked away from you.

“Sharon, just get this over with and sign the papers,” Steve sighed.

Sharon glared at him before cutting her hard eyes to you.

“He wants to move into a house with you, you know…”

Your eyes widened, nervously glancing at Steve as she continued.

“Oh, yes. He’s already bought it…with a basement and everything. I don’t know how he plans to do it, but he’s going to permanently get Peter away from you, and then then wants to knock you up. He’s been putting crushing pills into your food to interfere with your birth control.”

Your eyes snapped to her, fearful and filled with tears as you released a shuddering breath. Her grin was victorious.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re already pregnant.”

There was a brief tense silence as Steve glared at Sharon and she looked at you and you glanced at the door. Steve was too slow, and his fingers barely brushed along your arm as you took off. You skipped the last two porch steps, almost losing your footing as you landed.

You could hear his own hurried steps behind you, and fear seized you so drastically, you thought you were going to throw up. You made it to the end of the driveway before he did, crossing the road with no hesitation. A car blew at you, but you didn’t pause as you continued running. You only had your phone in your pocket, but when you called Peter, he didn’t answer.

You cursed before deciding to call an uber. You needed to beat Steve to your apartment. You didn’t have your keys, but the sliding backdoor was a bit faulty. With some jiggles, it could slide right open, and only you and Peter knew this. You told your driver you were in a bit of a hurry, and he took it with stride, getting to your apartment in record time.

You were relieved that no familiar cars were there, and you ran around the back. It took you maybe five minutes to shake the door open, sliding it back and slipping inside just as you heard another car pull up in the front yard. You hurriedly locked it behind you, pulling the curtains closed. You could hear pounding on your front door, and you jumped.

“Y/N!”

You stayed silent. If you didn’t make a sound, maybe he would leave. After all, he had to know that you knew this would be the first place he’d look for you. Steve had to think you were smarter than that to come back here, especially without your keys. He called your name a few more times, pounding on the door.

It was quiet for a while, and you thought he’d left. You didn’t move, waiting for the sound of his car starting up, but nothing came. You pressed your hand to your forehead, wondering what you were going to do. The odds of anyone actually believing a word you said about the perfect Steve Rogers were slim. Still, if you called the police, they’d at least be here, right? Maybe you could just tell them you felt unsafe? Convince someone to stake out the place?

But if the police showed up, Steve would definitely know you were home, if he didn’t hear you calling them first. You still hadn’t heard his car start up, and you were starting to grow worried. With a shake of your head, you tapped your phone, ready to hit the emergency call button when the glass of your backdoor shattered.

You bit your lip, swallowing down any sounds as you ran to the front door. With a slip of the lock, you were outside and running straight into unfamiliar arms. A scream tore from your lips, but a hand was there, silencing you before anyone could hear. Your eyes widened when you looked up, eyes connecting with a familiar face.

Before you had time to register what was really happening, an arm wrapped around you from the back and a cloth was pressed over your nose. You struggled in their grips as they dragged you into your house. You knew what was being held over your nose, and you held your breath for as long as you could, but tears slipped from your eyes when you couldn’t hold it anymore.

You whimpered, kicking out a few times before your moves grew slow. With a gasp, you crumbled in their arms, darkness claiming you.

 ~

When you came to, your throat was incredibly dry, and it was hard to swallow. Your head was pounding, and you had to blink a few times before your vision cleared. You stared up at a beautifully painted ceiling, brows furrowing in confusion at the angels staring down at you. You turned your head, taking in your surroundings.

The room you were in was large, probably ¾ the size of your entire apartment. There was a kitchenette along with a few furniture pieces and two doors. You slowly sat up, hands pressing into a plush bed. You stumbled off of it and turned around, looking at the grand king-sized piece of furniture in wonder. You glanced around again, eyes landing on some stairs that led upwards.

Some part of you knew where you were. Something in your brain was nagging you to remember something someone had said, but you didn’t have time to give it another thought before the door at the top of the stairs opened. Your eyes widened when Steve walked down the stairs, Nathan in his arms. Something clicked.

Sharon! She had said that…

You looked around again, panicked as you realized that you were in a basement.

You stumbled back away from Steve, never taking your eyes off of him. Nathan reached for you as Steve approached, and your heart clenched as you backed up some more.

“Don’t be like that, Y/N. You know you’re his favorite person,” Steve purred.

“You…you and your friend… Tony,” you breathed.

“I called him as soon as you ran. It’s crazy. Turns out, he doesn’t live that far from you and was able to get there almost immediately after I did,” he said.

“Why…why are you doing this?”

Nathan reached for you again, and Steve sighed as he stopped right before you. He held Nathan out to you, and you reluctantly took him. The frown on his plump face immediately went away, and Steve smiled.

“That’s why.”

You glanced up at him.

“I did stay with Sharon because of him…until you came along. I always believed Sharon never truly loved him, not like a mother should. I always thought after she had him, he was still nothing more than something to use for her. I didn’t want to believe it, but then you came around, and I had never seen her look at him the way you did.”

Fear bloomed in your chest, and you heard your breathing pick up.

“He took to you instantly, and despite the fact that Sharon never loved him the right way, I could tell that it bothered her, and I knew it then. You could help me raise him so much better than she ever could.”

“No, no,” you mumbled, backing up.

He followed you, blue eyes never straying.

“All those things I thought I never wanted, it turns out I just didn’t want them with her. But you… I want all of those things with you and then some.”

“Steve,” you begged, back hitting the wall.

“He’s going to grow up with two parents who love him-.”

“Steve, where is Sharon?”

You knew she would never just let Steve take Nathan like this.

“Don’t worry about her,” he murmured, reaching out to brush his hand over Nathan’s hair.

He lifted his hand to run his thumb over your trembling chin, wiping the tears from your face that had spilled over.

“Y-you can’t keep me down here,” you protested, clutching Nathan to you.

“Not forever, no. I doubt you’ll run though. You wouldn’t abandon Nathan like that,” he said.

Disgust colored your face as you realized that he was using Nathan against you like Sharon had tried to do to him.

“Peter will-!”

“Don’t!”

You flinched at his tone, eyes wide in fear. He sighed, grip tightening on your jaw as his own tensed.

“Don’t say his name. I’ll deal with him and fuck the memory of him out of your head,” he lowly spat.

More tears spilled over as the gravity of the situation was starting to sink in.

“S-Steve…Steve, please-! I-I have a life. I have school and-.”

“And you can do all of those things…later. School will always be there. They even have online school if you don’t want to wait,” he proposed.

“You can’t do this to me!”

Nathan whined, and you instinctively shushed him, your gentle tone immediately calming him down. Steve took your face in his hands, smiling at you.

“Look at you. You’re so natural with him. I know you’ll be just as great with our kid…”

You felt like you were going to be sick. Your hands felt numb as he took Nathan away from you, rocking him as he stepped away.

“Now, lets put him to sleep so we can christen this house properly.”

Fin.

~

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[songfell-ut]

Rrrrrrgh Chapter 18 rrrrgh

I had to re-insert EVERY GODDAMN LINE BREAK ARGH it also took out all the italics. I’ll get those in a minute ;_;

(Watch out for arachnophobia, angst, aaaaand smut~~)

           For the eighth or ninth time, Frisk wished she had just said no. But she hadn’t, and she couldn’t back out now, so she kept walking, arms stiff at her sides.

At least she was almost there: she could hear rustling in the dark up ahead, and faintly musical sounds, like someone twanging a piano wire. Suddenly, her heel stuck on something, her shoe nearly coming off; the next moment, something else tickled her cheek. When she tried to brush it away, it wouldn’t come off her fingers. In the dim light, it looked like…a spiderweb?

           There was a high-pitched giggle overhead, and more webbing dropped onto her shoulders. The child was yanked off her feet, pulled straight up until she slammed to a teeth-rattling stop in midair. Heart pounding, head spinning, Frisk tried to tug herself loose, but it was no use: she was caught in the bouncy, gluey strands of…

…a really, really big spiderweb. And where there was a really big spiderweb—

           “Ahuhuhu~”

           Frisk turned her head as far as she could, and uttered a raspy sound as her gaze met five huge, mirror-shiny black eyes. It was a spider monster in frilly bloomers, ribbons, and pigtails—surprisingly cute, except for its fangs. “My! Whatever do we have here?” The giant spider leaned in closer, and Frisk watched in fascination as her reflection flickered in time with the monster’s blinks. “What brings a bite-sized human like you to my parlor?”

           The child couldn’t tear her eyes away from the spider monster’s eerie, fluid movements. It was balancing on the web, brushing crumbs off its sleeve, and dipping a pastry into a cup of tea it’d just poured for itself, all at once! “A-Are you Muffet?” she squeaked.

           The spider smirked, nibbling daintily on her pastry. “That’s me, dearie. Did someone send you to find me?” Her face creased into a scowl. “If that skeleton told you it would be funny to disturb us, I swear I’ll—”

           Something chittered, and Frisk couldn’t help squirming. Muffet gasped as a tiny shape emerged from the child’s collar. “Alphonse? Oh my goodness me! How did you get here?!”

           Frisk shut her eyes tight as the little spider crawled the rest of the way out of her shirt, followed by another, and a few more, and then what seemed like a thousand others. She could feel a tickly procession streaming up her neck and along her arms onto the web, where they swarmed around Muffet, making rapid clicking sounds.

           “They gave me a piece of paper asking for help,” the human explained, though the spiders were probably saying the same thing. “They were tired of the Ruins, but Snowdin is too cold, and it’s too expensive to get a heated carriage, so I gave some of them a ride to Hotland.”

           All five of Muffet’s eyes sparkled, and she clasped two legs in pure joy. “Oh, what a sweet little morsel you are! You’ve saved us thousands of g, just like that!” Frisk heard more chittering, and found herself being eased free of the webbing and lowered gently until she was back on the sticky floor. “I’m so sorry if I frightened you, dearie—most humans have a nasty habit of squishing spiders, but I didn’t know how very kind you were toward us!”

           “You’re welcome,” Frisk said, trying to pick the webbing out of her hair. The grownups had chopped almost all of it off before they left the castle; she’d hate for them to cut the webs out and make it look even worse. “My name is Kris. It’s nice to meet you.”

           The spider-lady was ignoring her, listening to what sounded like dozens of little voices at once. She didn’t have eyebrows, but her upper three eyes wiggled in almost the same way. “Really, now?” She regarded Frisk with new interest. “You wouldn’t happen to be ten years old, would you, dearie?”

           Where had that come from? None of the other monsters had asked her age. “Um…yes? I don’t know my real birthday, just the year.”

           The spiders must have understood her, because the noise increased, and Muffet tittered louder than ever. “How interesting~”

           “Why?” the child couldn’t help asking.

           “Ohhh, nothing, just a bit of gossip.” Muffet hopped onto a higher strand of webbing, crossing a pair of legs and pouring herself more tea. “Would you like something to eat?” She indicated a table with a pile of iced cakes and a sign reading 9,999 G. “No charge, just for you.”

           Was that a spider leg sticking out of the frosting? “I’m full, thank you,” Frisk lied.

           “Suit yourself, dearie.” For someone without any lips, the monster could slurp her tea quite loudly. “The spider clans don’t communicate with each other nearly as often as we should, but when someone manages to get here from the Ruins, they tell the most fascinating stories. Like the humans’ last visit here, eleven years ago—did you know that your King came with them? Supposedly, it was a group of minor nobles discussing repairs to the border fence, but no one notices spiders – except you, of course – and they hear all sorts of things behind closed doors~”

           The child frowned. “The King was here?” She didn’t think he’d ever been to the Underground; she’d just been glad he hadn’t come on this trip, though she was sorry the Queen was sick. It would’ve been so nerve-wracking to have to behave around him!

           “He certainly was.” Muffet licked a drop of tea from the fine hairs on her forelimb. “Yes, the King paid us a secret visit, and poor Chara was never the same afterwards. There was quite a commotion, you know, after he’d been gone a little while. They had to take her all the way to the Ruins so no one would hear her s—”

           There was a familiar chuckle behind Frisk. “ahh, muffet. putting the spy in ‘spider,’ huh?” Sans held out his hand, and Frisk gladly took it. “yeah, i dunno what she’s talking about, either. c’mon, kiddo, you shouldn’t be here. time to have a ferry good ride back.”

           “On the contrary,” Muffet said haughtily, “this wonderful child is welcome in my parlor any time. I would love to have her over for lunch!” Two sets of arms clapped their hands. “Go on home, dearie. Come and see me again sometime soon.”

           “man. you got a knack for making friends, ya know that?” Sans remarked as they stepped around the webs lining the floor. “i didn’t think she liked anyone who wasn’t rich, or fattening.”

           Frisk didn’t answer. The corridor had just enough bare, echoing surfaces for her to hear the last of Muffet’s conversation. “Not a word to anyone,” the spider was telling her family, or minions, or whatever they were. “I—what? …Why, yes, he would pay for that information. What a splendid idea! We could even give him a discount! Those glasses are so cute~”

           Frisk and Sans looked at each other, shrugged, and moved along to thinking up spider puns to unleash on Pap. It didn’t occur to Frisk until much later that Muffet had said “her”—the smaller ones hadn’t gotten that far under her clothes, had they?

Ah, well. She figured spiders must not know much about human pronouns, and they probably said strange, random things to everyone. It was nothing to worry about.

           Many years later, Frisk would remember that and wish she could smack her younger self upside the head. Not only was it racist, it was very incorrect, not to mention ungrateful. Spiders knew damn well what pronouns were, and nothing Muffet had said to her was random. She hadn’t even charged her for it…

 ~

             The hotel attached to Mettaton’s resort was unbelievably crowded that evening, the air warm and full of amazing smells. Sans had materialized by the fountain in the lobby, figuring it was long enough after dinnertime that there wouldn’t be too many people around. This turned out to be hilariously wrong: the line was still two or three deep at the food counter, the queue winding up and down the room and ending nearly out the doors. There wasn’t enough space for one boss monster to just appear out of nowhere, much less two, but here they were.

“My. Do you think they’ve gotten a room?” Toriel asked dubiously, releasing his arm and nodding to the monsters scrambling out of their way. “Should we check with the front desk?”

Sans glanced around, then relaxed and let his SOUL point him in a direction, like giving a hunting dog a scent to follow. Sure enough, his feet started toward the restaurant on the left side of the resort. “This way,” he grunted.

Luckily, at their size, they didn’t have much trouble getting through the crowd. Nor did they have to say anything to the restaurant’s maître d’: he took one look, bowed so deeply that he almost fell over, and walked ahead of them to harass the seated monsters out of their way.

They soon reached the far end of the room, where Frisk was holding court at a small table with Alphys, Undyne, Mettaton, and a few others. To Sans’ delight, she had perched on the back of a heavy chair, confidently projecting her voice over the other diners. “So I finished the introduction, she came out onstage, and what did she do? She froze right there in front of everyone,” the human said, gesturing with her champagne glass.

This got quite a reaction. “Oh, please,” Mettaton said with a groan.

“Ha!” Undyne thumped the table. “Served her right! What’d you do?”

“I peeked out from behind the curtain, and I looked at her, and I went—” Frisk closed one eye and opened the other as wide as possible, flashing a demented smile, and the monsters cracked up. “She almost started laughing, and it was perfect, because that was where the Queen was bragging about how much everyone loved her!”

“Good evening, everyone,” said Toriel, walking ahead of Sans to join the others. “Forgive me, but, what was this?”

Cries of welcome rang out. “Good evening, Lady Toriel! I was telling them about my friend Mathilda,” explained Frisk.

Standing on the periphery, Sans drank in the sight of his human seated among the monsters, looking adorably tiny by comparison, but completely at home. She was more animated than he’d ever seen her at the castle, her eyes bright and hands in constant motion as she talked. It was everything they’d both hoped for when they came here.

And speaking of drinks, he also had to note all the open bottles of wine and other adult beverages around the table. He remembered ordering several crates of them, but he’d assumed they would be consumed at a slower rate than this; monsters couldn’t handle alcohol as well as most humans. Come to think of it, neither could Frisk.

Mettaton had gotten up to greet Toriel, and was bowing her into his seat; Sans was impressed with his manners until the automaton turned and shooed Alphys out of her chair so he could take it.

Justice came swiftly: Undyne waited for Mettaton to get comfortable, then kicked him under the table hard enough to make a metallic clang. “Never mind him. Here,” she said to Alphys, holding her arm out and patting her lap.

Toriel cleared her throat, and the scientist turned about five shades of reddish-orange. Practical as ever, Undyne got up to grab a chair from another table instead, ignoring its irate former occupant and cramming it between her seat and Frisk’s. “Ta-da!”

When Alphys was happily settled, Toriel gave the automaton and the Royal Guard Captain reproachful glances. “Your friend Mathilda?” she prompted.

Frisk smiled. “Yes, from St. Brigid’s. She wanted me to narrate the part of the spring pageant where she was playing the Queen—have you heard of The Sun Cycle?”

