#maybe I should draw her without her voice box?

[a-spes]

| DEVIOUS LIES — Part two (8.790 words).

| Summary — Anon Request — When your friend asked you out for a drink, you didn't think much about it. Yet, maybe you should've, because that night ruined your life. It has been two years, and you can't stop think about what you lost. Your job, your friends, your lover, and even your mind was left in that motel room.

| Tags & warnings — Avenger!Natasha Romanoff x Avenger!Reader, AoS!OC x Avenger!Reader, Other Avengers, angst without comfort, cheating, mental health issues, suicidal ideations, self depreciation, mentions of SA&SH, manipulation, toxic relationship (OCxR), revenge porn, use of drugs.

| Author's notes — I don't know how I feel about that second part, i'm not sure i like it, but now it's written it costs me nothing to share. So here we are. I can just hope that I managed to convey, at least a little, the emotions I wanted to. And, most importantly, take care of yourself.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three.

Almost a year has gone by, and it means one thing: in a few weeks, it’s going to be Natasha's birthday, again. The woman is not sure how she feels about it. She never really had a birthday before she joined the Avengers, and despite the years that have passed since, she still feels a certain awkwardness at this time of the year. Especially as the boys tended to do too much.

She could only pretend to match their enthusiasm. A slight smile spreads across her face as she takes a sip from her drink, staying silent. She has been listening to her teammates talking about her birthday’s party for almost half an hour now. She stopped trying to avoid it a long time ago, when she realized how much they enjoyed organizing this stupid party. She can deal with anything they’re going to come up with if she gets to see their smiles in exchange. Her sentence won’t last more than a few hours, but the memories are going to stick with them for eternity, and it has no price.

"Wait, you know what?” someone asked. It was Clint, and by the mischievous smile on his face, the redhead already knew that she wouldn't appreciate the next words that are going to come out of his mouth. “I think we should have the mascot come over again," he added, his eyes not leaving hers. "What? It was funny to have a cartoon version of you running around," he defended himself when he saw her glance darkening.

"You know what? Do whatever you want," she mumbled, “it’s not as if you were asking for my opinion anyway,” she eventually gave in. Sometimes, you have to know how to pick your battles, and that is one she definitely cannot win, not when all the others seem to appreciate the idea.

"That’s such a great idea!” one exclaimed, and this time it was Peter Parker, “Mr. Stark, do you think they would accept to come again?” he asked the man.

"Obviously!" Tony replied without an ounce of hesitation, laughing at the question. The man thought it was a stupid thing to ask, "she likes you too much to miss your birthday,” he explained, pointing at the redhead while saying those words. "What? She pretends it’s not true, but I know she is lying. I can see right through her and, believe me, she’ll be here,"  he explained when he noticed the confused looks of his teammates.

"Who’s she?" a voice asked, cutting short to Tony’s rambling. That’s the question that has been on everyone’s minds, but that no one dared to ask out loud, except for one of them — And it hasn’t been Natasha, it is Steve that spoke first.

On the contrary, the woman remained silent because she didn’t need words to express herself, a silent conversation taking place between the billionaire and her through a simple glance. Even if she already has her suspicions, and is almost sure that she knows the answer to that question, she wants him to say it, refusing to believe it otherwise.

The moment she saw the box, she was intrigued by it, something drawing the woman to the small package that no one claimed as theirs. It’s almost as if it came out of nowhere, no one knowing who left it here, or what may be inside the black box. At first, she thought it was some joke, but she knew they were being honest when saying they had nothing to do with the gift. And if she had expected a lot of things to be wrapped in the red ribbon, she definitely wasn’t ready for a ghost from her past to emerge from it.

A quick glance before she suddenly closes the box again, that’s all it took for the redhead to know who was behind that gift. The only thing she could think about was how — How did it happen without any of them noticing your presence? Despite the appearances, and the smile she was trying to keep on, the woman was shaken — Why would you do that, more than two years after your break up? Could it be that you are that desperate?

"Is everything okay?" Clint asked, being the only one to seem to notice a change in Natasha’s behavior. At least, everyone had enough restraint to not ask the question that burns their lips — What’s inside the box?

She wouldn’t have answered if one of them had asked. She wouldn’t even have opened the gift if she had known that it was from you, and that’s probably why you left it on the table, avoiding giving it to her directly. Smart girl, she thought. At first sight, the woman couldn’t tell it was coming from you but there was no doubt remaining once she saw the content — There is only one person on Earth that cares enough to give her such a gift. A person that constantly looks after her, guessing what the redhead wasn’t telling.

A person that she used to love. 

A person that couldn’t be here, was she? The woman can’t help but glance around but she can’t find your face. What was she expecting anyway? To see you in the corner of the room with a bright smile and your arms open for her to throw herself in a hug? That was stupid, and so is the hint of hope she felt when she opened the box. The others told her many times she has to turn the page, but she doesn’t seem ready to let you go. Even after two years, she is still craving your presence as much as before.

The thought of it puts to shame the redhead who knows she shouldn’t hold on to the past, especially when the past in question has a pretty face and breaks her heart. Even after what you’ve done to her, she has spent hours crying, praying for you to come back. Even after listening to the others assuring her that she deserves better, she couldn’t forget how you’ve always been the most caring, and strong, and beautiful person she has ever met in her life. 

You weren’t horrible. Were you? 

Sometimes, she thinks you are a monster. 

Sometimes, she thinks she is, for not listening to you that day. 

That day, she let her anger speak for her, something she swore she would never do again. When she started to realize that, maybe, she should’ve listened to your version of the events, it was too late. At the time, she couldn’t bear to hear the sound of your voice or see your voice, but after two years, as the memory of it starts to fade away, she surprised herself to miss it. 

Except that Fury had refused to tell her where you were. She tried to ask nicely, to beg, and even to threaten the man, but none of it worked. He said that you needed time, that you’ll be back when you are ready, not before. Despite her frustration, the woman accepted it. After all, she is the one to blame, the one that puts herself in such a situation. She could only hold on to the fact that, one day, you’ll be back. Right? As the days go by, the likelihood of ever seeing you again is gradually diminishing. Some nights, when she can’t sleep, she stays up, eyes fixed on her laptop’s screen — Maybe she could give fate a helping hand? She knows she could find you easily. Yet, despite her urge to do it, she has always ended up closing her laptop without starting the research. 

She has to trust Fury, she repeats to herself. Even if she sometimes disagrees with the man, even if it’s frustrating, she has to believe him when he says that you are safe.

Some other nights, all she can feel is anger, and hatred. The redhead is lost, and scared, again, something she never thought she would feel again the day you two met. What if it was true, and you really cheated on her? Then, you could do it again if she forgives you, because history always repeats itself, and you are no exception to the rules of the universe. She knows how people tend to promise a lot of things that they don’t mean, especially when they are desperate, which is exactly what you’ve been that day. She couldn’t forget the look on your face when she dragged you out of the building, the despair in those bright eyes, glistening with tears. This is the only thing she can remember when she thinks about you. Not the good moments you’ve shared, only the brutality of the end of your relationship. 

You've abandoned her, and so did she.

It has been three since she last saw you, and almost a year since her birthday party, but the woman couldn’t stop thinking about it. She didn’t take the gift, leaving the jewelry in the box, and the box on a shelf. She hasn't touched it since. How could she when just the sight of it was already too much to bear?

Every day, when she wakes up, it is one of the first things she sees, and one of the last when she goes to sleep. If it doesn’t feel right to the woman to take the gift, it doesn’t feel right to throw it in the bin either, so it stayed here as a constant reminder of what she has done. Every time she thinks she is finally over it, the box rekindles her doubts. There are some things she can’t quite understand about the situation, and why you would give her such a gift, two years after she kicked you out, is one of them.

Maybe it was a poisoned gift. Maybe it was a sick trick to make her feel guilty, a way to get her to crawl back to you. Beside these possibilities, she couldn’t think of any others that were likely, and she was afraid to admit that your plan was working. The box was a permanent reminder of your existence, something she couldn’t get herself to give away because of those dumb feelings she was experiencing. Somehow, she was holding on to that last piece of your years together after she threw away everything else with the help of the team.

The pictures, the clothes, the gifts, even your favorite cutlery has been burned a few days after you left them. It is almost as if you’ve never stepped a foot into the building, as if you’ve never existed. The woman was fine with the idea of pretending that nothing happened — She was fine with the idea of erasing every remaining part of your relationship.

