#it did not quite work out and she just flipped around in the air wildly and miraculously not injured

[claire-starsword]

Shining Force Country Guide Translation - Part 3

The usual pie chart legend:

Shade

Population: 20 inhabitants GNP: Unknown

Species ratio:

Shade is more of a village than a country. It consists of only a church and associated buildings. So its population is only 20 people. Besides the humans who work at the church, the other species there are elves. They work as guides in the mountain paths. ____

The decline of royalty casts a shadow in the holy land?

A small region at the Sarastone peninsula northeast of Rindo. Back when Guardiana was founded, the Order of the Knights would be frequently sent in expeditions to expand their territory, and this peninsula was the northernmost point they reached, and thus Shade became a holy land directly under the royal family's control. After the wyvern raid from the time of Arissort von Guardiana II's rule, a church was built in this region to appease the souls of the knights fallen in that battle, and the third prince at the time entered priesthood and became its priest. After that it became a place which disseminated Guardiana's ways to all of the western continent, and little by little a town grew around it, thus around 500 years ago it was recognized as a holy city with the priest as sovereign, under the protection of Guardiana's royal family.

Shade's population, including the priest, is a mere twenty people. They are all clergyman who work on proselytizing and studying ancient texts. When it comes to politics, the executive power is Guardiana's, while the judiciary and legislative powers are under the priest's authority. It is generally a neutral state, but takes measures to protect the church against oppressive forces.

Throughout history, the priests have gathered previously lost records about the Castle of the Ancients, decoded ancient texts from all over the continent, thus getting closer to the truth on the Ancients and their civilization with their research. The current priest, Kahn, is in the middle of editing a compilation of this research of the past, named "Prehistory of Rune", and it has gathered attention all across Rune as it might shine a light on the mysteries surrounding the Castle of the Ancients. Unfortunately he's already very old, and many lament that there's aren't enough people to continue his research.

-The church is the highlight of Shade, but behind it is a small village, with some cabins offering guidance to travelers in exchange for payment. People heading to Bustoke should pay for the guides here, or they'll get lost in their way.

-Shade's bell rings once in the morning and once in the evening. The morning time is at 6am, and the evening at 6pm. This bell announcing the start and end of the days is of course heard from Rindo, but some claim to hear it all the way back in Alterone some days.

Priest Kern versus Darksol

Darksol disguises himself as the priest, and appear to the protagonist for the first time. Why did he kill the real priest? The current priest, Kahn, knew a man named Darksol was planning to revive Dark Dragon. He intended to tell Guardiana along with all the information the priests had gathered through the ages, but Darksol became aware of this as well.

Around the time the protagonist got the Orb of Light in the Cave of Darkness, Darksol arrived at the church of Shade, and attacked the priest. Kern might have lost, but inflicted deep wounds on Darksol. That's why he fled from the protagonist that time.

Romanization of the priest's name is my own, as Arthur decides to be unhelpful for this one.

also, I`m sure you’ll be shocked to hear that Darksol fighting the priest and getting wounded, plus the priest’s connection to Guardiana’s royal family, are mentioned in the original game and poofed in the translation, only brought back in the GBA version. I have never pointed out such things before.

Bustoke

Population: 800 inhabitants GNP: 2900 gold

Species Ratio:

The territory isn't big, yet the population is bigger than you would imagine. As for the species distribution, since the terrain is all forest, there's a lot of elves. Among the 18% percent of humans, many have mixed blood. ____

A critical point of modernization arrives to the people in the heights

A diverse country at the north of West Rune. Hunters settled mostly in the forest region among the mountains. As the territory was split between many different tribes, small scale conflicts happened time and time again. In the past, many magical beasts lived in the area, making it an extremely dangerous place, but around 500 years ago, a wolfling hero knows as the Young Wolf King (Zylo's ancestor) suppressed the beasts, and founded the country, unifying the tribes.

As the country has many different races, is crucial to have a strong leadership, and the current king Zylo Dunn Munster (meaning "Zylo, king of the mountains" in the region's dialect) rules fiercely, despite allowing his people many freedoms.

Self-suficient hunting is their main economic activity, so there's not much trading, but the marble and obsidian extracted from the southwest are highly valued as construction materials. However their mining skills are low and haven't been very efficient with these extractions, and thus there's a joint venture with the merchant guild of Rindo to develop modern excavation tools. Also, Bustoke strawberries, which were once eaten even by the magical beasts, and are said to taste great in juice, had their numbers dropped drastically due to overconsumption, and nowadays can only be harvested by the royal family, the exportation to other countries being forbidden as well.

The most distinct point of their livelihood is definitely the unique habitations built in the mountain walls. The natives' faith worship the forest, thus it is forbidden to cut tree for lumber, and on top of that there's little plain terrain, so this kind of dwelling naturally came to be. Since they are on great heights, the temperatures are low. Their designs work well for keeping them cool during the summer and warm through the winter, but in other countries some will still badmouth them as "hole people" or "primitives".

-Bustoke is built among the towering cliffs. It is surrounded by forest and quarries, but that environment doesn't seem to bother them at all. From the tallest point of the country, seeing the Pao bridge is a given, but on clear days with no clouds one can see all the way to the Pao plains.

-The famous bungee jumping of Bustoke. When coming of age, one must jump off a precipice held by nothing but a single rope. Is it a ritual done since long ago for boys born in Bustoke. In recent years, tourists have come to enjoy it as well.

Zylo's full name romanization is from the GBA version. Dunn seems to be a real Irish surname, while Munster is a province in Ireland.

Also, the part about Zylo's leadership seems to be describing his as an enlightened despot, which contradicts his bio describing him as merely as overseer. The bio makes more sense to me given how he is free to leave the country for a good while to fight.

Given this series’ obsession with young heroes I figured the title for Zylo’s ancestor is young wolf hero, however! 青 can also mean blue/green, so technically there’s nothing stopping you from picturing a technicolor furry family for Zylo. Do what you will with this information.

[just-another-blog-of-fluff]

A Cozy Evening

Word count: 2800

Warnings: just a sticky sweet little fluff bomb for you all to enjoy 😉

You were all going to have to wait for this til tomorrow but @writingfics-passingtime is just good at striking a deal to get things early so… here it is! A nice bit of fluff to contrast the ruthlessness she’s posting 🙃

This is part 3 to An Embarrassing Secret, as requested by @sweetxnertickle - I hope you enjoy!

Thank you to those who submitted plot ideas! I went from zero ideas to too many ideas, so now it looks like I'm going to have to continue this multi-part fic for a little longer

Read first: Part 1 An Embarrassing Secret, Part 2 A Difficult Question

Movie nights were quite common in the Avengers tower. It was a great way to bond with the team, gathering everyone in the same room for something other than saving the world from certain doom. Sure, the team did other fun group activities together from time to time, but there was just something so cozy and homely about curling up on the couch with a blanket in your pajamas and watching a movie while trying to stay awake.

It was also a great excuse to sit close to Loki.

You were feeling a little extra cozy tonight, putting on your favorite pajama shorts and t-shirt and wrapping yourself in the fluffiest fleece blanket you owned. Thrown around your shoulders, the edge of the blanket just barely grazed the floor as you walked. The fabric was soft as it brushed against the bare skin of your calves.

Maybe you’d been feeling a bit touch-starved the last few days. It had been a few weeks since you’d worked up the courage to ask Loki to tickle you (or, rather, he’d forced your hand, so you’d have no choice but to ask. The audacity.) Since then, you hadn’t really had the opportunity to physically be close to anyone. Sure, there was the occasional high-five after a skilled move on a mission, or after a successful sparring match, but outside of those moments you pretty much kept to yourself. It wasn’t in your nature to ask for affection, even when you craved it. So, you did the next best thing, and surrounded yourself with soft, fluffy fabric.

You were disappointed to find that Loki hadn’t arrived yet in the common room when you headed in to find your seat. Usually, you tried to time your arrival so you would get there just after he sat down so you could conveniently choose the seat next to him. Now, you had to rely on him wanting to sit with you; or, at least, you had to hope there were no other seats left in the room by the time he arrived. The god had you feeling like you were back in high school crushing on a schoolmate – it was both a terrifying and giddy feeling.

Choosing a spot on the open two-seat sofa, you lay down on your side with your head resting on the arm and stretched your legs across the cushions. If someone asked you seriously to make space, you knew you would do it without hesitation, but you’d be dreadfully disappointed that you weren’t sitting with Loki. Each time someone new walked in the door, you held your breath, hoping they would find somewhere else to sit. You were so focused on making sure no one besides Loki sat with you that you didn’t actually notice when the lanky, dark-haired Asgardian himself strode into the room.

“Move.”

You looked up to see Loki hovering over you, waiting expectantly for you to move your legs to make space for him to sit. Glancing around, you noticed there were still a couple other seats open, which made your heart flutter. He actually wanted to sit with you, he chose to sit with you. But maybe you wanted to push his buttons a little bit.

“Not until you ask nicely,” you bargained, smirking. His eyes flashed, a slight upward curling to the corner of his lips.

“Move, or else.”

You feigned a gasp, stretching your legs out a bit more. “So rude! You’re not making me feel very generous, Loki.”

The look he gave you next made your stomach flip. The intense, mischievous eyes… the barely-there smirk… you knew you were in trouble the moment the words left your mouth.

“Move, or I’ll make you.”

Becoming a bit flustered already, you pulled your blanket up over your mouth and nose to hide your boiling cheeks and shook your head, holding your ground. He looked down at you with an expression of pity.

The logical thing would have been for him to move your legs. Clearly it would be no trouble to him, with his godly strength. But when you tried to cross Loki, he had to make a statement. So, instead, he reached down and lifted you effortlessly by the shoulders, forcing you to sit up enough so he could slide into the seat where your upper body was previously positioned. You scrambled to sit up all the way, feeling very shy at the idea of laying your head in his lap, but as you shifted he snaked an arm around your waist and tugged you toward him to lean with your back against his side and chest. He grasped the corner of the blanket closest to him, dragging it across to steal some for himself. It was large enough to cover you both, so long as you kept your knees slightly bent.

“Comfortable?” he asked teasingly, his lips startlingly close to your ear.

“Mmhmm,” you nodded stiffly. Your face was on fire now, more than a little bit flustered at the position you were in now. Loki’s arm was still wrapped around you, his hand resting on the side of your belly beneath the blanket. It would have been incredibly comfortable, if it weren’t for your anxiety brain telling you that you couldn’t relax too heavily into him, or hewould be uncomfortable.

The lights turned off, the screen turned on and a film began to play on the television. The room fell silent, save for the sounds of the music playing over the opening credits. A few strands of your hair shifted with every rise and fall of Loki’s chest behind you, his soft breath fanning over your forehead.

“Are you certain you’re comfortable?” he whispered suddenly, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Yeah, why?”

“You’re quite stiff.” If you could see his face from where you were leaning against him, you’d have noticed the glint of mischief flashing in his eyes. “Maybe you just need some assistance.”

You let out a soft gasp when you felt his fingers suddenly graze against your side, tracing random patterns against your t-shirt. Your hand instinctively darted to grasp his tickling fingers, but you quickly released them with a rush of heat to your face.

“Loki!” you hissed.

“Yes? What is it?” His fingers began to sweep along your side again, maddeningly gentle. You bit your bottom lip, shifting a little to lean more heavily into him.

“Ok, I-I’m relaxed now,” you insisted.

“Oh, but I’m not finished yet.” His fingers found the hem of your t-shirt, curling up underneath it to ghost along the skin of your belly just above your hips. Barely withholding a shriek, you reached up to pull the blanket up over your nose again, clamping a hand over your own mouth.

His soft, barely-there touch was agonizing. Making things worse, you had to fight to hold in your laughter and squirming to prevent the others from realizing what he was doing to you. At best, they’d realize he was tickling you beneath the blanket, and they’d tease you for it later. At worst, they’d think… well, their minds may stray elsewhere. Neither option was one you were willing to risk. But gods, if it didn’t make every swipe of his fingers tickle ten times more knowing you had to try not to react to his touch.

And, if you were being honest with yourself, this was exactly what you needed to cure your touch-starved mood.

It was quite the dilemma you were in. Allow him to continue with this sweet torture and risk your reactions giving something away to the others. Or, tell him to stop and feel the inevitable sense of loss when he obliged. The choice was obvious – you had to risk it.

When his fingers traveled up to the skin in the middle of your belly, right above your bellybutton, you began to reconsider your life choices.

Your abdomen twitched helplessly under his fingers, shoulders shaking in silent, breathy laughter. A sudden burst of air from his nose told you he was enjoying himself, laughing as he tore you to pieces with the mere flick of his fingertips against your bare skin. You weren’t even sure what movie they’d put on, and you didn’t care. The only thought in your brain right now was trying to contain your reactions despite your desperate desire to giggle out loud.

“P-please,” you whispered in desperation.

“Please what?”

“M-move s-somewhere e-else,” you pleaded.

“Alright.” You let out a slow breath as he slipped his hand out from beneath the hem of your t-shirt. Your reprieve was short-lived, though, as his fingers wrapped around your side and began lightly pinching and kneading rapidly. You couldn’t help but let out the tiniest of squeals, moving your other hand on top of the first to cover your mouth with both hands. “What’s wrong, love? You’re awfully jittery this evening.”

You couldn’t curse at him with your hands over your mouth, so instead you reached out with one hand to grasp his forearm and squeezed, trying to distract yourself from the agonizing sensation.

“Oh – I’m sorry, does this tickle?” he whispered in your ear. You turned your head slightly to throw a wide-eyed glare in his direction, startling yourself with the proximity of his face to yours. He responded with a widening smirk, his fingers beginning to ascend toward your ribcage. Shaking your head wildly, you pushed down against his forearm, trying to prevent his tickling fingers from crawling any higher. “Why are you fighting this? I thought you liked it.”

“Loki-eep!” you lowered your hand from your mouth for only a second to scold him, jolting when his other hand slipped beneath the blanket and latched on to your other side. Luckily your squeak was hidden beneath a sudden surge of volume in the music in the movie. Something important must be happening. No matter, you had bigger things to worry about right now.

He knew exactly what he was doing to you. Flustering you first by pulling you in close and then tickling you senseless to top it all off. Maybe he had noticed you fading into yourself a bit more these days, rubbing a hand along your own shoulder or resting your hand on your knee absentmindedly while sitting by yourself. It was likely that you, yourself didn’t even realize what you were doing. But Loki was perceptive, especially when it came to you. And if he was being honest with himself, he needed the closeness as much as you did tonight. He’d have been satisfied just to hold you in his arms, but he wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t relish in the feeling of you squirming under his fingers, cuddling in closer to him as a result. And the fact that you enjoyed it as much as he did made it all the more fun.

Feeling your silent, shaking laughter against his side, he let his fingers rest along your ribcage, adding a bit of weight to his touch to avoid tickling you. You took in long, slow, deep breaths, trying not to gasp in air and resultantly make a loud noise. Glancing around anxiously, you didn’t see anyone looking inquisitively in your direction. Good – you didn’t want to have to answer any awkward questions from your teammates later.

Gradually, your breathing shallowed to a more normal respiratory pattern. Still, Loki’s fingers rested heavily on your sides, unmoving. You shifted a bit to lean more firmly into his side, hoping he’d take the hint that you had recovered enough to start again. You were keenly aware of the location of each of his fingers along your ribcage, waiting with bated breath for them to suddenly spring into action and start scratching between your ribs again.

If there was one thing you should have learned about Loki by now, it was that he enjoyed teasing you. He knew what you wanted. But you were going to have to find a way to ask for it.

Releasing a short huff of frustration, you tilted your head backward to look up at the dark-haired Asgardian who had made himself your pillow for the evening. You could barely make out his features by the glow of the TV screen, the light dancing across his face as the movie continued to play. He glanced down at you when he realized you were looking at him. You softened your eyes, jutting your bottom lip out the slightest bit. He let out a breath of a laugh through his nose at pouting expression, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head in a look that asked what you wanted without words. You frowned, brow furrowed, trying to will him to just read your mind. He shrugged, letting his expression harden and feigning ignorance as he turned to look at the TV screen once again.

Suppressing the urge to whine, you reached your hand up to where his rested on your side, tapping it gently. You saw a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, but his hand remained still. You had one last trick up your sleeve, though. You shifted yourself to turn your upper body a bit, allowing that to be a distraction as you moved your hand over to the side you were resting against, latching your thumb and index finger onto his lower ribs and pinching a few times in rapid succession. You weren’t even sure if he was ticklish, but the sudden jolting gave you your answer.

His hand clamped down around your wrist, prying it away from his side as he turned his head to look at you with narrowed eyes, a look that screamed ‘you’re in trouble.’ Your stomach swooped in anxious and excited anticipation.

His grip around your waist tightened, pulling you closer against his side to hide his own vulnerable areas using your back as a shield. He latched both hands on your sides, his long, slender fingers reaching well across your belly, and began to claw into the soft skin through your shirt. It was all you could do to suppress a burst of laughter from exploding from your chest, clamping your hands over your mouth and nose but resultantly leaving your torso unprotected. Apparently you’d succeeded in getting under his skin, because he was no longer trying to go easy on you, thumbs digging into your sides just below your ribs as his four fingers scratched across your belly.

You were glad he at least had mercy enough to not target your weaker spots, because the effort it took to suppress your laughter was making you want to explode. Tears of mirth collected in the corners of your eyes as you let out small, short bursts of air through your nose, shoulders shaking. Loki was precise and unrelenting tonight, continuing to torment that same spot for what felt like an eternity. You finally couldn’t take it any longer, moving one hand away from covering your mouth to push at his hands. Instead of stopping, he merely allowed his hands to slide down a bit to dig into your hips.

In all your years on earth, you’d never been tickled in that specific spot, although you knew supposedly it was terribly sensitive for some. You never imagined you were one of those people.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

Your eyes grew wide as you arched your back against his devilish touch, pressing the blanket into your face to muffle your tiny screams. His thumbs dug into the spot just above your hipbones while his fingers clawed into the front of your hips, emitting ticklish shocks through your entire torso with every squeeze of his fingers. He chuckled softly at your reaction, easily covered up by a round of laughter from the others as some comedic stunt occurred on screen. You tried to tap out, frantically pushing at his hands with one of your own. He ignored your silent pleas for a few more moments, clearly proud of himself for having made you a giggling, squirming mess in his arms.

Loki, like you, was not interested in answering questions from the other Avengers, and so he finally relented when he realized your struggle was beginning to become more violent. You melted into his side, taking sharp, shallow breaths as you came down from your state of euphoria. It was precious to him, how you collapsed so heavily into his arms after he’d just tormented you. He wrapped his arm around you further and tugged you to sit up a bit more comfortably against his side, resting a firm hand on your belly. You reached over and covered his hand with your own, brushing your thumb along his knuckles. Leaning your head back into his chest, you let out a deep, contented sigh that made his heart skip.

There would be questions after the movie, but not because anyone witnessed the sweet torture Loki had put you through. It was hard not to notice how you’d buried yourself against his side for the entirety of the movie. And, more importantly, it was hard to ignore the foreign, soft smile on Loki’s face.

Part 4: You are Wonderful

[milqueandsugar]

🏵 Where The Sun Meets The Sea 🏵

Warnings: mentions of kidnapping/captivity , mentions of injury/violence

Pt: I

| Feeding Time |

Emeralds clattered against the wood counter top, followed by the wet slap of a small load of fish being dropped along side the currency. "This is it?" The piglin asked, irritation practically dripping from his words as he gestured to the goods with clawed hands. "I'm.. I'm sorry sir but you're clearing out my stock faster then I can replenish" a meek voice cut through the tension. The older shopkeeper's eyes couldn't focus on just the unhappy piglin in front of him or the even less happier polar bear nosing around his shop. "I'd get to working on that then" Technoblared snarled, eye brows furrowed and movements hasty as he grabbed the net from the counter and gave the polar bears leash a soft tug.

Getting up early in the morning to retrieve Steve his breakfast had become part of Technobalde's routine. He swore to himself that he would take as much care of Steve as he did the piglin, and he stuck true to that promise no matter what. Even if that meant fishing for a couple hours because some fishermen got lazy. With his new suppourt animal came more frequent visits to the nearby village, as much as he valued the villagers who worked for him in his own home, it was much cheaper to just go to the local butcher. 

Soon visits to the butcher became visits to the market, then the other shops, then the library. Although incomparable to his own, he lacked the self published one off works from the villagers. Some of his new favourite books were from that very library, although they never held an authors name, which made them hard to find anywhere else. Maybe it was the odd conditions the book were published which made him pick it up at first, but that didn’t really matter did it? What did matter was the friendship that came along with his frequent visits.

 The librarian was a kind woman, though a bit nosy for his taste. No matter the length of his visit he could always count on being filled in on the towns local drama. New borns, weddings, scandals, the local cryptids. Even if the woman herself wasn’t quite his type he could certainly appreciate her stories. Although he was certain they had to be embellished a bit. 

Coming up to the porch of the creaky building Technoblade tied the polar bear to the fence, dropping the load of fish to keep him preoccupied while he was gone. Stepping into the stuffy warmth of the library his nose wrinkled a bit as the smell of ciagrette smoke wafted through the air. It seemed the smell of smoke and mold had practically embedded itself into the very walls of the structure. Rather unpleasant but fitting for the place. Black eyes quickly caught sight of movement to his left, turning to give a curt nod to the woman behind the desk he quickly approached, heels clicking against the polished floors. “Technoblade! Bit early aren’t ya? It’s just passed eight” The woman declared, flipping closed what looked to be a romance book. 

“The wind woke me, I’m guessing it did you as well” Technoblade hummed, pulling out a stool to sit in front of the brunette. Her gray eyes rolled to the left, a small smile tugging at her lips as she swatted at him. “It’s rude to tell a lady she looks tired, do you know no manners?” She scolded, snuffing out her cigarette in a small tray. “It’s unethical to be smoking during buisness hours, I may be ill mannered but at least I would keep my job” He snapped back, a smile begining to form on his own lips as Iris hesitated. “Oh? So you do work then?” She hummed, leaning forward to rest her arms on the desk. 

Ever since he had met the lady she was infatuated with him, maybe it was because he was a piglin, or because he didn’t tell her anything. Either way she was obsessed with knowing anything she possibly could. She would dig her talons into the smallest of comments, there wasn’t much use hiding anything from Iris, it was only a matter of time before she found out eventually. 