Toriel accepted a glass of red wine from the waiter. “The allegory about the two sisters? Of course. Did Mathilda have a case of stage fright?”

“Right after she spent ten minutes straight telling me not to be shy.” Frisk made another face. “I teased her about that for years.”

Toriel chuckled. “And rightfully so.”

Sans was busy staring at Frisk when she suddenly looked straight at him. “Sans?” He jumped, then scowled self-consciously as she shifted her weight. “I hate to make you stand there—is there anywhere he can sit?” she asked the group.

There was a general murmur and scooting-out to make room, but Sans waved his hand. “Nah, don’t worry about it. ‘s what I get fer bein’ late to the party,” he muttered.

The priestess frowned a little. “Well, if you’re sure…” She indicated a green jug on the table. “You wanted to try some hard cider, didn’t you? Now’s your chance.”

“’m fine,” he said gruffly, and she gave him a short nod before Mettaton reclaimed her attention with a question about human seating etiquette.

Sans wanted to smack himself on the cranium. Typical Frisk: she was mad at him, but still didn’t want him be to left out. Well, neither did he! It physically hurt to keep himself from going over and petting her hair, tucking that one bit behind her ear, asking how she was feeling…

Yeah, this whole staying-apart thing wasn’t fucking working. If he couldn’t have some time alone with her soon, he was going to throw her over his shoulder and teleport them both far, far away, which would probably look a little suspicious. What would it take to—

Alphys coughed. “S-So did the rest of the pageant go all right?”

Frisk sipped her champagne. “Oh, yes. I’ve always loved that story, and I didn’t have to be onstage, so I—” She paused and held the empty glass out, and another waiter swooped in to refill it. “Thank you.” Sip. “It was wonderful. We had a five-piece orchestra playing along, and the Queen’s song, ‘Daylight’s Lament,’ actually brought people to tears.”

Sans wasn’t thinking very straight, or else he would known better than to say, “Is that the mopey thing you’re always singin’?”

Everyone turned toward him, and he shrank back at the priestess’ expression. “Are you a musician, Frisk?” Toriel asked around her refilled wineglass.

“Yes, I was in the choir at school,” the human said, giving Sans a significant look. “The Sun Cycle had just been adapted into a musical, and we all nagged our teachers until they let us perform it.” She grinned ruefully. “It was the best political training I’ve ever had. If you want to delve into the darkest side of human nature, just tell a group of teenage girls that only one of them gets to play the Queen.”

They all laughed, though no one disagreed. “And Mathilda got it?” Sans asked, just to contribute.

“Yes, she did,” Frisk replied. Her feet swung back and forth a few times, drawing his attention again. “She tends to get what she wants.”

Trying to distract himself, Sans remembered something and asked, “Isn’t she the one who’s gonna replace you?” They looked at him in surprise, and he added, “Y’know, if you ever decide ta quit?”

That earned him another glare. “Yes, if I ever do. The only reason I became High Priestess and not her was that my magic was stronger. Otherwise, she’d have been perfect.”

“Now, now. I would think—no, I know that you’re doing an excellent job,” Toriel said warmly, and the priestess ducked her head.

“Wait a sec.” Undyne banged her mug on the table, startling Alphys. “Didn’t you say somebody tried to kill you ‘cause you’re the High Priestess? Aren’t you worried someone’ll come after her, too?”

“Well…not really.” Frisk made a complicated gesture. “It may sound cold, but you’ve never met Mathilda. She doesn’t have time to be assassinated. If the Church didn’t pay for a half-dozen guards everywhere she went, she’d just hire them herself and go about her day.”

“Nice,” said Undyne, but despite Frisk’s light tone, Sans wasn’t so sure about the way she was frowning into her champagne glass. Did she feel guilty for being so cavalier about her friend’s safety?

…No, that wasn’t it. He had a sudden attack of insight: Frisk wasn’t only in danger because she was the High Priestess; she was also in the way of people who profited off monsters. Did Mathilda have different views on the subject – maybe more safe or conventional ones – that would keep her from being targeted?

What about the person who had paid to keep Frisk safe? He still had to tell her about that, too, assuming he ever got the fucking chance!

That was enough of that topic. What else could they talk about? “How’d it go in the lab today, Al?” he asked.

This time, they all looked at him as though he’d thrown dog turds onto the table, and a couple of the other monsters actually got up and left. His stupid, tired, frustrated mind took a second to catch up: everyone knew that Alphys had been testing Frisk’s magic, and as much as they liked and hopefully trusted the human by now, they didn’t want to hear about her barriers.

“Um…” Alphys fidgeted with her mug of spiced cider. “You were r-right. I couldn’t even quantify how much f-force she could potentially withstand. It’s honestly still hard to believe.”

“Yeah, it turns out she’s even better than we thought,” Undyne said defiantly, and raised her mug. “Toast: to Frisk being on our side!”

Frisk raised her glass in reply, downing the rest of the champagne in one gulp, and everyone with a drink quickly followed suit. As the waiter came back for more refills, Sans nodded his thanks to Undyne; she stared at him, then drew her thumb across her throat to indicate that he was dead. He shrugged, agreeing that that was fair.

Alphys fidgeted again. “Actually, Sans, I’d like to t-talk to you about that sometime soon. Alone, m-maybe?”

The skeleton blinked. “Uh…okay.” Now that a few chairs were empty across from Frisk, he walked over to shove them aside and sit down on the floor, putting his eye level only a foot or two below the others. Why would Alphys need to talk to him alone? If she wanted more data, why not include Frisk? He’d have to find out later.

Undyne scowled, half-turning to drape her arm over Alphys’ shoulders; the lizard monster turned a few more colors, then leaned into her. Good for them, thought Sans, with only a twinge of jealousy. “I remember when I was a kid and I used to snoop around in my parents’ room,” Undyne continued. “My mom got fed up and told me there was a human hiding in her closet. Not only did I stop sneaking in there, I’d run past their door to get to my room!”

Sans forced himself to join in the laughter. “Poor Pap,” he remarked. “When he was a kid, I got him that pirate bed, and he wouldn’t stop jumpin’ on it in the middle of the night. I didn’t wanna take it away, so I said there was a human under it ‘n Pap was gonna wake him up.”

“Sans,” Frisk scolded him, but she was smiling now.

“It’s true,” he said gleefully. “The next night, I found him makin’ a decoy to throw into bed so he could go hide in the closet.”

Undyne guffawed, and Toriel shook her head, though she was also smiling. “That poor child! Tell me he isn’t still sleeping in the closet, Sans!”

“He’s not. I made a big deal about talkin’ with the librarian and finding out humans are scared of books about Fluffy Bunny. We read one every night from then on, and whaddya know? The human never got ‘im,” the skeleton said proudly.

They laughed again, and the last of the tension dissipated. “Speakin’ of Papyrus, where is he?” Sans asked, feeling guilty for not noticing sooner. “Hope I didn’t miss ‘im on his way home.”

Mettaton couldn’t drink, so he had spent most of the conversation checking his face paint; he sighed theatrically, putting the mirror away in his chest compartment. “He got drunk already, the poor dear. I sent him upstairs to sleep it off.”

Sans didn’t have to fake a grin. “Makes sense. It only takes half a mudslide to get him started tellin’ everyone how bad my jokes are, and tellin’ the jokes ta prove it, and then gettin’ mad that he knows all my jokes by heart.”

“A ‘mudslide’?” Frisk repeated.

“Yep. ’s one of Grillby’s finest cocktails: magic ‘n mud.”

The human looked puzzled. “By ‘mud,’ you mean…?”

“Wet dirt,” Sans clarified.

“…You…drink…?” Frisk couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. “What does that even taste like?”

Pause. “Mud.”

More laughter. Frisk’s nose was wrinkled, but she was still smiling; that was enough for Sans.

He didn’t want to ruin the mood by saying something else stupid, so he nodded to her and turned to survey the now-half-empty room. It must have been pretty late, because the maître d’ wasn’t letting anyone else in. The nearest table had just one person, and—

It was sitting there, out of nowhere, legs dangling over the side of the table. The demon-child locked eyes with Sans, hands resting on the knife in its lap, and it grinned.

Sans stared back at it, paralyzed. Through the fog of shock and terror, there arose a single thought: Are you fucking serious?! I don’t need this right now!

The thing shook its head. It looked meaningfully at their table – at Frisk – and back at him. It raised the kitchen knife, pointing at the side of its own head, and made a circling motion.

Sans managed to twitch with sheer rage as he recognized that childish gesture. The little bastard had come all the way here to tell him Frisk was crazy?

Its grin faded into a faint, superior smile. It lowered the knife and tapped on its sternum three times. Then it shifted around to face the human; to Sans’ bewilderment, it sat cross-legged and leaned forward on its elbows, ruby eyes glued to Frisk, as if waiting for a play to begin.

What was it doing? …Why was it doing? He had the feeling that it genuinely wasn’t interested in him for the moment. What did it think Frisk was going to—

“Sans?” Her voice snapped him out of it; the skeleton found he could move again. “What’s the matter?”

“Uh…” He looked at her, then back at the demon. It was gone now, of course. “Nothin’.” He glanced back and forth a couple of times just to be sure. What the hell was that about? The thing wanted to tell him that Frisk was nuts and Sans should check her SOUL? But…

Sans shook himself, turning to size up the room. Everyone was slightly to moderately tipsy, but relaxed, probably ready to call it a night soon. There was absolutely no sign of danger anywhere; even if there was, Sans couldn’t imagine a threat too big for him, Toriel, Undyne, and Frisk.

To hell with that thing. He wasn’t going to ogle her SOUL for no reason in front of everyone; somebody would notice and give him crap for it, she’d get embarrassed, and he’d have yet another thing to make up to her.

Toriel took a bottle of wine directly from a passing waiter and poured herself another glass. “Where are you staying tonight, my child?”

           The human brushed her hair behind her ear. Sans glanced at her, and his spine stiffened: she was looking right at him, her finger tracing the edge of her choker. “My things are still at Sans and Papyrus’ house, so I was planning to stay in Snowdin tonight at the inn.”

The skeleton tried to hide his sudden jubilation. She was telling him she’d have her own room, which meant some damn privacy at last! He’d have a chance to tell her things and apologize for being stupid about the chessboard, and then…choker, and—

           “Whaaat? You have an entire new wardrobe upstairs, and you want to go all the way back to that smelly wasteland?” Mettaton complained. Sans gritted his teeth as the automaton reached over to play with Frisk’s hair, sweeping it up with one gloved hand. “You know, darling, if you’d let me put this up for you, it wouldn’t keep getting in your way. Why don’t you stay here another night so we can figure it out?”

           “I’ll be fine, thank you,” Frisk said tartly, pushing his arm away.

           Mettaton pouted. “But what about—”

           “She said no, dipshit,” Sans snarled. “Not everyone has time to play dress-up.”

“Oh?” drawled the automaton. He sized up the giant skeleton and flashed a literally pearly-white smile. “I see. Well, if she absolutely must stop in at your hovel, be sure she has everything she needs. You know, her clothes, a few midnight snacks…plenty of socks?”

Undyne and Alphys nearly spat their drinks across the table. Sans twitched as though he’d been poked in the SOUL—which, in a way, he had. “Ya wanna die, ya friggin’ piece of—”

“Be nice, children,” Toriel mumbled. She covered her mouth for a massive yawn, nearly dropping her wineglass. “Speaking of wardrobes, Frisk, I had enough time after my nap this afternoon to go through Chara’s old clothes. I found several things that should fit you. Why don’t you stay over another night so we can try them on?”

           The human’s face was still red. “No, thank you, Lady Toriel,” Frisk said over the faintest murmur of “Socks” and barely-suppressed snickering.

           The former Queen sighed, too far gone in memory – and alcohol – to notice. “It would be so cute to see you in those dresses,” she murmured. “We can hem them up if we need to. You’re about the same size she was at…goodness, fourteen or fifteen!”

           “Yes, childhood malnutrition will do that.” Frisk accepted yet another refill from yet another waiter. “My mother took no care of me.”

           “You poor thing.” Toriel shook her head. “How I wish you could have stayed and grown up here! We would never have neglected you like that.”

Undyne sighed, propping her head on one fist. “Yeah, that would’ve been amazing.”

Mettaton also sighed, lacing his fingers together and resting his head on them. “For once, darling, we agree. She should know at least five times as many dances as I’ve taught her.”

Toriel hiccuped. Sans had always heard that drunk people did that, but never seen it for himself. “And she could’ve sang for us, too. My poor little angel—such a wonderful child!”

Frisk smiled, until Toriel went on, “Yes, I’ll always miss Chara. Did you ever get to meet her, Frisk?”

           No answer. Sans’ backbone prickled; he checked the other table, but the demon wasn’t there. He glanced at Frisk, and to his alarm, she was almost literally vibrating with tension.

Alphys was also squinting at the human, as if checking her. Whatever she saw made her eyes go wide, and she signaled frantically at Sans. “So, Frisk,” he said, too loud.

She looked up, startled. “Uh,” he said. Crap. Now he had everyone’s attention, and he had to say more words. This time, though, he made himself think first, settling on a topic so safe and dull that nothing bad could possibly come of it. “I just remembered—when I was passin’ stuff out with the Royal Guard earlier, we found a couple small discrepancies in the list,” he said casually. “I made some notes about it. Can you and Tori take a look real quick?”

           “Of course. I’m sure it’s fine, though,” Frisk said, giving him another smile. Then, as he started to reach into his coat for the invoices…

It was the tiniest movement, and he just barely caught it. She took too large a drink and slopped champagne onto the corner of her mouth, which she chose to lick off slowly, eyes on his.

           Sans would think of that moment and berate himself for years afterward. For one thing, he didn’t know or care how openly he was staring at her, or who was watching; more importantly, his hand kept moving while the rest of his mind did a belly-flop into a mire of absolute lust, all his resources suddenly diverted to socks and lace chokers and that cute little mouth…desperation to run his hands all over her again and find out if she still had that weird blood thing going, what her exact criteria were for it being the right time to—

Left to manage on its own, his hand knew only that it was supposed to get something for her out of his pocket. It encountered the papery thing he needed, and then another thing it knew was for her, and dutifully pulled both things out. He didn’t have enough concentration to use magic and send the invoices directly to her, so he tossed them onto the table with a solid thmp. “Pass that t’ Frisk, wouldja?” his mouth said.

A couple shreds of conscious thought worked themselves free, wondering why the papers had gone thmp. Paper wasn’t supposed to go thmp. What had he…

Oh. It was the heavy golden envelope, the one with the King’s letter for her.

           On the table.

…With her full name on the front.

Right by Undyne, who was reaching to pick it up, just like he’d asked.

           Time slowed to a crawl. Icy dread swept over him, and he raised his hand, knowing it was too late—Undyne had handed over the invoices and was already saying, “Heyyy, what’s this, boss?” Before he could stand up or regroup his magic, the Royal Guard Captain flipped the envelope around to read the calligraphy. “Fancy! Is it a love letter for—”

           She stopped. Sans’ SOUL shrank to nothing as the fish monster’s brows drew together. “Hey. Your Majesty?” she asked, raising her voice.

           Toriel finished her drink, trying to set her glass down and missing the table entirely. “Yes, Captain?”

           Undyne gave a puzzled half-smile. “Did you adopt Frisk or something?”

           Frisk looked up from the invoices. The goat monster glanced at her, then chuckled. “Why, no, not that I’m aware of.” Toriel was smiling, too, clearly waiting for a punchline.

           Sans snatched at the envelope with a burst of red magic and shoved it into his pocket. “Hey, Frisk! Guess what? Time ta go!”

           Frisk started, and had to catch herself before she fell off the chair. “What? Why do—”

           “Then how come she has your last name?” asked Undyne.

           Silence. Toriel and Undyne were awkwardly smiling, each waiting for the other to speak and growing more confused as the seconds ticked by.

Alphys frowned, then peered at Frisk, who was staring at the panicky skeleton. “Sans,” the human said softly. “What is she talking about?”

Sans was still sitting on the floor, and couldn’t get up; he felt sick as Frisk stepped down from her perch and came over to him. “What do you have there?” she asked, even softer.

           His hand moved on its own again to pull out the envelope. “’s a letter,” he mumbled. “I was gonna give this to ya later, when we talked about—”

           Frisk snatched the envelope and turned it over. He forced his sockets to stay open as her face went pale, then stark white. Slowly, her head lifted until their eyes met. “I didn’t mean ta get it out yet,” he said helplessly. “It was an accident. I’m—”

           “Where did you get this?” she asked carefully. “When did you get this?”

           “Yesterday. From…from Dr. Serif. He met me in the village to help get all the stuff ready, and the King gave it to ‘im ‘cause he thought you’d be—”

           “This is from my father?” Frisk stared at the dark-gold calligraphy, then at him. Sans just stared back, letting his silence speak for itself.