Except that black box. It is stupid how she hangs onto that last proof of the relationship she once had with you. She had burned everything, but she couldn’t get herself to do the same with that gift. Maybe because she knew that she could never erase you completely from her life. She surely could pretend, it is a game she is really good at, but you would always be on the back of her mind because memories don't go away as easily as objects do.

Since she had opened the box, doubt had been creeping inside of her — What if? What if she has been wrong the whole time? What if she should have listened to you? Give you a second chance? That day, her reaction had been dictated by anger and hatred, feelings that still inhabit her soul, but have faded over the years. For two years, she had been sure that she made the right choice — At least, that’s what everyone kept telling the woman, and she listened to their comforting words.

But since she opened the box, she was no longer sure of anything. She wasn’t the one that wanted you gone in the first place. She surely needed a bit of space before being able to talk with you properly, but only a few days, maybe a few weeks, not two years, and definitely not more than that. That little box only worsened her doubt because who would be desperate enough to still cling to the person they betrayed, years after the events? A person truly in love. She had kept her doubts for herself before that day. If she is almost sure of the identity of the person who gave her the box, because there is only one person on that planet that cares enough to gift her something so meaningful, there are still a lot of questions to which she doesn’t have the answers — For example, how did you manage to sneak into the building without everyone knowing? She now knows that someone knew the whole time.

“Tell me,” she firmly asked the man, leaving little room for discussion.

No one pointed out the thing he has said about the mascot, the subject of the conversation quickly changed after that. Except, while they were talking about which flavor the cake should be, Natasha could think of nothing but Tony’s words — “She likes you too much to miss your birthday”, “she pretends it’s not true but I know she is lying.” So when everyone eventually decided to go back to their rooms, around two in the morning, she stayed a bit longer in the common room in hope of getting some information.

“Sorryy, I can’t, I don’t know anything,” the man replied, indifferent to her tone, “anything at all,” he repeated, chuckling like a child who has done something wrong. 

The woman sighs, pinching her nose as she takes a deep breath, trying to not lash out her frustration on the man. The conversation isn’t exactly going the way she had hoped, Tony refusing to answer her question no matter how many times she has already asked. She even tried to blackmail him, but he was persistent in pretending that he didn’t know anything. When he almost falls on the ground trying to get a few steps back, it has been the last straw for the woman. Gladly, someone entered the room before she could hit him so hard that it would have sobered him in an instant.

"Is everything okay?" the voice asked, and both of them immediately shut up to turn their heads toward the woman who just entered the room, Astrid. She is leaning in the doorway, her gaze alternating between Tony and Natasha.

She hates her. Not as much as she hates you, but she still feels resentful toward the agent. When she smiles, when she speaks, even when she is just here, existing, the woman can’t help but hate her from the depths of her heart. Gladly, she rarely sees her, as an agent of the S.H.I.E.L.D., she is only around when they have outstanding missions. If Natasha had a choice, she would’ve thrown her away with you that day. 

"She wants me to admit that her girlfriend was the one in the costume," he immediately replied, "but sshht, we can’t let her know that!" he added, holding his index finger in front of his mouth for a few seconds before leaving the room giggling. 

"I know what happened," she eventually said when she noticed that Natasha was about to leave after a few seconds when they glanced at each other in silence. "Th- That night, in the motel room~," she added, her voice being hesitant. Those words made the redhead stop in her tracks.

"If you're about to rub in my face how you've ruined my life, you can shut up," she immediately cut her, not wanting to listen to the woman, not if it’s to tell her about how she fucked the woman she loves. Her voice was full of anger, just like the murderous look in her eyes. The only thing that prevented the woman from immediately leaving the room was the thing she saw in the other’s eyes. Her attitude betrayed her emotions, a mix of guilt, sadness, and shame, which aroused her curiosity. 

With a nod, she ordered her to continue.

That morning, as many others, you are woken up by your girlfriend’s gentle touches, her fingers slowly tracing circles on your stomach. A hum of satisfaction escapes your lips before your turn around, nuzzling your head further into the crook of her neck.

How could you have known it would be the last time? How could you have possibly guessed that the routine you’ve got used to would be broken so quickly?

Every morning, it is the same thing, and while the former spy has no problems getting up early, you definitely can’t say the same for yourself. She is always awake before you are and, even if she had never admitted it, you are sure that she takes a few minutes to observe your sleeping form. She loves seeing you so peaceful and calm, being able to have a glimpse of your face without those worry lines, without the marks of your anxieties. 

She is always the one who wakes you up, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. There is no better way to start a day than Natasha’s sweet words and caresses. It’s her fault if you never want to get out of bed, wishing every morning that you could stay in that bed, next to her, for the rest of your life. Sometimes, you suggest that you tell the others you are sick, just to spend a day together, but she just laughs, dismissing your idea.

But all the good things must come to an end, right?

"It's time to get up, milaya," she softly said in your ear, her breath tickling your skin, "Astrid won't be happy if you are late again," she added when the only answer you gave her was a groan of discontent.

"They won't say anything if I am late once, it's okay", you mumbled, her words not being enough to convince you to leave the comfort of her arms. 

Especially when you realize that there is nothing to get excited about the day ahead of you, in perspective, only hours spent in an office, listening to men who think they know everything better than you do. Today, you are supposed to attend an important meeting alongside Astrid, and you still don’t know why you volunteered. The thought of the paperwork and the efforts that you will have to put in pretending that you are actually happy to be here definitely don’t worth your pay.

Except that you’ve lied to Natasha, and she knows it. This is definitely not the first time that you are being late, it happens almost every day, to the point that the day you are in time can probably be counted on your hands. Gladly, when you are coming in the S.H.I.E.L.D.’s quarters, it's Astrid who’s your supervisor, and she appears to also be your best friend. Most of the time, she is kind enough to accept to close her eyes on your delays. Today, you came in only ten minutes late, and the woman was somehow impressed, expecting you to be later than that.

“You’re late, again,” she replied, obviously waiting for an excuse that you don't have. She would know if you are lying to her, and you don't have the energy for that kind of game today, and you could see that the woman neither. She was starting to get tired of every day starting with the same bullshit coming from your mouth.

“I am so, so, sorry,” you said to her for what may be the tenth time since you’ve entered the office. She is walking fast, and you are trying to catch up with the black-haired woman, who is also your superior within the S.H.I.E.L.D. “Please, don’t tell Fury,” you begged, but all she did was roll her eyes, and give you a file when you eventually reached her office. You quickly glanced at it before closing it again, your attention focused on the woman, “Astrid, I am serious. He is going to give me more paperwork if you do. Or worse. Imagine if he forces me to train the new recruits, you know I can’t do that again. Please, …,” you added, looking at her imploringly.

“And what do I have in exchange?” she sighed, turning around to look at you, one eyebrow raised. Despite her serious expression, you know she was trying to not laugh. She may be your boss, but above all she is your friend, and you both know that she would never tell Fury about your delays. Even if she has threatened you to do so a few times in the past, she has never actually done it. Yet, this time she felt like she needed something in exchange, she had covered for you enough time for free, and you were happy to thank your friend with whatever she may want.

“Anything you want!” you replied, desperate but no less honest. 

“Tonight, after work, you pay me a drink, deal?” she asked after pretending to think for a few seconds. In reality, she already knew what she wanted from you. She has thought about asking you out since the moment you met, something you’ve never noticed, always reducing her to the role of a friend, and not keeping up on the clues she was leaving you. Tonight, however, she will be clearer than she has ever been.

“Deal!” you immediately said, accepting the proposal without thinking twice about it. "Thank you. Thank you so, so much. You are the best," you added, kissing your friend on the cheek before leaving the room quickly, a sight that made the woman chuckle.

It is a deal that makes you both happy. You have met Astrid at the Academy, when you were both trainees that dreamed of joining the S.H.I.E.L.D. without even knowing if you were good enough for that. The two of you quickly became close — That’s the kind of thing that happens where you are the only two females of your promotion. Either you hate each other over your dead bodies, or you grow so close that you become inseparable. 

Except that, since you've both achieved your dreams and joined S.H.I.E.L.D, something changed in your relationship. It wasn’t your fault, nor hers, that you had less time to see each other, your jobs taking a lot of your time and energy. Then you've been assigned on a long-term mission with the Avengers, and you’ve spent less time at the S.H.I.E.L.D.’s quarters despite still working for the organization. Then you've met Natasha, and you feel like you’ve slightly grown apart from each other after you’ve announced to her your new relationship. On the whole, you had less time to spend with your best friend, and the promises to make up for the lost time have never been kept, not until today. That deal was the perfect occasion to spend a bit of time together outside of the office work.