“Anything to share today?” Technoblade quickly changed the topic, taking notice of the way Iris’s eyes narrowed. After a few seconds it seemed she had given up, leaning back in her rocking chair and kicking her feet onto the counter. Seemed today she was too tired to put up a fight about this, or she was unsure of her suspicions. “Well, I didn’t bring this up cause I thought it was a one time thing but..” Pausing for dramatics Iris continued her tale. “A couple of Fishermen have gone missing, given the weather everyone thought they either got lost or came across a polar bear. But! Some of the school kids were out playing by the water and they came across one of them” She  exclaimed, gesturing wildly with her hands as she spoke. 

“Dead?” 

“Dead as a doornail, they found the rest of their bodies too, apparently they’ve just been walking into the ocean by the looks of it. But here’s the kicker, they were always found in the same place and far from the water, on the shore yeah but the waves wouldn’t wash them up that far. The men have been talking, and from what I hear there’s a witch down there, drowning the fishermen”  Iris thought aloud, letting her feet fall from the desk as she leaned forward. “You know what I think?” She asked, not waiting for an answer before continuing. “I’m thinking Sirens” 

Technoblade rose a brow, interest piqued by the gossip to say the least. “Sirens? They lore sailors too sea not fishermen” He corrected, rising to his feet. “Fishermen, sailors, who cares! All I know is that a lot of people have died this week, and if you’re going fishing like I think you are” Isis gestured toward the fishing rod held tight in his clawed hands. “Then you should be careful” She warned, her voice lowering a bit. 

Technoblade shook his head, a scoff escaping him as he fixed his jacket to leave. “I will Iris, take care yourself” He mumbled a soft farewell before quickly leaving the library, knowing better then to let Iris continue with her stories. Untying Steve from the post he clambered a top the bear, pulling the reins tight as they started off towards the ocean. 

Sirens, huh? 

[padfoot-and-prongsie]

Is That My Bra? || Fred Weasley

Character: Fred Weasley

Word Count: 1.9k

Requested: No

Summary: Things get heated when Fred steals your favorite bra from your room

Warnings: Swearing

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever created it

A/N: This is my first piece of writing here, please let me know what you think! I hope y'all like it :)

PLEASE DO NOT COPY OR STEAL MY WORK. REBLOGS ARE JUST FINE :)

George walked back to the small circle of Lee and Fred, a triumphant look on his face. Proudly he lifted up his left pant leg, showing his now clean shaven leg.

“Done,” George declared, causing Lee and Fred to both fall back in laughter.

“Nice job Georgie,” Fred said, after composing himself. “You wait until Angelina sees that.”

George grinned. “They’re only going to make her fancy me more.”

Lee snorted at George’s comment, finding the shaven legs more horrifying than attractive. “Get on with it George, it’s your turn.”

George looked between the two of them, before he landed on Fred. “Freddie my boy, dare or dare?”

The three had originally been playing truth or dare, but after nobody picking truth for seven rounds, they had changed the name to dare or dare. For the last forty-five minutes, the three of them had been sent on a wide range of tasks, from streaking through the charms corridor (Lee got a weeks worth of detention for that) to making a dirty comment in the ear of an unsuspecting Hufflepuff.

Fred pretended to think. “Hmm, I think I’ll go with dare.”

George looked around the common room, trying to come with a suitable dare for his brother.

His eyes landed on you, who was just making your way down the stairs from the girls dormitories. Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet, were with you, and the three of you were laughing at a joke Alicia had said.

You turned, feeling someone’s eyes on you and sent George a look. He waved back wildly, and you raised an eyebrow, waving back to him.

You followed the girls out of the common room, heading towards the kitchens for an evening snack.

George turned back to the two boys with a wide grin on his face. “I dare you Fred to steal Y/N’s bra.”

Lee busted out laughing once more as Fred turned to George. “Easy,” he replied confidently, getting up from the circle.

A smirk played on his lips as he made his way towards the stairs up to the girls dormitories. He was only six steps up when the stairs flattened out, producing a slide that sent Fred tumbling back down into the common room.

George bent over laughing at his brother, who was now splayed across the floor and had attracted the attention of the few people present in the room.

“Jackass,” Fred muttered, picking himself up. “You knew that was going to happen.”

“I didn’t, I swear,” George defended between laughs.

Fred continued to glower, not buying it. “Give me a new dare, I can’t do this one.”

George’s laughter faded, his expression turning to one of thought as he tried to find a way around the stairs.

“We could go get your broom,” Lee suggested.

Fred nodded. “That could-” He let out a small yelp as he felt his feet leave the ground.

Looking down, he saw that he was now hovering six inches in the air and his brother was pointing his wand at home in concentration.

Lee let out a whoop of excitement as George lifted him up the steps.

Fred now stood at the top of the stairs, rubbing his head from where George had “accidently” bumped him into the wall.

“Go get the bra!” George yelled, causing a third year to fix the three with a horrified expression.

Fred walked down the narrow hallway, trying to locate your dormitory. After finding the right one, he pushed open the door, pausing for a moment to take in the sheer amount of clothes that littered the floor. He found your bed easily by the large Holyhead Harpies blanket that was stretched across the top. He himself had given it to you for your birthday last year.

Fred’s eyes landed on your trunk and a large smirk filled his face. Resting on top was a set of clothes, and beneath the shirt he could see the straps of a lacie red bra.

Fred slid down the stairs not three minutes later, sitting back down in the circle and triumphantly showing the boys your bra.

George applauded loudly, but immediately stopped when he caught sight of you coming back though the portrait hole with Alicia and Angelina, all three of you balancing numerous sweet treats in your arms.

“Shit,” George hissed, “it’s Y/N.”

Fred’s eyes widened and he quickly shoved your bra into his book bag that laid beside him, filled with the homework he had yet to do.

You walk past without a second glance though, heading up to your dorm.

~

The following morning you stood in your dorm, running late for breakfast as you hastily flipped through the clothes in your trunk.

“Are you okay?” Alicia asked, already dressed for the day.

“Yeah,” you replied absently, again rechecking all your clothes. “I just can’t seem to find my bra. Did one of you two take it? It’s the red one.”

Angelina snorted. “You know red’s not my color,” she stated, leaning over your shoulder to look in your trunk. “Just wear something else.”

You pursed your lips. “I picked this one out because it goes with my top for the party tonight, I have to find it!”

“You mean the top you’re going to wear for Fred?” Angelina asked, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

You rolled your eyes. “No you daft doxie!” You exclaimed, giving your best friend a playful shove. “You and I both know that’s a load of horse crap.”

Angelina only winked back, causing you to shove her again.

Annoyed at your bad luck, you glared at your clothes once more. You knew you had set it out just last night so you could find it the next morning. Now where had it gone?

After three more searches through your trunk, which only seemed to make it messier and more difficult to look through, you settled for a black sports bra instead, not your favorite but it would have to do.

~

After morning classes you found yourself running late to lunch after going back up to your dorm to grab the transfiguration essay you had forgotten to put in your bag that morning. Hustling down the stairs, your stomach grumbled, reminding you that you had missed breakfast.

Your pace quickened, rounding the corner into the charms corridor where you immediately crashed into an unsuspecting student.

“Shit,” you said, as you rather ungracefully stumbled back. Losing your footing, you landed on the floor painfully.

“Damn I’m sorry Y/N,” someone said, and you looked up to see Fred sprawled across the floor across from you, his twin not too far away, trying to hide his snickers.

“Don’t-”

You had barely started speaking when your eyes landed on Fred’s bag, which had slid across the floor in the impact. Your attention was drawn to the red lacie strap which was peeking out from inside.

The twins followed your gaze, Fred’s face turning into one of surprise as he had completely forgotten that he hadn’t taken your bra out of his bag last night, whilst George doubled over in a silent laughter.

“Is that my bra?” you asked bluntly, turning to stare at Fred.

“I best be going,” George said, giving you two a little waive, “have fun with that brother.”

You turned to Fred again. “Is that my bra?” you repeated.

Fred’s look of shock twisted into a smirk. “Quite possibly love.”

“How- What-” you struggled to find the right words. Finally you resorted to just saying. “You took that from my room.”

Fred nodded. “Yup, sounds about right.”

You turned to look at your bra once more, and Fred, sensing what you were going to do, dove for it just as you did. He was far closer, reaching it first though you landed on top of him just seconds later, your hand trying to grip the undergarment.

“Give it to me,” you hissed, as he held it behind his head and out of your reach.

Fred looked up at you, from where he was positioned underneath, his smirk only widening. “You know I hadn’t pegged you as a top, Y/N,” he said cheekily. “We might have some control issues later.”

You glared down at him, but he only winked back.

“Shut the hell up and give me the damn bra,” you snapped, lunging forward.

Fred firmly placed his free hand on your waist, holding you back.

“You’ll need to do better than that L/N,” he taunted.

You were now royally pissed off and desperately wanted to hex that smirk right off his face. You look back to where your bag had fallen several yards back, judging how fast you could reach your wand.

“Don’t bother love,” Fred said, reading your thoughts. “I won’t let you get that far.” He squeezed your hips for good measure.

“Now do tell me,” he asked lazily, his hand that was on your waist beginning to slide up your shirt. “Why is this particular bra so important?”

You slapped his hand, but that only seemed to provoke him more as his thumb was now beginning to trace circles on your stomach. Quickly, you glanced down the hall to make sure it was empty, thank Merlin it was lunch. You and Fred were still in a rather compromising position, something he seemed to indicate wouldn’t change anytime soon. Normally you would have been rather content with this too, but currently you were far too focused on retrieving your stolen bra and the redhead beneath you wasn’t doing anything to lessen your annoyance.

“I need it for the party tonight,” you finally grumbled.

Fred pretended to think. “That is a rather convincing argument, you should have started with that earlier. I as much as the next guy would be quite curious of this outfit.”

You flushed red, picturing the rather see through top in your head.

Fred smirked at your discomfort, his hand rising up your back. With no warning, he pulled you down, causing you to let out a gasp when your face reached a mere few inches from his.

“I am very curious of this outfit,” he repeated, his lips brushing yours as he spoke.

You felt your heart rate quicken. His warm breath hit your face and you struggled not to sigh. You’re still angry at him, you tried to remind yourself.

Fred’s hand that was slithering up your back had now reached your bra and he let out a huff of annoyance. “Damn, sports bra, you’re killing me L/N.”

This time you were the one who smirked. “I would have been wearing that bra if you hadn’t taken it.”

“Now where would we be if I had done that?” Fred asked quietly, before pressing his lips against yours.

Almost instantly you kissed him back, your mouths moving together in sync. You felt Fred smirk against your mouth before he flipped you, causing you to let out a small yelp as you found yourself now looking up at him.

“I’m always on top,” he whispered huskily, crashing his mouth against yours once more.

Your hands tangled themselves into his hair, pulling him closer to you. His landed on your body, dropping your now forgotten bra on the floor. They traced your skin, running up your stomach and, despite Fred’s complaints, still managing to get beneath your bra.

“Fred,” you muttered against his mouth. “Can I have my bra back?”

“Only if I get to be the one to take it off you tonight.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Summer Break(down)

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, weed, breeding/forced pregnancy.

This is dark!Lee Bodecker and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Based on this drabble request: Lee + interrogation + breeding/forced pregnancy + “you think your father would still love you if he knew?”+ Reader is mayor's daughter and get caught by Lee) smoking weed , so she is forced to give her purity to him +  Reader is a sweet innocent girl that refuses Bodecker's advances, which makes him very angry so he forcefully gets her pregnant in a fucked up revenge plot to ruin her life and leave her as the scarlet letter in town.  Requested by anon and @jaceyneedsabetterusername​

You puffed the smoke and coughed it up in a painful cloud. Your throat burned as the acrid taste stained your tongue. You held out the burning joint to Darla and she chuckled as she watched you struggle. She took a log drag and blew rings in the air and handed it off to Mia.

“A whole year at college and you ain’t never tried it,” Darla teased, “what are ya doin’ up there?”

“Studying,” you rubbed your throat and refused another hit as your eyes watered, “you know how my daddy is.”

“Your daddy ain’t livin’ on campus, is he?” Mia trilled, “perfect little mayor’s daughter with her purity ring.”

“Shut up,” you growled, “if I got caught I’d be expelled, okay? I’m here now tryin’ it, aren’t I?”

“Ain’t ya?” Darla mocked, “is that how you talk now? So proper.”

“Christ, what’s gotten into you?” you waved away the smoke as she blew it in your face, “you miss me that much?”

“Nah,” she gave the stubby joint to Mia, “you just actin’ like you’re too good for us now.”

“How so? I’ve been nothing but nice--”

“Nice and sweet and perfect,” Darla muttered, “you running back to your dorm in the fall and I gotta wipe tables down as the eat-in.”

You were quite as her resent bit deep into you. It wasn’t like you made the decision yourself, your daddy would have skinned you if you hadn’t gone up to the all-girls academy. He held a prestigious office, he often reminded you, and you were just another merit on his record. You needed uphold his reputation as if it were your own.

Mia snorted dryly and offered you the joint again. Her face dropped as an arm reached around you, her reddened eyes glossy as the dwindling smoke was taken from her. You turned and backed away as the sheriff waved the joint in front of him and sniffed the air.

“I knew I smelled contraband,” his jaw ticked and his brow lifted as he eyed the three of you, “and you,” he pointed at you, “of all the girls in town, it had to be you?”

You looked at Darla and Mia as they blinked at the cop. Lee Boedecker was known for his cruel-streak and no-nonsense tolerance. You knew him as the pudgy, old man who tried to buy you a drink as you still wore your graduation cap. You remembered that day and the odd episode, how he scowled and stomped away, shaking your father’s hand on the way out of the diner.

“All this shit you’re bringin’ down from the city, huh?” he flicked the joint to the ground and blotted it out with his sole.

“N-no, I--” you looked back and forth between Mia and Darla.

“You two,” he pointed at them, “you go on.”

“What?” Mia quivered, “but--”

“You let me deal with her,” he waved her off as he gripped his gun belt, “just lookin’ out for the mayor’s daughter.”

The other girls peeked at you and slowly backed away. You watched them fearfully and as they disappeared around the front of the building, you turned back to the sheriff. He tutted as he shook his head and came closer.

“Won’t that be a scene? Tellin’ your daddy what I found you doin’,” he snickered.

“I… I wasn’t, I only--”

“I don’t care what you was only doin’,” he snorted, “I don’t… have to tell him but you’re gonna have to convince me not to.”

You blinked at him and frowned. You weren’t sure of his meaning and you surely didn’t want to find out. You backed away and he caught your arm.

“Now where’d you get that stuff?” he looked down at the crushed joint.

“It’s not mine,” you quavered, “I swear--”

“No?” he swung you against the wall and knocked the air out of you, “you sure you don’t know, now?”

You shook your head fearfully. You wouldn’t say it Darla who rolled it and lit it but you weren’t going to sell yourself down the river either. He slammed his hand above your shoulder and rested his other on his pistol as he loomed over you.

“Which one was it then? Pretty little college girl…” he purred, “a good girl, tell me which one of ‘em had it.”

You shook your head and pressed yourself to the wall, “I don’t know. Please, sheriff--”

“Please, sheriff,” he unholstered his gun and raised the muzzle. He steadied it against your chin and pushed your head up, “it was just a drink, sweetheart.”

“Sheriff, I--”

“You think you too good for me ‘cause your daddy,” he dragged the gun down your chest and along your stomach, “‘cause he sendin’ you away to read books?”

“No, no, what are you--”

He shushed you as he pushed the gun lower and hooked it under your skirt. He shoved his hand under your skirt and poked your vee with the metal nosebarrel

“I’d hate to ruin ya like that,” he sneered, “but I s’pose up at that fancy college, you got some good use.”

You shook your head and trembled as tears pricked and your nose tingled. He chuckled and leaned in to kiss your forehead. He wiggled the pistol between your thighs.

“No? You think your little act works on me?”

“I-- sheriff, please, I never--”

“Hmmm,” he hummed and inhaled the scent of your hair, “you ain’t no good girl.”

You sniffed as the tears rolled down your cheeks, your heart beating wildly as you waited for him to pull the trigger. He prodded more firmly and lowered his voice.

“How about I drive you back to your daddy’s and discuss this with him?”

Your eyes rounded as his blue ones caught them with a vicious gleam. You sobbed and shivered.

“If-- If you gotta--”

“Come on,” he pulled his gun away and yanked you off the wall.

He marched you down the alley and pushed you into his cruiser. He slammed the door and dropped into the front seat. He leaned to one side as he holstered his gun and clapped his hand over the wheel. He looked at you in the mirror.

“You sure you don’t wanna tell me the truth?” he asked.

“I did--”

“No,” he interrupted you, “you shut up if you ain’t gonna tell me straight.”

He started the car and rolled down the street. You shrunk into the seat afraid that someone might spot you through the window. He steered through the town and headed up the hill to your daddy’s house. You watched the trees around you as his thick breaths were laced with heated mutters.

He pulled off halfway up and idled between a pair of elms, “you can still keep my mouth shut, sweetheart.” You blinked at the mirror and he turned and stretched his arm over the back of the seat. He grinned at you and licked his lips. “What d’ya think your daddy will do?”

You hung your head. Your daddy would be so mad he’d lock you up for the rest of the summer, or worse, pull out his old switch. Your lip quivered and you sniffed as you wiped your cheeks with your cuffs.

“You want me to tell him?” Lee asked.

You peered up through your lashes at him and shook your head. He nodded and killed the engine. The car jolted as he got out and slammed his door. He opened the back and bent to look in on your with his hand on the roof.

“Right then, on your back,” he ordered.

“What--”

“If you don’t want me to tell him, you gotta keep me quiet, now lay down, sweetheart,” he reached to his belt and unbuckled it with one hand, “it’ll be quick, promise, then you can go back to bein’ a good girl.”

“Sheriff,” you kicked yourself across the seat and lunged for the other door.

He caught your ankle and dragged you back. He flipped you onto your back and crawled over you, his weight suffocating as he posted his knees between your legs.

“That’s the thing, you can keep me quiet or I can make you scream and tell your daddy anyway,” he warned as he fought with your flailing hands, “it all goes the same way, got it?”

You stilled and stared up at him. It was as if he’d slapped you. Your eyes overflowed and he brought his hand up to trace the streaks with his thumb.

“You’re so sweet,” he ran his hand down to your dress and groped your through the fabric, “mmm, so sweet.”

You tensed as he pushed his hand between your bodies and lifted himself as he pressed his fingers to your cunt. He tugged your skirt up impatiently and rubbed along the front of your underwear. You turned your head and swallowed a sob.

“I woulda been nice, taken you out proper,” he pushed his fingers under the cotton and you gasped as he caressed your folds, “you coulda been a sheriff’s wife, you coulda made your daddy proud.”

He poked his fingers inside you so roughly you whimpered. He pulled them in and out even as your body resisted. He sank to his knuckles and squeezed until you cried out.

“Now you can take my bastard home to him,” he snarled and tore his hand out of your knickers.

He unzipped his pants and wriggled as he shimmied them down. Still trapped beneath his weight, you stared at the back of the leather seat as your tears hovered on your lashes. He grunted as he ripped your panties down to your knees. He stretched the cotton between your legs as he bent them and rested on the fabric.

Bent beneath him, you closed your eyes as he felt around your cunt. He pushed his knees against your ass and lined up with your entrance. You clenched as he prodded and struggled to get his tip inside of you. He swore and leaned heavily on the elbow planted beside your head.

“Now, don’t make this harder than--” He bucked into you so hard you hollered. He smothered it with his hand and held himself deep inside of you, “you weren’t lyin’ about the boys, were you?”

You squeezed your eyes tight and he wiggled until you squirmed. He pulled back and rammed back into you roughly, groaning as he did. He waited and did it again, each thrust reverberated up your spine.

“You think your father would still love you if he knew?” he rasped, “huh, what you think everyone will say? That whore went up to the city and got a child on her.”

“P-p-please,” you whispered as you pushed on his chest, “it… hurts.”

“Oh, it gon’ hurt, sweetheart,” he growled, “but it didn’t have to.” He hissed as he kept his hips moving, “you made it this way.”

“I can’t-- don’t-- I can’t have a ba--”

“You gonna have my baby,” he sneered and hooked his arm under you, “you gonna carry me with you the rest of your life,” the car shook with his movement, “it was only a drink, sweetheart… one drink.”

👮👮👮

Please reblog and like! Let me know what you think.

[vecnawrites]

Dog tail faunus Jaune goes into heat and the only one near by is Neon Katt who is more than happy to help she just under estimated how bad his heat was and what hes packing.

Jaune panted, his tail twitching as sweat dripped down his body. He fought back the urge to whine, he wasn’t a scraggly preteen dealing with his first heat, he was an adult now, with several under his belt. He would have to get back to the dorm first, before the effects really hit him; he didn’t want a repeat of the first time he had lost control, or the last time.

He had been lucky as all hell that Saphron and Terra had wanted a baby, and were going to ask him to donate anyway. So while it was awkward to mount and rut his sister-in-law in his head, it had at least worked out for them, and was nothing more than something to laugh about now.

But even more than that, he thanked the Brothers that Velvet was such a kind and understanding girl, even being sweet enough to say she was willing to help him out again if he needed it. He had been incredibly thankful, hugging the girl tightly. He did wonder why she had such a blush on her cheeks, though. It might have been embarrassment, since they were both still naked at the time.

But that was neither here nor there at this point. Velvet was on a mission with her team and Pyrrha (who had heavily insisted, cheeks as red as her hair that he come to her for help the next time his heat flared up) was away doing some sort of sponsorship thing, leaving him alone at the moment...he shook himself again. He needed to leave, to get back to the dorms, before-!

“Heeeeyyy~!” Jaune froze as the cute cat faunus from Atlas appeared before him, her eyes sultry and looking interested, roaming over his body, her own feline tail flicking back and forth. He watched her sniff the air and lick her lips, his own powerful nose picking up a sweet, almost cloyingly so, scent. His cock throbbed as he realized it was the scent of her arousal, a sweet, tempting thing that called to him, made his libido swell, his cock throbbing and straining lewdly against the fabric of his trousers.