           Alphys squinted one more time at Frisk’s chest. Then she bolted from her seat, skittered around the table to Mettaton, and latched onto his arm. “You need to get everyone out of here! Right now!” she hissed.

           The automaton quirked a lacquered eyebrow at her. “Are you joking? This is the most—”

           “I said now!”

           Toriel and Undyne watched Mettaton scramble out of his chair, leap straight into the middle of the room, and strike a pose. “Hello, beauties!” he called to the remaining twenty or so diners, giving Alphys a nervous glance. “This is your lucky night! We’re going to have a scavenger hunt, and the prize is me—one candlelit dinner with yours truly! Follow me to Paradise!”

           Alphys breathed a sigh of relief as the monsters trooped out, dragging the waiters and the protesting maître d’ with them, and the doors slammed shut. The royal scientist gestured to Toriel, then Undyne, who had come around to their side of the table. “We should leave, too,” Alphys said urgently.

           “What?” The goat monster frowned at her, and at Frisk, whose shoulders had hunched. “Are you all right, my chi—”

           “Yes!” They jumped as Frisk whipped around, clutching the envelope to her breast, giving them a dreadful smile. “Yes. Yes, I…I’m fine. I just need to—” She gulped. “Never mind. I have to talk to Sans.” She held her hand out. “Let’s go.” He didn’t move, and she said desperately, “Now? Please?”

           A tiny quiver of fear ran through him, and not just because he, personally, was in an absolute world of shit. He could feel the air around Frisk grow heavier, and for the first time in a long time, his instincts were urging him to back away. Her magic was building rapidly, as if she was getting a barrier ready, but she wasn’t doing it on purpose. What did she—

Oh, crap. Not only were they Underground, where magic was naturally stronger than above, she was already at least a little drunk, and tired, and…well, “upset” would not begin to cover the fallout of his slip-up. Was Alphys worried something would happen? But…

Just to be sure, Sans took a long look at Frisk’s SOUL. For a second, he thought something was wrong with his vision, or he was just out of practice; then he realized that, for once, he was not the problem.

Her SOUL was a goddamn mess. It shone as bright and beautifully red as when he’d first seen it, but where it had been rock-solid with determination, it now looked more like a snowglobe that kept getting shaken up before the glitter had a chance to settle. Magic was seeping through her skin and beginning to tint the air around her, and if she was aware of it, she wasn’t even trying to control it.

Fuck. Alphys had been smart enough to keep an eye on Frisk’s SOUL when she started getting agitated about Chara—had the scientist noticed some instability when she was testing the human’s magic? Either way, she’d been scared enough to have Mettaton clear the room.

But it wasn’t as if the monsters should be scared of Frisk, was it? Sure, she seemed pretty volatile right now, but she was still Frisk! She would never hurt anyone! At least, not on purpose…

Sans couldn’t help glancing at the other table. Sure enough, the demon-child was back, grinning and clapping its hands in sheer delight. “Told you so,” it said gaily.

           Undyne coughed. “Uh…Frisk? Why’d your dad call you that?”

           Frisk gestured one more time, and Sans made himself look at her hand with a grim, apologetic shake of his head. His SOUL wanted to tear loose and go hide at the way her face contorted. “You’ve gotta calm down, kid,” he said quietly. He didn’t know how to explain in front of everyone that her magic was too thick for him to teleport her anywhere without touching her, and doing so right now would singe him down to the bone—probably straight through it. “Please,” he added.

           The priestess let her hand drop. She closed her eyes in resignation, pinching the bridge of her nose. “He called me that because I’m illegitimate, and I have to use my mother’s name.”

           Pause. Sans shuffled back a little as Frisk’s eyes opened again, taking in the monsters’ blank faces. “Oh, for God’s sake! Do I need to spell it out for you?” She brandished the envelope at them: FRISK DREEMURR. “That was Chara’s last name, and she was my mother!”

           The world stopped for a moment. Sans watched Toriel, breathless, painfully aware that her reaction was the one that really mattered. If she took Frisk seriously, then the priestess could probably recover her equilibrium and work through some of her feelings. If she didn’t—

           Toriel was frowning in bewilderment. Then…she started to smile, and Sans’ SOUL shrieked in panic: Nonono, don’t do it, don’t—

           The former Queen gave a polite little laugh. “I’m…sorry, my child, but…there must be some mistake.”

           The air crackled, not loud enough yet for the others to hear. Frisk gripped the letter harder, still holding it at arm’s length. “Why do you say that?” she asked, too calm.

           “Well…” Oh, crap. Now Undyne was smiling, too, only stopping when Alphys yanked on her sleeve. “Sorry,” the Captain said, “but c’mon. Chara never even had any kids!”

           “Yeah, she did,” said Sans, and the women looked at him in astonishment. Frisk’s arm fell to her side as he continued, “The humans who visited ‘bout twenty-four years ago had their King with ‘em, and he knocked her up. She hid it till the last second, ‘n then she gave birth in the Ruins so no one would see anything.” He glanced at Toriel. “Right?”

           It was hard to say who was the most shocked. “I thought Chara had me after she left the Underground! You mean I was born here?” demanded Frisk.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” barked Undyne. She looked at Toriel, whose eyes were huge, hands pressed to her mouth. “I-I mean—” The fish monster turned to Alphys. “Don’t humans get really big and weird when they’re pregnant? Wouldn’t we have noticed something?”

           “Not n-necessarily,” Alphys said, fiddling with her claws faster than ever. “It depends on the individual, and how the baby d-develops. Besides, it’s not as if we had other humans to compare her with. She could’ve just w-worn thick clothes and stayed out of sight.”

“Huh.” Undyne stared at the floor. “Now that you mention it, she did spend a few months cooped up in the house before she left. But—”

           “Where did you hear this, Sans?” None of them had ever heard Toriel sound like that, her gentle voice lowered to an almost bestial snarl. “Who told you?”

           Sans grimaced. “You guys cleared everyone out of the Ruins, but you didn’t get all the spiders. They saw what happened, an’ they heard her tell you who the dad was.”

Toriel’s mouth fell open. “Spiders?”

“Yep. Some of ‘em made it over to Hotland while Kris was here, and they told Muffet, an’ she wound up sellin’ the story to Grillby. I don’t think he ever told anyone else. He just likes knowin’ stuff.” The skeleton scratched the back of his skull. “When I asked him ‘bout Chara the other day, he told me everything. I just never got a friggin’ chance to talk to Frisk about it.”

Another long pause. Was it his imagination, or was the air getting hotter? The priestess was only a few feet away, and though he didn’t have the courage to look at her again, that side of his body was tingling very unpleasantly.

           Toriel’s face had hardened, her arms folded at the waist. “Be that as it may, it proves absolutely no connection between her and Chara.”

God damn it. “No, they didn’t know for a fact that Frisk was her kid. But her age matched up, and a bunch of the spiders who rode with her were right next to her SOUL for a few hours. They said she had a buttload of magic, and it smelled like the Underground—way more than any human’s should.”

“It would explain how she’s so powerful,” mused Alphys. “With the capability to use magic from her f-father’s side, and being c-conceived and gestated here, she probably started accruing it before she was even born. She’s already proven that she can convert a monster’s power for herself, so…”

“Holy shit,” whispered Undyne. “So Chara really did have a kid?”

“Yes, she did,” the former Queen said tightly. “We just thought she was ill and shutting herself away for a while. She didn’t tell us how Stephin had betrayed our hospitality until she was nearly in labor, and she begged us not to tell any of the other monsters.” Toriel was gripping her own sleeves hard enough to puncture the fabric. “We gave her two months to recover, and then Asgore sent them both to Stephin. The baby wasn’t very strong, but Asgore was afraid that if we kept her here, Stephin would think we were holding his child hostage.”

No one answered, and Toriel swallowed hard. “A few weeks later, Chara returned to us in agony. Stephin had just become engaged to another woman, and he refused to break it off. The baby had become sick after leaving the Underground, and when Chara started preparing for the journey back here, she…the child didn’t make it home.” The former Queen wiped her eyes with the side of her hand. “I am sorry, Frisk, but there is no way you could be—”

           “Yes, there is,” Frisk said, sounding oddly detached. “Chara lied to you. I didn’t die—she left me with a wet nurse and paid her to be my foster mother.”

Sans wanted to dive out of the way as Toriel took a step toward the human, Undyne and Alphys also shrinking back. “You mean to tell me,” the goat monster said, deathly quiet, “that my daughter knowingly abandoned her child and deceived her family?”

“Yes. She did.” Frisk was standing firm, but the monsters could see the haze coming off her like a golden mist; Sans traded looks with Undyne, who pulled Alphys closer. “If you really think it’s impossible for me to be Chara’s daughter, why did you ask my exact age?” the human demanded. “Why did you want to know how old I was when I first visited, and why did Asgore ask Sans the very same thing? You knew Chara had had a baby girl ten years before the delegation arrived, and then you found out Kris was a girl. Were you wondering if I was actually—”

           “No!” They flinched at Toriel’s sheer vehemence. She gritted her teeth, trying to control her temper. “It was all Asgore’s fault. When Chara returned to us, he had the temerity to accuse her of lying about her child’s death. He told her she was not welcome unless she brought the baby back with her! Of course we didn’t see her again for ten years!” Smoke drifted from between her fingers as she wiped her eyes again. “I still don’t know how he could have done something so cruel, or how he told you about it, but my only regret is that I ever considered the possibility for a single second! I know you are both wrong!”

           Frisk’s eyes narrowed, and Sans jumped as a golden spark flew in his direction. He quashed the reflex to teleport to safety and stood up, only for Frisk to look around him, as though he wasn’t there. “I haven’t spoken to Asgore since I was a child. He has nothing to do with this conversation,” she snapped. “Do you know who first told me Chara was my mother?”

           Toriel tried to give her a tolerant smile. “No, child. Who first told you?”

           “Asriel.” Before the goat monster could react, Frisk pressed on, “He put the pieces together after he saw me make a barrier by accident. He knew that that ability ran in the royal family, and the King had fathered Chara’s child, so he asked her if it could be me. Chara got him to bring me to her, and he told me who I really was.” The envelope trembled in her hands. “He told me I’d come home.”

Toriel’s eyes widened again. She started to speak, but Frisk raised her voice: “Chara said my nurse had told her I’d died, and she apologized to me for how she acted whenever she visited the orphanage or the castle kitchens.” The human’s face had the hard, bitter expression Sans recognized from the time she’d caught him trying to escape. “She was so sweet to all the other children, and then she looked at me like I was some kind of diseased rat! She said it was because I reminded her of her little girl and it made her sad, and she didn’t know it was actually me!”

           “There!” Toriel exclaimed. “You see? The nurse wanted to hide the King’s child for her own gain, and—”

           “Chara knew who I was all along!” bellowed Frisk, and it was the goat monster’s turn to step back. “She knew damn well that I was alive! Why else would she pay my foster mother a hundred dinar every month for ten years? How did she know to check in on me every so often to see if I still existed? Why’d she leave me to be beaten and starved half to death while she kept the thousands my father gave her to support us both and did whatever she liked?!”

           “How dare you say that? My child would never have—”

“She would, and she did! I’m sorry, Toriel, but she lied to everyone, especially you! Chara abandoned me until I was useful for something besides money, and she tore your family apart to punish Asgore for being right about her!”

           “ENOUGH!” roared Toriel. She made a violent gesture, flame sizzling through the air. “I will not hear any more of this! Do you understand, High Priestess?! Whatever you may think happened, I know my daughter, and I know what she was and was not capable of! If you’re going to insist on slandering her any further, perhaps it would be better for you to l—”

           The echoes died. The fury in Toriel’s gaze was gone, a hand coming back to her mouth.

           “Better for me to what, Lady Toriel?” Frisk asked, so gently that Sans cringed. “Should—” Her throat worked. “Should I leave the Underground? Are you going to send me away again?”

           Toriel didn’t have the chance to reply. A barrier screamed to life overhead, and constricted until it formed a dome around them only about twenty feet across and fifteen feet high. “All right. I understand,” said Frisk.

Undyne reacted first, pushing Alphys to the floor and stuffing her under the table. “Frisk!” snapped the fish monster. “Calm down, okay? She didn’t mean it!”

“She didn’t mean to say I was lying?” Frisk inquired, her voice suddenly rising to a shriek: “She didn’t mean to tell me to get out?”

“Frisk!” Sans tried to grab her shoulder, only for a flare of gold to warn him away. “C’mon, sweetheart! Ya gotta stop it! We can talk about this!”

“We just did, Sans!” He had seen her in pain before, but it was nothing compared to the wild-eyed stare she turned on him now. “We talked about it because you couldn’t wait to show everyone who I was! Thank you so much for helping me have this difficult conversation! We’ve finally answered the question of whether someone else I love is going to call me a liar!”

Sans’ SOUL already hurt so much that it took a moment to remember what she—oh, God. She meant when she’d told him she was Kris, and he’d scoffed at her until she stripped down to prove it. Now she’d been forced to reveal her identity to Toriel in the least natural way possible, and she didn’t believe her, either. “Frisk—”

She was smiling, but in a very unhinged way. “No, I should really be thanking you. Life is so much simpler now! I don’t have to waste any more time and energy wondering if I should feel worthless, because the closest person to a real mother I’ve ever had just told me so!”

Sans couldn’t answer: he had to fling himself backward before a cascade of sparks hit him in the face. Frisk drifted away a few steps and sank to her knees, hands still clenched on the envelope in her lap. “It’s fine,” she mumbled at the floor. “Food, presents, bubbles—I already gave you everything I have. If you don’t want me anymore, then…”

Toriel was rooted to the spot, chest heaving. The barrier sank lower, nearly grazing her horns, and Undyne rushed to sling her under the table as more sparks flew. “Sans!” the Captain shouted over the crackle and hiss of human magic.

The skeleton glared down at Toriel, and shook his head as she tried to speak. Frisk was too far gone—anything else the goat monster said would just aggravate her further, assuming she could even hear it.

Meanwhile, the dome was slowly closing in on them, and they couldn’t do a damn thing about it. If he tried to touch Frisk now, she’d just shove more magic at him; not only would that hurt like hell, it’d trap them all between two layers of barrier. He yelled her name again, but she didn’t move.

Shit! Why hadn’t Alphys warned him sooner? Why hadn’t Undyne kept her goddamn mouth shut about the letter? And if Toriel couldn’t accept right away that everything she knew was wrong and Chara was even worse than Sans had imagined, couldn’t she have found a way to deny it without completely destroying Frisk?!

Why hadn’t he—

No, all that mattered right now was getting through to her. The light surrounded them in blinding golden pulses, the barrier crackling like…

Humming. The barrier was making a hell of a lot of noise, and it…didn’t sound like her humming at all. Why was he thinking of that now?

…Because the last time his magic had been out of control, in his prison cell, she’d calmed him down by humming. But he hadn’t even heard her at first; he’d only snapped out of it when she touched his blaster – the physical embodiment of his magic – with her bare hand. He never did explain to her what a no-no that was…

Sans looked at his hand. He looked at his priestess, curled in on herself, lost in misery. The golden dome was so close to the crown of his skull that he could feel his whole body screaming at him to run.

The giant skeleton looked Toriel in the eye. Then he squeezed his sockets shut, lifted his arm, and placed his hand flat on the barrier.

 ~

             Something…happened.

           One second, the pressure in Frisk’s head was intolerable, grief and despair rising to a fever pitch, spurred by the determination to keep the monsters here until they changed their minds, till they were sorry. Then—

           The sensation could only be likened to someone running their finger down the inside of her chest, the most strange and intimate thing she’d ever felt. It should have been horrible, or at least uncomfortable, but…

           But it didn’t feel invasive. It felt like someone giving her heart a gentle nudge, saying in a familiar, gravelly baritone, “’s all right, Frisk. It’s gonna be okay. I promise. But you gotta stop now, ‘kay?”

The feeling slipped away. She stirred, trying to get it back; Frisk opened her eyes and—

           Sans. Her chest gave a happy little shiver as she saw him looking down at her. He was standing nearby, giving her a strained smile and…and touching—the barrier—

           Fear jolted her fully awake. Frisk whistled as hard as she could, and the searing golden light vanished. Her whole body ached, but it was nothing compared with what she glimpsed as Sans lowered his arm. “Oh, God! Sans—”

           “Hey, kitten,” mumbled the boss monster. He had to stifle a grunt, shuffling hastily to turn his back to her. “Tori, could I…get a hand with this? Heh…ow…”

           Frisk tried to get up from where she was kneeling, or at least stop shaking. Green light shone around Sans’ huge form, but she barely noticed; all she could see in her mind’s eye were his blackened metacarpals, the smaller bones not just burned, but partially melted by her magic.

           Her legs refused to work. Frisk dropped the envelope and shuffled herself around in a half circle to see if anyone else was hurt, and whether they had seen her nearly kill her poor skeleton. No one was here…

           “Aww, darn. You were so close.”