You both really hoped that this night would make things back as they were before.

"You know, I love her," she confessed to the redhead, her voice being barely louder than a whisper as she felt tears filling her eyes. "Since the day we met, I have loved her. That's what I told her, that night, when we went out," she admitted, and Natasha felt her heart pounding in her chest, her hands were shaking with apprehension, “but she rejected me. She loves you so much, too much," she sadly chuckled, but the redhead felt no relief when she heard those words because they were not explaining the pictures. She can't cry, not now, not in front of that woman.

"Continue," she ordered, feeling that the woman had more to say than that. She already knew that Astrid loved you, you may be the only one that hadn't seen it, or maybe you were pretending, or maybe you were blinded by your love for Natasha.

"I didn't plan to do that, you know," she started, carefully looking at the spy, "but I was so desperate that night, and I-," she said, except she was unable to finish her sentence, the words stuck in her throat.

The past three years, she had kept the truth a secret. At first, she thought it was better that way. The woman was ashamed of her actions, and she was relieved when heard that you’ve been transferred to another department, and she thought that her secret would be safe. Except that, if everyone acted as if you’ve never existed, her mind didn’t allow her to forget. Every hour of every day, you were in her mind, and the longer she thought about that night, the biggesther guilt became, until the burden was too heavy to bear. Tonight, hearing them argue about you, has been the last straw.

“What did you do?” she asked, sensing that something was wrong. She didn’t like the feeling that was creeping inside of her, “what. did. you. do.?” she asked once again, but more firmly that time, when the other didn’t immediately answer her question. As she saw the hesitation, she reduced the distance between them in a second, her hand gripping the collar of Astrid’s shirt that she pins to the wall abruptly, “tell me. Now,” she insisted as the interaction only reinforced the bad feeling she had.

That morning, unlike the others, you woke up alone. There haven’t been the gentle caresses of your girlfriend to wake you up, nor her sweet words to coax you into getting up. No, that day, it was only yourself, draped into the cold sheets, and it felt so strange, the silence and the loneliness of the room. Sadly, it has not been the exception you’ve wished it would be, but only the first of too many mornings like that.

In the sleepy state you were in, it took you a few seconds to realize that something was wrong, and almost a minute before you noticed that you weren’t home. You couldn’t even recognize the place you were in, only knowing that it looked like a hotel, a shitty one if you might say. The room was small, simple, and not-so-comfortable. There was something in the ambience that gave you an uneasy feeling about the whole thing, but you were unable to say what it was exactly.

Your head is throbbing, and you are definitely feeling nauseous, but you know that’s not the problem. Your physical distress isn’t the cause of the weight on your chest, the one that makes your breath aching, it’s something else that your mind can’t comprehend yet. It’s all these inconsistencies. The missing memories of last night, the unknown room, the fact that you are alone,... you don’t remember drinking that much last night. You may not be the most responsible person that planet has known, but you know how to handle yourself. Usually. 

Could you have possibly drunk that much? 

The day has barely started, but you already know it is going to be a rough one. If only you knew how right you were, maybe you would have taken a few more hours of sleep, enjoying the comfortable peace of your old life a bit longer before joining the chaos. Yet, you had no means to guess that your day would go that way. 

It's a note left on the bedside table that answered all your questions, easing some of the worries that were creeping inside of you. Someone has written the following words : “Couldn’t get you home because of how drunk you were. don’t worry about being late today, I won’t tell Fury. however, had to go on a mission, be careful when you go home. I left you a bit of money, it should be enough to pay for the room and an Uber. Love you.” The message might not have been signed, but you can easily recognize Astrid’s handwriting. A smile spreads across your lips as you are reassured, the situation not being as bad as your mind made it look.

Some memories of last night flew back in your mind, but it’s only a glimpse of what happened, a lot of the events staying unknown to yourself. The last thing you can remember is the conversation you had with Astrid, when she admitted that she loved you and you replied that you too, thinking she meant as friends because you couldn’t see her any other way, not when you were already engaged in a relationship. The rest of the exchange is confused, and you are not sure what’s real and what has been made up by alcohol. Even today, you are still not sure. 

Maybe you’ve really drunk too much that night.

Knowing that you’ve been with Astrid the whole time was reassuring, and you are no longer as bothered by the absence of memories. For a moment, you thought you'd been kidnapped by some weird man. As you regain your composure, your thoughts become clearer and you decide that the first thing you should do is to send a message to your girlfriend. She must be so worried, and your heart aches at the thought that you might be a source of problem for the woman you love.

It is not your kind to not keep your promises, and you’ve told her you would be home last night. It is not your kind either to not answer her messages or calls. In reality, you are quite the opposite, always sending her hundreds of messages when you are out with your friends. The only reason she hasn’t got after you is because she knew you were with Astrid, and she trusted you. However, the sweet messages are going to have to wait because, when you try to turn your phone on, you only encounter a black screen, a sign that you’ve run out of battery. Obviously, your friend didn’t think to leave you a charger.

You sigh, admitting your defeat. Shaking your phone surely won’t change the situation. For the moment, there is nothing more you can do, except hoping that Natasha won’t be too angry. As you are getting ready, your mind is focused on how to earn the redhead’s forgiveness — Maybe you could stop to buy her some flowers? You hate it, when the two of you are arguing. It doesn’t happen a lot, but it’s never pretty, and the mere thought that it might happen was already hurting.

As you definitely couldn’t go back to the compound by yourself, not knowing how far you were and being in a pitiful state, you decided to use the money left by Astrid to call a cab, as she instructed you to do. It’s not before you enter the car that you realize how late you actually were. It is almost one in the afternoon, and if you are not an early riser, like your girlfriend who is always up by six at the latest, you rarely get up after ten.

It has been a thirty minutes drive back to the compound, and the whole time you were thinking about two things: taking a shower, and leaning into your girlfriends’ arms. You are so exhausted, physically and mentally, that you’ve decided to skip work today — You were already so late that it wouldn’t make a big difference anyway. The journey was long, and those thirty minutes felt like hours. 

Soon enough, you started to suffocate into your own mind, then skin. You felt so sweaty, and dirty, that it quickly became unbearable. Maybe it was the effects of the alcohol, or maybe because you’ve slept in a seedy motel, but the only thing you wanted was to get rid of the clothes you were wearing and the uncomfortable state you were in as soon as possible.

When you enter the compound, you find it empty, and so is the room you are sharing with the woman. If you frown, you don’t think much about it. If the building is rarely empty, it sometimes happens when emergencies are called. A whine escapes your lips as you realize that, if it’s true, they are going to be mad at you for not being here when they needed it. You can already feel your mind losing itself to self-hatred thoughts, as you mutter to yourself how stupid you are. You are going to need more than a few flowers to earn their forgiveness. The fact that JARVIS confirmed that everyone was at the S.H.I.E.L.D.'s quarters didn’t, you would have preferred to hear that they went to the restaurant without you rather than that.

Tears brimming your eyes, you quickly put your phone to charge. It is only when you get out of the shower, twenty minutes later, that you saw the missed calls and messages from Natasha. The most recent ones were sent a few minutes ago. There were too many of them for you to take time to read everything so you just sent her a quick text that said: “sorry, my battery was dead, and I couldn’t answer your calls. I’ll explain everything, I promise. see you soon. love you.” A message she saw but she didn’t answer, which is unusual and an obvious hint of how angry she probably is.

Despite your decision to not work today, you still end up in the S.H.I.E.L.D.’s quarters. You are almost running in the corridors, going to the meeting room where you find your girlfriend, and the rest of the Avengers. When you stumble into the room, a deadly silence descends. None of them greeted you, and the only reaction you got was Fury’s nod when you started mumbling excuses for your late arrival. While your eyes immediately landed on the redhead, she didn’t glance at you once of the entire meeting. The sight made your heart sink. You love her, but you have to admit that the spy is scary when she has that stern expression on her face, one that leaves no room for discussion.

The safest decision was to sit on the furthest chair, leaving her space until you get the opportunity to explain yourself. Something that you hadn't had a chance to do before a few more hours, when you stumbled into her in the corridors. You have been lost in your mind, having a hard time focusing on your work. Earlier, when the meeting ended, she immediately left the room, not leaving you a chance to exchange a word with her, and it has been bugging you since.