Before he could say anything, the orangette snagged his wrist and began walking, dragging him along with her, helped out by her roller blades...it also had the added effect of flipping her skirt up every few seconds, revealing her plump, pert cheeks of her ass, and just beneath it, flashes of pink, shining under the light, which told him not only where the wonderful smell was originating from, but that this girl was very daring, going around in a skirt that short without panties.

Hey couldn’t stop the yelp from escaping his lips as he was dragged into one of the empty ‘study dorms’ (which were meant for studying, but were more often than not used for sex. He would know, one of these were where he and Velvet ended up) and shoved towards the bed as she closed and locked the door behind her. Looking up, he was met with a blur of color which knocked him to the bed with a naked orange haired girl above him, hovering with a cheeky grin on her face.

~x~x~x~x~

Neon Katt was what one would call a party and fun loving individual. She loved nothing more than having a good time, and orgasms definitely counted as having a good time! They were the perfect way to wind down after a long, stressful day...or just to have fun and relax!

But, much like a cat, she was also quite the opportunist. She knew that the blonde beneath her held the biggest dick in the fucking school, and she had interrogated, uh she meant, had a ‘girls chat’ with the bunny faunus in the year above when she saw the weak, bow legged, limping gait the bunny had, telling anyone who knew anything that she had been fucked marvelously.

As the mortified bunny spilled her guts to Neon, the party Katt found herself drooling from both sets of lips. Hell, she was surprised that Velvet had actually been able to walk at all from how vigorous she said that he had been!

A plan quickly hatched in her mind, a genius, diabolical plan to get some loving! A cunning plan to ensure she got fucked just as heartily and well as the bunny faunus had. It wasn’t like people were lining up to share her bed in Atlas, after all.

And so far, the plan had worked perfectly! She could feel that cock pushing up against her pantiless ass (she was beyond thankful that she had forgone the garment on the way here as she had been so wet she might have ruined it, and she might do so from now on, that was so naughty~) and gazed down at her prey with a sultry look on her face.

“Well now...I can feel you’re having a bit of a problem, big boy~” she cooed, rubbing back against the thick cock still trapped within it’s bindings. She licked her lips, sure that she was going to have a wonderful time riding that beast. “Fortunately, Neon’s more than willing to help you out!”

Scooting down, Neon licked her lips hungrily as she stared at the massive bulge, her fingers curling into the fabric of her pants, pulling them and his boxers down and-

WHACK!

Her vision swam, not only from the sudden strike to her face, but the thick wave of hot musk that washed over her and drove her animal instincts wild, her pussy gushing and squirting out onto the bed, panting and huffing up the delicious musk that filled her lungs and overpowered her brain, frying her synapses. She squirmed, her nose rubbing that thick length as she slumped down and forwards, until her face was covered in an almost boiling warmth, her tail flicking back and forth wildly as the mind melting smell cloaked her lungs, imprinting itself into her nose and brain.

Her small chest pushed outwards as she inhaled as deeply as she could, pale pink nipples hard and swollen, as she refused to leave the musky warmth that enamored her so. She could stay there forever...she rubbed her face deeper into that heavy sack, her toes curling.

She was so intoxicated by Jaune’s musk, she failed the warmth going missing, her being spun around and settled onto her front, face down, ass up, the blonde gripping her hips. She did, however, take notice when the thick fat shaft she had just been shamelessly rubbing her cheeks against fell between her toned ass cheeks with a loud SLAP, the fat rod rutting a bit between her cheeks before sliding down and resting against her soaking, dripping pussy lips.

She looked back drunkenly, eyes widening as she saw the large, obscenely thick cock attached to the blonde Arc, with an even thicker, bulbous, fist-sized knot at the base, twitching with every heartbeat of the young man it was attached to. She swallowed hard. “Uh, can...can we tal-”

-SLICKT!!

Neon’s eyes crossed as Jaune’s bitch breaking fuck stick of a cock spread her pussy wide open, though thankfully, she could feel that massive knot still outside of her poor core. A strained mewling noise escaped her lips as her fingers curled into the sheets, her body trembling heavily from the myriad of sensations rushing through her body.

She felt her lover begin to move back, and her core, on reflex movement, began to squeeze down, trying to keep the heavy cock inside her body, before a loud yowl escaped her throat as Jaune decided to thrust back inside her body with a slick noise, her pussy clamping down hard around the shaft in a faux orgasm.

The pace wasn’t slow. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t loving. It was rough, primal, aggressive, outright animalistic. Neon could only release the most pitiful mewls as she was thrust into, fucked into, the bed, her tongue hanging out of her mouth, drool staining the sheets beneath her.

Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap! PlaP! PlaP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP!

Wet, slick noises filled the study room air, along with male and female sex musk, as Neon was fucked hard, fast, brutally into the bed, her more carnal, feline instincts loving it, her pussy flexing and clamping down on the invader in constant, wet and messy orgasm.

Pap! Pap! Pap! Teal green eyes widened as Neon felt that fat knot prodding insistently at her pussy lips with every thrust now, feeling the cock within her twitching and throbbing in warning of what was to come. Gathering every bit of strength she could in her panic, Neon raised her head up. “W-wai-!”

POP!

“NNNNNNNNNN!!!” Neon’s pupils shrunk to pinpricks, before rolling up in her head as her entire body went stiff, her tail sticking straight out like a ramrod as Jaune’s knot found its way into her unprepared pussy, locking her and the blonde together, hip to ass, the tip of his cock pressed flush against her cervix.

“nnnnnnn♥~” she whined out as her blonde lover began to rut into her body again, his big strong hands moving from her hips and down to her butt, fingers sinking into the muscle as he delivered shorter, but far more powerful and intense thrusts, his tip smacking into her cervix over and over.

Fingers and toes curled into the sheets, nearly tearing them outright as Neon lost herself to the brutally intense fucking, her pussy clamping down and squeezing tightly as she squirted, reaching her most powerful orgasm yet.

She slumped to the bed, boneless and body quaking as Jaune continued to slam into her over and over and over again, his thick cock throbbing and twitching mightily deep within her, signifying that his own orgasm was imminent. Neon knew, she just knew, that the moment he came she would never be the same afterwards! Her eyes widened as she felt a powerful throb within her, followed by incredible warmth filling her belly. Her toes curled.

“Nyaaaaaaaa♥~!” she cried out, hearts in her eyes as she fell face first to the bed and quivering as she felt strong, thick spurts of warm cum filling her belly, shooting into her welcoming womb. She blissfully passed out, purring deeply, and an overjoyed expression on her face.

Huffing, Jaune slumped over Neon’s body, slowly rutting his hips as his balls steadily drained into her warm and velvety pussy. Carefully gathering the unconscious girl into his arms and turning onto their sides, Jaune tucked the unconscious cat Faunus against his front, he settled and let himself relax, letting the dopamine and serotonin from his continuous orgasm wash over him, his hand gently rubbing over his sleeping partner’s slowly swelling belly.

He closed his eyes, hoping that when both of them woke later, she would feel up to another round before separating. Burying his nose into her hair, he allowed himself to drift off, happy and content.

[bangtangalicious]

the glow up (6) | kth, pjm

pairing: taehyung x reader, jimin x reader

summary: after going off to college, you & your best friend committed to working out. a year later, the results show, and you cant wait for your hot hometown friends to see you. now all you wanna do is wild out and have lots of sex, and enjoy it without feeling insecure

genre: angst, smut, childhoodfriends!au weightloss!au (is that a thing) friends-to-lovers!au

word count: 3k

warnings: cheating, explicit smut: heavy making out...like HEAVY, in a pool, oral (f receiving), shower sex, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, slow burn, feelings, slut shaming, slight exhibitionism, alcohol use, choking, small daddy kink, taehyung calls you princess, swearing

part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7                                                   masterlist

Taehyung let his feet sink into the water, warmed by the body heat from the many ex-classmates of his who populated the pool. He stared out onto the horizon, the suburban hills a largely underwhelming contrast to the party vibes. He felt a presence come beside him, and the overwhelming designer perfume scent let him know it was Hobi.

“What’s up champ? Got eyes on anyone tonight?” Hobi asked, placing his hand on Tae’s back playfully. Taehyung simply sighed.

He was playing a losing game. He knew from the moment he kissed you that it was a mistake. He knew you would pick Jimin in the end, and he would get heartbroken.

But somehow he couldn’t deny you. Whenever you would text to hang out, his heart would flutter. He did his best to make as much time for you as he could this summer, soaking up every word you said, every smile you sent his way. He knew you just wanted him to have sex. But he enjoyed your company more than you knew.

He was an idiot. He pushed you too far too fast, he understood more than anyone why you needed freedom to explore your body and sexuality. You had insecurities you needed to deal with. You weren’t ready. You never were.

“I don’t think so…maybe I’ll just double team with Jungkook” Taehyung faked a laugh. Hobi gave him a fist bump.

“Fucking Jimin almost started a fight with him, so I sent them and Y/n inside to sort their shit out” Taehyung felt his stomach flip.

“Oh yeah” He couldn’t even find it within himself to pretend to look amused. He was pouting. He didn’t even care. He knew exactly what Jungkook was likely going to make of the situation, and he knew you would let him. Jungkook, like him, was more promiscuous, and had a bad reputation behaving with girls, but he never expected him to treat an old friend the same way. He called him out, but Jungkook did not have any apologies.

“She likes it Tae. I guarantee it” Jungkook had said before Taehyung almost punched him in the face.

“I hate this” Taehyung muttered, tilting his head up as he felt his eyes getting wet. The prospect of you having sex with Jungkook hurt him a bit too much. He shouldn’t care, it was your life. You guys weren’t exclusive at all. He hadn’t been loyal to you either. “What the fuck is wrong with me?” Taehyung groaned in frustration. Hobi chuckled.

“You’re in love with her”

Taehyung clenched his fists. He hated that he understood what you were going through. He hated that he was able to read your every thought and understand your every desire. He hated what you were doing to him.

“You should at least tell her. She probably doesn’t think she has a genuine shot with you. Let her know her options.”

“She’s not gonna pick me over Jimin” Taehyung laughed, “Jimin is her best friend. She literally can’t go a fucking week without him. Even if she dated me, she would still go to him for everything because he knows her better”

“You should give yourself more credit. From what I’ve heard anyway, Jimin’s been sort of a little bitch to her about all this. Some people are just meant to be friends, others maybe something more. Let me tell you…” Hobi wandered off onto a tangent about his own relationship and Taehyung tuned out. He downed the bitter watery beer left over in his cup, mentally noting to go for something stronger next time. His phone vibrated.

jungkook: ur girls tits are fire

Yeah. He definitely needed something much stronger

You woke up slowly to the sound of a booming base, realizing quickly that the party was still going on. You tried to turn but Jimin’s cock was still inside you. You smiled.

“Jimin, wake up” You called out softly, reaching your hand to stroke his head which was lazily muffled into your neck. He mumbled something incoherent, the vibrations of his voice on your skin making you blush. His body was sticky with sweat and you were both a mess. “Let’s freshen up, I don’t wanna miss the whole party come on” You nudged him and he stirred. You slowly rolled away, his cock sliding out of you causing him to groan in frustration, reaching out blindly for you on the mattress.

“Where’d you goooo” He complained, his eyes finally opening slightly. Seeing your naked figure sitting besides him he simply couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest guy in the world.

“I’m gonna go freshen up.” You informed him, kissing his forehead slightly. “I feel gross”

Jimin sat up and cupped your face. “Y/n…wait…let’s just sort this out. I hated what just happened okay. I’m sorry but I did. I don’t want to share you. Be my girlfriend. Let’s fucking just date. I’m sorry I’ve been moody and a jerk, but beyond all that you know I adore you more than anyone in the world. No amount of distance has been able to get in the way of you and me. Let’s try this out. Let’s date”

The look in his eyes was pleading, like he was a frail piece of glass that was about to shatter. Your gut screamed no. Say no. But your heart did not want to see that light in his gaze fade. You nodded your head.

“Yeah…let’s date”

-

You found yourself back at the pool. The sun had set, and the rainbow colored lights made the place look magical. You really wanted to dance, the music was loud and the songs were perfect. You should feel happy, you finally had a boyfriend. But instead you felt like someone was choking you— you couldn’t breathe. You looked across the pool to see a drunk Taehyung splashing around wildly with a few girls. He wrapped his hands around one and spun her around, giggling like a mess. You wanted to be her. You wanted to play and goof off but you couldn’t.

Unknowingly a tear ran down your cheek. You put your hands in your palms, allowing your tears to fall freely. Why were you so unsatisfied? You had the perfect guy in your hands, so why were you unhappy?

You felt a wet hand on your knee, quickly wiping your eyes to see Taehyung in the water below you. He was shirtless, hair soaked, a drunken gleam in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” He asked sweetly. You had no idea how he was managing to be nice while he was drunk. Taehyung was a wild drunk, you knew this well.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it” You stated dryly. You couldn’t bear to look at Taehyung too long, you just felt like breaking down even more. Taehyung sighed and pulled you into the pool.

“Let it happen” He whispered, bringing you into his embrace. He rand his wet hand through your hair before holding the back of your head and pulling you in for a kiss. “Don’t think. Just don’t think” His words brushed up against your lips. You moaned into his mouth, your arms finding their way around his neck, pulling yourself as close to him as you possibly could get. Taehyung held you tight and floated the two of you towards the back of the pool.

You couldn’t stop, your lips attached like magnets. He kissed you long and sweet, and you responded to his every move with even more eagerness. Your pulse races, and you felt a tingling sensation run through your chest as you shut your eyes, focusing on the hot feeling of his mouth against yours. He paused, barely aware from your face to inhale quickly. His sparkling eyes were gorgeous under the florescent lights, his pink hair almost glowing against the darkness. “Hold your breath” You nodded quickly as he captured your lips again and dragged you under the water.

The music went quiet, everything was still. All you could feel was wetness and Taehyung all over you. You let your hands find his face holding your mouth against him. Your lungs constricted as you lost air but you didn’t care. It was serenity. Taehyung’s hands moved to your hips and as if you could read his mind you wrapped your legs around his waist.

He picked you up and rose you back above the water. You both gasped for breath, smiling wide into each other’s eyes before kissing yet again. You looked around quickly to see that quite a few people were staring at you guys, which only made you smile even wider. Taehyung watched your gaze and giggled slightly.

“You just love putting on a show don’t you princess”

You turned to admire the man who held you. His soaked hair, gorgeous eyes and toned body. His lush lips and sweet voice. He winked at you and you felt your heart explode, blushing furiously. You buried your face into his chest in embarrassment. Taehyung motioned for the crowd of observers to leave the two of you alone as he rested his back against the pool wall, continuing to hold you close.

Taehyung stroked your cheek like you were a prized gem that he couldn’t believe he got his hands on. When your eyes met again your blood rushed and you kissed him furiously, whimpering softly. “Easyyy princess”

“I can’t get enough” You exhaled, barely able to speak. Your lips throbbed, swelling from the contact but you just wanted more. “Tae let’s get out of here. I want you” Your tongue traced his mouth and you softly bit his bottom lip, dragging it teasingly.

Taehyung hesitated, as if the liquid courage in his veins drained at the reality that you were not his to have. He could never say no to you. You were too amazing. He loved you far too much.

“Whatever you want princess” He playfully bit at your nose before lifting you out of the pool. You got out, water dripping from your clothes and helped drag Taehyung up as well. He grabbed himself a towel, rubbing it through his hair, and you almost drooled. He then grabbed another one and wrapped it around your shoulders so that it covered your chest.

Hobi walked over to the two of you, clapping his hands. “Wow what a performance. That was hot” He pinked your cheek playfully and smiled fondly. “You two are more than welcome to use my room” You stiffened, remembering what all had transpired on Hobi’s bed earlier. Suddenly the water on your body felt heavy. You felt gross.

“Think I could use a shower first” Taehyung stated, patting your ass lightly and squeezing it. He winked at Hobi who nodded. Taehyung took your hand into his and led you down to Hobi’s bathroom. Unbeknownst to Taehyung, you tried to hide your face with your towel. After all, Jimin was still around here somewhere. And you totally just cheated on him.

Hobi’s bathroom was as impressive as the rest of his house. The shower was spacious, clear glass walls and marble tile. Taehyung began to peel off his drenched attire. He then proceeded to undress you, almost tearing your tube top as it stubbornly stuck to your skin.

You had forgot how drunk Taehyung was but he reminded you soon enough, as your tits popped out and he went right to them, growling as he sucked harshly. His fingers found your clit and started to explore your folds, causing you to limply fall further into his embrace. He stopped to look into your eyes again, unaware of the heat soaring through your cheeks.

“Do you want to try something?” He said, his words beginning to slur slightly. You nodded and he smirked, pulling you into the shower, and turning the warm rain on. Taehyung dropped to his knees, pressing you against the glass wall and began to kiss your clit softly, letting his tongue peak through and flick against it. Your hands found his hair and your pushed his head towards you as he let his tongue slide out more, lathering you up and licking every crevice. Sensation was building up with every move and you felt like your chest would explode. It felt so good, but you missed the feeling of his body against yours.

“Tae…tae…kiss me” You pleaded. He spat on your pussy and used his tongue to mix his saliva with your arousal. You twitched as his he became harsher. “Tae”

He was not listening, too engrossed in eating up every last drop of you. He sucked, pushed his tongue into your core, pushing your thighs further and further apart. You felt your orgasm approaching, but you didn’t want to cum yet. You wanted to look into his eyes. You wanted to feel his lips on your body. The shower continued to hit your chest, rolling down onto Taehyung’s head. He rose up, licking his lips, with a feral look in his eyes. He grabbed your neck and brought his face close to you. His grip tightened and you squirmed, unsure of what he was about to do.

He watched as droplets of water trickled down from your forehead, over your supple blushed cheeks, down your bruised lips, off your chin and down the valley of your heaving breasts. “I love you” His breath hitched. “I love you y/n” He choked you harder, your breath escaping you. He let his nose drag against your face, from your ear down your neck. He bit into your collar, sucking your skin harshly to mark you.

“Taehyung I can’t breathe” You yelped. He released his grip and you took a deep breath. Your vision was hazy, the hot fumes of the water and the lack of oxygen pushing you into a feeling of light headedness. Taehyung wasted no time in pinning your hands above you and slowly pushing his now rock hard cock into you.

You couldn’t really feel what was happening, desperately trying to breathe as Taehyung bottomed out. His chest pressed against yours and his lips barely an inch from yours. Keeping one hand holding yours, he gripped your hips with the other and began pummeling into you roughly. He smacked your thigh when he felt you try to close your legs, your pussy sore from the harsh movements. He began to slow down, rolling his hips more so you could really feel his cock hit you in all the best places. 

Your pussy clenched, causing him to moan out. “Is my little princess gonna cum on my cock? Gonna cum on daddy’s big cock hm? Your such a little whore for me. You love the way daddy’s dick feels in your little tight pussy don’t you? Hm?” He growled into your ear, his words sending you further and further over the edge. His thrusts became slow but harsh, as he grunted with each one, feeling his cock go as deep inside you as it could.

A wave of shock washed over you as your reached your high, your body twitching immensely. Taehyung began to rub your clit furiously as he felt you orgasm, helping you through it. You screamed out with pleasure, Taehyung cooing at you to keep going. Your ecstasy did not relent, his rapid fingering pushing you straight into another orgasm causing you to yell out his name like a prayer.

Taehyung rested his chin on your shoulder, holding you with both his hands now and let you grab his hair. He pounded into your drenched pussy as you both continued to soak under the pouring shower. “Say it…tell me you love me y/n…or are you really just the little whore they all say you are” He bit the lobe of your ear, making you gasp out at the unexpected rush of pleasure.

“Taehyung…fuck you feel so good” You whimpered at the overstimulation. You felt Taehyung smile. What you couldn’t see was Taehyung head lifting up to make eye contact with a certain someone at the door of the bathroom.

Now fully awake from his nap, Jimin stood, shocked at what he was seeing. The way you were so intimately being fucked by Taehyung, the way you moaned out his name, the way your hands were clenched in his hair as water poured down on the both of you. Taehyung’s eyes were sinister. His smirk as he continued to whisper sweet nothings into your ears.

“Say it princess. Say you love me.” He mumbled, thrusting in extra hard and making you scream.

“I…” You couldn’t think straight, feeling a second high coming, “Fuck…more Tae more…I’m so close, you feel so good. Taehyungggg” You panted feverishly, “Yes baby, I love you, I love you so much. I love you more than anything baby ahhhh” The orgasm hit you, and your pussy squeezed Taehyung’s cock so violently that he came then and there too, all while not looking away from Jimin for a second. Taehyung then kissed you, continuing to hold you against the glass.

“I love you” You panted, cupping his cheeks as he kissed you softly. Jimin felt like he was going to throw up. He couldn’t see your eyes—he didn’t even want to. His heart was absolutely shattered.

He felt tears coming on strong. This was his soul mate. His best friend. Did she really not love him back? Was this really happening? Jimin clenched his fists. Memories of your sweet laugh, your endless nights with him talking about everything. You were home to him, and now he felt as though he had lost everything. Were you really that desperate for cock? That you would ruin your relationship with you best friend? Why didn’t you just say no if you didn’t love him? Why did you say you wanted him when you didn’t?

Jimin’s thoughts ran a million miles a second and he couldn’t hold it back anymore.

He dropped to the floor crying.

Who were you? Where was his y/n? Did this glow up destroy the beautiful girl he fell in love with?

A/N: next chapter will be the ending!! thanks for following along & all your support, i hope you enjoyed it:) wonder who y/n will finally go with....

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Taglist: @honeyspillings  @hollowtree10

[voiceless-terror]

I’m bad at prompts so I have an aesthetic vibe for a fic: dusty library, silver glasses, warm blanket, hot tea, cold voices.

Jon wants to get Martin’s attention. Daisy and Melanie have an unusual plan.

“I think he’s made it quite clear that he doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“I need...I need to make sure he’s okay. Daisy’s already tried and well, you-”

“Absolutely not.”

“Exactly.”

Jon sighed. He needed to trust Martin, he knew this. But how could he, when he faded more and more each day? When Jon couldn’t reach him, couldn’t know he was safe? He needed to touch him, make sure he was still solid, still there. That Jon still cared. And if Jon could just break through-

“He won’t let me talk to him. And I don’t know what to do.” The words came out more plaintively than he would’ve liked. Melanie gave him an unimpressed look, Daisy leaned back on the couch. He didn’t know why he’d suddenly decided to confess his feelings to these two, perhaps it was the leftover alcohol in his system from their afternoon drink. Basira was off on another lead and Daisy needed the distraction. They all did. And now they were back at the office, bored and lethargic, Jon dodging the paper balls Melanie lazily tossed his way.