           …except for a voice that felt like spiders crawling into her brain. The demon-child sat on the edge of a nearby table, shaking its head at her and sighing. Then it gave her an encouraging grin. “Oh, well. That was still fun—just like old times. Don’t worry, you’ll get ‘em someday!”

           Someone moved behind her. Frisk blinked hard, then shuddered, and pushed herself up onto her feet, standing with her back to the demon.

Undyne was climbing out from under their table and offering a webbed hand to Alphys. “Undyne?” The human moved gingerly toward them. “Are you two all right?”

           The Captain’s eye widened, and her arm shot out, protecting Alphys from…from what? Frisk glanced around them, looking for—

           Her. Undyne was protecting Alphys from her.

And why not? Hadn’t she done exactly what the monsters feared most—trapped them with a barrier, maimed someone, and nearly killed them? Even Undyne was afraid of her now!

           Frisk shouldn’t have gotten up: she felt her body go heavy, legs giving way. She was only vaguely aware that she was going to fall, and that Undyne was hesitating, moving too late to catch her.

A soft, tingling sensation stopped her just short of the marble floor, lifting her higher into the air. To her dismay, she was enveloped in red magic, and Sans was reaching for her; Frisk tried to say, “No, don’t—”

           His arms closed around her, strong and safe, his injured hand settling her against his shoulder. The other drew his coat over her legs; a shaky phalange ran through her hair, and a shakier voice rumbled, “Y’okay, sweetheart?”

           Frisk wound her arms around his neck as tight as they’d go, not caring how his vertebrae dug into her flesh. She was too numb to cry, and she didn’t have the strength to ask what he was doing, or why he was anywhere near her. All she could do was hang on.

           Undyne cleared her throat. “She…is she okay now?”

           “She’ll be fine,” snapped the giant skeleton, and immediately stroked Frisk’s hair again as she trembled. “Shh, s’alright,” he murmured.

“Sans,” Toriel said brokenly. “I—”

The world tipped and swerved as Sans shifted his weight, turning them away. “C’mon, kitten. Let’s go home.”

           “To your house?” Undyne was still shaken, but Frisk heard a warning note in her voice. “Look, I know you’re really emotional right now, but she’s not in any condition to—”

           “To sleep!” he snarled. “I’m takin’ ‘er home, and we’re gonna sleep! Good fuckin’ night!”

           A tiny part of Frisk wanted to tell him to be nice, but she couldn’t even stay conscious. The last thing she heard was Toriel’s cry of “Sans, wait!” before his magic rushed them through space. Then—

 ~

             On her third day at the convent, they finally made her leave her room.

           Frisk kept her eyes on the ground, letting the matron steer her down a hall and out into a courtyard full of chattering girls. The noise dropped a little as they saw her, but when Frisk stayed by the wall, there was a collective shrug, and the chatter resumed.

           The wind was howling. Frisk wiped her nose on the sleeve of her new uniform, wondering dully if it was going to snow out here. The drifts in front of Sans and Papyrus’ house never seemed to go down, no matter how often they tossed her into them.

           Did they miss her yet? Did they even know she was gone? Or had the accident—

           “Excuse me?”

           Frisk looked up. Through her tears, she saw a group of older girls standing in front of her, with a grownup right behind—the Sister must have ordered them to come be nice to the new girl. Sure enough, the speaker was holding out a handkerchief, looking kind and concerned. “Thank you,” Frisk whispered, taking it and wiping her eyes.

           “It’s all right. I know I was very sad when I first got here,” the girl said, a little too loud. She smiled, and Frisk tried not to shudder—she’d gotten so used to monsters that the girl’s pretty blue eyes, golden hair, and rosy skin looked fake, like a doll.

The grownup nodded approval and moved away to yell at another group for telling dirty jokes. Immediately, the blonde girl’s smile sharpened, and she wrinkled her nose. “Keep it,” she said curtly.

That was bad, but at least Frisk had expected it. What really hurt was when the group moved off and the girl said to her friends, “Oh my God, her hair! And did you see her eyes? She looks like a rabbit!”

The snickering felt like a scab being ripped off Frisk’s heart. “Geez, Mathilda,” another girl said quietly.

“Well, it’s true! They’re not supposed to be red! Is she cursed or something?” Laughter. “I’m serious! We all need to say extra prayers tonight!”

…

Would it have changed anything if Frisk had remembered that conversation? Soon after, the King visited and told her everything – how he had thought Chara was at least providing her with basic necessities, and he would be sure she never lacked for anything again – and when she worsened, they decided to remove her memories; the Mother Superior had repeated the most relevant facts about her father and her future education, and Frisk had accepted her new life.

As far as Frisk knew, the first time she met her best friend was soon afterward, when Mathilda switched places with someone to sit next to her at lunch. “Hello. You must be Frisk,” she said, smiling. “Do you, um…”

Frisk watched her in puzzlement. Why was Mathilda Owen bothering to speak to her?

Mathilda fidgeted. “Never mind. I just wanted to say hello.” Why did she look so guilty? Her friends were watching, whispering anxiously to each other, as though something important was at stake. “Would you like to come and sit with us? I hate to see you all by yourself.”

As soon as she figured out that it wasn’t a cruel prank, and she really was making friends with the most beautiful and kind-hearted girl in the entire school, Frisk was too happy to question things further. It took her a long time to realize that everyone knew why the King had been here, and that everyone wanted his daughter to like them, especially Mathilda.

Even then, Frisk had decided not to care. As long as she could earn their friendship by being kind and helpful, did it really matter how it’d started? It wasn’t as if she was only worth something because of her father.

…It wasn’t.

 ~

             …Finally.

She shook the ruby droplets from the kitchen knife, wondering idly why he was the only monster who ever bled, then kicked the dust aside. It was time to move on.

 ~          

                       Frisk awoke in a rush of adrenaline and half-remembered nightmares. It was dark; she thought for a moment that she’d been buried alive, then realized that something huge and leathery was draped over her entire body. No golden twilight through the windows, no blood, no dust…

Ugh. Her mouth tasted like a warm sock, and her head throbbed the way it always did when she’d used too much magic. With great care, the human slithered out of her warm prison for a look around.

She was in Sans’ room, lying on his outgrown mattress, his overcoat loosely wrapped around her. The lamp was on, but he’d draped an old shirt over it to diffuse the light into a soft glow, giving the cold, messy space a warmer aspect; in fact, the golden haze reminded her of—

           A barrier.

Chills swept through her, clearing her head of other thoughts like a blast of frigid air. It wasn’t just a nightmare: she had used a barrier against monsters inside the Underground. There was no coming back from that, no excusing or explaining it away.

Even if Toriel hadn’t really meant it at the time, her order to leave would probably become reality. Her friends might not entirely blame her for lashing out, but there was still no way they could trust her anymore—after she had hurt Sans like that, she’d be angry if he did trust her!

           Frisk slowly eased herself back down inside the coat, as if she could hide from what she’d done. In her bitter, selfish regret, she didn’t even think of what this meant for her peace efforts; all she knew was that the Underground was the only place she’d ever really belonged – her birthplace – and she had lost any right to be here. Back to the humans, then, and her suffocating routine of work, exhaustion, and loneliness, secretly hoping that maybe, if she could be useful enough, someone would love her for more than her money or her pedigree and stay. If she could just be good enough—

           Well, obviously, she couldn’t.

           Frisk wasn’t going to cry again. She was tired of crying about things in general, and in this case, there was no possible way to make herself feel better. Why bother making her headache worse and her sleeves all soggy again? She just burrowed deeper into the huge leather coat, willing her mind to subside into comfortable nothingness; at least she was good at that.

It usually helped to have something small to focus on, so Frisk unhooked her itchy black choker and scratched her neck, flushing at the memory of flirting with Sans in front of everyone. Then came her boots, her stockings, and her earrings…

…which weren’t there. The priestess frowned, fingering her earlobes. She didn’t remember taking them out. Had they come off while she was asleep?

Wait a moment. Sans had put her here, hadn’t he? Her satchel was close by; Frisk stuck her arm out until she could pull it over and peek inside. Sure enough, not only had the boss monster removed her earrings for her, he’d left them atop her folded clothes, where they were both safe and easily found.

For some reason, that one little thing, that bit of care and attention, was the last straw. She took a deep breath, only for it to catch as a huge sob tore loose, partly muffled by his coat. Then another, and—

Sans was suddenly standing by the mattress. “Frisk!” He sat down hard. “Frisk, it’s okay, don’t—”

The human forgot that he was supposed to be scared of her. Moving on pure instinct, she flung the coat aside and launched herself up at him, letting his shirt absorb the first wave of tears. “Aww,” he murmured, folding his arms over her back and cradling her head in one massive palm. “C’mon, sweetheart, ya don’t hafta cry. Everythin’s fine now.”

Frisk pressed her face into his clavicle, furiously shaking her head. It was important to explain to him that nothing was fine and it was absolutely correct for her to be crying, but she was crying too hard to get the words out.

Sans gave a large, soft sigh, carrying her outward and back in. “It’s okay,” he repeated, his voice rumbling throughout her body. She shook her head again, and he ran the side of his finger down her back. “Yuh-huh, it is. Calm down.”

She didn’t want to calm down, but as he kept petting her, Frisk’s sobs slowed down a little. The boss monster made a sound deep in his chest, and she answered him with one that made him squeeze her tighter.

There was that magnetic feeling again, as though she was completely stuck to him. This time, though, she wasn’t frightened. And this time, she felt something else: another sensation was stealing over her, so slowly that she thought it might just be her imagination. It was similar to when he’d accidentally given her his magic, but this didn’t seem accidental, and it wasn’t exactly magic…

She’d felt it when he touched the barrier, and here it was again, washing over her in gentle waves: guilt and anger at himself for kicking off the whole incident, anxiety for her, and…well. He didn’t think she was worthless, or dangerous, or that she needed to do a single thing to deserve forgiveness. His hand didn’t even hurt anymore. …Much.

Even if it did, he still loved her.

Frisk shook her head again, but her sobs grew slower and weaker, gradually coming to a stop. The human leaned away long enough to sniff back a giant wad of snot, then sought a dry patch of his shirt to wipe her eyes. She wasn’t sure how he was doing this, but she wasn’t going to question it right now. “Hand?” she croaked.

Sans was quiet. He grunted, then held his palm up. “It ain’t that bad. Looks kinda like a frowny face. See?”

The priestess gulped, raising her own fingers to trace the pattern of deep swirls and grooves her magic had left in the living bones. “Can…” Frisk had to swallow a few more times before she could whisper, “Can you still move them?”

He paused. She felt a closing-off sort of twinge in her chest, as though he’d decided to stop sharing his feelings so he could fib: “Yeah, pretty much.” His metacarpals waggled back and forth, the smallest of them longer than her entire hand. She poked the base of his thumb and forefinger, where a good two or three inches of bone were fused together. “That doesn’t count,” he said stubbornly.

Frisk shuddered, turning to rest her cheek near the top of his sternum. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Do ya wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know,” she said, and winced as her head throbbed. “What time is it?”

“Last I checked, it was about seven o’clock,” he replied, petting her hair again. “I got up maybe half an hour ago an’ healed you, just in case.” Tap, tap. “How’s yer hangover?”

“…Not that bad, actually.” Frisk yawned. She’d missed being with him so much that it felt like a waste to just sleep, but it was hard to argue with the results. After all she’d had to drink last night, and then…the incident, she was amazed that she only had a headache and an icky mouth. “Thank you for that. It feels like I got much more than five or six hours.”

Sans chuckled, tapping her head again. “That’s ‘cause it’s seven in the evening, kitten. I think we slept about eighteen hours.”

Frisk’s eyes shot open. “Are you serious?” She leaned back enough to look him in the face. “Is that even possible? I—”

The words faded as their eyes met. Frisk figured she must look pretty awful, but he wasn’t much better. “Did I miss a spot?” he asked gruffly.

The human nodded, reaching up to brush at the dried red on the corners of his sockets. Sans leaned into her touch as she rubbed his cheekbone. “You’re supposed to be a big boy now,” she scolded the giant skeleton. “Do I need to—”

Memory hit her again like a fist. Sans jumped as Frisk suddenly yanked her hand away, trying to push herself off him. “Hey!” he protested. “What’re you—wouldja hold on a damn minute?!” More by reflex than design, his hand tightened around her back, keeping her in place. “It was an accident, goddammit! You’re not gonna do it again!”

“No, it wasn’t!” Frisk thumped his shoulder with her tiny fist. “You don’t understand!” Thump. “It wasn’t an accident! I was so angry, I wanted to keep everyone there, and I didn’t want to control it! I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t stopped me!”

Sans started. “That little fucker,” the skeleton whispered, as if he’d realized something very profound. “I know what it was, Frisk. That goddamn thing was right there! I saw it a minute before the whole name thing started! I dunno if it made me drop the letter so you’d freak out, or if it was plannin’ something else, but it wanted you to go nuts! That’s why—”

“No! It wasn’t!” Thump. Thump. “Are you even listening?! It was me! I did it on purpose!” Thump. “I was already…” Frisk shuddered, shaking her head again as more emotions boiled to the surface. “Do you know how scared I’ve been? We’re halfway through our visit, and I haven’t even talked to anyone about ending slavery! I’ve just been thinking of how to tell Asgore and Toriel about Chara, whether they’d believe me and if I’ve been selfish to keep back something that could help make peace—I had no idea their estrangement was because Asgore knew Chara was lying about me! And I missed you so much—” His arms tightened, and Frisk caught herself on another sob. “I don’t want to go, Sans!”

“No one’s makin’ you go anywhere!” He gave her a very light shake. “We all know you, Frisk! Ya think anyone’s sittin’ there thinkin’, ‘Welp, that was inevitable, let’s go ahead ‘n toss ‘er out now’? Or d’ya think we feel like shit ‘cause we kept pokin’ you till you couldn’t take it anymore?”

“How can you say that?” she demanded. “It doesn’t matter how badly I was provoked! I wouldn’t let you get away with attacking me just because you were angry!”

“Y’already did. Remember?” He stroked her back with one knuckle. “You coulda done anythin’ you wanted once I quit tryin’ ta murder you, and ya put me to bed ‘n fed me.”

…Damn it. “That’s not the same thing! I—”

“Frisk.” His phalange brushed her cheek. “Yer the one who’s not listenin’. No one is makin’ you leave. We’re gonna talk about it with everybody, there’s gonna be a big damn fight over who’s the most sorry, an’ we’re gonna figure out how to get you in to see Asgore. You’re gonna say whatever you need to about Chara and lay out yer big plan to make everything all better. If he doesn’t wanna do it, we’ll figure somethin’ else out before we leave.” His hand rested on her back like a shield. “And I’m gonna quit actin’ like all I hafta do is stay outta yer way an’ let you do everything. From now on, I want you ta tell me if somethin’s botherin’ you before ya go crazy.” Squeeze. “Any questions?”

Frisk thought about it as she sniffled. “Yes. Why couldn’t you have been this sweet when I gave you the stupid chessboard?”

He snorted. “Yer startin’ ta sound like me!” Pause. Shrug. “Short answer? It was pretty much the best thing I ever got, and I didn’t know what to say.”

“Whatever happened to ‘Thank you,’ Sans?” Thump. “I was really looking forward to you opening your gift, and you couldn’t wait to get away from it!”

“I know, I know!” His shoulders hunched again. “’m sorry! I…wanted ta jump you, but that wasn’t exactly an option. I didn’t know what else ta do!”

How could he make her want to hug and slap him so badly? “Well, putting that aside, do you plan to spend the rest of your life running off when you get embarrassed?”

“I wasn’t—” He caught himself and scowled. “I dunno. Just…sorry I was shitty about the chess stuff. It was amazing, and thank you a lot for it. Okay?”

He was so exasperatingly cute that Frisk had to bite her lip. “All right, then. You’re welcome. I…”

Rrrrgggrgrgl.

They both froze as her stomach rumbled. Frisk made a sheepish sound, and Sans chuckled. “Right. I was in the middle of makin’ a couple sandwiches when I came up.”

Frisk nodded. “Where’s Papyrus?” She wiped her eyes again. “Please don’t say he’s planning to make dinner.”

“Nope! I left a note on the door tellin’ him and Undyne ta stay at the inn tonight. I said we’d meet ‘em at the Ruins tomorrow morning.”

They were going to be alone tonight? The priestess felt light-headed, her cheeks burning. Sans must have been thinking the same thing, because she could’ve sworn his bones were getting warmer. “Time ta eat,” he mumbled, and a blink later, they were in the living room.

Still in his arms, Frisk turned her head to survey the kitchen table. He’d set out a loaf of bread, some cheese, tomatoes, and a few other things, obviously dropped when he’d heard her crying. Frisk thought about it, then snuggled back into Sans. There was food, and she was starving, but he was right here, too; she didn’t know which she wanted more at the moment.

Another rumble from her stomach settled the question. “Off ya go,” he said reluctantly, and Frisk sighed, moving her hand down to push free of their stuck-togetherness.