“Please, wait,” you said, already begging the woman. When she heard your voice, she stopped, allowing you to gently grab at her arm so she didn't go. She could, if she wanted to, and a part of her did want to run away, but the rest of her knows that this conversation can’t be avoided. “Listen, I- I am sorry,” you started once you were sure she was willing to listen to your excuses, “I should have warned you, but I couldn’t, my phone’s battery was dead and, and- honestly? I don't remember much of what happened last night. All I know is that once was enough. It won't happen again,” you chuckled sadly. When you woke up that morning, you promised to yourself that it was the last time you drank that much. A promise you kept, and three years later, you still haven’t touched a bottle of alcohol. “I promise, 'tasha. Please, don't be mad at me for that, or at least tell me how I can make up for my mistake,” you said, and the woman knew she had heard enough.

“Seriously?” she scoffed, breaking free of your grip. “I can’t believe you are that stupid,” she said, as she started to walk away. But if she didn’t want to hear the sound of your voice any more, you, however, weren’t done yet.

"I know I’ve made a mistake, but I am fine, isn’t it the most important?” you asked, starting to follow. Except that, when she heard your steps in her back, she accelerated her pace. “I promise to be more careful next time but, you know, I can handle myself for one night. Well, I might have drunk a bit too much, but Astrid was wi~,” you tried to explain, except she cut short your ramblings. To say, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but the woman quickly cut you. She scoffed again, in disbelief this time.

"You are really stupid, aren't you?” she said, stopping in her tracks, and you almost ran into her, surprised by her sudden stop. A few more seconds passed before she turned around to face you, her posture matching her stern expression. “Do you think I don't know what happened last night, with Astrid? Do you really think I wouldn’t have known the truth?” she added, taking a step forward for every question she asked, and you took one back every time, until your back hit the walls. You would certainly have found the situation hot if she didn’t look like she was about to murder you.

“W- what?” you said, “you are mad because I went out with a friend. That’s the problem? Astrid is the problem?" you snapped, starting to feel frustrated about the whole situation. 

You are tired, and the only thing you’ve wanted to do since you opened your eyes that morning — Throwing yourself in your girlfriend’s arms — was impossible to do. You hadn’t expected the woman to give you such a hard time. You knew she could be jealous sometimes, you’ve already had arguments about that in the past, but you’ve always been understanding because you know that her jealousy isn’t caused by a lack of trust. This feeling is fuelled by her own insecurities and past. Except that, that time, it was too much. The way she wouldn't listen to your excuses is seriously hitting on your nerves.

"Don't you dare to lie to me,” she said. For a moment, you thought she was going to hit you, but she took a step back before she could do that. She was angry too, taking deep breaths in an attempt to ease the feeling. “I trusted you,” she eventually added but her tone was different — The anger left her voice, replaced by pain. “I trusted you and, most importantly, I loved you,” she whispered, turning around to see you one last time. “After everything I have done for you, I can't believe that's how you are thanking me. You know, I really thought you were different, better," she laughed, trying very hard to not throw you against the walls or worse, to cry. The most insufferable was the look in your eyes, the false innocence. She was tired of pretending, she had given you enough chances to tell her the truth, “but you’re not,” but now, she was done trying.

That is the last time the two of you talked. The next time you’ve seen her, she hasn’t been kind enough to let you have a chance to explain things. She was done trying, and so were you. The last words she said are still ringing in your head, even years later. Maybe if you'd chased her once again that day, things would have ended differently, but you haven’t moved. You couldn’t, petrified by the conversation that just took place, you have just watched the redhead walking away without glancing back.

It’s only when you enter the break room that you understand the whole conversation you had with Natasha. No one was here, but the walls had been covered with pictures of yourself. At first, you thought it was a prank from your teammates’ but the pictures were all but innocent. You felt your heart sink when you took down one of the photos to get a closer look at it, and tears in your eyes when you realized that you were nude in those.

It was you, in bed, with Astrid. Your face doesn’t entirely show but you can easily recognize yourself and the bed you’ve woken up in that morning. There were dozens of different pictures, but all showed similar scenes: your bodies against each other as you are obviously sharing an intimate moment. Something that you should only share with one person on that Earth. A person that is definitely not Astrid. 

Except that the more you look at those pictures, the more foreign they feel. You are sure you are the one in the pictures, but you are still unable to remember what happened. Slowly, doubt creeps into your heart — Did you drink that much last night? 

So much that you betrayed the woman you swore to love until the sun dies? 

You feel tears welling up in your eyes. You are suddenly overwhelmed by a bunch of emotions that you can’t describe, but that are definitely not pleasant. It is a mix of confusion, anger, guilt, and disgust. The pictures speak for themselves, and they leave little room for doubt about what you were doing — And you were surely not just sleeping. The woman was on top of you, her mouth closed to your neck, maybe she was leaving soft kisses against your skin, maybe she was whispering sweet things in your ears, you don’t know. But the thing you were focused on was her hand hidden by the sheets, leaving only your imagination to complete the scene. It wasn’t the only picture of that kind: they were all picturing similar scenes. You can easily understand her rage and hatred earlier because you are now sharing those feelings with your girlfriend, just for different reasons.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" a voice said, pulling out of your mind. It was Astrid, who just entered the room. She glanced around before looking back at you, a sad smile spreading on her lips when she notices the tears that are soaking your face. and you saw Astrid entering the room. She looks around, a sorry look on her face. "I am sorry,” she started, and you could feel she was looking for the right thing to say, “I- I sent the pictures to the wrong person. When I realized, I tried to explain to Romanoff but, well… you know how she is,” she explained, shrugging as if she was trying to make you believe she had actually tried to, “she wouldn't listen to me, and they- they did that before I could stop them. It doesn’t please me either," she added, reminding you that you weren’t the only one suffering from the situation. Except she seemed to deal with the situation better than you do. As she talked, she slowly walked closer to you, accompanying each of her sentences with a few steps forward until she was close enough to wrap you in her arms. 

You didn’t get the energy to push her away.

"Did we.. ?" you asked, but your voice broke before you could finish your sentence. It felt too difficult to say those words out loud — “Did we hook up? Did I cheat on Natasha?” But the woman doesn’t need the words to be said, she seems to read in your mind the end of your sentence.

"Of course we did, what kind of question is that?" she replied, frowning. She seems to be surprised by your question. For a second, the hand that was slowly caressing the back of your head stopped. The woman pulled back a little, just so she could see your face. "Why? Do you regret it?" she asked, and for an instant she seemed to be genuinely worried about your reaction, "because you didn't seem to last night, when you cried my name,..." she whispered in your ear. You could feel her breath tickling your skin but it wasn’t a pleasant feeling, unlike when Natasha does it.

Everything felt so much. Her voice, her touch, her presence so close to you, was now unbearable. As she remembers the night you’ve spent, a soft smirk spreads on her lips, but you are definitely not sharing her feelings. “Of course we did.” The words loop back into your mind, it seeps in like a poison that quickly takes over your whole being. Soon, you are paralyzed by an awful feeling. It hurts, but at the same time you are not sure you are actually feeling something, your body and mind feeling so foreign to you — If you wanted it, why does it feel so wrong?

At that moment, if you had been able to move, you would have ripped your ears off just so you wouldn’t hear her voice any more, and maybe you would have done the same with your skin. It felt like the only way to get rid of your overwhelming feelings. Suddenly, the reassuring touch of your best friend made you feel gross, and so do her sweet words — But if she said that you did it, and wanted it, then it must be true, right?

You have seen the pictures, they are in your hands, right under your eyes. You can see yourself betraying the woman you love and in those, you really don't give the impression that you didn’t want to. On the contrary.

"No, no, it- it's not that, it’s just…," you eventually managed to say, but you are hesitating and unsure of yourself. There are too many thoughts and words clouding your head, so many ways you could react and yet, none of what you could say or do felt right. "It’s just that I don’t even remember last night,” you admitted, feeling ashamed about it, “I mean, did we- you know,... for real?" you asked softly but you were not even listening to Astrid’s answer, the question was more for yourself in reality. "Sorry, I have to go, see you later", you said, interrupting the woman. Somehow, you regained control over your body, just enough to push the other away and leave the room. You are not sure where you are going, but as far from that room as you can is already a good start.

That's where she found you when she came home that night, sitting on the bathroom's floor, the pictures in your hands.