“You’ve got to do something,” Daisy drawled, idly picking at her nails. “To get his attention. You’ve got to make him come to you.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” Jon groaned in frustration. “If I did, I would’ve done it already.”

“Wait.” Melanie sat up straighter, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “I know exactly what to do.” Daisy and Jon shared a glance as she broke into a smirk. 

“And Martin won’t be able to resist you.”

____________

“Is this really necessary?” Jon asked, flinching back as Melanie applied the pink-coated brush to his cheek. “It seems a bit excessive.”

“Stop moving. And yes, if you want to look the part.” Melanie wielded the makeup brush like a weapon as Daisy followed with a critical eye. “Does he look pathetic enough?”

“Hmm.” Daisy leaned forward, uncomfortably close to Jon’s face. “I think he needs a bit more. Just a pinch.”

“Agreed.”

“This is ridiculous,” Jon snarked, leaning away from Melanie’s hands. “I don’t know why I agreed to this. It’s not going to work.”

“You agreed to this because you know it’s going to work,” Melanie insisted, dipping the brush in the compact. “Trust me, Martin won’t be able to resist doting on you if you look properly ill. When I came here the second time ‘round, he hovered outside the door the entire time. “Do you need anything, Jon? Can I get you some tea? Are you feeling alright?”

“That’s not what he sounds like-”

“That’s exactly what he sounds like,” Daisy smirked, settling back into the couch. “If you don’t like the makeup, we can always go with option two-”

“I am not letting Melanie punch me, thank you very much.” She still harbored a lot of residual (and rightful, in his opinion) anger from the surgery incident, and he wasn’t willing to be the outlet for it. “How do we know he’ll even see me?”

“He goes down to the library every Wednesday, sneaks in and out real quiet-like,” Daisy repeated for the third time. “Trust me, I know his patterns.” There was still some Hunt in her yet, no matter how much she starved it. Listen to the quiet. He didn’t say it aloud, but from the look in Daisy’s eyes he didn’t need to. “We’ll set you up there. Don’t worry, he won’t be able to miss you.”

“Whatever you say,” he grumbled, batting away Melanie’s hand. “Are you done yet?” She evaluated him with a scowl.

“That should do it.” She shut the compact with a definitive snap. “I was going to add a bit of purple eyeshadow under the eyes, but that might be overdoing it. You already look like a zombie.”

Daisy nodded appreciatively. “Powder did the job. God, Melanie. You’re a pro.”

“Thank you,” she preened as Jon rolled his eyes. “Now, for the finishing touch!” She leaned forward, yanking the scrunchie out of his hair and ignoring his yelp with an air of satisfaction. “Perfect!”

“I fail to see why that was necessary!” His head ached from the sudden pull on his hair, which was now falling down his shoulders in a tangled, ruffled mess. God, I must look insane. He lifted a hand to put it in some semblance of order when Melanie grabbed at it, stopping him in his tracks.

“No, you’ll ruin it!” she snapped. “Martin likes it when it’s down.”

“How do you know that?”

“God, he really is oblivious,” Daisy said with a disbelieving chuckle. “I may have only visited a few times, but even I saw the way he stared at you whenever you so much as touched your hair. It was sickening to watch.”

“C’mon, we’ve got to get you settled. We have to time this perfectly.” Melanie gestured impatiently for him to get up. “Daisy’ll take you up. I’ve got to grab something.” Jon didn’t trust her but in all honesty, what did he have to lose? The things we get up to when Basira’s gone...though I suppose this is significantly better than the Coffin Incident. 

Daisy took his arm, leaning on him for a bit of support as they made their way up to the library. To anyone else it would look the opposite, that he was the one relying on her- Daisy was good at hiding her weakness. “There’s a couch by the front desk,” she murmured as they rounded the corner. “It’ll be right in his line of vision.”

“What if he isn’t paying attention?” Jon worried, watching as the other staff studiously avoided their gaze, side-stepping them in the hallway. The Archives were truly toxic, and no one wanted to anger the heavily-scarred, scowling Archivist and his rabid ex-cop friend. For the first time in his life, Jon was intimidating. He didn’t like it.

“He always pays attention to you,” Daisy insisted. “He just doesn’t want you to see it.” The words put a lump in his throat. He wondered if they were true. He opened his mouth to reply when Melanie scurried up behind them, her arms full of-

“No.”

“Yes.” Melanie pushed into him, impatiently urging them forward. “Trust me, it’ll work.”

“I am not-” He was cut off by a surprisingly strong push from Daisy, landing him on the couch with an ‘oof.’ Melanie threw the offending object around his shoulders- a fluffy pink blanket Jon recognized from its place on Basira’s cot. He tried to worm his way out of it but Melanie gave him a sharp slap on the arm, ignoring his hiss of pain. He looked around, wildly embarrassed by the entire situation to find that the room was strangely empty, which was surprising for the time of day. I suppose everyone’s trying to avoid us these days.

Daisy froze, her eyes narrowing and posture straightening. “He’s coming.”

Melanie swore, running around the corner and coming back with an old, heavy tome she'd snatched off the nearest shelf. She grinned, an almost manic thing that Jon instinctively leaned back from. “The final touch,” she said proudly, not waiting for his answer as she opened the book with a flourish, flipping the pages in front of his face like a fan. He flinched back, utterly confused.

“Melanie, what on earth are you-”

_______

Martin heard him before he saw him.

The scurrying of feet across the hardwood was strange enough, but Jonathan Sims sitting on the library’s best couch, sneezing into a fluffy blanket and looking bleary-eyed and very exhausted was even stranger. Well, not the exhausted part. That was Jon’s normal state of being. 

But there he sat, wrapped in Basira’s fluffy pink blanket with a flushed face, messy hair, and an ashen pallor that could only come from sickness. Martin had seen it before, back when he lived in Document Storage and Jon was working himself into the ground, much like he was doing nowadays. He felt that pang of worry that accompanied those long nights in the Archives, something he was trying desperately to tamp down.

Working for Peter was infuriating and isolating, just as it was supposed to be. He was constantly reminding himself that it was for the greater good, that he was doing something important, protecting his friends. Protecting Jon. But how could he protect him when he kept finding Martin, even though he promised to trust him? How could he protect him when he kept throwing himself headlong into any danger he could find? How could he protect him, when his biggest enemy was himself?

Another sneeze. Jon looked almost confused by it, maybe even offended that it happened. It made him want to smile, an urge he fought down as he tried to remember Peter’s promise to keep them safe if he kept his distance. He hazarded one last glance, sure that he wasn’t in Jon’s line of sight that he noticed one last detail- Jon’s sweater. Incredibly baggy, worn, light blue knit- a color he’d never seen on him before.

Martin’s sweater. And with that, he found himself walking over to Jon almost involuntarily, steps loud and purposeful as they startled Jon from his perch on the couch. And when Jon noticed him he smiled, so bright and happy and obviously extremely out of it if he was having this reaction to Martin. His face really did look flushed up close- he must have a fever, especially if he wandered up here in this state. Martin successfully resisted the urge to feel his forehead. 

“M-Martin!” God, how could he not talk to Jon, when he said his name with such happiness? He fought to keep his voice level and cool as he responded.

“Jon. What are you doing up here?” Jon’s smile dimmed slightly, and Martin tried not to feel guilty. He did not succeed.

“I, um-” Jon stuttered, his usual sign of nervousness as he ran a hand through his hair. His hair, that was mused and tangled and falling in his face. Fuck. “I w-was reading.” He struggled to pick up a particularly heavy-looking book from where it sat on the couch next to him, its title obscured from Martin’s view. “It was getting, er, a bit stuffy down in the Archives.”

A red flag if Martin ever saw one. They rarely left the Archives these days, unless it was for a quick lunch and even then, Jon had to be dragged out bodily. He sighed, trying not to meet Jon’s pleading eyes. And still, he couldn’t help but ask. “Are you...okay?”

Jon looked down to his lap, the blanket half slipping off his shoulders as he fidgeted with his hands. Martin looked pointedly away. “Not feeling very well,” Jon murmured to the ground, looking strangely nervous, maybe even guilty. That didn’t make sense. He must be really ill, if he’s actually admitting to it. Martin hesitated, fighting between what he should do and what he really, really wanted to do. The cold evaporated just a little and Martin had never felt so seen. 

He missed that.

And so, less reluctantly than he would have liked, he extended a hand down to Jon, who looked at it in shock. “C’mon. Let’s get you back downstairs, I’ll make tea.” Make tea. His solution for everything, he remembered Tim deriding. But Jon looked at him like he’d offered much, much more than that. Maybe he had. The hope in his eyes was too much to bear. So when Jon put a thin, scarred hand in his, he looked away, even as he helped him to his feet.

To his disdain and delight, Jon immediately leaned into his side, as if trying to leech warmth that Martin couldn’t provide. In fact it was now Jon who was the warmer of the two- the Eye would not accept the chill of the Lonely, and the fever probably didn’t help. He was like a touch-starved cat looking for a crumb of affection, and god did he want to give it to him. If it were the Martin of a year ago he would have blushed, stammered, maybe even squeezed him back. Now he can only offer him the shoulder, nothing more.

Jon didn’t say anything more than a muttered thanks as they made their way down to the Archives, as if he were afraid of spooking him. More than one staff member they saw stared; Martin had been AWOL except for a few official emails, and was now suddenly the assistant to the head of the institute. To see him with the dreaded Head Archivist must have been even more of a shock. He felt pity- what a pair we make.

By the time they arrived at the archives, Jon had leant almost all of his weight against Martin’s side, making it difficult to maneuver them both down the stairs. No one was there, and he wanted to scold the other three, wherever they were, for leaving Jon to wander in his condition. I’ll fix him tea, get him on the cot and then I’ll go, he promised himself. 

Easier said than done.

He barely managed to pry Jon off of him, and only with the promise to return with a cup of tea did he let go. Never in his wildest daydreams did he imagine Jon to be this clingy, hanging off him like a limpet. As he made his way to the break room he drew the Lonely back to him like a security blanket, albeit a cold one. You can’t stay. You have to go. He looked blankly around the room he used to think of as a safe haven; it was no longer familiar, different mugs on the table, different food in the cupboards, a bag of makeup on the counter. He no longer had a place. 

Jon was sitting up on the cot when he arrived back, cup of tea in hand. He pointedly didn’t meet his eyes as he handed it over, staring at his feet and ignoring Jon’s thanks as he turned to leave. Go go go-

“Wait!”

Damn it.

He turned. “What is it, Jon? I have to-”

“Will you stay?” His face was so open, so vulnerable it made Martin ache with longing. “Just- just for a bit.”

Martin sighed, trying to maintain his stoic façade. “You know I can’t.”

“I miss you.”

“Jon-”

“I know, I know,” Jon replied, voice going quiet. He thought dying would harden the man, but it only seemed to soften his sharp edges. “I’m sorry.” He held the mug between his hands, staring down like it was something precious.

“It’s fine,” Martin replied, though they both knew it wasn’t.

“Will you stay if I don’t talk?” Jon leveled that hopeful gaze at him again and Martin looked up to the ceiling for divine intervention that wouldn’t come. 

“Jon-”

“Please.” He was begging. His eyes were bright, whether from tears or the fever Martin couldn’t discern. But what was he to do, say no? Not when he was like this, not when he was sick. Martin made excuses, none of them particularly convincing even to himself and they certainly wouldn’t be to Peter, but it didn’t matter. He’d already made his choice as soon as Jon said the word.

“Okay. For a bit.” That smile again. Jon said nothing as Martin tentatively sat beside him on that small, rickety cot. He would only stay for a bit, until Jon fell asleep. He had no one to look after him, after all. He would go back up and face Peter later. 

For now, he let Jon rest his head against his shoulder. He let his fingers rise of their own accord and brush the hair from Jon’s face, eliciting a shiver. When he fell asleep, Martin didn’t move. He needs the rest. So he sat, reveling in the warm, heavy weight of everything he’d given up, everything he stood to lose, and knew he made the right decision.

Much later, when he’s faced Peter’s disappointed gaze and a mountain of extra work, he notices the strange, powdery cast on his sleeve from where Jon had laid his head. When he rubs at it, his fingers come back with hints of pink and white. It takes him a moment to put the pieces together- the footsteps in the library, the absence of Daisy and Melanie, the makeup on the counter. He wants to roll his eyes, wants to be angry.

Instead, for the first time in months, he laughs.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28581141

[ladyfogg]

First Date

First Date 

Fic Summary: The time has come for you and Colin to finally have your first official date. Love Exists Masterpost. The Evans Fics Masterpost.

Fic Rating: M

Pairing: Colin Zabel/Female Reader

Warnings: Language & some making out/suggestive language

Last week when you flirted with Colin and followed him to his hotel room, it had been a quick, spontaneous decision. While it hadn’t worked out quite how you wanted it to, you got your chance a few days later when he slept over at your place.

You didn’t expect to spend the following day in bed with him, nor did you expect to feel so goddamn horny for the man the second he left. Even the quickie in your car wasn’t enough. You want more of Detective Colin Zabel and it’s driving you crazy.

You’ve never wanted someone this bad before. But your stomach is a jumble of nerves for an entirely different reason. Because tonight, you and Colin are having your first official date and you have no idea how to act.

Dating is new territory for you. It’s been a long time since you’ve been in a relationship and even then it wasn’t serious. When Colin asked you to join him for dinner at his friend’s restaurant, you said yes before you could overthink. Of course, now that means your anxiety has been building.

The case Colin and Mare are working has kept them busy over the last few days so you haven’t been able to spend much time with your…friend? You don’t know what to call him. Boyfriend sounds too formal. Lover is a weird word that never settles quite right. Potential romantic partner? Booty call? Really close friend?

See, this is why you never date. It gets too confusing and messy.

At least, that’s how you used to feel. Now, you’re not so sure. Because every time Colin catches your eye and smiles at you, those old thoughts aren’t as loud as they used to be.

You keep telling yourself to relax and go with the flow, but it’s easier said than done. Which is why you find yourself running around your room trying to find something to wear.

Currently, most of your clothes are piled up on your bed. Digging through them, you reject everything you see, almost to the point of tears. It’s not until you sit yourself down and take a few deep breaths that you realize just how nervous you are.

“It’s okay,” you tell yourself. “It’s Colin. You know him. You like him. And he likes you. He’s the sweetest man you’ve ever met and he’s not going to care what you wear as long as you have a great time.”

Bullshit. Dress to impress. Knock him dead. Take the beath out of him.

After several long minutes of internal debate, you manage to find something relatively dressy that fits and looks good on you. Shoving all your clothes back in the closet, you try to make your room mostly presentable on the off chance you and Colin end up back there after dinner. You’d like to assume you will but are trying not to put any pressure on him or yourself.

You just finish getting ready when there’s a knock on the door. Checking yourself over in the mirror one last time, you take a deep breath, before going to greet Colin.

Dear GOD, he looks amazing. While Colin tends to dress very well for work, it’s different seeing him in a suit jacket and tie.

“You look beautiful,” he says, eyes taking you in with appreciation. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yup. Just lead the way.”

Colin offers you his arm in an endearingly formal way and you can help but accept, letting him lead you to his car. The sweet man even opens the door for you. With a quiet word of thanks, you climb in, your heart fluttering with nervous energy.

As he drives away, you sense the nervous tension between you two.

“So…” Colin says. “I know I suggested my friend’s restaurant but if you’d rather go somewhere else that’s good too.”

“No, no, your friend’s place is fine.”

Colin nods, flipping on the radio to help fill the awkward silence. You don’t know what to do with your hands and find yourself fidgeting with your coat, seatbelt, purse, and whatever you can.

“How was your afternoon?” Colin asks. “You were gone by the time we got back from canvasing…”

“It was fine. Made some coffee runs and filed a bunch of stuff.”

“Cool...”

More silence. As Colin pulls into a parking space at the restaurant, you feel the need to clear the air.

“I’m sorry I’m not very good company tonight,” you say. “The truth is, I’m really nervous.”

Colin smiles and puts the car in park. “Honestly, me too.”

You both laugh, partly from relief and partly by amusement. “Look, I don’t have any expectations,” Colin continues. “I asked you out because I really like you and I’ve never connected with someone like I’ve connected with you.”

“We have connected very well,” you tease.

Colin’s cheeks turn red and he ducks his head as he tries to hide his smile. “I meant emotionally but yeah, physically too.”

“I also meant emotionally,” you say. “Mostly.”

He laughs and looks at you again. “I’m really happy to hear you say that. Glad it’s not all in my head.”

Hearing the self-deprecation in his voice, you slide your hand into his hair and pull him into a kiss. He responds instantly, melting into your touch and kissing back with equal intensity. When he draws back, his eyes are hooded.

“It’s not all in your head,” you assure him. “There is something here. Why wouldn’t I feel something for you? You’re smart, considerate, fucking adorable as hell…” He smiles and blushes harder. “You’re a great guy, Colin.”

He kisses you gently one more time. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“I do,” you tease. “Now can we go eat?”

“Absolutely.”

Feeling lighter and less nervous, the two of you get out of the car. Colin takes your hand as he meets you on your side of the car. Heading inside, you can’t help but focus on the feeling of his hand in yours. It was solid and warm, just like the rest of him.

You’re seated right away and Colin let’s your hand go so he can hold your chair our for you. The atmosphere is calm and quiet, the low lighting set the right mood. Colin looks even more dashing than he did on your front porch.

The waiter takes your drink orders and you pick up your menu, trying to figure out what to have. Colin does the same.

“This is a nice place,” you comment, glancing around. “I’m not used to going out like this.”

“Stick with me and I’ll take you to all the nice places.”

“What? The backseat of my car isn’t nice enough?”

His ears turn red this time and he chuckles. “I didn’t say that. It has its merits.”

The waiter arrives with your drinks and takes your orders, before leaving once more.

“So, Detective Colin Zabel,” you say, resting your elbows on the table. “What’s a big shot like you doing in a place like Easttown?”

He clears his throat and shifts in his seat. “I’m no big shot,” he says shaking his head. “I’m just a guy trying to do the right thing.”

“It makes you uncomfortable, doesn’t it?” you realize. “Talking about that big case.”

“Can we not talk about that case?” he asks. “I’m not…I’d rather talk about something else.”

“No problem. Sorry I brought it up.”

“It’s okay. What about you? I never asked what it was like for you starting out. You know, after the academy.”

He seems relieved that you are willing drop the subject and as the conversation starts to flow, both of you get more comfortable. Wanting to take his mind off things, you decide to tell him about your more memorable moments as a young trainee.

“Oh, and THEN! Then Mare arrives right as I’m trying to detain this guy,” you say, hands moving wildly as you talk. “And she just gives me that stern, unamused look that she always has…”

“Yup, I know that look.”

“And when I finally get him into the back of the car she goes, ‘Hey, kid, I think you’re forgetting something’.”

“Oh god, no…”

“Yeah, the guy’s dog. He came tearing out of the house and I chased me around the car while Mare just fucking laughed.”

Colin throws his head back and laughs, a sight that makes your own grin widen. You’ve never seen him so jovial, well without alcohol, and you vow to think of more stories that’ll make him laugh that hard.

“Didn’t you go there because of the reports of his dog being loud and aggressive?”

“Sure did. Then promptly forgot when I noticed the stolen merchandise from the theft. Needless to say, I got a little too excited and, whelp, got chased by the dog.”

Colin is still laughing, shaking his head while he does. “Wow. Just…just wow.”

“I am so glad you enjoyed my embarrassment.”

“I absolutely did.”

His face is bright and you want to reach across the table and kiss him.

You wonder why you were even nervous to begin with. Once the food arrives, Colin lifts his wine in a toast. You follow his lead with your drink and you both smile as you clink glasses.

“Any particular plans after dinner?” you ask as you both start to eat.

Colin shakes his head. “Not in particular. What do you have in mind?”

“There’s a soft bed that’s been missing you.”

His pupils dilate and you see his breathing pick up. “I…yeah, that sounds great. I kind of hoped you’d say that but I didn’t want to assume anything.”

Under the table, you run the tip of your shoe up the back of his calf and he jumps in surprise, almost dropping his fork. You smirk as he gets flustered.

“You have my complete permission to assume all you’d like,” you say in a low voice.

The evening takes on a very different energy after that. Heated looks are exchanged as you both eat as quickly as you can while still being polite.

“Are we thinking dessert?” the waiters asks when he gathers your empty plates.

You shoot Colin a raised eyebrow.

“I think just the check will be fine,” Colin says.

The drive back to your place is different than the drive to the restaurant had been. Colin’s hand rests on your knee, and just the pressure of it is enough to get your body going.

He barely puts the car in park before you reach for him, yanking him into a searing kiss. Colin is just as eager, hands fumbling to turn off the car before he can get them on you.

“We should go inside,” he pants between kisses.

“Yes, please.”

You stop just long enough to get out of the car. Coming around to the front, you both meet in the middle, Colin cupping your cheek while snaking his arm around your waist. God the way his mouth slots over yours is just so perfect.

The ringing of his cellphone cuts through the quiet night.

You groan in frustration. “Noooooo.,” you whine.

Colin huffs in annoyance, pulling back. “I’m so sorry,” he says taking the phone out of his pocket. “Shit, it’s Mare. I should take this.”

Sighing but understanding, you motion for him to go ahead.

Colin answers the phone. “Zabel, here. Yeah, hey, Mare…”

You know work has interrupted your date and you probably won’t be getting to the best part anytime soon. Colin’s face is somber as he listens to his partner.

“Okay, I’ll be there in a few minutes,” he says, giving you an apologetic look. “Bye.”

He hangs up.

“Duty calls?” you ask.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “She wants me to meet her in an hour. There’s a club we need to check out.”

“An hour, huh?” you ask, lips curling into a smile.

“Yeah. It’s across town so it’s going to take me a—what are you doing?”

You push him so his back bumps into the hood of the car. “You have plenty of time to get there. I want to at least make out a little.”