Sans suddenly made a strangled sound. Frisk didn’t understand it, or why his hand had flexed to avoid squashing her, until she looked down: she’d accidentally reached in between his ribs, pushing his shirt through and wrapping her fingers most of the way around his middle rib.

She’d never put her hands inside his ribcage, assuming it was basically a private part, and it seemed she was right. Just like that, his breathing had grown ragged, his bones trembling as her hand tightened. There was no misinterpreting his physical reaction; she could imagine how his instincts to comfort and protect her were deepening into much more raw emotion…

…because it was completely mutual. The young woman tugged lightly on his rib, and felt him shudder again. “Frisk,” he muttered. “Knock it off.”

Frisk moved just enough to brush her cheek against his jawbone. “What?” One finger slid along the bone toward his sternum. “This?”

Sans’ entire frame jerked. “Yes, that!” He caught her wrist in the curl of his index finger. “If I was a human, it’d be like stickin’ yer hand down my pants!”

“You don’t want me to?” she asked, very matter-of-fact.

Sans’ arm across her back was almost hurting her. Not tight enough, then. “Frisk,” he said warningly.

“I’m serious.” She licked her lips, feeling heat spread through her, chasing away the sorrow and anger. “My period’s over, the house is empty, and your magic doesn’t have any negativity at all right now.” Her free hand drifted toward his sternum. “We both need this, Sans. Don’t tell me you’re not interested.”

“I’m not sayin’ that!” To her bewilderment, he seized her with his magic and set her on the couch with a butt-tingling thump. “Just… I want you so bad, I’m about to lose my damn mind!” His entire skull was bright red. “But you’re still messed up from somethin’ that only happened ‘cause I was bein’ a dumbass, an’ I’m not gonna do it when you’re not thinkin’ straight! That would be fuckin’ wrong! Got it?” Despite himself, he stepped closer to touch her cheek. “’Sides, there’s somethin’ we’ve really gotta talk about first. The letter from yer dad is…”

He trailed off as her face twitched. “What?” he asked suspiciously.

“So, you…” Frisk knew this was not the time, but she couldn’t keep the words from bubbling up: “You’d be…fucking wrong?” Her body was trembling again, this time with the urge to giggle. “You already went the extra mile and figured out how to be my size. I’m pretty sure that means you can do it correctly now!”

“Frisk,” he said, scandalized, and covered his face as she snrrrked. “God damn it, woman, I’m tryin’ ta be serious here!”

She didn’t answer, at least not out loud. Sans took one look at her face and gave his scariest growl. “No.”

“But—”

“Frisk.”

“But are you—”

“Friiiiisk—”

A long pause. Frisk sighed in resignation, shrugging one shoulder.

Sans nodded. “Okay. Now, for real, Frisk, I’m—”

“—fucking serious?”

The dam broke: one moment, they were staring each other down, and then they burst into hysterical, snorting laughter. Frisk was sobbing again, but for the right reason, dammit; Sans let his forehead thunk on the floor, trying desperately to stop long enough to say something, only to end up laughing harder.

Eventually, out of sheer weakness, they had to slow down, and reached a point where they could almost breathe normally. “Shit,” rasped Sans, and wiped his eyes on his sleeves. “Oh my God, I love you.”

Frisk’s breath caught, her heart coming to a standstill. She sat up, watching the skeleton realize what he’d said. His sockets widened, but he looked straight at her, almost defiantly. “What?” There went the red again. He looked away…and back. “’s true,” he said, very quietly.

There was no telling what she might have done if Sans hadn’t pushed to his feet and waved his hand at the table. The bread knife started sawing away, cutting the loaf into sandwich slices and assembling the ingredients. “We need ta eat somethin’, an’ then I should go track yer letter down,” he mumbled, trying to rub the color off his skull. “I dunno if someone picked it up, or if it got left up there, or what. You can get some time to yerself—take a bath or somethin’.”

A bath sounded good, decided the one functional corner of her mind. She accepted the glass of water and mostly-tomato sandwich he wafted over to her a moment later, ignoring his muttered apologies for its crappiness. Nor did she pay much heed when he said something else, tapped a knuckle on her shoulder, and winked out of sight.

Alone for the first time in several days, Frisk finished her sandwich. She put the dishes in the sink, went upstairs, and ran a very hot bath, staring at the steam rising from the water. Then she went to Sans’ room, removed all her clothes, and lay down to wrap herself in his overcoat again. She hadn’t touched herself since before they left the castle, and she was even more worked up now than she’d been the night she made herself clear to Sans; being in his room, with the feeling of his bones and everything he’d said to her fresh in her mind, anticipating time to themselves at last—that was more than her body could handle. So…

It took so little time that the water was still hot when Frisk stumbled back into the bathroom. She left the door open a crack before she got in the tub, because…the steam…had to escape. Yes. The door needed to be open. For the steam.

Frisk knew exactly when Sans returned; to her disappointment, she heard an embarrassed mutter in the hall, and the door clicked shut. Just because she could, Frisk splashed louder, whistling his favorite song and letting the notes linger than she probably had to. She let the water out, also loudly, and kept humming as she dried herself and got dressed.

Sans was obviously on his guard when she came downstairs, which was wise: she was wearing his old clothes again, hands in the pockets of his zipped-up blue jacket, though she hadn’t had the nerve to put on any socks. He gave her one glance, reddened again, and turned his head, shoving the golden envelope at her. “Here.”

Frisk swallowed. “Thank you.” She studied the envelope for a moment, then tossed it on the couch and advanced on him. “I’m feeling much better now, so—”

“Nope!” Sans skipped away fast enough to make her yelp a little. He held up his good hand, as if to ward her off. “Dammit, Frisk, I mean it when I say I’m not gonna fuck you yet! Sit down and listen!”

Startled, the human sank onto the couch. Sans scratched the back of his head, collecting his thoughts. “Okay. So. Gaster gave me that thing, an’ he told me what’s in it.” He shut his eyes. “First thing: your King’s been talkin’ about you all over the place. Everyone—all the humans know Chara was yer mom.”

Frisk’s stomach lurched. “I see,” she murmured. Sans watched anxiously as she blew out a long breath. “Well, at least if I start throwing barriers at humans, it won’t frighten them.”

Sans chuckled. “Nope. They’d think it was neat,” he agreed.

The priestess thought it over, and decided that this particular problem could go back on the shelf for now. “Did someone see the letter and start spreading the word?”

“Yep. Gaster says yer dad’s pissed off, and that’s his way of bein’ passive-aggressive.” He indicated the envelope. “He fixed up a bunch of legal stuff with your name all over it.”

“‘Legal stuff’?” Frisk scowled. “Am I being arrested for theft?” She almost hoped so; that was a fight she’d enjoy winning. “If I am, I swear I will burn down the entire—”

“Nope. Just the opposite.” The skeleton took a deep, deep breath. “He…”

Watching his face, it suddenly clicked. “He wants to adopt me?” she asked crisply.

Blink. “…Uh.” Blink. “…yes?” Emphatic blink. “How the hell did you know?”

Her teeth clenched, all her muscles knotting at once, and then she let it go with a sigh. “He hinted at it a few times back when I was teaching Gaius magic. It’s been so long, I forgot all about it.” Mostly. “The poor boy isn’t going to live long enough to have his own heirs, and my older siblings are almost all gone, so… I was hoping His Majesty would name one of his more distant relatives, or pick another of his children.”

“Well, you’re the best he’s got.” Frisk flushed as Sans sat down against the opposite wall. “Is that a normal thing fer humans? You’re gettin’ old and yer official kid is kinda puny, so you grab a backup?”

Frisk crossed her legs, absently enjoying his reaction. “It’s uncommon, but it’s happened before in order to keep a particular bloodline going.” She picked up the envelope and broke the wax seal. “I’ll bet you a million dinar my father says he’s invited Luke and Mathilda back to the castle with their family. He went to school with Luke’s father, so he probably wants to get reacquainted before they announce our engagement.”

The boss monster watched in silence as she pulled out a sheaf of expensive papers, setting aside the copies of her ducal investiture and adoption decree. Frisk unfolded the handwritten letter, read it over carefully, and nodded. “You owe me a million dinar.”

He didn’t laugh. “See? If you end up havin’ my kid, it’s probably not gonna improve yer chances of bein’ Queen someday and gettin’ to set everything right for everyone.” Sans shrugged, eyes on the floor. “Not the kinda thing I can ask you to give up just so I can get laid.”

Warmth bloomed in her chest and rekindled in her middle, where she was still sensitive from her personal time upstairs. “I’m not giving anything up. I don’t want to be Queen,” she said calmly. “I want to become the humans’ ambassador to the monster race and set up an embassy somewhere close by—maybe at the farm on the river.” She set the papers aside and got to her feet, her entire body humming. “And if I do have a child, I’m going to love it and raise it, no matter how hard things get…even if it’s only half human.”

Sans’ eyes went blank. “…Frisk?”

The High Priestess’ heart was pounding so hard that she wondered if he could hear it as she crossed the room. She stopped in front of him, and held her hand out. “Will you stay with me, Sans?”

His hand came up to engulf hers and tug her against him, even as he shook his head. “Ya can’t decide somethin’ like that so quick,” Sans protested. Frisk leaned in just hard enough for him to feel her breasts through the thick blue jacket, and he shuddered. “I-I mean, believe me, I understand bein’ horny, but—”

Frisk reached up to rap on his cheekbone with her knuckles. “Excuse me, sir, but my mind has been made up since I opened the box.” She turned to press her lips to his phalanges. “Take me to your room, please.”

The light in his sockets dilated nearly all the way. Massive hands closed around her, and the world suddenly rushed by, depositing them by the door in his room. His magic pulled the mattress out to the center of the floor, straightening his overcoat in lieu of sheets or a blanket; the skeleton released her and glanced around for a moment, visibly regretting that they weren’t in a more romantic or at least clean environment. “Close yer eyes,” he mumbled.

Frisk complied, feeling and hearing him compress his huge frame down to human size. She opened her eyes just in time for Sans to pull her down to the mattress, setting her in his lap with her calves draped over his femurs. As before, he didn’t seem to care how his clothes hung off him; he simply yanked his sleeves back, then slipped his arm around her waist, the other running through her hair as he mouthed her neck.

That was a good start; the priestess wound her arms around him as Sans pulled her even closer. She made a delicate little sound as he slid his tongue into her mouth, his movements slow and gentle until she deliberately nipped him.

He nearly snarled at her, one hand gripping the small of her back and the other tangling in her hair. Frisk almost purred at the twinges in her scalp, letting him hold her in place as the kiss grew rougher and his fangs grazed her lip. She couldn’t believe how easily this was coming to her, how gratifying it was—all it took was a few little sighs, soft touches, and complete sexual abandon. Who knew?

It was more than a physical urge, though. She couldn’t even guess which of them needed this more, to be held and explored, valued, accepted—

The hand on her back had crept under her jacket, finding the hem of her shirt and then encountering bare skin. Frisk shivered pleasurably at the feel of bones gliding up her side, and at the disbelieving sound he made. “Holy shit,” breathed Sans. “You’re so soft.” His nasal ridge dropped back to the crook of her neck; he inhaled so deeply that she felt a rush of cold on her damp skin. “You smell amazing—” His tongue ran across her throat, his teeth sinking just hard enough to make her whimper and reach up to caress his skull. “I don’t…are ya really sure about this?”

Sighing inwardly, the priestess nuzzled the side of his vertebrae; he sucked in his breath as her tongue ran over the dry bone. Her legs shifted toward him, hips scooting closer as she guided his hands to her waist. Sans accepted the invitation, hitching up his baggy trousers and carefully grinding his pelvis into her so that she could feel his magic more directly.

It was one thing to have undergone a comprehensive scientific education and read dozens upon dozens of romance novels, and quite another to actually feel male parts…or magical facsimiles. The eternal, universal question sprang to mind: how was anything that size supposed to fit in her? That couldn’t be right. If she didn’t know better, she’d dismiss the whole idea as an elaborate prank, and childbirth as some kind of optical illusion. But…

Frisk ducked her head into his shoulder, face burning as his fingers combed through her hair. Luckily, Sans was oblivious. “’s not fair,” he murmured above her. “Everythin’ about you feels nice, ‘n I’m just a buncha gross bones.”

Frisk gave a disapproving snort—this, she could handle. “Here, give me your hand.” Ignoring her hot cheeks, she took his wrist and slid his hand up under her jacket, unable to suppress a tremor as his phalanges traced the underside of her breast. “If I thought you were ‘gross,’ would I be letting you do this?”

There was no telling what Sans thought: his powers of speech had degenerated into a series of incoherent sounds. To her irritation, he withdrew his hand and grabbed at the bottom of her jacket, desperate to pull it over her head…only to blink in confusion as Frisk snrked at him, leaning back and helpfully tapping the zipper.

As it turned out, the joke was on her. In another split-second, Sans had the jacket unzipped and the sleeves pulled straight down her arms, the whole thing tossed aside; before she knew what had happened, he was crushing her against him, his hands back under her white shirt, palms sweeping along her sides and up across her back—

In the heat of the moment, both of them had forgotten about her scars. Frisk tensed as his hands passed over the rough skin, and he stopped dead. “This okay?” he inquired after a moment, giving her a few experimental pets. “Doesn’t feel too weird, does it?”

The young woman shook her head, resting it on his shoulder and reminding herself that he’d already seen them. There was nothing to worry about or feel ashamed of. “You can touch it if you want. It doesn’t feel like much of anything anymore—the nerve endings are gone.”

Sans ground his teeth. “Are ya sure I can’t go kill that bitch?”

Purely on instinct, Frisk placed her slender fingers between his upper ribs, near his sternum; his eyes widened further as she pulled herself the rest of the way onto his bony, baggy-trousered lap. “Please don’t,” she said against his jaw. “I think we have better things to d—”

In one motion, Sans pulled her shirt up to her collarbone and hitched her forward to lay them both down on the mattress. With her face aflame and her heart galloping harder than ever, Frisk stayed still as he rose on one elbow to look her over, jaws parting to breathe more heavily; but to her surprise, when he reached down, all he did was rest his right palm on her sternum, where they could both feel her heartbeat reverberating through the disfigured bones.

Frisk gradually forget to be embarrassed, or cold, letting him see that she trusted him enough to stay exposed. Sans moved his thumb a little, and without thinking, she rested her hand on his, playing with the gaps between his joints. They were both content to stay that way for a few quiet moments, studying the contrast between her skin and his bones.

Soon, though, he had to lean down again to kiss her, and his hand turned to stroke her breast with the backs of his fingers. Frisk made a soft sound and tried to sit up to demand more; to her surprise, he shook his head and slung his femur across her waist, pinning her to the mattress. “Slow down, kitten,” he muttered. “I don’t wanna go nuts an’ hurt you by accident.”

That was cheating. She was already aroused enough; when she reached down to grab his hand, only to have her wrists corraled and pinned over her head with a trace of red magic, she couldn’t help moaning out loud.

Sans’ orange eyes were fully dilated now. He had sat up and partly turned aside, but couldn’t look away from her writhing and urgent noises. “What’d I just say?!” he snapped.

“I can’t help it!” Frisk squirmed again. “Let me go, and I’ll stop! Please!”

With unnatural speed, Sans released her and kicked off his trousers. His full weight flattened her to the mattress, and something pressed very distinctively into her stomach; Frisk tried to look down between their bodies, but his baggy shirt was blocking her view. Was it red like the rest of his magic, or—

His fingers caught her chin, making her look up at him. “Okay, kitten. You ready?” He let go long enough to hook his phalanges in the waistband of her black-and-white-striped pants, and rested his forehead on hers. “I…” He exhaled, his entire body trembling. “I’m just guessin’ on size. Went with somethin’ like this.” His tongue stuck out for a moment. “If it doesn’t work, then—”

“It’s all right, Sans.” Frisk leaned up to kiss his jaw, wiggling her hips to help him remove her last piece of clothing. “Go ahead.”

Sans nodded, taking in the view with his jaws still parted and his eyes burning, but he clearly couldn’t wait any longer. She let him arrange her arms around him, then run his hand over her waist and hips, rubbing her thighs for an appreciative moment before he nudged her legs open.

Either Sans had read up on this process, or the instincts Undyne had mentioned could adapt to human anatomy, because he didn’t even hesitate. He plucked the folds of his shirt out of the way and reached down, and Frisk jumped as something prodded her entrance. She’d gotten a couple of her fingers in there before, but as Sans moved forward into her, she couldn’t help wincing. The pressure quickly grew into discomfort as her body started giving way; she buried her face in Sans’ shirt, and he paused for a second, then leaned in—

Romance novels had absolutely lied to her. The pressure built into sharp, burning pain as he pushed further into her, and Frisk couldn’t hold back a little sob as he moved out, and back in. He shook his head; she tried to tell him it was all right, only to cry out as he sank the rest of the way inside. “God—‘m sorry, Frisk, just—” His hips moved back again, and he started to sit up.