Your hand is still wrapped tightly around the pictures, but you didn’t notice it. Not before being back home, in the room you are sharing with Natasha — Or were sharing, you thought, unsure about how the situation would unfold. It may be the last time you set a foot in that room that has been your safe place for months. Before you could completely break down, you decided to take a shower, thinking that, maybe, the steaming water would be enough to ease your mind. You took two showers. Then three, then four, and maybe more. You can’t be sure, you’ve stopped counting. All you knew was that it hasn’t been enough to get rid of the uneasy feelings and thoughts. You’ve scrubbed yourself until your skin was so sensitive that even the touch of the towel has been painful — But maybe you deserved it.

The rest of the day is a blur, and you are not sure what time it is. You’ve spent hours on the bathroom’s floor, your left hand clenched around the picture while the right one was holding the towel. Your head was so empty, but so full at the same time. That’s how she found you when she came home that night, and if she had been tempted to wrap you in her arms when she saw your pitiful state, the conversation she just had with the others discouraged her to do so — You didn’t deserve her pity. They are right when they say that you are not the victim: you are the one that cheated on her, and she needs to be firm, stern. You knew how hard it is for the woman to trust someone and yet, you still broke the fate she had put in you after years of making her dream of a better future.

"Oh, so you remember now?" she coldly said to you when she entered the room. You didn’t move, not even your eyes to look at her, but if you did, you would have seen that the woman was leaning in the doorway with her arms crossed. Maybe you would have also seen that her coldness was only a facade, and that she was as close as you were from breaking down. 

You stayed silent, unable to say anything. The words were stuck in your clenched throat, and they aren’t feeling right anyway — How could you defend yourself when you didn't even know what happened exactly? Plus, you weren’t even sure there was something to defend, the pictures speaking for themselves. Even when she started packing your belongings, you didn’t move. For you to move, she had to grab your arm and drag you all the way outside the Avengers’s building by herself. 

She needed you gone, and everyone agreed that it was only for the best. At least for a few weeks, just the time for things to calm down. That’s what she came to announce. The few words that left your mouth were useless, your pleas falling in deaf ears: the decision had already been made, and the sentence was irrevocable. The woman is done with your bullshit. She is done with you, and so you are.

"The pictures, they- they aren't real," she eventually admitted, her voice being barely louder than a whisper as she unburdens herself of this old secret. “I mean, th- they are, but it’s a staging. Nothing happened between us, she- hm, loves you too much to give you away,” she continued, tears filling her eyes as she talks, her voice wavering a little more with each word. "She isn't even conscious in these," she continued when the spy didn’t react. If the black-haired woman thought it was because the other was listening, it was because she didn’t know how to react.

The weight of what she had done left her shoulder, and it was now lingering in the room, where the air was suddenly thick, and almost unbreathable. Natasha felt a weight in her chest that made each breath harder than the previous one. Overcome by surprise, she had let go of the other, stepping back a few steps. Her thoughts were racing, numerous and contradictory, they weren’t coherent enough to allow how to respond in any way. She needed to do something, but she didn’t know what.

“I- I don’t know why I did that. It wasn’t me, that night, you know that, right? That I would usually never ever do something like that,” she started to defend herself when she saw the look on Natasha’s face, “I was so angry, and disappointed, when she refused. I have given her everything since we met, and yet you are the one she chose. I thought that, maybe, with a bit of time she would eventually realize her mistake, … but I was so wrong,” she sighed, and the redhead could see the remnants of that anger in her attitude. A clenching jaw and fists, accompanied with firm words that left no doubt about the resentment she held towards her, and towards you. “That night, I- I wasn’t myself. We’ve already had a few drinks and, you know, it doesn’t mix well with emotions,” she continued, and the woman could feel her anger rising with every word the other spoke. “All I could think about was getting revenge. I wanted to show her she was wrong, that I had so much more to offer than she thought. I wanted her to change her mind, to see me for more than just a friend,” she admitted, her voice being just a whisper as she says the last sentence. “I never thought it would end this way, I swear, you’ve to believe me, Natasha,” and to forgive me. She didn’t say the last words out loud, but she doesn’t need to, her eyes are speaking for herself.

Only, when her gaze met the redhead’s, she didn’t see in her eyes the compassion she had been expecting, only pure hatred, an emotion that had quickly replaced the initial surprise. Not even a word was addressed to her as the other left the room, leaving her alone to dry her tears.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three.

| Taglist — @cd-4848, @chocolatestrawberrykryptonite, @gemz5, @jusnough, @m0nsterqzzz, @marvelwomenarehot0, @mrsrushman, @riyaexee, @takeyaki, @taliiiaasteria.

[why-what-no]

New Obsession

Pairing: Captain James Hook x Reader, Former Peter Pan x Reader

Warnings: Smut, Swearing, Attempted Murder, Dacryphilia

Notes: guys, I finally posted something for the first time in a while! You proud of me?? Sorry for disappearing, I had so much going on irl, but I’ve got a bunch of spare time over the next while so I’m gonna try to get back into writing more often and finally getting through the last couple of requests I haven’t finished yet :):)

Summary: Having visited Neverland many times before as a child, she returned to Neverland after growing and was struck with the realization that it wasn’t what she remembered. Pan was no longer her anchor and protector, and she was forced to realize that everything on the island is a danger to her. Except for, to her surprise, the gentleman pirate whom she used to be terrified of

All around (Y/N), the pirates were reveling on the deck of the Jolly Roger, completely unaware of the way her mind was racing. Her heart heavy as the thoughts of Peter crushed her. The lost boy never stayed away from her thoughts for long, always returning with some good memories as well as the more recent terrible ones.

"Please tell me you forgive me, lost girl." His green eyes were filled with tears and his voice breaking as he held her down against the bed, dagger in his raised hand. Preparing to plunge it down into her heart, a betrayal worse than anything she had ever experienced. "I have to do this. I have to! But I couldn't live if you don't forgive me."

The heartbroken sound in his voice and look on his face made her want to forgive him; an automatic reaction that made her feel sick. Disgusted in herself and her weakness. Did she truly love that boy – any boy – so much that she could forgive him for her murder? With no explanation or attempt at redemption?

But she didn't give him a reply, and when he faltered, she ran. And now, she was with the people she had once considered her enemies. To an extent, they still were, of course. But they were also now her best hope for allies against Peter – against Pan – on this island. And there was something about the forget-me-not blue of their captain's eyes... they almost made her forget that the color green existed.

Now, those eyes were staring at her from the other side of the deck, as Hook sat in his captain's chair, gazing intensely at (Y/N) without any emotions on his face. His crew was cheering and grinning around him, but he didn't even spare them a glance.

It almost made her tense up, she wasn't used to feeling such vulnerability, pinned under the gaze of a man like Hook. She remembered him vaguely from when she was a young girl, although she had never actually interacted with him until the week she had left. He had seemed so old to her, so scary and untouchable. Peter had always encouraged her to feel that way.

Maybe that was why she felt like he was gazing into her soul. Because few people had known her that young, and the ones that did were all either her dearest allies or worst enemies. At the moment, Hook was neither. And so she didn't quite know how to feel about him. There were no boxes to put him into in her head.

But unfortunately for her sanity and dignity, there were words to explain the unsettled allure that his gaze made her feel in the pit of her stomach.

It didn’t help that he looked so… enticing. Strong and angular features, and a gracefulness in the way he moved. Everything was deliberate with him, every action purposeful and stayed in her mind for longer that it should. His pale skin stood in contrast to his long dark hair, cascading over his face and framing those hypnotic forget-me-not blue eyes. 

He stood up, drawing glances from his crew but quickly being ignored again when they recognized that he wasn't about to give any announcements. No, only (Y/N) was looking at him as he made his way towards her. Like a large cat, a mountain lion or a panther ready to pounce. To tear her apart.

But he didn't, merely stopped in front of her, leaning forward as the girl looked up into his eyes. It wasn't that he completely towered over her, but his regality, his aura of power made her feel like he did. "And are you enjoying this evening?" He asked, whispering into her ear. The sound of his voice and the warmth of his breath so close making her nearly shiver.

"Yes." She replied, taking care that her voice sounded even and calm. Trying to ignore how fast her heart was beating, how she had never felt an affect like this before. Like he was a flame that could burn her any second.

Hook's lips curved into a small smile. "Wonderful, a lady such as yourself deserves a fine celebration." His gleaming hook moved to hover against her back, keeping it at a respectful distance. But even though it wasn't touching her, she could practically feel the coolness of the metal against her clothes. It took all her control not to lean into his touch.