Colin gives you that lopsided smile before pulling you into another heated kiss. You slide your arms around his neck as his go around your waist, crushing you against his chest. It’s filled with promises and silent wants. Neither of you wants him to go, both of you would love to go inside and pick up where you left off the other day.

But work is work, and you won’t make him feel guilty for doing his job.

Your tongue finds his, deepening the kiss as your fingers dig into the collar of his coat. Colin draws back just enough for his nose to brush yours as he lays several pecks on your lips.

“If I’m not done too late, can I come back?” he asks, voice filled with hope.

“You better.”

His smile widens and he gives you one final, sweeping kiss before gently pushing you back so he’s not pressed against the car.

“I’ll text you,” he promises.

“I’ll be waiting.”

Colin watches you walk up to your door but doesn’t get into his car until you’re safely inside. You wave to him from the door, hoping he’ll come back sooner rather than later. In the meantime, you are going to find the sexiest underwear you own and wait.

--- 

Series Taglist: @lejardinfleur​ @spidergirlmcu​ @anonymushhy​ @samsassinparvismagna​ @kitwalker64​ @tatestripedsweater​ @xmaximoffic​ @marshmallow--3​ @stellarbound​ @kais-messiahbaby​ @margaretboothsear​ @slightlyvicked​ @nia-s-not-so-secret-diary​ @liandav​ @billyhxrgrove​ @TheOriginalDoll87

[skzleeknow12]

Final Escape - Lee Know

Warning: Yandere themes (I do not support yandere themes in reality, this is just for the story), mentions of blood and death

Word Count: Approximately 2.8k

…

He picked up her limp form and quickly ran into the woods, not stopping even when her weight somehow seemed to drag him down. She had a petite body, why did it suddenly weigh so much? After running for what felt like hours, he hid behind a large tree, knowing there was no way anyone would venture this far into the woods. Finally, it was just the two of them again, just as he liked.

Minho laid her blood-stained body onto the ground and took her hand in his, rubbing small circles onto the back of hers.

“You can wake up now,” he murmured softly, “no one will find us here. It’s only the two of us here, just how we like it. Open your eyes.” She remained still, not even breathing at a normal volume to show she was awake. Minho was getting impatient; she knew how much he hated being made to wait; so where had this sudden confidence come from that stopped her from listening to him.

“Get up,” he said once again, lightly shaking her arm. He decided he wouldn’t get angry just yet, he would wait for her to open her eyes first. Afterall, he knew she would end up listening to him. She loved him too much not to. However he was shocked to see that she hadn’t moved a single muscle since he laid her down. That was it; enough was enough. Minho held his hand in the air before harshly bringing it down to her cheek, causing the sound of the slap to echo in the quiet wooded area. Yet she did not stir. He slapped her again and again, but she gave no reaction. Her face remained deadly pale; even the force of his hand was not enough to cause a red imprint on her cheek. Minho realised with a start that she looked very similar to… a dead person. No, she couldn’t be dead. He loved her and she loved him, there was no way she would leave him like that.

Minho grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her wildly whilst shrieking her name brokenly, but it did nothing.

“WAKE UP!” he screamed as her head lolled to the side, her eyes rolling to the back of her head, looking eerily empty. “STOP PLAYING AROUND, OPEN YOUR EYES! LOOK AT ME!” He suddenly felt a weird texture coating her silky hair. Confused, Minho turned her body around so that her face was towards the ground. He gingerly felt the back of her hair when he caught the sudden stench of blood coming from it. He furrowed his eyebrows as the memories of the previous hours of that day came back to him.

“Minho where are we going?” she asked, fear evident in her tone as she glanced around the car nervously. Minho merely chuckled in a sinister manner as he kept one hand on the steering wheel whilst the other held her hand rather tightly, hurting her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked in mock-confusion. “You’re the one who wanted to go out for a bit, so we’re going. Besides, I have a little surprise for you.” She couldn’t do anything apart from sit still in fear. The radio was on and Minho was happily humming to the familiar song. He didn’t look angry, quite the opposite actually, but she had a bad feeling about this. Minho seemed in a mood too good to be true. He had a smile on his face that to others would look charming, but she knew him well enough to know that the reason for it had to be something inhumane and gruesome.

She tried to think back to remember if she had done anything to make him angry, but nothing came to her mind. She had gone out shopping a few days ago with her friends and then in the evening she had dinner with them and the guys in a restaurant. She suddenly realised that she had forgotten to tell Minho that she was going out with her friends for her birthday. To be honest, she had assumed that, like every weekday, he would be coming home late so she didn’t think it was a problem. She remembered coming home a bit drunk but she couldn’t remember anything else, other than the fact that she could somehow smell her favourite meal cooking from the kitchen. She had been so exhausted though, that she had paid no attention to it and gone straight to bed, and she just realised as she was sitting in the car that Minho’s private studies light was on… meaning he had been home.

She grew increasingly tense, and if Minho noticed he didn’t let on that he had.

“Wait why are we here?” she asked suddenly. She realised that Minho was driving towards the edge of the woods where an old, abandoned warehouse was situated. Minho merely chuckled in response and didn’t reply, causing her to grab onto his arm without thinking. She was shocked at herself and immediately regretted her actions, knowing for sure she would get punished for her behaviour, but Minho just raised an eyebrow with an amused expression on his face.

“You’re getting bolder, love,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road, “a bit too bold for my liking.” She saw how his grip tightened on the wheel and she immediately let go of his arm, shrinking back in her seat. “Let’s talk about the sudden wave of disobedience that’s come over you, shall we? Like when you tried to escape me by going out for dinner with those excuses you call friends?” she felt her chest tighten with anxiety when she heard the tone of his voice, and mentally slapped herself for not telling him. Of course now he was bound to get the wrong idea. She decided to play dumb.

“W-what do you mean?” she stuttered, closing her eyes at her stupidity. “I d-did tell you I was gonna go for a bit.” Minho sighed deeply and she knew he was controlling his sure-to-come outburst.

“Then why are you stuttering, love?” he asked with an evil smirk plastered across his face. When she didn’t reply, he grew angry and banged his hand against the wheel, causing it to honk loudly. “ANSWER ME!” She remained silent and Minho rolled his eyes. “Were you really so desperate to see those boys and run away with them?” her eyes widened and she quickly shook her head at his wrong accusation, but to his corrupt brain, it looked as if she was getting defensive just because she had been caught. “DON’T LIE TO ME! WAS MY LOVE NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU?” and as suddenly as his anger came it went, causing the car to go silent once more, which she knew was not a good sign. She turned her head to analyse his facial expressions, and was horrified when she saw a sadistic smile on his face as he kept his eyes on the road. “Don’t worry darling, you won’t get to try and run away with them again, I’ve made sure of it.” She tensed up and was visibly shaking due to fear of what Minho had done, and that made him satisfied, knowing what kind of effect he had on her.

They finally reached outside the old warehouse and the two got out of the car. Minho started walking towards the entrance of the warehouse and for a minute, she thought of running away before his cold voice stopped her.

“Don’t even think of running away love, you know I would eventually find you,” he said menacingly and she gulped because she knew he was right. There was no way he would rest until he found her, and it was with the thought of this that she followed him into the warehouse. It was eerily quiet and dark inside and there was a strange stench in the room, until Minho flipped the switch and the lights turned on. What she saw next made her want to puke.

In front of her was a long table filled with different food and desserts as well as a big birthday cake; it seemed like it was all for her. However, sitting on the chairs behind the table were none other than her friends she had met up with for her birthday, all bloodied and beaten and quite visibly dead. She gasped loudly and turned to look at Minho, who had his nose wrinkled in disgust as he looked at the sight in front of them.

“Disgusting,” he muttered under his breath as he grabbed her hand and led her forward, much to her horror, “making the birthday room smell already. Don’t worry love, we’ll leave as soon as we finish your birthday celebrations.”

“M-minho…” she mumbled as she fought the tears in her eyes. She could feel her breakfast coming up her throat and swallowed roughly. “What… what have you done?” Minho looked at her with fake confusion on his face.

“What do you mean love?” he asked innocently. “Don’t you like my surprise? I worked so hard on it.” She felt so horrified and disgusted that she had no idea what to even say to him.

“My friends…” she whispered as she looked at her friend’s dead bodies. Their faces were covered with blood and their throats had been slit, revealing all the blood and gore underneath the skin. Minho’s eyebrows furrowed with annoyance as he heard the worry in her tone for her pathetic friends. He knew that if it had been him in their place she wouldn’t have been upset at all.

“Ah yes, I see why these pathetic excuses for friends would ruin the mood a bit,” he said, mocking thoughtfulness. “Have a seat love, we can celebrate by ourselves-”

“HOW COULD YOU DO THIS?!” she suddenly screamed, making him pause in surprise; she had never raised her voice at him like this and it annoyed him even more that it was due to her friends. Even after their death they continued coming between the two. She walked towards him and started banging her fists against his chest, abundant tears running down her cheeks uncontrollably. “WHY? WHAT DID THEY DO THAT YOU HAD TO DO THIS? HUH? WHY DID YOU DO THIS?” Minho easily caught her two fists and threw her onto the floor, looking at her pathetically whimpering on the floor. He crouched down to her level and reached his hand out towards her face, lifting her chin so that they were maintaining eye contact. He ignored the way she flinched away from him and kept a tight hold on her chin.

“I did this,” he whispered sinisterly, “because they were taking you away from me. You even sneaked out to meet them without my permission, I had to do something. They won’t bother us now.” She cried harder at the truth of his last sentence; her friends wouldn’t be able to do anything anymore.

“They’re… my friends, Minho… I didn’t… sneak out… we just c-celebrated my… birthday,” she gasped between heavy sobs and for a second Minho had the tiniest bit of sympathy for her, until he realised she had just taken advantage of his love for her. It seemed he would have to punish her more severely. Clearly her last punishment of isolation in the basement wasn’t enough. But he couldn’t let her anticipate any kind of punishment, which was why with a heavy sigh, he got up and went to the table, grimacing as he looked at the dead people in front of him. He grabbed a plate and put a big slice of cake on it before bringing it to her. However, she just pushed it away harshly, causing him to roll his eyes in annoyance as he sat down in front of her. He grabbed her face with his one hand, causing her cheeks to squish together and open. He ignored her protests and put a big piece of the slice of cake into her mouth as she coughed and choked. He forced his fingers into her mouth, pushing the cake in even more until she had no choice but to obey and eat the cake. He smiled, pleased with himself as he gave the cake to her, and she had enough sense this time to just take it and eat it herself.

“It’s nice, right?” he asked, “I ordered and designed it myself.” She merely replied with a nod, too numb from crying to do anything else. Minho sighed for the umpteenth time whilst clicking his teeth together. He realised she wasn’t going to let him enjoy the “party”, so he stood up, pulling her up with him. “Let’s go home,” he said as he pulled her out through the doorway, not allowing her to give one last glance at her friends. That was when the warning signs started flashing in her brain; she couldn’t go home with him. There was no telling what he would do with her when they got back and she didn’t want to be trapped there again. She had to escape. Minho let go of her hand for one second and she took the opportunity and immediately started running away from him, mentally cursing her short legs for not taking her further. As she ran she looked over her shoulder and to her horror, she saw Minho just standing next to the car, staring at her whilst smiling.

“I’ll give you a head-start,” he called to her and she forced her legs to go faster, “and then I’ll come.” She immediately started sprinting faster, realising she was nearing the woods that marked the end of the city. However, now was not the time to be scared of the woods; she had to get away as soon as possible. But soon, she heard the sound of a car engine and when she turned around to look, she nearly fainted when she saw Minho getting increasingly closer to her in the car. The car was speeding up and she knew she wouldn’t be able to escape him. Finally with a frustrated and terrified shriek, she threw herself down onto the ground and she heard the car come to a stop. She hid her face as she heard his footsteps approach her. She felt him stand above her and felt sick as she heard him chuckling.

“You really thought you could escape me?” he asked amusedly and he leant down to yank her up by her hair, causing her to yelp loudly. His glare was hard and she immediately regretted giving up running away. “Get in the car, we’ll discuss this at home.” She hesitated before stubbornly shaking her head, unable to form any sentences. She would not go home, she couldn’t. He would kill her with his torture and punishments.

“What do you mean no?” he asked, teeth gritted as he shook her hard. She shook her head again and Minho pushed her backwards, causing her to stumble into a tree until she was pushed up against it. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her forward before smashing her back into the tree multiple times.

“ALL I HAVE DONE IS LOVED YOU AND YET YOU TRY TO RUN AWAY FROM ME?” he yelled as he carried on his actions, paying no attention to her pleas for him to stop, or the way her eyes rolled into the back of her head, or how her head suddenly slumped forward. He was fuming and he wasn’t paying attention to anything else. “YOU BELONG TO ME AND ONLY ME! YOU WILL COME HOME WITH ME, WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT!” He let go of her and she slumped before falling to the ground harshly. Minho kicked her roughly before running his fingers through his hair frustratedly. He looked at the tree and for a second was shocked to see the red liquid dripping down it but disregarded it quickly as he looked at her form on the ground.

Minho gasped as he remembered the red liquid on the tree and realised that that was the exact place where he had hit her head against. He put his fingers on the back of her head and was terrified to find blood on his hands. He looked down at her face and noticed how all the colour had faded, how her lips were grey and crusty. He opened her eyes and saw how they were unfocused. He put his hand to her neck, trying to feel a pulse and screamed when he couldn’t find one. He grabbed her body and held her against himself tightly, as if that would stop her from leaving him forever. His grip was so tight and he cradled her against him as he pleaded for her to open her eyes, to not leave him. He screamed her name, but got no response. He would never get a response from her again. She had finally escaped him, forever.

A.N// Thank you for taking the time out for reading this :)

[downondilaudid]

Reality Check

Spencer gets tired of readers reckless behavior, and finally gives her a little reality check.

Requested: Yes

Prompts: My life motto is fuck bitches, get money blow cash.(This is a inspired by a line from the song ODD by Hey Voilet) & That’s not even factual

Word Count: 4.6K

Warnings: SMUT, LIKE PRETTY ROUGH SHIT

“Talk is cheap, but actions are priceless.”

― Green Monk

You wouldn’t necessarily consider yourself reckless, per se, just a little wild. It was a surprising turn of events when you and Spencer ended up together, his teammates had thought you would be nothing more than a fling, someone to keep his bed warm while he was gone. Yet, you had been together for a year and a half now and had been living together for five months. 

Despite the two of you being opposites, you worked together beautifully, you easily complemented each other. Your wild nature allowed Spencer to relax, and enjoy the simplicities of life. While his sophisticated way of thinking forced you to use your head a little more, and consider the consequences of your actions. You loved Spencer, and he loved you, it was just hard sometimes, seeing the world through different eyes. 

“C’mon Spence, please?” You pleaded, your hand latching into his arm to try and get his attention. 

“I really need to work on this, Y/N” he mumbled absentmindedly, pulling his arm from your grasp, and writing something on a notepad. 

“Spencer! You’ve been working on this all night, please take a break.” You shifted so you were standing behind him, wrapping your arms around him, and laying your head lightly against his shoulder. 

He let out a mix between a sigh and a groan, and you could feel the vibration of it through his back. “I need to finish this, Y/N, watching you get drunk, and then having to drag you home, doesn’t sound like a break.” 

You scoffed, “suit yourself, babes.” You pushed off of him, leaving the room to go get ready.

The music pounded in your ears, and the bass rattled your drink against the table. You were already quite tipsy, but for the first time, you weren’t a happy drunk. You guess you were what people call, a sad drunk. 

You stirred your straw around your drink absentmindedly. “Y/N! Come dance with me! Please?” One of your friends questioned. 

Right as you opened your mouth to deny her, the unforgettable intro to Gas Pedal by Sage the Gemini sounded through the club. It was like a switch had been flipped inside you, suddenly you were on your feet. Grabbing her hand, you dragged her to the dance floor. 

She laughed at your change in mood, “yes!”

You laughed along, the both of you staring at each other and in sync screaming, “h-h-h-h-holy shit!” 

This was good, it was good for you to forget, to throw away all the problems of life, and get drunk off your ass. 

Which is how you, and your two girlfriends you had gone out with, ended up stumbling down the street, the club long forgotten. 

The three of you laughed and giggled, talking about anything and everything that popped into your drunken minds. 

“Ooooh! We should prank call someone.” Your friend shouted rather loudly. 

You laughed at her, “totally, we could prank Spencer, he was a dick to me earlier. He didn’t even want to come out with us!” You exclaimed, your hands gesturing wildly, and your speech slightly slurred. 

The girls gasped, both talking over each other, screaming about how boring and annoying he was. 

“I know!” You cried, pulling out your phone to call Spencer. 

You hit the call button, putting the phone on speaker, and hushing the giggling girls. 

“Y/N?” A voice asked through the phone. 

“How did you know it was me?” You asked, a look of bewilderment crossing your face. 

Your friends laughed harder, one of them reaching out to smack you on the arm, “you forgot to block your caller ID, idiot!”

“Oops” you giggled.

“Y/N, where the hell are you? It’s one in the morning.” Spencer questioned angrily. 

Another laugh escaped your mouth, at this point, everything just seemed funny to you. You looked around the dark street, nothing looked familiar. 

“Do you guys know where we are?” You questioned. 

A scoff came from the phone, “are you fucking serious?” 

The girls giggled one of them letting out a childish “oooh! Someone's in trouble!” The two of them turned leaning on each other as they walked away, letting you have your privacy. 

“We were at a club, I’m just not sure where we are now.” You giggled. 

“Which club?” Spencer questioned, his tone authoritative, like a disappointed parent.

You combed through your brain for the answer, “uh…”

Spencer let out a deep sigh, and you could imagine him running his hands angrily through his hair. “You can’t keep doing this, Y/N.” You could hear the sound of a car door opening, and you assumed he was coming to find you.

“Actually, I can do whatever I want, it’s my life. And, my life motto is fuck bitches, get money, blow cash.” Anger bubbled in your stomach, who did he think he was telling you what to do?

“Y/N look around you, what do you see?” Spencer asked, ignoring your comment.

“Hmm…” you trailed off, giggling before you finished your sentence, “my two bitches over there!” You hollered, pointing towards your friends, who laughed at your antics. “The fat stacks in my purse, and the club we just passed where I paid way too much for drinks!” 

“Y/N, I swear to God…” Spencer muttered. 

“C’mon Spence, let me live a little! What are the odds of something bad happening to me? Like, none. I’m with my friends, having fun. Something you seem to never do.” You snapped. 

Spencer let out an angry huff, “first of all, that’s not even factual, second, you need to tell me where you are. Or, I’m going to call Garcia, and have her track your phone.” 

Well, damn. Your eyes squinted, trying to read the blue street sign. “Uh… Briar, Brian Ln.” You laughed, “what the hell does Ln. mean?” 

“Dear God, lane, Y/N, it means lane,” Spencer grunted. You could tell he was tired of your shit.

Luckily for him, the cool night air nipping at your exposed skin began to sober you up. You heard the phone hang up, right as a familiar car pulled up next to you. 

You watched as a very pissed off Spencer leaned over from the driver's seat, pushing open the passenger side door. You looked to your friends, who were jokingly saluting you like it was the last time they would see you. “Good luck! We’re catching an Uber! Call us if you live!” 

You let out one last laugh before clambering messily into the car, roughly shutting the door, and buckling your seatbelt. Spencer remained quiet, his large hands gripping the steering wheel, and his knuckles turning white. You would be lying if you said the sight wasn’t hot, Spencer was always hot, but, angry Spencer was hot.

The rest of the ride was silent, despite your efforts to try and “jam to some music” Spencer smacked your hand away from the radio every time! It was like he wanted you to sit here in the horrible silence. 

As soon as the apartment door closed, the exhaustion washed over you, your limbs felt ten times heavier, and all you wanted to do was sleep. You immediately began your walk to the bathroom to lazily brush your teeth and wash the makeup from your face. 

“Oh, so we’re not going to talk about it?” Spencer said, his voice rising slightly. 

“Spencer, be quiet, it’s two in the morning.” You groaned out quietly, wiping the last of the makeup from your eyes so you didn’t look like a rabid raccoon. You threw the makeup wipe into the trash, moving past Spencer and into your bedroom.

An angry scoff left his mouth, “seriously?” He followed you out, his eyes glaring holes in the back of your head.

You rolled your eyes, stripping from your dress and opening Spencer’s closet to grab one of his old shirts. “Yes, what do you want me to say? Sorry for having fun?” You slipped the soft fabric over your head, turning around to crawl into bed. 

“Please, Spence, we’ll talk about it tomorrow, I’m drunk and tired.” You grumbled, your frazzled mind struggling to pull back the comforter correctly. 

Spencer sighed, your actions proving your words, he leaned over, roughly yanking down the comforter for you, “fine.” 

You closed your eyes, listening to the sounds of Spencer getting ready for bed. He slipped under the covers, turning his back to you. The only reason he did so was because he knew you couldn’t fall asleep unless you were facing him. Something in you wanted his face to be the last thing you saw at night and the first thing you saw in the morning. Despite his petty actions, the alcohol in your system put you to sleep anyways. 

                                                            … 

You groaned, rolling over onto your side, tugging the warm comforter with you. “Seriously?” Spencer questioned, yanking the comforter back, causing you to roll back onto your other side. 

“I need an Advil.” You muttered, squinting slightly to try and block out the sunlight streaming in through the window. 

“Why the hell did you get so drunk, Y/N?” He sat up slightly, the comforter sliding down his bare chest. 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, “you think I remember? I’m just as clueless as you.” You pushed the comforter off your body, deciding to leave the warmth of the bed for a bathroom break and some Advil. 

Spencer followed suit, standing in the doorway of the bathroom, “Y/N you got lost, you were wandering the streets alone and drunk!” 

“I’m sorry, I guess.” You mumbled, your speech slightly distorted as you began brushing your teeth, fighting off the nauseous feeling in your stomach. 

“You guess? Y/N, you have no idea how worried I was!” Spencer cried, his hands gesturing wildly as he took a step closer to you. 

You set your toothbrush back in its stand, “mhm, the same worry I feel when you overwork yourself 24/7.” You remarked, turning to face him with your arms crossed over your chest. 

“That’s different, Y/N! You’re being idiotic, reckless, and immature. I was doing my job.” He spat, spinning on his heel and storming out of the bathroom. 