Frisk latched onto his ribs again, legs squeezing his pelvis in the strangest, strongest determination she’d ever felt. She didn’t care if it hurt: he needed her, she needed him, and she’d be damned if she’d let it end yet! “Don’t stop,” she whispered, keenly aware of the effect her voice had on him. Just to be certain, she ran her finger over the back of his skull. “Please?”

There were no more words after that. The boss monster slammed into her again, drawing another near-sob from her. He snarled deep in his throat, hands trembling as they grasped the overcoat behind her head; with a huge effort, he drew out and pushed in more slowly, then stayed still for a moment. Frisk made the mistake of wriggling her hips to try to adjust to the feeling of fullness – of intrusion, really – and he swiftly jerked out and slammed in again.

That was enough for Frisk. She pulled clumsily at him with her legs, and he either took the hint or couldn’t hold back anymore: he snarled in his throat, movements faster and more erratic the closer he came. Frisk held on, ignoring the pain and focusing on the fierce exultation of watching him lose himself in her; when he started to slow down a little, she growled and bit his clavicle as hard as she could, determined to see him finish.

Sure enough, Sans groaned deep in his throat, ending on a snarl; his hips went once—twice—three times more, and his arms locked around her, his entire body shoving her into the mattress as hard as she’d wanted. Frisk let him ride it out for as long as he wanted, waiting till the tension in his limbs finally relaxed and he slumped into her.

Neither one spoke for several minutes. There was no need for him to pull out: she felt his magic vanish, and tried not to breathe too big a sigh of relief. Well, she couldn’t be disappointed in the lack of multiple orgasms or even much pleasure yet—how could she when Sans was lying in her arms, rubbing his face slowly into her neck as his breathing began to slow?

Frisk stroked his skull and shifted her weight where his leg was digging into her, and immediately regretted it as her entire lower half protested. She was going to have many bruises in the morning. They would just have to work on their technique, she thought, resting her cheek on his cranium.

Sans showed no signs of life besides his breathing for several minutes. She was starting to worry a little when he moved his head enough to say, “M’rm.”

The young woman blinked. “Beg pardon?”

He was silent for a long time. “Never mind. I’ll ask ya later.” Sans rose up on his elbow and shakily leaned in to lick her neck again. “Thank you,” he murmured.

There was so much behind it that Frisk didn’t know what to say. Instead, she reached up and pulled his head back down to her breasts, resting his cheekbone over her heart. It made her remember how he’d shared his feelings directly with her before, and what’d happen if he tried that in the middle of sex…

Frisk sighed, closing her eyes. That was another thing to put away for later, to worry about and/or look forward to when she got to it. For now, she closed her eyes, and waited for Sans to say something; then she peeked at him, and saw that she was wasting her time. He was already fast asleep.

[sinnerandafool]

Winter to Spring - My Skyrim Thieves Guild Fanfic

This is my Skyrim fanfic, based loosely on my current play through. If you are able to use mods, I highly recommend Take Notes - Journal of the Dragonborn. Writing a journal as my character definitely made me more invested in her story. 

Here is the link to the whole story on Ao3 x.

I’m a rookie fic writer, so any feedback is appreciated, but mostly I hope you enjoy it, and that it serves as a good distraction from the hellscape we live in (Americans). 

Title: Winter to Spring

Chapters: 4/?

Warnings: Rape/Non-con (the MC experienced some in her past, and is experiencing sexual harassment in the first chapter.)

Rating: M (for violence, eventual sexual content)

Relationship: Brynjolf / Female Dovahkiin

Chapter 1

Aerlith woke alone, drowsily opening her eyes as the sounds of morning birds and running water filtered into her consciousness. A piney scent permeated the little fur tent. She rolled to one side, her sore muscles protesting. She closed her eyes, trying to fall back into the delicious dream she had been having. All she recalled were light touches, warm embraces, and a soft, deep voice calling her name. Well, not her name precisely. No one knew her true name, only the false one she used day to day. She sighed. For the thousandth time in her life, she cursed her past for making her a fugitive. She rolled over again, restlessly seeking sleep, but hunger nagged at her stomach, so she reluctantly got up and exited the tent.

Sitting on a boulder next to the stream babbling by, she stared up at the entrance of the ruin before her. The Twilight Sepulcher. The trials of the Pilgrim’s Path were still painfully fresh in her mind. Aerlith never liked ruins. The smell of decay, the damp darkness, and worst of all, the deafening silence, which often signaled the presence of slumbering draugr. She shuddered, recalling their evil glowing eyes and hollow flesh.

Despite her fear, Aerlith had been successful in her mission to return the Skeleton Key to its rightful place. She felt apathetic about Nocturnal, and suspected the lady of twilight felt similarly about her. Daedric princes were never concerned with the fates of their human worshippers, and to Aerlith it seemed a tad foolish to risk one’s life in exchange for unreliable favor. But no matter her skepticism, she’d completed Nocturnal’s trial, and at last reached the Ebonmere, where she returned the Skeleton Key. She didn’t do it for Nocturnal. She did it for her family.

She smiled sadly, thinking about Karliah and Gallus, saying their final goodbyes before he faded into the Evergloam. Gallus had extended his spectral hand to touch his beloved’s cheek with such tenderness and sincerity it made her heart ache. “Farewell,” Karliah had intoned softly, leaning into his intangible touch. “Eyes open, and walk with the shadows.” Her voice was even, and Aerlith couldn’t see her face, but something in her tone betrayed absolute misery at the parting.

Aerlith took the last bite of her apple and stood. She stretched, then set about packing up her camp. She was tired, yes, but she was also brimming with excitement. Nocturnal would no longer sabotage the luck of the guild, and their chances of success would increase. The wealth would marginally improve the lives of her newfound family, and she couldn’t wait to share in their happiness. And, of course, she was curious about what he would have to say.

Aerlith hired a carriage to take her from Falkreath to Riften, opting for comfort and rest in exchange for one hundred-fifty hard earned septims. But it was worth it, she thought, snuggled under a warm fur cloak and hood, watching the scenery pass by idly while the horse did all the work. Her life for the past few weeks had been constant hiking, camping and delving into dangerous ruins. She was ready for a break.

One long day and night later, the carriage creaked its way up a gentle rise, and Riften Stables came into view. Feeling lethargic and in need of exercise, Aerlith tapped the driver on the shoulder and asked him to let her off. He obliged, and urged his horse up the road without her.

She strolled languidly along the road, slowly stretching her stiff legs. The Rift was blooming. The aspens sprouted new leaves, wildflowers grew madly across the landscape, and birds were everywhere, singing their chirruping songs. Aerlith breathed in the clean spring air, intoxicated by the warmth and life of it all. After the dank Sepulcher and gloomy Falkreath hold, this was paradise.

By and by she reached the main gate of Riften, nodding to the guards in their livery, who smiled coyly at her as she passed. They knew who she was, or at least, they knew her reputation in the hold. She had been gone for a long time, and among the nosy guards there were several betting pools on whether she’d make it back alive. The guard guffawed and shook hands with his partner, who reluctantly tossed him a purse. Arielle had returned home at last, and he was rich.

Aerlith skirted the marketplace, moving quickly along the perimeter towards the keep. Though it was a warm day, she pulled her hood securely over her face, and kept her head down. Thankfully, it was a busy time in the market, so she was able to slip through without attracting much attention.

At the secret back entrance to the cistern, she nudged the button and waited for the coffin to slide back. As usual it made an unpleasantly loud grinding sound, and she wondered for the hundredth time why none of the citizens ever commented on it, or attempted to gain entry. It was another strange feature of Riften life. She still wasn’t used to the confounding apathy that permeated the city.

Below, she lifted the hatch and descended the ladder into the darkness. Though the cistern was damp and cool, warmth spread from her heart when she saw her guildmates gathered on the center dais. Everyone was here, safe, and from the looks of it listening raptly to Karliah. The dark elf stood beside Brynjolf, entertaining the small crowd with her part of the tale of the Skeleton Key’s return. Arielle approached silently to listen.

“I was working to clear some rubble when I saw the portal glow to life. I knew what must have happened, and I eagerly stepped through it and into Nocturnal’s sanctum. I just managed to catch the lady fading back into her realm, and then I saw Arielle. Her face was the perfect picture of shock. I called out to her and she looked at me as if from a hundred miles away. I swear I’ve never seen her look so bewildered.” Karliah smiled, and Brynjolf chuckled softly, looking thoughtful.

“In all fairness,” Aerlith said softly, feeling the eyes of her guildmates shift to her, “If you’d just taken a leap of faith, fallen toward your certain death, and then come face to face with a daedric prince for the first time, I imagine you’d look the same, Karliah,” she smiled, meeting her friends’ eyes.

Karliah beamed at her. “Welcome back Arielle!” She crossed the dais and pulled her into a tight hug. “Would you care to share your side of the story?”

“At the moment, all I would like is a bath and a bottle of Surilie wine,” she said, smiling. “And, to be honest, I think our lady would like to keep some of her secrets sacred.” Aerlith winked at Rune, who was staring at her with boldfaced shock.

Brynjolf stepped toward her, smiling. “Well done, lass. It’s good to see you in one piece.” He clapped her shoulder, then became more serious. “I’m not much good at things like this, but I need to thank you for all you’ve done for the guild. I’m so proud-”

“Oh, enough fluff Brynjolf,” Vex said exasperatedly. “We’re all happy. Let the poor woman have her bath in peace.”

Karliah grinned and squeezed Aerlith’s hand. “Indeed. Let’s all go to the Flagon and have a proper celebration!”

The guild all made approving noises and began to filter out, several of the members stopping to offer words of encouragement to Aerlith.

“Arielle!” exclaimed one, a handsome, burly nord with striking warpaint beneath his eyes. “I’m so glad you returned safely. ” He took her hand and kissed it, never breaking eye contact. “My sword and bow are always at the ready for you. You need not fear any foe with me by your side.”

“Hello Thrynn,” Aerith said tiredly. “Pleasure as always.” She pulled her hand away. “But I really would like to go relax now. It was a long journey from Falkreath. If you’ll excuse me.”

He stepped closer, a mischievous smile on his face. “Perhaps you’d like some company in the bath, little dove,” he growled softly, his voice like the ragged edge of an old battleaxe.  She could feel his breath on her ear. A chill ran down her neck, goosebumps rising.

“No,” she said firmly, “Thank you.” She pulled away from him, and strode, head held high across the cistern to the entrance of the baths.

Thrynn admired her retreating figure until it vanished into darkness. He turned to go to the Flagon, but was stopped short in his tracks by Brynjolf, who leaned against a wall by the door, face wreathed in shadow. Thrynn scowled. “What are you doing skulking around like that, Brynjolf? Out of the way.” He tried to push past, but Brynjolf stopped him.

“When will you give it up, Thrynn?”

“Give what up?”

“Arielle. I don’t know how many times you need to be rejected for the message to come across loud and clear,” Brynjolf stood up, taking a step closer.

Thrynn laughed heartily at the threat. “You know nothing of women if you thought that was rejection,” he said, his voice dripping with menace. “Women always play hard to get.” He smiled lasciviously then continued, “That’s what makes Arielle so irresistibly delicious.”

Brynjolf’s mouth set into a grim line. “Don’t talk about her that way. She’s not a blushing lady for you to seduce. She is your sister in arms,” he said forcefully.

The bandit chuckled. “Not like you to be so hypocritical, Brynjolf. You hold your subordinates to a higher standard than yourself.”

“Not sure what you are implying, but I advise you to choose your next words very carefully.” Brynjolf’s green eyes hardened, the anger in them sharper than the finest glass dagger.

Thrynn swallowed. “Everyone knows about you and the fence,” he said boldly.

“Oh yes?” Brynjolf smiled darkly at Thrynn, and the bandit wondered for a moment if he should be ready to brawl. “Get out of my sight,” the second in command spat at him.

Relieved, Thrynn pushed past his superior and rushed through the door to the Flagon. Brynjolf frowned, his brow furrowed, and stared off into the darkness where Arielle had been a moment before.

Aerlith had never been so happy to sink into a hot bath. She wasted no time, quickly shimmying out of her light armor, leaving it in a heap on the floor. She lowered herself indulgently into the water. The grime from the Sepulcher, the dust from the road, and the cold of Skyrim that permeated her bones gave way to the warmth of the water. She glowed with happy contentment. She was home among her friends again. The faces of Karliah, Vex, Brynjolf and Delvin brought such joy to her. After her lonely sojourn through Skyrim, she had everything she needed. And Brynjolf was proud of her. His warm green eyes and welcome smile made her glow even brighter. She grabbed up her soap and began to wash, smiling to herself.

Her mind wandered unbidden back to Thrynn. The former bandit was friendly enough, though difficult to trust at the best of times. But his constant flirting was beginning to be more than just a minor annoyance. She’d failed to reject him firmly enough the first time, and he had been ignoring her subsequent tries with horrifyingly admirable gumption.

When Aerlith first joined the guild, Thrynn, along with practically every other man with eyes had been quite open about their interest in her. At first she had blushed furiously red when they complimented her, or touched her. She would always freeze in place and clam up, her mind unable to form thoughts, her mouth unable to speak. Her innocent reaction made them laugh, at which point they would ruffle her hair and leave her to go about their business. Aerlith began spending more time with Vex, observing how her friend would openly laugh at the men accosting her, and she learned how to handle unwanted advances with more confidence. As she rejected the men, one by one they moved on. It was better this way. She hoped their interest stemmed merely from her novelty, and not from any other motives.

Thrynn was not as easy to deal with. He pushed past her discouragement, whether it was polite or harsh. He continued to harass her, to touch her, to whisper vile things in her ear that made her blush. She felt beat down by his constant disregard for her wish to be left alone, and had resolved to just ignore him when she could. It reminded her a little too much of the way Jarl Siddgeir’s sneering, lecherous expression, when he cornered her in the darkened servant’s quarters all those months ago. She shuddered at the memory. She could still feel his body weight pressing her into the wall, the hard length of his arousal grinding into her angrily. Something died within her that night. She had no skills, no strength, and no way out. Her silver eyes hardened. Things had changed. If she ever met Siddgeir again, she would have her revenge.

Aerlith soaped her long, pale blonde hair, gently teasing out the tangles. She never felt more powerful, more able to protect herself at this moment. The frightened and helpless girl she once was had grown into a dangerous woman. Her mediocre skills with a dagger, which had been scoffed at by Vilkas of Jorrvaskr, had improved under Brynjolf’s friendly tutelage. Thanks to him, and to the other members of the guild who shared their expertise, Aerlith was silent, fast, and deadly.

Feeling clean and refreshed, Aerlith allowed herself a moment to wallow in the hot water. There was one man in the guild who was ostensibly uninterested in her: Brynjolf. His attentions to her were friendly, but professional. He patiently taught her the tools of a thief’s trade, gently correcting her when she needed it. She was grateful that he did not ridicule her inexperience. He offered his advice after giving her a job, and usually ended by staring her down with his shiny green eyes as he said, “And be careful, lass.”

When she returned successful and pocket jingling with coin, he would clap her on the back or shoulder, offering her encouragement and smiles that she hoped contained pride. She was his protege, after all. Thanks to Brynjolf, Aerlith had a safe place to sleep, and a well paying job that allowed her to keep a low profile. She was more than grateful to him, and their relationship was more than a simple friendship. But whether her feelings for him were platonic was a question she desperately tried to avoid. She knew he didn’t see her as anything more than a pupil.

However, Aerlith occasionally caught him staring at her from across rooms, his eyes serious as he contemplated her. It seemed unfair to her that she couldn’t decipher the meaning behind this. It was all too easy to imagine that he felt something for her too. On the night they met, Brynjolf flirted with her shamelessly, and though she knew now that his attention had been false, simply a means to an end, her attraction and interest in him that night was real.

Another memory fought its way to the surface. The guild threw a large celebration when the three Nightingales returned successful, Mercer dead and Karliah safely home again with her honor restored. That night, Aerlith begged off an arm wrestling match with Vex, opting to take a cup of wine to a quiet table on the outer ring of the din. There she sat and watched the merriment, laughing as Vekel hit on Tonilia and she slapped him forcefully for his impertinence, nearly knocking the slight man down. Tonilia huffed away, going to sit across from Brynjolf at his table. As Aerlith’s eyes followed the woman in amusement, they lit upon Brynjolf and stuck there. He was watching her again. She looked back at him, surprised. She couldn’t make out the expression on his face. The shadows made it too difficult to see, but the glint in his eyes couldn’t be mistaken.