"Thank you." She responded, doing her utmost best not to look at him while his eyes stayed glued to her face. "Although I might go to bed soon. I've had enough excitement for the day, I think."

"Of course." Hook responded in a voice that possibly sounded almost... disappointed? "I shall give you the space to relax now, and make sure none of my pirates bother..."

"No -"

(Y/N) mentally slapped herself at her quiet outburst as Hook paused, raising an eyebrow at her.

"No?"

"I..." She could feel warmth on the back of her neck, praying that she was wasn't turning red. "You're fine. I don't mind your company. I don't... you can stay if you want."

What she really wanted was to jump into the ocean out of sheer mortification and let the mermaids drag her down to the depths. She wouldn't even try to kick or scream.

But Hook just looked surprised, beginning to smile once again.

The man offered her his hand, not his hook like he normally did when he wanted to lead her somewhere. It was surprisingly warm, and so gentle. The callouses that came from sword-work were there, but they felt more like the hands of a musician, a writer. That was the one thing that surprised her the most about Hook, he was a gentleman as much as he was a pirate. Equal parts savage and refined.

Perhaps that was what drew her towards him. She knew he could treat her better than any man she knew... and hurt her worse. He made her feel small beside him, but so important.

"Come with me." He told her, and she immediately followed. Letting him hold her hand and lead her towards the captain's quarters.

It was quiet when they got inside, the large and elegant room surprisingly soundproof. Letting go of her hand, he gestured around the room, giving her permission to look around. "Forgive me for my forwardness, but I couldn't bear the thought of forcing you to sleep in the crew's quarters during your time here. You may take my bed if you wish, I rarely use it."

"Where will you sleep?" (Y/N) asked, walking over to the large bed and sitting down on it, facing Hook.

"I have a nasty habit of falling asleep at my desk, my dear." He chuckled for a moment, before tensing up once again. "But if you would prefer to spend your nights alone, I shall disappear until you wake."

She shook her head. "No, it's alright. It's your room, Captain."

"James." He replied.

"What?"

He stepped closer. "My name is James Hook, or has Pan not told you that already?" The captain walked over to his table to pour each of them wine into glasses made from large glimmering seashells.

The lost boy hadn't told (Y/N) that. "He mostly told me stories of your rather violent pursuits. Pan very much wanted me to know that you would torture and kill me if I ever spoke to you. That you were a beast who took pleasure in the pain of others."

"Ah." James Hook said, handing her the wine. "No doubt to make sure your loyalty was to him only."

He was probably right. And (Y/N) was just disappointed that it took so long for her to realize that. So many people had attempted to do that to her in her life, to twist her reasoning and manipulate her into thinking that they were the only people she could trust. And for some reason, Peter had succeeded so easily. Perhaps it was her young age and inexperience, but at that point in her life she should have already known better. Or perhaps it was love that made her blind.

"So, you're telling me that it was all a lie? All his stories about you."

He chuckled, standing over her sitting form while taking a sip of his wine. Her hands were folded almost docilely in her lap as she looked up at him, taking in his elegant features. "The stories were true, I assume. I've done enough pillaging in my lifetime that there are any number of truthful tales for that boy-demon to share with his followers."

He paused.

"However." He smirked down at her, before reaching down to slip a finger under her chin. (Y/N) looked down and away as he did that, cheeks warm but not pushing away his touch. At her lack of pushback, he used those fingers to tilt her head upwards so that he could make sure she continued to stay captivated by his intense blue stare, using his thumb to gently stroke along her chin. She could feel how close his touch was to her lips, and she pressed her thighs together instinctually. "I would never dream of killing a precious jewel such as yourself. And thought of your torture brings me great pain." Hook said to her, almost like a whisper. She didn't reply, too caught off guard by the intimacy in his touch. As well as by the dark desire that he was instilling in her.

But for a brief moment, Hook saw her silence as discomfort. "Forgive me my forwardness." He murmured, stepping just out of reach. His hand by his side once more. A sight that felt so unbearable to (Y/N) that a rush of shame overtook her for a second. She was now she was buckling under the weight of a pirate's glance. Of his quick and gentle touches.

"It's alright." She replied, trying to reassure him that she didn't mind his ‘forwardness’. "Do you want to sit? With me?" She patted a spot beside her on the bed, displaying a forwardness of her own. Not wanting him to have to continue standing (and it was easier for her to speak when he wasn't standing over her), and not wanting him to be far from her.

His surprise at her offer morphed into a small grin as he sat down right beside her. "Thank you, dearest." He faced her while sitting, his whole body turned towards her like a moon orbiting a planet. "You are very kind."

(Y/N) doubted that. Most of her kindness was born from selfish reasons. Mainly, the selfish desire to pull him close to her and get him to make her forget about what was happening in Neverland. "Thank you... James."

He smiled as she spoke his proper name. "I can see why Pan was so immediately taken with you."

And there it was. Pan was like a dark cloud constantly following her, and with Hook's obsession in the boy, perhaps he wasn't the best person to distract her from him.

(Y/N)’s distaste of the mention of Pan's name seems to be visible on her face. "My apologies." Hook murmured, reaching forward to take her hand in his. "I should not have mentioned him to you."

"I just... I don't understand why he would do it. I loved him. He loved me."

"He's not capable of love." Hook told her gently, seemingly believing his words. "It's the price he paid for everlasting life."

"He was. He was capable. It was just... innocent love. Childhood love. And besides, he's older now, we both are. Even you've admitted that things on Neverland aren't what you thought anymore." (Y/N) felt ashamed of her outburst. Ashamed that Pan could pull those emotions out of her.

The pirate captain just looked at her, a sort of resigned look on his face that she couldn't quite decipher. "Of course." He nodded. "You may be right. I'd apologize for my impudence, but I worry that you might be tired of my apologies by now."

"You don't have to apologize. You didn't do anything wrong." The girl sighed. "I just don't want to talk about Peter Pan right now."

"Then what would you wish to speak about? Anything you wish to say will be satisfactory to me."

There was something about Hook's attention, his habit of doing or saying exactly the right thing that made her trust him even less and desire him even more. "I don't know. Tell me a story? If you have any?"

He chuckled. "Many more than most people, my dear. Despite this island and it's promised youth, I'm practically an old man now." The sound of his voice was a little bit self-deprecating.

"I wouldn't say that." (Y/N) denied. Maybe he was older that the children on the island, but it wasn't like he was some decrepit old man who was losing his functions. He was... striking.

"No, no, my dear. It's true." He told her, still holding her hand gently. "Growing up is a nasty business. I'm sure you are aware of what I say. All those pesky feelings, the energy of childhood sapped away."

The girl opened her mouth but closed it again. Maybe it was his warm hand stroking hers, the glint of his hook in the candlelight, his intense blue eyes staring into hers. It felt like she had no self-control. It suddenly felt like whatever answer she gave was an important one. It could lead in any direction. And as for the direction she was secretly hoping for....

"It's not all bad." She slid closer to him. "You still have your energy, I'll bet." And all the things that he could do with that energy raced through her head. "You're the most feared and respected pirate on Neverland."

"And those feelings..." She felt like she was regaining some control as she took his hand that previously covered her and gently rested it on her thigh, keeping eye contact with him as she did. "They're not all bad." She barely breathed with nervous anticipation, waiting to see what the pirate did next.

He was certainly surprised, that much was clear on his face. But as the gleam in his eyes grew more intense, she couldn't bring herself to regret what she did.

His hand slid up her thigh, slowly. (Y/N) was pinned under his gaze as her breathing became heavier. She shivered as he skilfully undid the button to her trousers, and without thinking, she reached up to touch his face.

Never in her dreams had she thought she would ever see this man in this way. He had always been the scary pirate, the dark villain of her hero's stories. But as he leaned into her touch as she cupped his cheek, she couldn't help but pull him forward to kiss him.

He immediately reciprocated. And even more, he did exactly what she was hoping for. Taking over control of the situation and moving his hand so that it was buried into her hair, tugging her as close to him as possible.

She moaned as he pulled on her hair, grabbing at his coat for stability. Gone was the caution and gentlemanly politeness that Hook had been displaying, she could only see the dark pirate captain as he bit her lip and rested his hook against her neck.

She knew she was putting herself in danger by touching him, kissing him like this. Like Icarus soaring too close to the sun. But he already had her caught in his orbit.