You sighed angrily, continuing to get ready. You knew he was right, you were being immature. Maybe you had let your friends sway you too much, you just wanted to forget Spencer for a night. You hated seeing him so stressed, it broke your heart, and now you were the cause of that stress. 

Walking out of the bathroom and into the living room you were met with the sight of Spencer once again hunched over his desk, pencil in hand. 

‘Wow, didn’t expect that one.” You muttered sarcastically, walking into the open kitchen, searching the cabinets for Advil. 

“Just like I should’ve known you would go out and get wasted with your friends. Seriously, Y/N, what’s it going to take for you to learn you have to grow up?” Spencer slammed his pencil down angrily. 

“Why are we even together if I’m too immature for you, huh?” You growled, watching as Spencer angrily stood from his chair, stalking over to you. 

Spencer’s hands found your hips, roughly shoving you against the counter, his body pressed against yours. 

You felt his hand trail up your back, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Because, unlike most guys,” his hand laced into your hair, giving it a sharp tug so you were forced to look up at him, “I know how to handle brats like you.” He finished. 

A cheeky smile grew on your face, this wasn’t how you imagined this conversation going, but you weren’t complaining. 

Spencer chuckled, “oh you think you’re so cute, don’t you?”

Your teeth dug into your bottom lip, his condescending words casting a new atmosphere in the room. 

“You’re so quiet now, baby, you weren’t so quiet a minute ago.” His voice was low and as smooth as honey. 

A giggle left your mouth, “well, if I talk, will you shut me up?” 

Spencer grinned, his grip on your hair loosening, “I think I have a few ideas.” 

“I’d love to see them” your hands started a path up his chest, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck. 

“I bet you would.” He said, and in an instant, he was gone, he had stepped back and was already walking back to the bedroom. 

“Spencer!” You cried, stomping after him like a child who had just been put in timeout. 

“Calm down, I’m just getting something.” He said, digging through his work satchel. 

You rolled your eyes, your bratty nature getting the best of you, “well you better hurry, or I’ll just take care of myself.” 

Your statement sent Spencer into a fit of laughs, and your face scrunched in confusion. “Y-you really don’t know when to quit, do you?” He said between laughs. 

“And you’re saying I’m the immature one?” At that moment, all you wanted was for him to fuck the shit out of you, but, apparently, that was not on his agenda.

He walked over to you, much like a predator would to its prey, slow and deliberately. “Just shut up and fu-shit!” You cried out in the middle of your sentence, as he roughly grabbed your arm, spinning you around and pinning you to the wall. 

“You’re telling me to shut up? All you’re doing is back talking, and I’m sick of it.” He growled out.

You squirmed in his grip, “then maybe you should stop being an asshole!” His hand grabbed your other arm, yanking it behind your back, “ow, Spencer! Jesus.” Then the faint clinking of metal filled your ears, and chills covered your arms as the cool metal clamped around your wrists.

“Did you just fucking cuff me, Spencer?” You screamed, trying to turn to face him. Surprisingly, he allowed you to, in fact, his hands moved to your hips, helping you.

But the second you faced him, his hand was wrapped around your neck, tight enough to restrict your speech. “I did, in case you can’t tell, you’ve been an absolute brat the past few days. And if you want to go out and act like a whore, I’ll treat you like one.” A primal look washed over his eyes, he wanted to break you, to humiliate you into submission. 

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your mouth falling open in a silent scream. Spencer chuckled, “oh, you really are a whore. You like it when I choke you, huh?” 

His hand pushed back on your neck, shoving you back into the wall, watching as you collapsed into a heap on the floor. You gasped for air, squirming as the handcuffs dug uncomfortably into your back. 

Spencer’s hands went to his belt, unbuckling it quickly, “get on your knees, sweetheart.” His voice was soft and gentle, probably because he just choked you and threw you against a wall.

You complied, shifting onto your knees with minimal struggle, despite the restraint of your arms. “Good girl.” Spencer praised, pushing his pants and boxers down thighs, his hard cock springing free. 

Your eyes widened, you were shocked at how hard this had made him, sure, you had always had this Dom/Sub dynamic, but you had never been this rough before. 

His hand wrapped around his length, giving it a few good pumps. His other hand wrapped your hair in a makeshift ponytail, using it to drag your head towards his cock. “Open, baby.” 

Your jaw fell open, his cock filling your mouth, and your lips puckered around him, sucking lightly at the tip. “Oh no, baby, I’m going to fuck your mouth, and you’re going to sit there and let me.” 

He pushed down harder against the back of your head, driving his cock further past your lips. You squirmed, gagging slightly as he hit the back of your throat, you tried to pull back for some air, but his hand just pushed your head down further. “That's it, such a good whore” he groaned out.

You took shallow breaths in through your nose, trying your best to relax your throat to take him in further. Tears welled in your eyes, and you tried to pull back once more. Spencer let out a mix of a groan and a chuckle, “no, no, you wanted to act like a whore, you’re going to take it like a whore.” 

He pulled back, groaning as your tongue ran over the vein on the underside of his cock, “God, yes, there you go.” He pushed back in, this time pulling back faster, setting a rough pace. You gagged again, more tears falling down your face, mixing with the saliva escaping your mouth. 

“Shit, that feels good.” Your eyes flickered up to Spencer's face, just in time to watch him lean his head back with a groan. The sight alone caused you to moan around his cock. “Oh, God” he moaned, his hand pushing your head down one last time, as he stilled, his cock twitching lightly in your mouth, spilling his hot cum. 

The sight of him coming undone before you had you moaning around his shaft, milking his orgasm. “Fuck” he breathed out, his chest heaving. You swallowed around him, trying to control your gag reflex as he pulled your head off of his cock.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he said, his voice once again soft and soothing, his hands wrapped around your shoulders, helping you to your feet. 

“Please, Spencer, please” you begged. 

Then the soft tone in his voice was gone, replaced with a low condescending tone, “please, what? You want me to make breakfast? Or maybe you want me to go back to working?” 

“No, no, no, no” you begged, taking a shaky step towards him, “please, just fuck me.” Your voice came out harsher than expected, albeit still horse from the abuse on your throat. 

Spencer’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, a short scoff leaving his mouth, “wow, and here I was thinking you had learned your lesson.” 

“No!” You cried, before correcting yourself, “no, I mean no, please fuck me, I’m sorry.” You could feel your arousal soaking through your panties.

“Hmm… much better. Get on the bed.” He stated, turning towards the bed, he clambered on, laying down in the middle, his cock once again hard, and standing at attention.

“B-but, I can’t, not without my arms.” You whined you could only imagine how much of a mess you looked like, drool and tears all over your face, along with your disheveled hair. 

You watched as Spencer’s hand wrapped around his cock, stroking leisurely, “that’s a shame, I guess you won’t get to ride me.” He sent you a smirk, watching as you struggled to walk to the bed, the bastard was enjoying this so much. He was addicted to the sight of you, no longer reckless, but more wrecked. Completely at his will. 

You fell face forward onto the bed, squirming to try and climb onto it. “How cute.” Spencer voiced, sitting up slightly, his hands wrapped around your biceps, and in one swift tug, he had pulled you onto the bed. “There you go.”

His hands helped you onto your knees, helping you to straddle him. He pulled your panties to the side with one hand, the other spreading your wetness around your folds. He hummed in approval, “almost seems like you’re enjoying this” he teased. 

You whined at the friction, your hips grinding down against his hand. He pulled his hand back, reaching down to grab his cock. He lined it up with your entrance, slipping the head in. You both groaned at the feeling, your head falling back in pure bliss. His hands moved to your hips, yanking you down fully onto his length. 

“Oh, God, fuck yes.” You moaned, your head leaning forward this time, your hair falling in your face. 

Spencer’s hands left your hips, folding behind his head, “if you want to cum so bad, you can do it yourself.” 

You swear your jaw fell to the floor, and the tears that once filled your eyes came flooding back. “No, please, Spence, please fuck me, please.” Despite your words, your hips began to rock into his, lifting slightly only to crash back down on his cock. 

He groaned lightly, his eyes closing in pleasure, “you were acting like a whore, you’ll cum like a whore.” 

“Ugh, shit.” You moaned out, your hips working faster. 

“Yes, baby, there you go. Make yourself cum on my cock.” Spencer said through gritted teeth.

Your thighs began to burn, and you knew you couldn’t carry on much longer. You quickened your pace, desperately chasing your orgasm. 

“Fuck, such a good whore, my little whore.” Spencer praised, his voice strained with lust. 

The burning became too much, and exhaustion hit your body like a train. You collapsed forward, burying your face in Spencer’s neck. “Please, fuck me, please, Spence. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I promise.” You sobbed, your fresh tears falling onto his shoulder. 

“Alright, baby, it’s okay.” He unfolded his hands from behind his head, running them up and down your back soothingly. His hands ran down to your hips, lifting you off of him. “C’mon baby, we’re not done yet, I know you can take it.” He cooed softly.

You pulled your head back, biting down harshly on your lip, you nodded your head, not trusting your voice. “You’re such a pretty girl, and all for me,” Spencer said, his hand coming up to trail over your face affectionately, and you subconsciously leaned into his touch. 

“Okay, up.” He said, landing a soft tap to your backside. You giggled lightly. He helped you off of him, and before you could relish in how gentle he was, it was gone. He shoved your face forward into the bed, and you let out a sharp yelp. 

The low gravelly tone was back in his voice as he spoke, “You’re such a pathetic little mess for me.” He had moved behind you, his hard cock grinding against your clothed ass.

You turned your face to the side so you could breathe, muttering out a, “please, Spencer, I won’t do it again, I promise.”

His finger hooked in your panties, pulling them to the side, and with one swift motion, he had slammed his cock into you. You screeched, eyes crossing, and mouth falling open. “Fuck, yes! Fuck, me.”

Spencer’s pace was relentless, pounding into you, skin slapping against skin obscenely. He practically growled from behind you, and his hand reached up, latching onto the handcuffs. He pulled you back onto him with each thrust. 

You yelped, your wrists ached, and they would definitely be bruised, but the pleasure was too good to tell him to stop. Plus, you doubted he would listen. “Fuck, fuck, Spencer.” You muttered, the tension building in your stomach. 

“C-can I cum, please? Please, please?” You begged, drool sliding from the corner of your mouth. 

“Cum, cum, whore,” Spencer demanded. 

You let out a loud cry, panting as your orgasm coursed through you. Your thighs clamped together, and you cunt clenched around Spencer’s cock. Your back arched further, pressing your breasts into the mattress. 

Spencer continued his pace, crashing into you with everything he had. “F-fuck, shit, Y/N, so good.” He stuttered. 

At this point you were an incoherent mess, your mind was clouded, all you could focus on was the feeling of Spencer’s cock dragging against your walls. 

“Spence, please, I won’t do it again, I promise.” You begged, you couldn’t tell if you were begging him to stop or continue. 

He chuckled through a groan, “your right, you won’t do it again,” one of his hands reached around, placing itself on your stomach. He could feel the bulge his cock created every time he thrust into you, “you won’t do it again, because I’m going to cum in you.” 

The one-sentence had you spasming around his cock again, moans, and whimpers leaving your mouth. “You won’t be able to go out and drink with your stupid friends if you’re nine months pregnant, bitch.” He gritted out, finally stilling inside you, letting his cum fill you up.

The feeling alone sent you into one last orgasm, your body trembling, and a constant flow of tears cascading down your face.

You knew this wasn’t healthy, you couldn’t make up like this. He was so right, you were being childish and immature. Orgasming inside you was almost his way of telling you you’re not a child, you’re a woman, and you need to act like one. It was on its own, a reality check.

Spencer gave you a few more gentle thrusts, before pulling out, moving quickly off the bed. 

You didn’t dare try and move, your body ached, and your wrists had been rubbed raw. Your headache from earlier was back, this time twice as strong, and you groaned at the pain.

“Shh… baby, don’t move.” Spencer was at your side in an instant. You vaguely registered the clinking of metal and the freeing of your wrists. 

You whimpered as he slathered lotion on your sore wrists, massaging them gently. When he was done you giggled deliriously to yourself, it was moments like these you cherished. Such moments of utter vulnerability and trust that would only be shared between the two of you. 

He left once again, and you slowly rolled onto your back, letting your eyes close momentarily.

Spencer came back shortly, walking back over to the bed. He placed a kiss on your forehead, watching as your eyes fluttered open, “hi” you mumbled. 

Spencer laughed, “hi” he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. “C’mon” he mumbled.

One of his arms hooked under your knees, the other around your back, you got the idea, quickly wrapping your weak arms around his neck. He lifted you up, carrying you bridal style into the bathroom. Upon entering you had noticed he already drew a bath, and a smile crept onto your face. 

“Here, sweetheart.” He set you down on the toilet, helping you out of your shirt, and pulling off your ruined underwear. He helped you up, holding onto you as you stepped into the water. 

You got yourself situated, watching as he stripped from his clothes to join you. You scooted forward, allowing space for him to slip in the bath behind you. 

He smiled at your actions, climbing in carefully, he settled behind you, his arms wrapping around you comfortingly. You sighed peacefully, nuzzling into his chest. “I’m sorry if I was too rough with you” he muttered into your hair.

You giggled lightly, “no, I deserved it.” You sank deeper into the water, allowing the warmth to soothe your muscles and the pounding in your head. 

“No, Y/N, you were just trying to help me relax,” Spencer said sympathetically.

“Mhm, and I ended up doing the exact opposite, I’m sorry, Spence. I just wanted to forget about you, I can’t stand to see you so stressed.” You turned slightly so you could look at him.

“How about this, you don’t drink so heavily next time, and I’ll take more breaks from work?” Spencer debated, one of his eyebrows raised in question. 

You let out a giggle at his expression, leaning back to press a kiss to his perfect lips, “sounds like a deal to me. Plus, who knows when I’ll be able to drink again?” You teased, alluding to the fact that he had come inside you. 

Spencer laughed, his arms wrapping loosely around your stomach, “there’s no one I’d rather have carry my child than you.” He ended his statement with a lasting kiss to your lips, pulling back, only to pepper more kisses on your face.

[sailtoafarawayland]

The Choices We Make (the words that matter)

He sighed into the darkening emptiness, knowing every mistake he'd made in his thirty-nine years had simply been practice for this one, for the one that would haunt him with every breath he took until he took no more. She was gone, and it was entirely his fault.

Rating: G

AO3 - FF

An angsty, Silver Hook birthday present for @the-darkdragonfly​ 

Chapter 1/1

The soft, morning light glanced into the room, capturing each mote of dust and illuminating them with an otherworldly glow as they spun through the air, clinging tenuously to the march of cracked spines that lined the bookshelves from ceiling to floor.

Killian swallowed heavily, his pulse thumping in his ears like the panicked breaths of a freed beast begging for the security of its cage once more.

She took another confident step forward, long swathes of hair golden and shimmering. The pale expanse of her hand rose to splay against his chest, a soothing comfort where his heart was beating wildly. Her fingertips just brushed the curls of gray hair peeking from the neck of his shirt – silver, she'd told him once, her lips caught between her teeth as she brushed a stray lock from his face, silver like the moon.

“Swan,” he breathed, his own hand moving to cover her own, each scar and callous, each mark of his age a glaring reminder of why this couldn't happen, “we can't, love.”

“Why not,” she sighed, tension lining both of the small words as her green eyes met his, each freckle scattered across her cheeks calling out to be studied, mapped and memorized, “because you think you're too old for me, that you don't bring anything to this?”

His frustration echoed her own, but it was tempered by years of familiarity. He stepped down carefully from the rolling ladder, his back protesting only slightly as he bridged the gap between them, her palm still pressed warm and insistent against his chest. Their bodies were that much closer as she stubbornly refused to step back, a single eyebrow arched defiantly.

“My failings are reason enough, though the least important among them. You're young, and brilliant, Emma. You've so much to offer the world. Don't tether yourself to me instead of seeing it.”

She opened her mouth to speak, and he knew he would hear the same words she'd said to him so many times before, sometimes borne of frustration, and other times carrying the heavy promise of steel – I don't care that you're older than me. I want this, and if seeing the world means that I can't have this, that I can't have you, then forget the damn world – but he silenced her with a look, reaching for the book he'd left balanced on the rung of the ladder above him.

It was a book he hadn't seen in decades, but today, knowing how their paths would diverge, he wanted her to have it.

His fingers closed around the binding and pulled the nondescript book into the space between them. He did his best not to linger over the difference in how it felt all these years later. With his damaged hand, he could no longer feel the rough scratch of the cover, or the indented, gilded lettering, the small tufts of fabric that sprung from the endband – just one more failing that spanned the distance between them.

“Stop it,” she whispered, her smooth, lithe fingers folding solidly over his own, stiff and scarred, somehow knowing exactly what he was thinking.

“I read this very book quite often when I was a lad,” he mused, the words leaving his throat far more roughly than he intended as he studied the soft silk of her skin against his. “Captain Blood – a tale of a man who was once a slave, but he dared to make his own fate, Swan.”

They'd spoken late one evening of his past – of his mother who'd left too soon, his father who'd traded his sons as labor for his debts, and his youth spent under the thumb of people it took him near his entire life to finally be free of. She knew of his losses and heartaches, of every wretched decision that had led him to the small, haunted peace he'd finally found.

“It's a classic adventure, take it.” he added unnecessarily – because she knew him, knew the escape and hope it had given him over the years in the same way she'd lost herself among the pages of her own stories.

“Killian...”

“It was a comfort to me on many difficult nights, Emma. I'd like you to have it – use it as a coaster for your hot cocoa if you must, but keep it all the same, as something to remember me by.”

“I'm not taking the job offer, Killian.”

“Nonsense, Swan,” he parried, pressing the book into her grasp and swallowing back the solid lump in his throat. He replaced it with a wan smile, knowing she'd see right through it. “It's an opportunity you'd be foolish to pass up – a job like that, it will open any door you could ever hope for in life. You'll go far from this old bookshop and the old man who runs it.”

The bell at the front of the shop tinkled, the sounds of a bustling, midday main street encroaching upon the silence between them as it swung closed and a voice called out for assistance. Knowing that another moment spent at her side would be the end of his fortitude, his smile already fading to something that hungered with desperation, he ducked his head and stepped around her, missing the warmth of her presence as soon as he walked away and left her standing alone in his office.

“Don't go missing that train to Boston now, Swan,” he called back, his voice traced with a bravado he was no longer familiar with, years and disappointment having beaten it out of him.

He listened politely to the woman who'd entered his shop, nodding at intervals as she explained what she was looking for, but his eyes and heart were trained on Emma as she crossed the shop from the back room, her head bowed and flaxen curls swaying around her as she left, casting one last, confused glance in his direction.

It landed in his gut like a knife, her lips tight as she shook her head and disappeared, closing the door soundly behind her.

/

Killian busied himself in the main area of his shop for the rest of the day, filling his moments with menial tasks that did as much to assuage his loss as the last, frantic swipes of a drowning man for light. The air no longer stirred with the scent of cinnamon and vanilla, and though there were times he had been tempted to return to his office if only to breath in the ghost of her once more, he knew he didn't have the strength. In there, the memories were too many, each of them a shadow of the woman he'd just let walk out of his life – for her own good, he reminded himself.

He'd lived his years changed by many things – tragedy, love, loss, hope – he'd served other's needs and then his own, traveling the world and leaving misery behind as soon as he was able. He'd lived stories that had left their marks on both his body and his spirit, and yet...he'd been entirely unprepared for the way his world had shifted on its axis when she'd walked into his shop all those months ago.

The bell had chimed on the door no differently than it always did, and he'd pulled himself from the repair he was working on, glasses that he'd started needing a few years prior slipping down his nose as he leaned around a stack of books to see who'd entered – and there she stood, all gold curls and high cheekbones, determined eyes alighting on him with a strange pull that snapped every facet of his world into perfect clarity.

The floor had swayed beneath him like the sea and he'd never felt his age more keenly, the soft lines etched around his eyes and the grey that had steadily stolen away the inky darkness of his hair. The silence stretched between them like the world drawing a breath, and then she'd laughed, his eyebrows jumping skyward in response, a glimmer of something he hadn't felt since his youth rising in his chest.

It was a search for obscure references for her work – a thesis that would bridge her joint areas of study in psychology and criminal justice – that had brought her to his door, and once she'd entered, she slipped so easily into his life, arriving on an inhale and falling seamlessly into the rhythm that kept air in his lungs.

He avoided examining the reasons why he'd offered to let her work in his office, perhaps telling himself a little too firmly that it was simply because she had three flatmates and no quiet area of her own – and with the library undergoing renovations, even that option was gone – but it didn't take many sleepless nights for him to acknowledge that there was more to it than that.

There had always been more. From those first confident steps she took through his door and into his life, they'd both known there was something more.

Killian was used to silence in his life – loss and solitude had gifted him with a familiarity for its echoing vastness – but the quiet that stretched between he and Emma as they worked on their own projects was never awkward or heavy, it didn't ring with hollowness or chew at his heart. Instead, it was punctuated by the whisper of pages as she flipped back and forth between books, taking notes with a furrowed brow and her bottom lip caught in her teeth.

Her presence was a soft wind that stirred life back into the stale air of his shop, and he found himself far more attuned to her every movement than someone nearly twice her age should be. He spent every night reminding reminding himself of that fact as he readied himself for bed, washing the day from the gray stubble on his cheeks and folding his glasses neatly on the bedside table. She made every effort possible to get to know him, and he'd had enough experience in his life to see the obvious interest she held for him, but he did what he could to discourage it, pushing down that same calling that he himself felt.

He answered her questions as easily as she shared her past with him, trying to show her through the stories of his past that he was far from the person she imagined him to be – that he was a man broken and beaten down by a life filled with poor choices and pain, barely deserving of the small, lonely life he'd scraped out for himself, let alone the grand things he knew she was meant for.  

Perhaps he should have pushed her away more resolutely back then, suggested she return to the library rather than continue to join him at the shop, but he was weak and hungry for the companionship she so readily gave – the small notes she'd leave, the pastries that began appearing on his desk from the bakery down the street. At first they'd been shared quietly between them as they started their work for the day, but as time passed, cups of tea and hot cocoa became their new routine.

He'd taken to keeping a box of the sugary packets in his desk for her, and as he finished helping customers out front, he'd often hear the soft whistle of the electric kettle singing. Just knowing that she would have left a fresh cup of tea for him at his desk was more than enough to warm him.