She didn’t look away. Neither did he. Aerlith felt heat beginning to rise in her cheeks, but she was transfixed. His green eyes shone at her as he leaned forward into the candlelight, resting his chin on his hand. The light revealed his faintly amused smile, which she returned hesitantly. But then, Tonilia said something to him and he looked away, the tension released. Aerlith felt let down. The rumors of Brynjolf and Tonilia’s romantic involvement may not have been true, but to Aerlith it seemed they shared a closer relationship than was usual. It pricked her to see him smile so easily and openly with Tonilia, joking raunchily and teasing her. With Aerlith, Brynjolf acted as the wise teacher, the helpful mentor. Her gratitude prevented her from feeling resentment, but her disappointment could not be helped.

Aerlith finished scrubbing her hair and rose from the bath. She toweled herself quickly and dressed in a simple shirt and trousers, pulling on her stockings and boots. She didn’t bother to arrange her hair or apply any cosmetics. Fatigue wore on her, and she wanted nothing more than to lose herself in the giddy depths of a bottle.

She entered the tavern a few minutes later. Karliah, sitting with Vex and Delvin, saw her come in and motioned for her to join them. Aerlith smiled and went over.

“Here you are, yer ladyship,” Delvin said gruffly, pouring her a cup of her favorite Surilie vintage. “Only the best for the woman of the hour.”

Aerlith sat down and picked up the cup. Seized by a sudden emotion, she raised it and said, “To the guild! May it last another thousand years.” The others raised their flagons as well, adding their “Hear, hear”s and “To the guild!”s. Aerlith drank deeply, draining half her cup in one go. She wasn’t planning on drinking lightly.

“So,” Vex said, “Care to tell us more about your exploits, Arielle? Delvin is practically foaming at the mouth with curiosity.” She smiled wickedly at him, and he smacked her hand.

Aerlith laughed. She had missed the banter of her friends during her long journey alone. She drank again, considering. Vex was still looking at her curiously, so she said, “Not much to tell I’m afraid, Vex.”

Vex scowled. “You Nightingales and your secrets,” she muttered darkly. But she brightened up quickly when she spotted something over Aerlith’s shoulder. “Watch out,” she said, smiling sneakily at Aerlith and rising from the table. “Delvin, Karliah, come here. I want to show you something.” Vex beckoned them across the room, leaving Aerlith alone with her wine.

Puzzled, Aerlith drained the rest of her cup, and reached for the bottle to pour another. A larger, rougher hand covered hers and tightened it against the glass bottleneck.

“Thirsty tonight, eh little dove?” Thrynn’s rough voice whispered in her ear. Aerlith pulled her hand away, and watched as Thrynn poured her wine, filling her cup nearly to the brim. He moved and sat down in the chair next to hers, resting his head on one hand lazily. “I can think of many more delicious ways to quench your thirst.” He licked his lips, the suggestion obvious.

Aerlith rolled her eyes. “Thank you for your input Thrynn.”

He chuckled. “So cold. Any other man would think you hated him.”

“Then why don’t you take the hint?” Aerlith asked sharply.

Thrynn leaned back in his chair and regarded her. She felt his eyes roaming over her face and body. “I want you to sing for me, little dove,” he crooned, taking her hand in his. “I’ve the skilled hands of a thief and the strength of a barbarian...care to take a ride?”

Aerlith yanked her hand away, standing unsteadily and staring down at him. She swallowed her nerves and said, “I am not your little dove , Thrynn. I am a Nightingale, an agent of Nocturnal. And believe me,” she said, her words pure venomous threat, “I am more than capable of making you sing for me.” She rested her hand on the hilt of her dagger, staring at him pointedly.

Thrynn stood and pulled her to him, his hands tight on her waist. His eyes burned with desire. “That’s the fire I love about you,” he said roughly. Before she could react, he pressed his mouth hungrily to hers.

Panic took hold of her, and she tried to wrench away, but he was too strong for her. Desperately, she fumbled for her dagger, drew it, and stabbed it mercilessly into his thigh. Thrynn howled and released her. Aerlith pulled her dagger back and brandished it, sinking into her fighting stance.

“Little bitch,” Thrynn spat. He reached for his battle axe.

“Enough,” Delvin said, stepping between Aerlith and Thrynn. “Calm down the lot of you.” He looked over his shoulder at Aerlith. “All right?” She nodded. “Good. Now, get yer hackles down Thrynn, before I gut you like a fish.”

Thrynn looked from her and back to Delvin. The tavern had gone quiet. Aerlith did not turn around, but from Thrynn’s mild panic, she could tell the thieves were watching the scene with little love for the bandit. “Fuck you,” Thrynn spat at Delvin, and turned to leave the Flagon from the front entrance. The door slammed behind him.

Aerlith breathed out, slow and steady. She grabbed a linen from the table and wiped her dagger on it, sliding it back into the sheathe. Karliah appeared at her shoulder. “Are you alright, Arielle?” she said with concern.

“Fine,” Aerlith said, anger still coursing through her. “That bastard deserved it.”

“He did indeed,” Karliah said, a smile curling her lips. Around them, the thieves returned to their drinks, and conversation began to buzz again.

“I need a drink,” Aerlith said, beginning to relax again.

“It’s on me,” Karliah laughed and headed to the bar to procure another bottle.

Aerlith sat with Karliah, watching her guildmates fraternize and drink. Delvin brought out his lute, and Dirge his drum, and the two began playing a lively tune. Tonilia got up and started to dance, her lithe body and agile feet drawing the eyes of every man in the room. Aerlith’s eyes drifted to the bar, where she saw Brynjolf sitting the wrong way round on his stool, leaning back on the bar as he watched Tonilia dance, smiling and occasionally sipping his drink.

He is so handsome , Aerlith mused. Brynjolf had shiny long hair the color of garnet, which set off the color of his deep set green eyes. But it wasn’t his appearance as much as his personality that made him stand out. He had a habit of catching her off guard with a sly look in his eyes, saying her name with his lilting accent, catching her in a daydream when she was supposed to be learning lockpicking. She would snap out of her trance and meet his eyes, and get lost again for a moment before smiling apologetically and telling him to continue with his teaching.

All the lifesaving lessons he taught were sorely needed. After her family went missing, she arrived in Skyrim and became a ward of the old Jarl of Falkreath, the suspicious and feeble Dengeir. Her mother had a cousin who worked in the longhouse, so Aerlith was allowed to live there in return for working in the kitchen and cleaning up after the Jarl’s family. She didn’t hate it there, but when Dengeir’s nephew Siddgeir assumed the throne, the trouble began. Siddgeir took an unhealthy interest in his ward, resulting in the terrifying night he had confronted her in her room. Worse, once he had his fun, he threw Aerlith cruelly out into the street, claiming that she was a liability he couldn’t afford any longer. He may very well have been correct, but without his protection, Aerlith was a sitting duck.

The day two strangers came through Falkreath asking after a pale haired girl with silver eyes, she fled with her few possessions and never looked back. Aerlith didn’t adjust well to life on the run. She arrived in Riverwood hungry, filthy and tired, and nearly collapsed on the porch of the inn. She had enough money to pay her way, but being a weak young lady with riches and no protection, she soon lost half her purse to a sneak thief in the night. Desperate, she moved on from Riverwood to Whiterun, with shallow hope that she would find sanctuary at the Temple of Kynareth.

Lost in reverie, she realized she was still staring at Brynjolf. He hadn’t noticed her yet, so she turned back to her bottle, attempting to drown out her thoughts with the intoxicating liquid. Karliah regarded her, sipping from her own cup. “Something on your mind, friend?”

“That business with Thrynn took me back to a different time,” she said, her face hard. “I haven’t always been as good with a blade.” Aerlith wanted to unburden herself and share her troubles with Karliah, but she couldn’t risk it. From Falkreath to Riften, she was hunted by various heavily armed strangers. She suspected they were the same men who took her parents away, come to finish the job. Telling her story to anyone was foolish and could possibly bring harm to them.

Karliah smiled sadly. “Being a woman in Skyrim is tough. But you are strong and worth their respect,” she said, gesturing vaguely to the gathered guild. “It is good that you remind them now and then.”

Aerlith grinned. Though Karliah knew nothing of her past, Aerlith always felt that her friend understood her perfectly. It was a comfort beyond measure. “At least I have you, my friend. I couldn’t ask for a better sister in darkness.”

The dark elf laughed and patted her hand. “I’m off to bed,” she said, standing. “Eyes open, and walk with the shadows.” Aerlith nodded at the familiar send off.

“Good night.”

Some time later, when the music had ceased and most guild members had stumbled off to bed, Aerlith tipped the bottle into her cup once more, only to be disappointed when nothing poured out. She sighed and leaned over the table, contemplating throwing in the towel and going to bed. Questing in the interest of the guild was great and noble, but it definitely didn’t make her rich. She tiredly imagined how many jobs she would have to take on before she made up for all the traveling expenses.

While she was lost in thought, Brynjolf came over silently and plunked a full bottle of wine on her table, making her jump a bit. “You shouldn’t have an empty cup, lass,” He said, looking down at her with playful eyes and a warm smile.

Aerlith nodded her approval and reached for the bottle. She noted that Brynjolf also looked pretty deep in his cups. His cheeks were reddened and his eyes were extra shiny.

“May I join you?”

“Of course,” she replied, taking a sip and offering him the bottle when he sat opposite her. He poured out a cup for himself, then looked at her for a moment.

“I never got to thank you properly earlier,” he said.

Her heart swelled, but she kept her voice even as she said, “I got all the thanks necessary from Lady Nocturnal herself.”

“Oh, I doubt that very much,” he laughed. “But truly, without your help, the guild would still be under the thumb of Mercer and suffering from a daedra’s displeasure.” He looked at her seriously, and she felt herself beginning to blush. “I’m very glad I chose to scam you of all the people in the city that day,” he said, his eyes glinting with mischief.

Aerlith took a swig of wine to cool herself. Feeling vulnerable, she spoke quietly, “If you hadn’t tried to rob me, I never would have joined the guild, and would have wandered alone forever.” She chanced a look up at him. “All the skills you’ve taught me have saved my life countless times already. Performing this task for the guild was nothing in comparison to what I’ve received.” Saying it felt right, but Aerlith thought Brynjolf would laugh at her sincerity as he usually did.

He surprised her by reaching across the table and grasping her hand tightly in his. His grip was warm, his calloused fingers rough as they held hers fast. “Don’t be silly. You’ve accomplished something great, and I’m proud of you, Arielle.” He stared intensely into her eyes, burning her with the heat of his conviction.

She pulled her hand back and took another long drink from her cup. She grinned at him. “It’s a strange thing, hearing a thief speak so earnestly,” she joked, trying to dispel the tension she felt.

“As I said, I’m not one for sincerity. Enjoy it while it lasts, lass.” She relaxed a bit, knowing that the hard part was over. “Now, about that bandit,” he said, looking at her smugly.

“What about him?” She asked, twisting the silver ring on her right hand repetitively. Maybe the ‘hard part’ would never really be over with Bryn.

“I enjoy seeing Thrynn being put in his place. Well done indeed, Arielle,” he replied, a sly smile playing over his lips.

Oh. He saw that . Shame burned a blush in her cheeks. She didn’t like to imagine what Brynjolf must have thought, seeing her with him. The memory of Thrynn’s hands on her felt dirty. “He wouldn’t leave me alone,” she said, looking down. “I did what had to be done.”

“And did it well,” he said gently. Aerlith raised her eyes to his. Brynjolf smiled. “Chin up, lass. That bastard couldn’t best you if he trained for a hundred years.”

A poignant feeling of relief and sadness stung her. Aerlith fought back tears, disguising her pain by gulping deeply from her cup. She wanted to say something, but her thoughts were scattered. Her mind’s eye kept flashing to Thrynn’s face, his mouth stealing hers, his hands gripping her painfully. Siddgeir slid into her thoughts too, clouding her vision with fear and shame. She breathed out shakily, carefully training her gaze into her cup.

“Arielle? Are you alright?” His chair scraped the floor as he stood, coming up close beside her. He rested a hand on her shoulder.

Finally, she looked up at him. “I don’t know,” she said, voice breaking. She felt tears begin to fall and blushed, looking down again. Brynjolf knelt down and leveled with her gaze.

Tentatively, his eyes searching hers, he reached up and touched her cheek. His thumb brushed a tear away, and she inhaled shakily, unsure of how to react to his touch. “It’s all right, lass. Whatever the trouble is, we can make it right,” he said slowly.

“I can’t shake them, Brynjolf,” she said, trying to speak through the sob choking her. “No matter where I go.” She hung her head again, resting it in his palm. “I will never be free from my past,” she concluded, and despair overwhelmed her. She cried softly in front of him, hating herself and hating her weakness. But she was tired, so very tired, and his kindness had opened a floodgate within her.

For a horrible moment, Brynjolf stayed very still, and she dreaded his reaction. But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he took her hands in his and pulled her to him, carefully encircling her in a gentle embrace. “All right, Arielle. It’s all right,” he whispered. He stroked her hair, letting her ride out the sadness. Finally, her crying quieted into sniffles, and she felt him pull her tighter to him “That’s it, lass.” He pressed a kiss on the top of her head.

Aerlith tried to calm her breathing. She squeezed her eyes shut as visions of the past threatened to take her over again. With her head pressed against his chest, Aerlith could hear Brynjolf’s heartbeat. The steady rhythm pulled her focus back to the present. Gradually, she felt herself coming down to earth as her breathing slowed and her thoughts cleared.

Reality rushed back in like frigid water, a cruel reminder of who she was, who he was, and where they were. Aerlith pulled away from Brynjolf quickly. “I’m sorry,” she said, bowing her head. “I should go.” She nodded to him and tried to make a hasty exit.

“Wait,” he said, and grabbed her arm. Aerlith didn’t look at him. She couldn't. “I’m worried about you, Arielle. Can’t I help you?” The worried kindness in his voice almost made her break again.

Aerlith steeled herself. Turning to her mentor and smiling brightly, she said, “Nothing’s much wrong, Bryn.” His brow furrowed as he watched her skeptically. “I’m just very, very tired, and I think I’ve had too much wine. I’m sorry to make a scene.”

“Alright, lass, if that’s really how you feel.” He looked thoughtful for a moment, then pulled her into him again, wrapping her in his arms tightly. He held her silently for a long moment. Aerlith listened to his heartbeat again, wishing she could hear it forever. I broke so easily for him , she thought, squeezing her eyes closed. Wrapped up in his warmth, she realized that for the first time in a very long time, she felt totally safe. Safe enough that the iron doors of her resolve cracked open, revealing the vulnerability and fear within. The revelation scared her, but she didn’t pull away this time. She breathed him in. His scent was leather, wine, smoke, and just a hint of sweat. Eyes closed, she let him lull her into a state of serenity.

Finally, he held her out at arms length. “Get some rest then,” he said, smiling gently. Before she could move, he took her face in his hands and kissed her on the forehead, lingering there. Aerlith's eyes widened in surprise. So many invisible lines had been crossed tonight, but what truly surprised her was how right it all felt. Brynjolf took a deep breath and pulled away, blowing it out slowly as he stared at her. The look in his eyes confounded her. It was a cross between tenderness and fiery determination, with a touch of  heated aggression that made her breath catch in her chest.

Aerlith smiled. “Thank you, Bryn,” she whispered. He nodded, his eyes still burning with that mysterious energy. “Good night, then.” Aerlith walked off to bed, praying to the divines that it hadn’t been a dream.

[transformers-trash-fan]

this is x reader

And WHOO Boy! This took FOREVER and not all of them follow your request sorry about that. I tried to make them all interesting and you didn’t ask for any Bots in particular sooo.....I kinda got carried away with it. Sorry for the lack of ‘Cons but I had no ideas. And personally I think some are better then others I hope you enjoy

I also apologize for any dash clogging this dose because it’s so long

Autobots

Optimus

He always knew that you were strong and he found it quite interesting and admired you for training your strength

That being said, he didn’t realize how strong you actually are. So when he walked into the base and saw you doing deadlifts with forge of Solus prime he was Understandably shocked and confused

After you notice him you explain that you were looking for something that was a bit more challenging then the weights at your gym but even such an artifact proved too weak to quell your boredom

Well first he asked you to not “play” with the large hammer anymore. And then he had you sent to Ratchet to figure out exactly how you can carry such a thing without breaking a sweat

Bumblebee

He’s seen you workout at the base and is always impressed has, and will watch you if he has nothing else going on

One day you’re looking around for something; so he asks you what you’re looking for

“My weights aren’t heavy enough so I’m looking for a substitute” you look up at Him.. “actually, can you transform for a second?”

He is Absolutely confused but dose it anyway because you’re his s/o obviously anyway he almost screams when he feels you pick him up

Buzzing like crazy, sort of scared mostly confused. Wait why are laughing... stop laughing and answer him...

“Please! You’re child’s play... you wanna see something really cool?”