"I can't say I expected this, my dear. No idea that you wanted the touch of a pirate so badly." Hook said, his breath warm against her lips. "Although I am certainly not displeased."

"I just want your touch." She replied breathlessly as he moved his mouth down to her throat, nipping at her neck and kissing along her collarbone. Pulling her hair so that she was made to tilt her head back to give him better access.

He chuckled, enjoying her honesty and desperation. "And you'll get it. All night you'll get my touch, until you beg for me to stop. Until we leave this room or you tell me to let you go... you're mine." He let go of her. "Lie down on the bed. And don't make me ask twice."

The speed in which she obeyed only made the lustful darkness in his eyes grow. As she laid down, she watched him raise himself so that he hovered over her, kneeling with his legs encasing hers. His shape of his thighs were visible through his pants, as was the growing bulge of his cock. She couldn’t help but glance at it.

“Any man who had the honour of seeing you like this would be blessed by Poseidon himself.” Hook murmured to her, running his hand along her side and grabbing at her hip, leaning over to kiss her deeply, harshly.

She watched him as he unbuttoned her shirt, leaning forward to he could remove it. (Y/N) was half naked below him, revealed and vulnerable but it only made the electric feeling in the lower part of her stomach stronger. Made her even more wet.

And Hook could tell. “But you’re not innocent at all, my love. You want me to make you beg for me, don’t you?”

She nodded as he pressed kisses along her stomach until he reached her breast. Taking one of her nipples into his mouth, licking and tugging at it with his teeth as he groped at the other.

He chuckled against her chest as she gasped at his touch. The vibration of the sound reverberating against her body, feeling like it went straight between her thighs.

She took initiative and kicked off her trousers herself. Reaching up to bury her hands in Hooks hair, pulling him into a kiss.

“I might not ever anyone take you away from me, love.” He growled as she tugged at his dark curls. “I’ll keep you all to myself.” He kept running his hand over her body, driving her wild as her touched her. Somehow intuitively knowing all the spots that could turn her on.

However, once her pants were fully gone, he immediately turned his attention to her soaked cunt. (Y/N) was grateful that there was a party on the deck above them, she wasn’t able to fully cover up her moans as James Hook pressed his face against her core.

She held on to his hair tightly, trying to gain some type of stability as his tongue pressed against her clit and into her cunt. “So wet.” He smirked. “All for me? You filthy girl.”

He added a finger only a second later, doing everything he could to remove any thoughts from her brain. Wanting pleasure to be her only sensation. There was something about her that made him go feral, wanting to make this succubus of a women moan and cry for him all night and every night.

“Please.” She begged, tears pricking at her eyes at the onslaught of satisfaction that the pirate captain was giving her. “I want you, please James.”

The sight of her tears only turned him on more, and so he submitted to her pleads. “You want me to fuck you, love? Is that right? You want me to make you come so hard that I ruin any other man for you? To make you mine?”

“Yes.” She let out a gasping sob. “Please.”

“Your wish is my command.” Hook grinned darkly, finally pressing his cock against her folds and pushing inside quickly. He wanted to spilt her open, wanted to make her go brainless for him.

She dug her nails into his back as he rocked in and out of her. He delighted in her moans, at the look on her face as he took her closer and closer to her climax.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had someone as seductive as her in his arms, couldn’t remember the last time that fucking someone felt as good as it did as he plunged his cock into this woman.

Everything about her drew him in, and this obvious confirmation that she desired him as well only served to make him need her more. He grew even harder at the thought of doing this with her again. Of holding her tightly as he fucked into her whenever they wanted.

And (Y/N) could barely think that far ahead with how good Hook was making her feel. It felt as though there was nothing in her brain at all except for the thought of how his cock felt rubbing against the walls of her cunt, of hitting her g-spot as he slammed into her. His fingers rubbed her clit as he did, and she could feel her orgasm approaching.

Hook could too. “Do you want to come, my dear?” He asked her, his hook right beside her face, the glean of the lantern next to them gleaming off of it. “Have you been good enough to be allowed to come?”

She nodded quickly, looking into his gorgeous blue eyes desperately. When he told her she could come, the coil that had been building and building within her finally released, and Hook had to muffle her scream of pleasure with a kiss. If they had been alone on the island, he would have been delighted at the noises he was pulling out of her, but he didn’t want one of his pirates rushing in and interrupting them.

The look on her face as she came was more satisfying that any treasure to him, and couldn’t help but kiss her forehead and face as she caught her breath

(Y/N) collapsed against the bed as he did. “You were perfect, my darling.” James murmured to her, moving away to grab a towel to clean her up.

“So were you.” She smiled at him, relaxed as her mind began to return to her. “Although I can now understand why Pan called you a beast.”

Hook chuckled, his gaze was soft as he leaned down to kiss her. “No more talk of Pan.” He told her. “Peter Pan doesn’t need to be thought of at this moment. You… you are my new obsession.”

And he lay next to her in the bed, felt her against his side, remembered the feeling of her around his cock, those words were true to him.

Taglist: @fictional-hooman @norman891 @fairynook @dark-academia-slut @silverhart93

[linkemon]

Raining chocolates (Jack Frost x Reader)

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you’re interested.

Other oneshots can be found here.

[ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ] ᴀɴᴅ ᴊᴀᴄᴋ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇʟʏ ᴅɪꜰꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ᴠɪᴇᴡꜱ ᴏɴ ᴠᴀʟᴇɴᴛɪɴᴇ'ꜱ ᴅᴀʏ. ɪᴛ'ꜱ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʀᴀɪɴ ᴄʜᴏᴄᴏʟᴀᴛᴇꜱ!

ᴀᴅᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: 1. ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴘɪʀɪᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴠᴀʟᴇɴᴛɪɴᴇ'ꜱ ᴅᴀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴜᴀʀᴅɪᴀɴ ᴏꜰ ʟᴏᴠᴇ.

— Are they arguing again? — Tooth looked uncertainly towards the hall.

— Yes but at least the chocolate boxes are flying! — North caught the package mid-flight.

Satisfied, he tore the dark red, shiny paper. Inside he found a mixture of pralines. He was trying to decide which flavour he should choose when a snowball flew above his head. Unfazed, he decided to eat the entire package at once.

— Maybe we should separate them? — The fairy was nervously flying next to the fireplace.

— That's what I'm talking about! — The Bunny wiped the snow from his face.

Judging by the dirt on his paws, he had just jumped out of the tunnel. He didn't like the welcome snowball straight to the forehead.

— I do not see a problem. — Santa continued to eat the best nut chocolates.

He was interrupted by a loud bang.

He rushed towards the argument. The corridor looked like a battlefield. The entire batch of robots was lying on the floor. Dolls and blocks followed suit. The production machine turned off. There were screws and wires sticking out of it. The paint poured straight onto the carpet, dyeing it rainbow colors. Yeti, in charge of production, was sitting in the corner. He covered his head with one paw and stuffed chocolate hearts with the other. Two Guardians stood in the colourful chaos.

— Valentine's Day should be joyful! — Jack Frost was making a new snowball in his hands.

— Get on with your job! — [Reader] deftly dodged the throw.

— North, good to have you here! Tell her. Love is a beautiful, joyful feeling, isn't it? So the holiday should be like that too! — he said as if it were the most obvious truth.

— You know nothing! Who is the Spirit of Valentine's Day here? You or me?

The girl took out her bow. In a second, she reached for an arrow from the pink quiver. She was already drawing the string when a loud voice interrupted her:

— Enough of this! I don't care who started it — North added as the two prepared to explain. — You'll clean it all up. Every single toy, got it?

***

— You know what she once told me? — North put his arm around Jack. — That love is ten percent joy and ninety percent suffering. Do not interrupt me. — He glared as he saw the guard open his mouth. — She has good reason to think so. I don't agree with her but I don't question her work and neither should you.

They had already passed the main hall and three floors and the boy was beginning to wonder where they were going. It took him a while to understand the purpose of the strangely long trip.

North grabbed him by the hood and then unceremoniously pushed him over the threshold of the room. When the boy heard the lock click, he knew something was up.

— But it's a bit inhumane. — He heard Toothiana's voice from behind the door.

— They didn't act like humans when they demolished the quarters! And now they will sit there until they make up!

The winter spirit yanked on the doorknob. Unsuccessfully.

He turned around and saw what he feared most. [Reader] was sitting on the couch. She was slowly realizing the situation they were in. A closed room without windows made escape impossible. If they want to leave, they have to come to an agreement.