Killian shook himself from his thoughts, pulling himself back to the present that no longer included that warmth or the woman who'd managed to return it to his life. It wasn't until the last customer of the evening left, the light on Main Street slowly dimming, that he finally gathered the courage to go back into the space that he'd come to think of as their own – never for anything more than a brush of fingertips against heated skin, a lingering embrace, and that one, life-altering kiss that had made him certain she was the one he'd been waiting for his entire life – but he'd never allowed it to progress any further, had felt the guilt of even desiring it every moment that they spent together.

The shop rang once more with that echoing silence, his footsteps swallowed by it as he crossed the floor and eased the door to his office open, everything just as he knew it would be – empty of the one thing that had made his life full. He moved to the desk, plucking up his worn jacket from the chair and fishing for the keys in its pocket, wanting nothing more than to lock up and find a place that wasn't swimming in memories, a place where he could truly drown his misery, at least for the evening.  

“Bloody hell,” he growled, tossing the jacket back to the chair when he found nothing but lint in its pockets, his hand rifling through his hair in frustration.

This wasn't what he needed right now. What he needed was to find the nearest bar and find some relief in the bottom of a bottle, to forget that for a few measly months in his life, he'd been content – he'd been truly happy.

What he needed was his bloody keys so he could lock up and get away from everything surrounding him – the memory of how she ran her fingers along the worn edge of the shelves, the pale slice of her hip as she stretched on the ladder, reaching for something just beyond her fingertips in a way he knew was anything but innocent, the way she sipped her hot cocoa and then ran her tongue over her lips, catching the sweetness left behind...the way he'd always held himself back from doing the same.

What he wouldn't give to feel them pressed against his own just once more, and in the cloying silence of the shop, his heart was screaming that he was the most foolish man who'd ever lived.

He loved her – gods, if he didn't love her more than he'd ever though possible – and he'd chased her out, practically thrown her through the door and told her to move on.

“You're a bloody fool,” he groaned, his head falling into his hands as he leaned across the surface of his desk.

It was then that his eyes caught sight of something unusual left among the clutter and invoices, something metallic reflecting the low glimmer of lamplight from the shelf – no, that that – a delicate, silver chain lay in a serpentine pile against the dark wood, an all too familiar ring nestled in its center.

“Take it, Emma, something to keep you safe when you move on from our small town to the big city.”

“I'm not taking your brother's ring, Killian,” she'd whispered. “It's all you have left of him.”

“Aye, and it's kept me safe all these years, but I think I'd rather the comfort of knowing you had at least this small part of me when you leave...”

He sighed into the darkening emptiness, knowing every mistake he'd made in his thirty-nine years had simply been practice for this one, for the one that would haunt him with every breath he took until he took no more – a glance at the clock and the weight of the cold, silver ring in his palm telling him that he was too late.

She was gone, and it was entirely his fault.

“You're a fool, Killian Jones,” he muttered, “an old fool.”

“You're not a fool, just a little stubborn.”

“Emma,” he gasped, papers flying from the desk as he spun around, his chest tight with confusion and disbelief and hope that pressed so hard against the back of his throat he thought he would choke on it. He took a hesitant step toward where she was leaning in the doorway, but the ring she'd left behind was solid in his palm, and he clenched his fist tightly around it, wondering if hoping at all was just one more thing a fool would do. “What are you – you came back, why?”

“I didn't go to the station to get on the train, Killian,” she said, smiling softly. “I told you I wasn't taking the job. Turns out the only door I'm interested in opening was yours.”

“I don't understand,” he started, needing to desperately, because she couldn't possibly be standing here choosing him after how callously he'd pushed her away.

“I gave my ticket to August a week ago. He's got plans to do the whole starving writer thing in a place with more than one starving writer, so I went to say goodbye – and then I just, I needed some time, so I sat for a while down at the docks.”  

“You were never going,” he echoed, aching to close the gap between them, but still uncertain of the small weight in his palm and what it meant, his fingers worrying the slip of its chain. “Then why leave the ring I gave you?”

“Because, when you give it to me for a second time,” she spoke quietly, closing the distance between them and brushing her fingers along his graying stubble, “I want it to be with a promise – no more running, not for either of us. I'm here, choosing my own fate, choosing to be a part of something. This is it for me, you're it for me – and if you feel the same, then you can go ahead and give me that ring back, and one day we'll make good on it.”

“What have I done,” he breathed, his fingers trembling as he wove them through the loose strands of her hair, “to deserve you, Swan?”

“Well, life can be infernally complex – ”

“It sounds like you acquainted yourself with Captain Blood while you sat at the docks,” he chuckled, tilting her head back and sinking into the depths of her gaze as she finished her thought.

“ – but it can also be really, really simple,” she whispered, pushing onto the toes of her boots, her words ghosting against his lips, “and right now, it's as simple as I love you, Killian Jones, I love you – ”

The ring nearly slipped through the fingers of his damaged hand as he pulled her against him, his lips claiming the promise of her words, her warmth washing over him. She pulled him closer, hands knotted in his shirt as their breaths became one, hungry and desperate before settling into something so like a heartbeat he could feel it in his bones.

“I love you, Emma,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to hers as he whispered the words into the space between them, knowing that out of all the words surrounding them, the ones they'd shared were the only ones that mattered.

END

Tagging: @justanother-unluckysoul @kmomof4  @the-darkdragonfly  @teamhook  @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx   @jrob64  @wefoundloveunderthelight @tiganasummertree  @pirateprincessofpizza  @lfh1226-linda @alexa-fangirl-forever  @alifeofdreams  @superchocovian @donteattheappleshook  @hollyethecurious  @caught-in-the-filter @snowbellewells  @itsfabianadocarmo  @stahlop  @karlyfr13s @elizabeethan  @rkrbirdgirl  @batana54  

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Ready or not, here they come!

Taglist: @salamancialilypad @whumpfigure @albino-whumpee @comfy-whumpee @ashintheairlikesnow @haro-whumps @vickytokio @yet-another-heathen @orchidscript @finder-of-rings

Chapter 11

The polished surface of Kaida‘s prosthetic fist shimmered silver in the early morning sun, suspended mere centimeters from Gideon‘s face. A bead of sweat trickled down Gideon‘s cheekbone as he froze in his halfhearted attempt to block her punch. His eyes were fixed on the entrance gate to their training field instead of her, and Kaida‘s expression crumbled into a disappointed pout.

“Forgot your reflexes in bed today?“ She dropped her fist and shook her head in disbelief. Wisps of black hair stuck to her sweaty forehead. “C‘mon Gideon, what‘s up with you this week?“

Gideon didn‘t respond. He was too focused on the tuft of brown hair that appeared on the top of the staircase, where everyone who wished to enter the academy grounds had to ascend. The giant gate framing the entrance dwarfed Sahar as he lingered next to one of its red painted wooden pillars, unsure if he should cross the threshold onto the training field. His large eyes scouted the area, hopping over their teacher and the other students, most of them already in the midst of exchanging punches or jabbing the air with their spears, until they found Gideon.

Sahar‘s lips played around a hesitant smile as he mouthed a silent hello, while his fingers tapped a symphony of nerves over his pant leg. Gideon watched their gentle movement, the contrast of soft olive brown skin brushing over black linen. There was no trace of Sahar‘s mutation to be found. The only hint of what had happened in the woods was the flash of white bandages that poked out from under his shirt sleeve.

Kaida‘s eyebrows raised in surprise as she followed Gideon‘s gaze. “Isn‘t that the farm-boy? What was his name again?“

“Sahar,“ Gideon breathed, disbelief prickling down his legs like an agitated ant swarm. He stomped past his classmates, dodging still sheathed spear heads and ignoring Kaida‘s exasperated protest. What the hell was Sahar thinking, coming here during training hours? If a stray spear jab or accidental punch hit his still wounded arm hard enough to make him mutate again, all the secrecy and sacrifice would have been for nothing.

“The hell are you doing here?“ The words came out harsher than intended, and Gideon winced at the sharpness of his own tongue.

Sahar‘s tentative smile fell and his green eyes grew impossibly larger but held Gideon‘s gaze with an almost defiant kind of determination. “A a a a applying. As, as a scout.“

“You- Have you lost your mind?“

“You didn‘t strike me as someone scared of competition.“

Both boys jumped at the familiar voice sparkling with teasing self-assurance. Gideon‘s heart plummeted somewhere to his knees.

Sahar‘s smile returned ten fold. All sparkling sincerity.

“Charlotte.“

A gust of morning breeze chilled Gideon‘s sweat damp skin as he faced Charlotte fully. Some of his classmates had stopped their warm-ups, curiosity written large across their faces while they turned to them. Even the teacher glanced over as he placed the wooden basket with slingshots and practice ammunition next to the target posts he had been setting up.

“I‘m no snitch. Didn‘t tell anything to anyone-“ Gideon hissed, whisper silent.

“Calm down.“ Charlotte chuckled, blue eyes glittering amused. “I‘m here to enroll as a student myself.“

He bristled. “What?“

Gideon‘s jaw tightened, thoughts working a mile a minute, as he tried to see through her intention. There was no way she would enlist just to make sure he kept his mouth shut. “The semester has just begun. You guys know that, right? Next registration is five months from now.“

Charlotte's lips twitched around a wry grin. “He who doesn‘t fight has already lost. But-“ White teeth nipped at pink lips and left small indentations in the wake of her uncertainty. “Sahar are you sure you want to do this? If you get hurt and-“ Blue eyes wandered to his right arm, lingered, flitted back up to his face. “...-the entire village could find out.“

“I- I I I-“ Sahar inhaled deeply, fingers fisting in the fabric of his shorts. “I‘m tired of hiding. You just, just said it. He who doesn‘t fight- I don‘t want to to to to lose the life I could have because I, I‘m,- because I‘m too scared to to to to go and live it.“

Determination burned under Sahar‘s gentleness, like fire hidden in a tree-trunk, simmering just underneath the surface. Gideon‘s heart hammered against his ribs. He felt hot, burned under the same determined gaze his brother had worn on the day of his death. The shadow of a ghost flickering to life in someone else‘s eyes.

The long sleeves of Sahar‘s moss green shirt covered the scar the spider's tooth must have carved deep inside his flesh, and Gideon‘s stomach flipped at the memory. It had taken forever to wash Sahar‘s blood from his skin, out of his clothes.Warm crimson red was still smeared on the inner walls of his head like a cave painting, illustrating his own future in violent shades of doubt and hope.

“Who do you think you are?“ Dillan‘s sharp voice cut through the breeze and Gideon’s thoughts snapped back like a rubber band. Dillan‘s pale blue eyes narrowed as he marched across the training ground, blond hair flopping over his wide forehead and narrow shoulders squared. “Wanting to apply in the middle of term? There are rules here!“

“Who do we think we are?“ Charlotte‘s lips curled. “Let me shoot that question right back at you-“ Cold blue eyes dropped to the red stripes embroidered to the sleeves of every first year‘s uniform. “Neophyte.“

Dillan reminded Gideon of a particularly offended fish with his wide watery eyes and small mouth, opening and closing to gulp in air.

Sahar glanced at Charlotte, full of disbelief as he said exactly what Gideon was thinking. “Cha, Charlotte we, we, we aren‘t even students-“

“But-“ she cut him off, voice gentling a fraction, before her tone sharpened once more. “We grew up here. This village is our home and we nearly died protecting it. I won‘t let a little incomer from the city lecture me about how things work in my own village.“

The color of Dillan‘s face resembled a fire bug more than human skin and neither Gideon nor Sahar could hold back their grins. If you could call the soft bashful twitch of Sahar‘s lips that.

Just as Dillan got ready to retaliate, brows drawn tight and hands balled into tight fists, their teacher strode over. Gravel crunched under the man's heavy steps until he came to a halt just behind Dillan, casting his student in the shadow of his wide shoulders. His black beard shifted with the quirk of his lips. Dark eyes twinkled, bemused.

“We teachers were already wondering if you two troublemakers would end up here. Well, I guess I owe Sybil dinner now.“

Gideon‘s brows raised nearly to his hairline. “What‘s that supposed to mean?“

“I would like to know that as well, Mister Bassam.“ Dillan protested.

“Well,“ Bassam chuckled, relishing the confused faces all around him. “C‘mon guys, did you really think we wouldn‘t talk about you three saving a bunch of children and fighting off a spider. Even if you said you weren‘t the ones to strike it down, that's still a huge feat. You should be proud of yourselves. Especially you, young man.“

Bassam‘s large hand clapped Sahar on his right shoulder and made all three of them wince. Sahar‘s fingers began to frantically tap his thigh, but nothing else happened. If Bassam had noticed anything he graciously ignored Sahar‘s display of nerves.

“Jumping that monster with nothing but an old firewood axe. The kids won‘t shut up about it down at the tea house, let me tell you.“

“Oh oh oh, yeah?“ Sahar flushed.

Charlotte sighed. “And I told them to keep it down.“

“Well, be glad they didn‘t, or we wouldn‘t consider giving two penniless orphans the chance to join nearly a month late into term.“

“Wait.“ Gideon burst out, gesturing wildly at Sahar and Charlotte. A cocktail of worry and apprehension pumped through his veins. “You mean they‘re in? Just like that?“

“No, no. Not quite. You two still have to pass our entrance exam. We do have standards here, after all.“ Bassam, whose hand still rested on Sahar‘s shoulder, began to gently push him forward. “C‘mon you two. We‘ll talk in detail in the principal's office. And the rest of you, five rounds around the field. Hade, hade, there is never too much warm up.“

Everyone groaned in frustration except for Kaida who jogged towards Gideon with a wide grin, black bowl cut shining in the sun. He turned around and started running.

[lala-ladybug]

Healing Hands: Chapter 6

Boss level, here we go!

Jasonette Sword Art Online AU

Read here on AO3

Tag list: @iloontjeboontje

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Chapter 6: Stranger danger!

It was a good thing Jason hadn’t taken his weapons or armor out of his inventory last night. He opened his inventory and donned a crimson cloak. Approaching the midtown news stand, he paid for a paper advertising the location of the first level dungeon and continued on his way.

Skimming the headline, it sounded like he had to go to the northeast mountains to find the entrance. The team hadn’t been able to justify buying horses yet, so he’d have to go on foot. Fine by him, more time to walk off his bad mood. And work out a plan.

He’d be in and out, just to see what type of a threat they were dealing with. He wasn’t stupid, but he wasn’t about to just wait around for Dick if he wasn’t going to make a move until they knew exactly what they were facing.

Jason put the paper away and pulled his hood over his head, the red fabric concealing his face. He had reached the road leading north out of town. He took a swig of water from his canteen, which he noted was half-full, and set out.

The walk was almost pleasant, if not for the number of travellers-- both players and NPCs alike-- that he ran into. He couldn’t be sure of their intentions, especially towards a lone player, so he’d duck into the nearest ditch or bush for cover until they’d passed.

The sun warmed his dark cloak, but not uncomfortably so. It felt like springtime here in the game, with tulips and wild daffodils blooming in small clusters by the road. Jason knew he should be back before dark, but that was a long ways away. He kept checking his compass to make sure he was heading the right way, but the path was very easy.

In the distance, he began to see mountains. Pulling out the paper he’d gotten from that morning, he checked that the dungeon entrance was along the slope of one of the mountains. When he reached a crossroads, he adjusted his course accordingly.

By then, his anger had all but faded. He still didn’t agree with Dick and he definitely still thought he was an ass, but he didn’t want to rip his head off over it. Literally. God, what a mess.

He stopped to buy some fresh bread from a family farm of NPCs a few miles before the base of the mountains. What a thorough game it was to have given the three children dimples. He wondered how much information their programming gave them. Did they know the players were forcefully kept here? Did they live the same, simple day-to-day lives? Or did they simply stop moving when players weren’t looking, like cheap animatronics.

Jason shook his head. Too much time alone with his thoughts was never a good idea. He almost missed the company of the others. He’d even settle for Garfield, that obnoxious green punk.

He sighed and continued on his way. It wasn’t even halfway, but there was no way in hell he’d turn around now. Every step he took was a step closer to getting out of this... admittedly pleasant hellscape.

A flock of birds lifted off from a field on his right. They swirled about in the sky, fluid as fabric. Each one moved on its own path and yet fit in as part of the whole. He stopped, watching the ebb and flow as they journeyed to find the next field to settle on.

That would never be him, a cog in the machine, no matter how beautiful. He had put his faith in people before and quite literally gotten burned for it. He scowled at the memory, a crowbar and a grin flashing through his mind. No, he was better off fending for himself. Always had been.

He decided to count his steps instead of face his thoughts for the remainder of the trip.

732 steps to the base of the mountain. He picked the leftmost path.

1056 steps until he needed to grapple around a rockslide.

409 steps before the mouth of a cave. The cave.

Jason confirmed one more time that this was the suspected entrance to the dungeon. He put away the paper, took a deep breath, and plunged into the darkness.

It was cold and damp. He didn’t want to risk a light, so he put a hand to the freezing walls as he walked. He tested every step with his toe, trying to avoid potential falls into the darkness in front of him.

Silence drew in around him, heavy and expectant. It dared him to light a torch and rush forward to face the boss himself. He knew it was a bad idea, but it called to the energy humming in his blood.

He breathed and pictured colors.

In and out, he would be in and out, just like his breaths.

It was hard to think of the cave as anything other than the grave he’d once been confined to, but stretching out both arms helped.

In and out.

He pictured blue.

The ceiling seemed to press down on him, nausea rising in his throat.

Blue skies and blue waters. He wasn’t trapped in here, he was free. Free as the birds in the fields.

Just when he thought he couldn’t stand it anymore, he glimpsed a faint light ahead. It flickered around a bend in the cave, and illuminated the stalactites that were over twenty feet above his head.

The cold sweat that coated his back started to dry, the tightness in his throat loosening. Taking in a deep breath of stale air, he surged towards that light.

He rounded the corner, crossbow drawn and ready. The light came from a burning torch, barely a stub left. The sound of metal clashing on metal caught his trained ears and his head whipped up.

An enormous doorway stood in front of him, huge doors left ajar. He saw a flash of movement beyond them. The noises were also clearer now, shouting punctured by roars that shook the walls. Pulling the hood of his cloak further over his face, he silently advanced.

Peering through the gap between the doors, he made quick work of taking it all in. The room was a long hallway, lined with tall columns and lit by torches. There were some rocks scattered about, which would provide good cover from the massive beast before him.

The monster was about fourteen feet tall of ugly with a large, red belly. It wore armored greaves and wielded a huge axe and a round shield. Its face had a dog-like snout framed by a form-fitting helmet. Red eyes glowed from within the helmet, and slobber dribbled from pointed teeth.

So basically a medieval Killer Croc. This was doable.

Jason was about to leave and report back when he heard a shout. “Kitty, ‘Gami, cover me!”

Before he could unpack that hell of a battle cry, a figure in black armor darted out from behind a column. They blew a raspberry at the boss, then somersaulted and wove just out of reach from its enraged blows. At the same time, someone with red and gold armor drew a rapier and began slicing at the boss’s feet.

A slight person with red armor stood from where they’d been crouched behind a rock on the far side of the room. They fired a longbow with devastating accuracy, and Jason watched in profile as the arrow pierced the monster’s eye. They disappeared just as fast.

The boss roared and started swinging wildly. The red and gold fighter danced out of the way, but tripped over a piece of rubble. Jason’s eyes widened as the monster gleefully brought its axe down upon the felled player.

It never met its target. The black armored person dove over their friend and raised a shield. The blow sent the two flying back to the columns, where they quickly limped for cover.

From Jason’s vantage point, he could see a figure in blue armor dart over to the two injured fighters. They shook their head, then whistled a series of notes. Answering whistles came from the last place he’d seen the red archer, and the three people stayed put.

“Queenie, Maneuver 18!” The archer, a girl he now realized, yelled. A fifth person, this one in golden armor, leapt onto the monster’s head from the top of a column near the ceiling. They took a flail out of their inventory and bashed the boss’s good eye, then flipped down to find cover opposite of the archer. All the while, the archer ran along the length of the hall, firing shots into the monster’s gut.

She slid neatly behind the rocks in front of Jason and glanced at the boss behind them. It was blinded now, bellowing furiously. The girl’s chest heaved with the effort of running.

With three of their fighters out of commission, he didn’t like their odds. Well, so much for in and out. Dick was going to kill him for this.

Jason waved until the girl in front of him noticed the movement. Her mouth, the only part of her face that wasn’t covered by her helmet, parted in surprise.

He somersaulted to join her spot of cover and said quietly, “I can help.” The monster had quieted down now and seemed to be listening intently.

She nodded, then pointed at him and then to his right. Pointed to herself, then to the left. She looked at him to verify he’d understood and he gave a thumbs up. 

She picked up a handful of pebbles and tossed them in front of the rocks they hid behind. The monster pricked up its ears and began advancing towards their hiding spot. She held up a fist to have them wait. The boss grew closer and still she held. Jason could feel its hot breath through his cloak before she finally whispered, “Now!” and launched herself to the left. Jason dove aside just in time. He fired his crossbow at the monster’s chest and could see the girl doing the same on its other side. It had left itself open in burying its axe in the rocks they’d been at mere moments before.

Damn this girl was good.

He watched her exchange her bow for a pair of daggers. The beast’s arms still busied trying to get its axe unstuck, she flipped onto them and ran up its back. Jason fired more bolts into it, keeping its attention while she--

Oh damn. This girl was really good.

She flipped her daggers around and dragged them through its skin behind her as she slid down its back. Then she danced away behind a column, switching back to a longbow and firing arrows into its exposed arms.

Jason grinned, letting the thrill in his blood take over for a moment. He exchanged his own ranged weapon for a shortsword, and started hacking away at the monster’s legs. Where the red archer went high, he went low. They accommodated each other perfectly. He glanced up to see the boss’s HP depleting to nearly zero.

While he swung his sword and dodged out of the monster’s reach, he noticed how much more focused he felt, despite having freed the roaring in his veins. It seemed that the Pit didn’t have as much of a hold on him while he was in the game. A small victory, but staying in control was more than useful here.

The beast turned around just as Jason swung his sword, and it broke against the monster’s shield. A rush of movement beside him was the golden fighter, sinking their flail into the beast’s back. They wrenched it free only to whirl around and use the momentum to plant it in the monster’s stomach.