Smash cut to you holding WheelJack, Bulkhead, Bumblebee, Smokescreen, and all the kids over your head just walking around like it’s nothing

Next time you and bee go on patrol you’re driving... or walking

Bulkhead

You, him and Miko were out on patrol in the mountains

And you know those two, so obviously you were listening to some hard rock with the volume all the way up, and the windows closed so not fun on your ears so you hopped out to walk for a little while

After you guys all got to a clearing Bulkhead transformed and told you and Miko to stay there while he went on. Because Raf said that there was a risk of a rockslide

Miko was still listening to her music when it hit an exceptionally loud drum solo which Miko played along with hitting some nearby rocks, loosening them directly above A campsite

You dove in front of the large boulders stopping them from rolling but you had already slid over halfway to the site.

By this time Bulkhead and Miko ran down to meet you Miko Freaking our a bit but when they got to you. You were sort chilling sitting on said boulders

Both Bulkhead and Miko were freaking asking you how you survived and how you moved the boulders

“ they weren’t that heavy, honestly I’ve carried worse” “WHAT?!?” “no way!”

They are both very impressed

Ratchet

He was busy doing (whatever he dose all day idk) and you were helping him... well “helping” as much as he’d let you

You kept telling him that you’d be more then capable to help but he just scoffed and continued to work.

so you were left to fiddle with whatever you could find eventually you got bored and decided to do some reading the only problem is that when you pulled your book out of your bag you dropped your favorite pen

So of course you climbed down to get it, but Ratchet didn’t notice so needless to say when he feels something pick him up he yelled causing you to stumble back and drop him

”don’t yell like that!” “Don’t pick me up!” It took him a few seconds to register what he just said and what the heck had just happened....”h-how?” “How what?” “How did you pick me up?” .....“Why did you pick me up?!?”

You just shrugged “my pen rolled and you almost broke it” he nodded for a second before he got a confused look again “but...how?” You shrugged again

Welp looks like you finally get to help! But this isn’t exactly what you ment you thought as Ratchet hooked you up to all sorts of monitors oh well... at least you didn’t hurt him

WheelJack

You and him were just riding around in the Jackhammer when a couple of ‘cons got on your tail. You two were able to escape unharmed but can’t say the same for the Jackhammer. The damage caused sent the ship spiraling into the base of a mountain

Thankful Jackie being a good pilot he was able to keep the ship from a crash landing... not that it was a good landing but nether of you were hurt

“Ugh; you ok (y/n)?” “Yeah I’m fine; You?” “A little banged up but fine. Can’t say the same for the Jackhammer though”

Jackie gets the door to open and you two walk outside to get a scale of the damage... it’s not good

“Scrap” “How are we going to fix this!?” “*sighs* well, I should probably start by movin some of these rocks pinning the wings” “We” “Hm?” “We should start moving the rocks” He chuffs “We? How exactly are you going even nudge one of those?” 

You just walk over to one of the rocks and pick it up and throw it past Jackie’s head

“Ok then!”

Deceptcons

Megatron

Of course the one time you ask to go with megatron to Check on an Energon mine is the time when the Autobots get the bright idea to show up

(Long chase and fight scene later) You and megatron get corners in part of the mine by Optimus

Obviously you don’t really wanna be on the receiving end of the Prime’s blade

You grab the biggest rock you can comfortably hold and chuck it at Optimus with all your strength.

The impact and shock from what happened knocked Optimus a few steps back

That moment of Distraction was enough to allow Megatron to nail Optimus into the wall before transforming and escaping with you in tow  

He’s thankful that you helped him, though he probably won’t tell you for a while

Definitely has Shockwave examen you

Shockwave

He observes you working out in his lab... you seem to do it all the time

He obviously already knows how strong you are so watching you work out causes him to ask questions

“Since you are already quite powerful, why do you work so hard to increase yourself so little?”

“Because it’s fun?”

.....

“Your actions are....  illogical”

[clan-sayeed-fic]

Let me earn your trust (Kamilah Sayeed & MC)

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

Book: Bloodbound (property of Pixelberry Studios) Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed & MC: Amy (I do not own those characters, they're the property of Pixelberry Studios as well) Warnings: strong language, very little fluff/smut? (it turns out I don’t know what I’m writing about at this point hahaha)  Rating: Mature Author's note:  I'm not a native English speaker, I'm sorry for any mistakes (feel free to correct me).

I must say, I wasn't expecting to upload this story at all. And here we are, in the middle of what I have already written. And I haven't even got to the ending... let's say I'm gonna torture you with this story till you'll have enough of it. 😋

Today's chapter is the longest so far, hope you'll enjoy it. The first time I'm not giving hints about what will happen in the next chapter. I hope you like mysteries!😘

~ 2600 words

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Chapter 11

The smell of sweat filled the room.

Another scream echoed between the walls when Lily went flying through the whole length of the gym, finally hitting the floor.

"Again," Kamilah's cold voice was repeating the same word over and over.

Amy buried her face in her hands. She was sitting on the floor against the mirror on the wall. They were in the private training hall which apparently, Kamilah had in her company building.

"Come on," Lily panted, barely standing on her feet. "How can you not even stumble a little?!"

Indeed, for this whole time, Kamilah was barely touchable. The only moments when Kamilah was within Lily's reach happened because the woman by herself let her to. There was no sweat on Kamilah's body, no heavy breathing coming out of her lungs. She kept her upright posture the whole time. The only thing that had been changing was the color of her eyes, which turned red every time Lily planned to attack.

"Because I'm focusing, unlike you," Kamilah growled, annoyed.

Lily steadied her body. It was easy to recognize that she was losing her temper. Pain and exhaustion were reaching their limits within her. After each strike, her wounds healed impossibly fast, which was the advantage of being a newly turned. But it has its cons too. Her body was regularly devastated and healed.

And even the healing process could hurt sometimes depending on the injury.

Lily looked at Kamilah one more time, searching for weak points in her defensive position. Finally, she attacked, using her vampire speed, which made everything go blurry before Amy's eyes.

And then one more time: sounds of loud breaths, punching, scream, and Lily was on the floor writhing in pain.

Amy stood up momentarily, wanting to help her friend. She had an impulse to do it whenever Lily fell on the floor. And like every time before, now too, Kamilah's red eyes stopped her from doing this. The woman wanted the newly turned vampire to handle herself without help.

"Again," Kamilah was always ready.

"No," Lily stood up, her cracked bones healed loudly, making her bend in pain. "We did it like a hundred times, no more," sweat all over her face.

Amy knew already how this would turn out. Kamilah's eyes were still red. Not because of the fight this time, but the rage that burned inside of her. There was not much that Amy could do in this situation, so she stayed silent and watched the women.

"Do you realize that you are in no position to argue?" Kamilah's voice sharp like it could cut through anything. "The meeting will begin in a few hours. That doesn't give us much time to improve your skills."

"Yeah, exactly!" Lily shouted. "What's the point of all of this?" she made a gesture showing the training hall.

"Degree of your training might be our only chance to convince the Council from giving you a death sentence," Kamilah frowned at how reckless Lily acted.

Since they had no time anymore on convincing members of the Council before the meeting, they had to come up with a new idea. Adrian reminded Kamilah that back in the days the Council used to make its decisions based on how well trained the newly turned vampire was.

Kamilah did great by training Lily. And the girl by herself made enormous progress. But still, Kamilah was afraid that it might not have been enough. And she needed to be sure that it would be, thinking of Adrian's fate.

"I know," Lily became upset. At this point, Amy had a remarkably hard time standing in one place. "Just give me a break, ok?"

"Fifteen minutes," Kamilah ordered.

Lily inhaled deeply and turned to the exit. Finally, Amy moved into her direction, wanting to comfort her. But, to her great astonishment, that was not what her friend needed at the time.

"Don't, seriously," Lily didn't even bother to look at her. "I wanna be alone right now."

Amy stopped heartbroken. They had known each other for very long. Amy had time to learn that the best she could do in such moments was to let her be. No matter how hard it was for her to resist the urge of hugging Lily and telling her that she did great, it would do more harm than good.

Finally, Amy composed herself and turned around to Kamilah, feeling angry at her.

The woman walked to the corner of the hall, where she left her things. She drank water from the bottle and took off her training gloves, throwing them to the opened bag.

"You didn't have to be so harsh," Amy's voice was full of complaint.

"Live won't be easy for her either," Kamilah turned to face the girl. "Besides, I wasn't harsh. I'm sure even you could have dealt with it."

Amy's eyes raised. She was surprised by Kamilah's statement, and looking at her made Amy believe in the woman's words even less.

Kamilah stood in front of her wearing a black, simple sports bra and leggings. Her hair back into a loose ponytail, letting some of the hair fell from behind her ears. Her darker complexion was shining from the effort she put in training Lily. Muscles in her body highlighted by the faint light that was reaching the corner. Amy looked into her eyes and swallowed nervously.

"Yeah," she chuckled. "I truly doubt that,"

Amy wanted to turn from Kamilah when she felt her hand grabbing Amy by the wrist swirling her around till she stood with her back against Kamilah's chest. The grip on Amy's wrist was still solid when Kamilah lowered her head to her neck, making Amy shiver.

"Why don't you let me prove you wrong?" a sweet whisper from Kamilah's mouth straight into the soft skin.

Amy barely stopped the moan from escaping her mouth when the other hand moved from her hip, up to her waist. Slowly getting under her shirt, like she was waiting for a reaction.

You're angry at her, remember? Amy told herself in thoughts and with difficulty broke free from Kamilah's grip, causing her smirk with satisfaction.

"All right, I'll try," Amy's breath quickened already. "I can't see how this is supposed to prove anything since your way much stronger and faster."

"I won't use my advantages," Kamilah ensured, taking the position. "Try to hit me."

Amy inhaled deeply, showing a lack of confidence. But despite doubts, she made a fist out of her right palm. And when she wanted to attack, hesitation hit her with doubled strength.

"This is ridiculous," Amy laughed nervously.

"Of course, it is when you're preparing yourself to..." Kamilah said ironically.

Then, Amy hit her, acting impulsively. She certainly caught the woman off guard, but still, Kamilah blocked her effortlessly. She made Amy stumble a little, but there was no pain after Kamilah's defending move.

"Not bad," Kamilah said honestly, "try again."

"Oh no, I know how it goes with your 'again'..." Amy made an impression of Kamilah quite adequately.

Amy wanted to say something more, but she sensed the attack coming before Kamilah even planned to do this. Thanks to that, Amy dodged to the side at the right time, making Kamilah lose full strength on the missed attack.

The woman turned around with an impressed expression on her face.

"How did you do that?" Kamilah couldn't hide how dazzled she was.

"Um..." Amy looked at her own hands.

Then, Kamilah attacked again, trying to prove her theory.

Amy blocked every attack in a similar way that Kamilah did previously. The girl wasn't impossibly strong or agile. She just knew where Kamilah would hit and with what force.

After a series of attacks, Kamilahs stopped, her breath increased.

"This is quite a discovery," this time, the woman took Amy's hand gently, trying to figure out how was it even possible for someone without training to achieve something like that.

She didn't use her vampire abilities, but still. Amy was not muscular, her arms were weak, and she could not even beat properly.

"I guess," Amy smiled, but it was weird for her too. "I'm just better at defending myself."

"That's for sure," Kamilah stopped examining Amy, but her hand was still resting on her arm.

They stood close for long seconds, looking into each other's eyes.

Then, they heard a throat clearing, which ruined the moment.

"I don't wanna interrupt or something," Lily stood in the entrance, smiling widely. Her mood went back to its normal state.

Amy blushed, stepping away from Kamilah. The woman looked at the clock hanging on the wall to see that twenty minutes had passed.

"You're late," Kamilah stated a fact.

"Isn't that a good thing?" Lily couldn't help but tease.

"Why don't you find out and try to fight me?" Kamilah crossed her arms, with a daring look in her eyes.

Lily's smile faded when she understood that she just made her own existence a lot harder.

***

It was the hour of the Council meeting. Amy was told to stay in Kamilah's office while the rest of them went to the conference room to meet with the others from the Council. Amy knew that one of them would be Priya, and she doubted if the woman would vote on Lily's side.

There was the Baron who was at least likable from the men of the Council. Kamilah was sure that they would have to make a deal with him to persuade him on voting- aye. But nothing was certain with this vampire.

She heard about Lester. That Adrian had an argument with him recently, so they didn't even count on his vote.

There was their new Clan leader, Jax. He would undoubtedly vote on Lily's side since he knew how it felt to be Clanless. He remembered constant fear of becoming feral too well.

The last one was Adam Vega, the least predictable. He appeared fine but always needed more power. His vote depended on how beneficial the whole situation would turn out for him.

***

Amy kept walking from desk to doors, with her arms crossed.

It has been nearly an hour since the meeting started. How long could it take? She was curious about how Lily performed her skills before the Council members. If they even wanted to test how well trained she was.

Finally, Adrian walked in, making Amy jump.

"And?" she couldn't wait anymore.

Adrian looked at her with his eyes full of tiredness.

"It's not looking good," he said honestly, "We need to convince Adam to vote on our side," he was deadly serious. "He wants to talk with you."

"What?" Amy was shocked. "Why me?"

"He is considering you a threat," Adrian didn't have to put this gently. "He wants to know how did you manage to convince me to turn Lily. Of course, you don't have to agree on this if you don't want to."

Amy straightened up, feeling ready.

"I do," she forced a confident smile, "we win this today."

Amy followed Adrian to the conference room. When they walked in, the first person that she saw was Kamilah sitting in the most important seat. She was looking through the window, frowning.

Lily was standing by the wall, she wasn't smiling like before. Amy wondered what had happened there in her absence because the tension in the air seemed almost touchable.

Kamilah could smell Amy's perfume, and that's what made her took her eyes off the city. She was surprised to see the girl standing in the room next to Adrian.

"Adrian," her voice cold, "I thought we made a decision."

Adrian gulped unsurely under Kamilah's gaze. He hated to disagree with her.

"I..." he started, but Amy interrupted.

"You wanted to talk with me," her eyes moved to Adam, who was sitting between Priya and Lester.

"I did," he smiled, "I wanted to meet this infamous human being."

He looked over Amy's body like he was worried that someone of her average height could be a threat to him. Amy fought the urge to correct her pose as she managed to hold his gaze.

Priya obviously recognized Amy even if nearly 4 months had passed since they met. The fashion designer laughed loudly and spoke with irony.

"So first you're making me fire my employee... and then, Adrian to change your friend into the vampire," she licked her lips hungrily. "You've got some nerve."

Amy stepped nervously. She knew that Priya's words were not working in the interest of this case. And as she predicted, Adam became even more suspicious toward her.

"How could someone owning such a weak body, convince the most powerful creature walking on Earth to do something against its will," Adam said, wondering.

Amy could sense that Kamilah was trying her best, not interrupting.

"I would say that I can be pretty convincing," Amy smiled sweetly, trying to buy herself some time to collect her thoughts.

"I can see this happening," he said, scratching his beard. "But still, what Adrian could have from saving your friend? What could you possibly give him?"

I'm a fucking Bloodkeeper, Amy's thoughts screamed. She wasn't sure if she should have ever trusted Adrian or Kamilah. But, one thing was clear, Adam was far away from gaining her appreciation.

"Listen to me, Vega," Amy spoke with a strength in her voice, making everyone in the room freeze. "I know that I'm in the way. The human who knows about vampires... it can not be convenient." Adam wanted to deny, but she kept going, "You would like to kill me to keep me quiet, but it's against the rules," she was looking directly into his eyes. "On the other hand, a human who knows about vampires is... also against the rules.'' Noone interrupted her. ''There is only one solution."

Amy made a pause, giving everyone a chance to rethink her words. She knew she was walking a fine line, but there was no way back.

Vega seemed to be shocked by Amy's confidence. Actually, everyone in the room was, even herself. Words just left her mouth like she was a completely different person.

"Then, Amy," Adam said, "what solution would you suggest?"

Exactly, what do you suggest, Amy thought. It's not like she wasn't prepared or anything. She felt more afraid now that it would not be enough.

"We make a deal," Amy gulped, partially losing her confidence. "You, vote aye, and I..." that wasn't smart, she knew that right now, "will owe you a favor."

Everyone in the room moved significantly after those words. Adam let out a whistle as he was considering Amy's offer.

"That's not an option," Kamilah stood up, losing control.

Lily wanted to say something, but Adrian stopped her, keeping her by the arm. He didn't want things to go any more complicated than they already had become.

"Why would I want your favor?" Adam asked, ignoring Kamilah's words.

"You said it yourself," Amy kept his gaze. "How could I control two different vampires, "she kept on repeating his words, changing her tone to more sarcastic. "The most powerful creatures walking on Earth, right?" her left eyebrow lifted for a moment.

Adam leaned back in his chair. He kept on scratching his beard.

In the room fell silence of anticipation.

"Aye, then," Adam's voice, loudly cutting through the silence.

Kamilah let out a breath after hearing this. She should feel happy and relieved because they won. Lily was saved from becoming feral. Adrian, free from punishment. But at what cost?

Right then, Amy realized that she started playing a remarkably dangerous game.

And she was just the beginner since they all had been playing in it for centuries.

Next chapter: 12

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