That blow did it in. It staggered backwards, wounds glowing bright red, and shattered into fragmented pixels. A menu screen popped up in front of him displaying his share of the loot, which looked to be proportional to how many blows he had landed.

Jason looked at the other two. The golden one had already rushed back to where their injured companions were, but the red one remained.

“Thank you,” she held out her hand to him with a smile. He took it and shook once. “It was my pleasure,” he rasped, still catching his breath. He raised his broken sword and asked, “You don’t happen to know a blacksmith, do you?”

She held up one finger, then ran off back into the rubble, searching for something. When she returned, she held the other pieces of his sword. “I can mend it, if you’d like,” she offered, almost shyly.

He nodded and handed his piece to her, hilt first. She assembled all the fragments on the ground, then placed both hands over it and inhaled deeply. As she breathed in, the pieces were pulled inward to their original positions as if magnetized to each other. She breathed out just as deeply, and the cracks between the pieces glowed blue.

The glow faded when she picked it up and handed it back to him. He twirled it around a few times just to be sure, but it felt as good as new. Maybe even better. “That was... amazing. Thank you,” he said, sincerely grateful.

She smiled and replied, “It’s the least I could do. It’s a type of magic I learned called Restorative Alchemy, if you’re interested!” That was definitely something worth looking into. “I also put a little bit of magic in it, so when it’s hit like that again, it--”

“Lady!” A girlish, high-pitched shout came from the player in golden armor. She ran back over to the two of them and tugged the girl away. “Stranger danger!” she muttered pointedly.

The red archer tried to respond, “Well we wouldn’t have won without hi--” But the other girl cut her off, “Shush, we don’t even know who he is!” The archer gave a long-suffering sigh.

Jason took the opportunity to leave while their backs were turned. He’d intruded enough, and he didn’t really care to learn their names.

As he disappeared back into the cave, he thought he heard someone say, “Oh! He’s gone....”

* * *

Marinette watched the doors in the boss dungeon, wondering why that strange man had left so soon. She blinked and turned her attention back to her injured friends. Adrien had taken that hit for Kagami, and even though it was to his shield, he’d need a lot of rest before his arm was in working condition again.

The fight was costly. Luka had run out of healing potions, putting more than half of the team out of commission. It had just been her and Chloe left fighting. She wasn’t sure if they would’ve made it, let alone won without that stranger showing up....

“How’s it looking, boss?” Adrien’s hiss of pain pulled her from her thoughts. She crouched down beside him while Luka treated the arm with what simple herbs he had on hand.

Luka finished tying a sling and stood. “You’re going to be fine. Keep it still for a few days. We’ll get you some health potions when we get back to the house. Kagami, can you stand?”

The girl in question used to column to get up on her feet, but kept her weight off her left. That must have been the one she’d tripped on. “I can stand, but I’ll need help to walk,” she said through gritted teeth.

A costly fight indeed. Marinette moved to slide her arm under Kagami’s and supported her. “We just need to make it back to the horses,” she murmured to her friend.

God, her friend. Her friends had gotten hurt because her plan failed. They had no idea what they were walking into, and she had almost gotten them all killed because of it.

They just needed more time. More training.

The five of them started to limp back to the cave where the light from their torch had almost died out, when a bright light flooded the chamber. It came from behind them, and as they turned to look they saw an open door.

“That must be to the next level....” Adrien said softly.

Marinette looked at her Order, broken as they were, and made a decision. “Another time,” she said. “We’ve done enough for today.”

They still had to make it back and spread the word to the other players. A small smile fell on her face. They could give them this news, give them this hope.

* * *

“You did WHAT?” Dick’s voice cut across the room. Jason had returned to their base after dark, but he didn’t have much choice in the matter. He was tired from walking the entire trip and even more tired from the battle, so his pace on the return trip was a little lacking. But that didn’t mean Dick had to yell about it.

“I helped some people beat the first boss,” Jason shrugged. “I don’t see what the big fuckin’ deal is.” He put his pack down and grabbed some food from the counter.

Dick looked him over and, finding no major injuries, rubbed his hand over his mouth. “What part of ‘wait for recruits’ did you not understand?”

Ah yes, this again. He decided to tactfully dodge that shit. “I only meant to get a look at the boss. You know, do some reconnaissance and then report back? But a group was already there and fighting, and they needed help.”

“So you jumped in to help them?” Tim asked incredulously. “You? Mister Lone Wolf?”

“For fuck’s sake, they could have died,” Jason was getting annoyed now.

Dick gripped his shoulders. “So could you.” He glared as Jason pushed off the touch. “Look Jay, I know we don’t always get along, but I don’t want to... I can’t....” Dick hung his head. “Not again,” he said softly.

“Look,” Jason raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’m not looking to die anytime soon. Repeat performances were never really my thing,” he gave a crooked smile. “But I was fine. The monster couldn’t hold a candle against us.”

Dick didn’t look convinced. “Can you just... tell us the next time you go off on your own?”

Jason barked a laugh. “Not a chance.”

“You’ll give me gray hairs by the time I’m thirty...” Dick rubbed his temples.

“Then we’ll match,” Jason winked and ran a hand through his streak of white hair. Tim snickered and rolled his eyes. Bastard.

[crystalrose555]

Don't make me slap you pt 20

Oh boy, this one’s a long noodle~

“How about this one?”

“No.” “Ok, this one?” “No.”

“Levi, why did you bother tagging along if you are just going to turn down every outfit?”

“Because I still think that Marley shouldn’t go. She should stay home with me.”

“Over my dead body, Levi. This is one of the biggest parties of the year, anyone who's anyone is going to be there and Mochi and I are going to be stunning together~” Levi groaned as he looked around Majolish, seeing the vast amount of customers looking for clothing and outfits for the upcoming event. Meanwhile, Marley sighed as she placed clothing back on the rack and turned to the brothers.

“Yeah, I don’t think this is going to work. You demons sure are long, have any of you heard of the terms ‘plus and petite’?”

“See? Look, it’s fate, Marley and I are just going to stay home and marathon The Magical Ruri Hanai: Demon Girl.” Levi sharply proclaimed with a triumphant smile on his face.

Asmo gave a flat look at Levi before turning to Marley with a beaming smile.

“Mochi honey, why don’t we ask Levi to make your outfit?” Levi nearly choked on air as he realized what was happening.

“Wait, Levi, you know how to sew clothing?”

“Y-yeah, I just sew together cosplays and stuff, it’s not a big deal.”

“It’s a pretty big deal to me, all I can are patch-up jobs. It’s really impressive.” Marley smiled at the nervous demon.

Levi’s face quickly heated up as a crooked smile formed across his face. Asmo, seeing his brother falling for his bait, turned and held Marley close, sealing the deal.

“Don’t worry, Mochi, I’ll design something beautiful for you so that you don’t look like a costume disaster~”

“Like hell, normie! For your information, I’ve done custom requests that have won many cosplay competitions, so I can make something that will look great on her!”

“Oh really, then I assume you won’t need any help with Mochi’s measurements~”

“Her m-measurements?” Levi stammered out.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Alright, make sure you are all on your best behavior. This may be a party but I don’t want an incident like last time, do you hear me?”

“Oi, why are you starin’ at me when you say that?” “Because you are usually the first one to cause trouble.”

Lucifer sighed as he took a good look at his brothers in their polished demon forms. Surely, there will be a day when they would be able to carry themselves like proper lords of Devildom but sadly this party wasn’t one of them. He peered through his fingers and took a glance down to see a grumpy Marley who had a purple bow on top of her head for the occasion. He smirked at the sight and took his leave, disappearing into the crowd to go to Diavolo’s side in the far distance. His brothers took a sigh of relief while Marley tried to scratch off the stubborn accessory.

“It’s no use, Mochi. It’s enchanted to stay on during the party.” Satan declared while stroking his chin.

She just snorted at him, flipped on her back, and flailed about wildly on the floor. Spectators stared and giggled at the fuzzy animal flopping on the marble, leaving the demon brothers looking away in embarrassment. In a haste, Mammon squatted down to her while his brothers tried to block some of the gazes.

“Hey, it ain’t comin’ off, so quit flippin’ out like a fuckin’ tuna!” He barked.

Marley stopped and barked back at Mammon’s face, causing him to fall back on his bottom. At that exact time, Asmo turned up his natural charm and drew the eyes of all the spectators to his form. Satan sighed and gave a slight nod to Beel who then picked up the irritated seal and quickly walked off with her slapping against his forearm in annoyance.

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Levi paced back and forth in a less crowded spot in the grand hall while Satan and Mammon stared at him in disapproval.

“Levi, will you stop? You’re going to wear out the floor at that rate.” Satan pointed out.

“Why am I the only one who’s worried? This is a major story event and it always gets crazy during story events!”

“Can you translate? I don’t speak nerd.” Mammon jeered.

“I’m saying something already went wrong! She shouldn’t need this long to shed her skin, she was dressed back at the house!” “Hmm, maybe that bow had a stronger effect than we thought.” Satan contemplated.

“Naw, that ain’t it, take a look.”

Suddenly, Mammon pointed in the distance, drawing his brothers’ attention to Asmo leading Marley to the opposite side of the room.

“That dirty double-crossing normie!” Levi hissed as he slithered through the crowd, leaving Satan and Mammon to follow.

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“Isn’t she the cutest when she’s next to me?” Asmo chimed as he held Marley tightly while showing her off.

Simeon and Solomon chuckled while Luke and Marley shared a sigh from Asmo’s enthusiasm of showing her off as much as possible. 

“Yes, she’s very lovely, Asmo, but maybe you would like to let your friend breathe on her own.” Simeon gently suggested.

Pouting, Asmo released Marley from his grip and then latched onto Solomon’s arm. Marley straightened up and gently straightened her outfit with a sigh of relief while everyone else gave into soft laughter.

“But truthfully, you look astonishing tonight, Marley. I take it that Asmo designed it himself?” Simeon pointed out.

Marley looked down at herself with slight embarrassment before answering.

“Levi and Asmo made it for me when we couldn’t find anything on the rack. I have to say that when I heard about a party, I wasn’t expecting this.” She claimed while looking around at the extravagant hall.

“Hmph, I guess demons can throw a pretty decent party once in a while.” Luke snarked. 

“Luke, don’t be rude, besides you’ve been eating everything from the desserts since we’ve got here.”

“Only for research! Besides, I wanted to see Mochi again since I can barely find her at school.” Luke stammered out with a red face.

“You really like Mochi, don’t you, Luke?” Simeon teased.

Luke turned his head with a hmph and rushed over to the dessert spread in the distance. Simeon shook his head and followed after him, leaving Marley alone with Asmo and Solomon chuckling. The music picked up and swelled as demons began to swarm the dance floor in couples. 

“Marley, any chance I can have your first dance?” Solomon asked with a smile.

Marley tilted her head gently to the side.

“I guess so but I don’t know how to waltz.”

“Don’t worry, Solomon is a great dancer, Marley. I’m leaving you in good hands, so have fun~”

With that, Asmo left the duo alone to attend to his admirers. Taking his hand, Marley followed Solomon to the dance floor and slowly joined the musical current that had trapped all the dancers. 

“See, you’re a natural Marley.”

“Really? I was worried I wouldn’t be able to keep up.” “I don’t think that’s what you’re really worried about. You’re worried that someone will recognize you from school, am I right? It would be bad for anyone to realize that you party-crashed this event.”

“I guess you got me there, but Levi and Asmo placed an enchantment on my dress to make me unrecognizable to everyone here unless I reveal myself to them.”

“I remember that spell, Asmo had me develop it so he could see what people say about him but that only lasted an hour or so before he wanted attention again.” He sighed causing Marley to chuckle.

“I have to admit, I’m having more fun dancing than I thought.” “I’m glad, it’s a lot easier to waltz on two feet than four flippers, huh?” “Yea-”

Marley’s mouth snapped shut as she shot a sharp glare on the white-haired sorcerer who smiled carelessly. Her grip tightened into a vice as cold air radiated from her body. Ice crystals started to form on Solomon’s shoulder as she dug her nails in.

“Easy, easy, that spell won’t last if you cause a scene,” Solomon warned with a smile.

Marley turned her head away from him, her eyes glanced over coldly.

“Come now, don’t give me the cold shoulder. I finally got a chance to talk to you. ” He chuckled.

“...How?”

“I had a bit of a feeling since seals aren’t common as witch familiars but Asmo confirmed my suspicions.”

Marley’s icy gaze returned along with her biting cold.

“Don’t be mad at Asmo, he had the best intentions. You want to go home, right? I’m surprised you lasted so long without returning to the sea but I guess hanging out with Leviathan has its advantages.”

The duo continued to dance and swirl while Marley remained silent.

“...What do you want then? There’s no reason for you to help me and you don’t seem the type to completely give in to Asmo.”

Solomon offered a warm smile in return.

“I just want a chance to talk with you, I’ve always wanted to meet a selkie. Your people are such rare creatures and whenever I find one, they always turn back into a seal and swim away.”

“Are you sure it isn’t the fact you’re a shady magician?”

“Come on, now that’s mean! ”Solomon laughed out hardily as they continued to spin.

[star-spangledstud]

MIND GAMES - TWO

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve suggests dinner with the team. You find out you hate lying. 

Warnings: angst, mentions of violence, anxiety 

Note: Wanna be tagged in future chapters? Shoot me a message :)

SERIES MASTERLIST.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER.

A hail of half-empty wine glasses, trail mix and playing cards fly around the room when the coffee table they were stood on is flipped upside down. Your back hits the carpet with a dull thud, followed soon after by the back of your head. You wince loudly, hand reaching immediately for the base of your skull to relieve the throbbing pain that will no doubt leave you with a menacing headache for days to come.

The men in black, whose faces are nothing but a swirl of flesh tones in your peripheral, grab you by each ankle while you try to recover from your fall. They shout in a foreign language as glass shatters somewhere in one of the other rooms. Then, the sound of open gunfire and the scent of smoke and gunpowder pervade the air. You’re screaming, kicking your feet and flailing your arms wildly while they drag you along the floor, but the sound of your voice is drowned out by the shouting and the guns.

Glass and trailmix accumulate in your hair when they drag you across the room, and small pieces cut the back of your arms and legs. You’re crying, you can tell because your cheeks are warm and wet, and the tears flowing from your eyes mix with the blood of your dead family as they run down the length of your face.

The good thing is you know you’re having a bad dream, but the problem is that you’ve seen this scene unfold so many times that you’re not sure whether the memory of what happened is real or not. 

You’ve seen the scene play out well over one hundred times in your sleep. Red liquid flies through the air in slow motion, your assailants shove their weapons in your face, you try to run away but feel nailed to the ground. You’ve experienced it so many times, and have attempted to change what happens in so many instances. Still, whatever you do, the ending is always the same.

The faces of the men responsible for the murder of your family are blurry, not because you hit your head so hard you can’t see straight, but because you don’t remember what they look like. Their features are warped beyond recognition, and no matter how hard you try to focus on the words spilling from their mouths, you can’t identify any of what they’re saying. It almost sounds like you’re underwater.

In the dream, you try to remember where you are, but your immediate surroundings change every time. Sometimes the coffee table is glass, sometimes it’s wood. The wallpaper shows a different pattern each time you look at it, and the dead bodies scattered all around the room have the same undefined features as your assailants. The only thing that remains the same is the feeling of absolute hopelessness and terror as they drag you away to an unmarked aeroplane that takes you somewhere in Eastern Europe. 

Poland, maybe. You can’t remember, even though you came to spend the next seven years of your life there.

Nearly every one of these dreams is the same. It’s just you, watching scenes of your life unfold through a thick curtain of smoke that hides the most distinct, essential details. A large, gaping black hole has been punched through the part of your brain responsible for the production of memories. No matter how hard you try to fill in the blank spaces, it proves to be absolutely impossible. 

Whatever HYDRA did to erase your memories, it worked.

It’s hard to think straight when you wake up in the middle of the night, images of the dream you just had still playing before your eyes. You hoped that getting further away from the people that created those dreadful memories would allow the pictures to go away. Yet, as you sit up straight in bed, chest heaving up and down in rapid motions, you know they followed you even here, like a thundercloud continuously looming over you.

As your first week in the compound comes to a close, you find yourself slowly getting settled into your new home. With Steve practically following you around every chance he gets, the two of you take the time exploring the entire building from top to bottom. He shows you the library, the garage, the gym and the lab, and promises to take you to the theatre the next time the team hosts a movie night. 

You don’t tell him you haven’t seen a single movie in years, but the words are on the tip of your tongue while he rattles on about 21st century flicks he was forced to watch and ended up really loving.

When the two of you walk along the corridors of the compound, it’s mostly him who talks while you do the listening. You don’t mind it. It gives you time to think. While he speaks, you find yourself trying to dissect the inside of his mind. Still, no matter how hard you listen, all that comes up is silence. It’s odd not to be distracted by a second voice in your head. You’re not used to the simplicity of not having to focus on what’s coming from the other person’s mouth instead of what’s coming from their thoughts.

Each day that passes, Steve introduces you to a new member of the team. The first person you come across is Sam Wilson, who you find running on the treadmill two days after your arrival. He immediately takes a liking to you, and you end up chatting for nearly an hour straight. His thoughts are almost deafening, but his sense of humour makes up for his internal volume.

By the time Saturday rolls around, you find yourself able to chat comfortably with everyone you’ve met so far. Even Tony Stark, who appears at first to be quite wary of your presence despite giving you a place to stay, engages in conversation with you over a cup of black coffee. It’s relatively easy to befriend people when you can see straight through them, especially when they aren’t aware of your abilities.

Still, it’s odd how easily all of them have accepted you into their little bubble.

“Are you okay?”

Unease blooms in the pit of your stomach when you realize you’ve been quiet for nearly fifteen minutes, and your palms instantly begin to sweat.

“Yeah,” you quickly conjure up a smile, “just thinking.”

“About what? If you don’t mind me asking,” Steve asks softly.

“I don’t know,” you tell him truthfully, “I feel like this is all very weird.”

Sam raises a brow, “What do you mean?”

“You guys don’t even really know me,” you remind him, “and you’re giving me shelter. I’m just having trouble wrapping my head around all of this.”

“We’ve read your file,” Steve bites his lower lip, “letting you in was a collective decision, made by all of us.”

Sam nods in agreement, arms crossed tight over his chest. 

Wondering what exactly is written in this so-called file, you chuckle dryly, “no offence guys, but I think that file might be missing a few important details.”

Steve blushes, “a lot of it was blacked out. Look, maybe we should all come together tonight, have dinner or something. You can tell us more about yourself if you want.”

“Yeah,” Sam exclaims, “good idea, cap.” 

Your heart picks up, pushing your pulse while you slowly nod your head, “sure.”

“Great,” Steve steps towards his own room and places his palm on the fingerprint scanner, “we’ll let everybody know.”

Sam turns around and heads for his own room. You quickly disappear into the safety of your bedroom and slam the door shut a little too hard in the process.

“Crap,” you mutter to yourself, “fuck!”

You are not looking forward to this.

“What do you mean, you’ve never heard of Asgard?!” 

Thor’s voice booms over the sound of clinking cutlery and laughter. You slowly lift your shoulders before taking a large sip of water, allowing the cold beverage to relieve the tension in the back of your throat. 

It’s hard to keep all the buzzing internal monologues in the back of your mind, and it takes a moment for you to center yourself before you can answer Thor’s burning question. 

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly, “I just never had a chance to read up on Norse mythology. Please forgive me. I’m sure it’s a beautiful place.” 

It is beautiful, Thor pouts, I miss it. 

“I’m sure you miss it very much,” you add quickly, to which he smiles sadly. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Tony smirks, “he has a big ego and a tiny brain.”

You nearly choke on your water when he winks in your direction. You roll your shoulders to rid yourself of the tension building in your muscles and prepare yourself for the direction the conversation is headed next. 

“So, Y/N,” Tony continues, “how do you know Fury?” 

Of course you knew he was going to ask this. He’s been thinking about it for the last fifteen minutes. Still, heat rises to your cheeks when you place your glass down, and you push a few stray strands of hair from your face and tuck them behind your ear. Your heart is pounding now, but in a room full of enhanced people, including some of the world’s best spies, you know better than to allow yourself to freak out.

Steve, who’s seated right next to you, shifts in his seat. The action, albeit hardly noticeable, startles you anyway, and your eyes fly in his direction out of reflex. You think he looks nice, dressed in a cream colored sweater with his hair swooped to one side, and in a fit of insanity, you’re tempted to compliment him and ignore Tony all together. 

“I don’t actually,” you say slowly, “My mom did, before she passed away. They knew each other before SHIELD was even a thing, when they were still young.” 

“So how’d you get his number?” Clint questions. 

“My mom gave it to me be before she died, told me to call it if I ever needed help.” 

“What’d you need help for?” he continues. 

“Clint, that’s enough-” Steve says before you can answer. 

“No, it’s okay,” you gently touch his arm, “my family got caught up with the wrong people a long time ago. Since the death of my mother tensions have only gotten worse. Fury offered me a place to stay while I wait for things to settle down.”

“What kind of people?” Natasha asks while she lays her fork down. 

“I think Fury can tell you more about that than I can,” you take a bite of your potatoes, “my mom did her best to shelter me.”

Your gaze flies back and forth between Natasha and Steve, and you begin to pray that she out of everyone at this table believes your story. You’re hyper aware of every move you make, and the tension in the air is almost too much for you to bear.

The crease between Steve’s brows and his hunched shoulders make you more uncomfortable. You read the room to make sure they believe you, before picking up your glass and taking another sip of water. Slowly, the conversation dies down, and you’re left with shallow breathing and red cheeks by the time Tony and Sam begin a discussion about a video game they were playing last night. 

“Are you okay?”

Steve’s voice is soft in your ear. The unmistakable hint of concern is evident in its tone when it breaks through your thoughts, and you quickly nod as to not alarm him any further.

When you walk back to your room later that evening,  you can’t ignore the painful twist in your stomach. Your hands are tightened into fists by the time you enter your dorm, and the need to swallow away the lump in your throat is nearly overbearing. You could never tell them you used to work for HYDRA, not in a million years. They would cast you out immediately, send your ass to the curb or lock you away in a federal prison for the rest of your life before they’d let you get away with it.

You didn’t think lying to people you hardly know could hurt this much. 

NEXT CHAPTER.

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