He walked over to the sofa and sat down on the opposite end from his companion. He stared stubbornly at the fireplace. Orange flames licked the pieces of wood. They produced unbearable heat. The winter spirit didn't like it. He would much rather have the fire extinguished but he had no intention of moving. [Reader] was getting cold quickly. Why did he even care? He convinced himself that it would escalate the argument and left it at that. Because there's no way he would care about her...

Out of boredom, he started counting the seconds. He wanted to estimate the time he would spend in the room. However, he quickly gave up. Instead, he pulled the nearest pillow, placed it under his head, and decided to take a nap.

— Did he bring you here too, saying he wanted to talk? — The spirit of Valentine's Day couldn't stand the silence.

— Yeah — he muttered.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the girl shift uncomfortably.

— So maybe we can pretend we've made up and just leave here, huh?

The boy turned his head towards her. He hadn't expected it but the idea was tempting.

— I'm in. — He smiled mischievously.

He was already getting up from the couch when the plan backfired.

— I heard everything, you cheaters. You two should really get along! — Santa shouted from behind the door. — I'll know if you lied to me!

There was a slight threat in his tone.

— North, you weren't supposed to eavesdrop! — Toothiana's loud voice joined the conversation. — Don't disturb mind him, little ones! — she added sweetly.

For a moment, a scuffle could be heard. Then the sounds gradually faded away. Apparently they're gone.

Resigned, the boy sat back down between the soft pillows. Now the idea of using tricks stopped running through his mind. First of all, it would be suspicious. Secondly, although he didn't want to admit it, he was a little afraid of the Guardian of Christmas. His pleasant exterior concealed a weird man.

He decided to look at the room. Unfortunetely, it was empty. The brown boards were starting to get old. The wallpaper with a motif of red and green baubles was eye-catching. The thick, heavy curtains showed traces of dust. Frost preferred not to know the last time someone decided to swipe it out. Seeing the gray layer on the mantelpiece, he felt the urge to clean the room. Unfortunately, even if he wanted to kill time this way, he had no way to do it. The yeti probably took out the rest of the furniture. As always. Why were they doing this? Nobody knew that. When asked about this, the creatures grunted in their own language and continued doing their thing. For this reason, rearrangements in the quarters were frequent. Sometimes even the owner of the bed woke up in a different place than where he fell asleep.

Unfortunately, the tour did not kill the boredom. It was too short.

Jack sat behind the couch and started playing with his staff. He conjured two snow hares. He bet on who would reach the finish line first. He set his end point at the other end of the room. Later he started changing animal species. He wasn't having the best time but he couldn't think of anything else.

— Can you make buildings too? — [Reader]'s voice came from above.

She leaned out from the couch, looking at the frosty creations jumping, running, crawling, and swimming across the floor.

— Yes, of course. Any special requests? — He turned around.

It was a reflex. The Guardian of Fun did not refuse to give joy to others. Especially when it was within his capabilities. Only after a while did it occur to him that they were still quarreling, so maybe he shouldn't break away so eagerly.

— Could you make a hut?

Frost's first instinct was to create his family home but he suspected that wasn't the point.

— A little more sloping roof — added the girl — and an orchard on the left.”

The boy listened attentively, following the instructions. Soon, a snow model was created. The house was surrounded by a fence. Little cows and pigs were grazing nearby. They were also accompanied by a troop of hens led by a rooster. The Spirit of Winter had a slight problem with the flowers. He didn't know much and suspected that the garden turned out hopelessly. But he had trees in his little finger. Probably because he often jumped on them, playing with the wind.

— I guess that's all.

He didn't even notice when the Guardian of Love took a seat next to him on the hard boards. She stared as if enchanted at the image stretching before her. The smile that graced her face let him know that he had done a good job after all. There was a lot of melancholy in her look.

— It this your home? — he asked.

— Yeah... — She touched a small sheep in the middle of the pasture. — It was until... until I became... you know.

Dead. This word came to mind. Their friends would probably think about their jobs. They'd put it more like: Before I became a Guardian... They stopped being alive a long time ago. However, like him, she was relatively young. As young as you can be after several hundred years. She still remembered.

— I drowned. — He felt like his own voice sounded foreign.

Why exactly did he tell her that? After all, she didn't ask him anything.

However, he continued the story when he saw her break away from the model.

Jack still remembered the brown, worn-out skates. He rode them across the frozen lake. He was fourteen then. He was doing quite well. No one in the village could ride so nimbly. His younger sister was just studying. She took uncertain steps. She was getting better and better. After all, she was doing it under his supervision. And yet, that afternoon, it would all end. The crunch of ice that heralded disaster was still ringing in his ears. He tried to get Mary to jump aside. Just like in Hopscotch — a game he once invented. He failed and instinctively used the staff. It was enough to push her to safety. However, he landed underwater himself. The feeling of momentary relief was replaced by shock. He tried desperately to breathe. Jack couldn't find any support for his hands. The cold seeped into his bones. He was unable to get out of the icy water. The longer he fought, the faster he lost strength. Later, in a hazy memory, he still remembered going to the bottom. Jack was surrounded by darkness and piercing cold. He closed his eyes from exhaustion. The next time he opened his eyes, the Moon was above him. Then he was spared a second life. So much time had passed, and yet the memory was still fresh. Especially after he lost them to the Black and fought to get them back.

[Reader] wordlessly placed her hand on his own. She didn't say anything but he knew she understood. It wasn't easy to forget about your death. Nor come to terms with a lost life but watching the people he loved grow old and pass away seemed the cruelest thing to him.

— They sentenced me to beheading — she said in a quiet voice.

He didn't push. He had no right to do this. He was surprised when she continued.

The story began with an ordinary day in the countryside with her boyfriend. He was a serious candidate for a fiancé. He worked as a castle assistant. Frost began to wonder exactly how many years ago the Spirit of Valentine's Day had died. If she remembered such times, she must have been older than he had previously thought. Due to these thoughts, Jack lost the thread of the story until she started talking about the theft.

Thanks to his work, the boy easily stole a jewel from a rich lord's box. As luck would have it, the family brooch would attract the attention of every neighbour in the area. Lack of sufficient caution resulted in a denunciation. The devastated [Reader] didn't know what to do. Until he said he wanted to spend the money on a wedding. Something broke inside her. Ultimately, what tipped the scales was the fact that he had a family to support. She was just an orphan working on a farm. She decided to sacrifice herself. With a heavy heart, she went to the castle, where she confessed her guilt. No one asked how on earth she could do it, since no one would even let her into the salons. Yet the court seemed satisfied. No attention was even paid to the lies and ambiguities. They omitted the absurdities contained in them. Another head-to-head trial meant a quicker break.

From the whole story, one sentence stuck in Frost's mind: I will never love anyone like I love you. This is what the thief promised to the Spirit of Valentine's Day before she sacrificed herself for him. He sensed this would be important from the way she quoted it. As if she had engraved it in her memory, somewhere deep in her mind.

— Do you know what happened when I got a second life? — she sighed. — That I died just so he could marry another woman. He waited a week. Week. Apparently he was counting on my naivety and he succeeded. — She went back to playing with the snow model.

— I'm sorry. — He wasn't sure if a cliché could do any good.

Such sentences rarely brought relief. They were repeated out of habit. Probably because people had no words for certain situations.

— You don't have to be sorry. — She smiled slightly. — You gave me a lot of joy, as befits the Guardian of Fun. I was able to see the farm where I grew up once again.

— Have you been there?

— A few times. Today there are lots of apartment blocks there. It has changed over the years. —  She shrugged and looked at him. — Do you know why I told you all this?

He thought she was trying to repay history for history. And yet this wasn't the answer she was counting on. So he fell silent.

— Because I see love differently than you. Over the course of four hundred and fifty-two years, I have encountered so many different shades of this feeling that you can't even imagine. I consoled those crying after the loss of loved ones. I have seen mothers sacrifice themselves for the sake of their children. How people die from diseases, away from their loved ones. And also how they spend their old age together and overcome problems together. That's why I think I'm a better Guardian of Love than the Spirit of Valentine's Day. I help people celebrate what is important every day. This one day of the year is not that special. So please don't interfere with my work anymore, she concluded. — I'll stay in my quarters on the 14th. This holiday will be fine without me, just like before.

— Let's say I agree, although I still think you should go out and see people having fun... — He noticed how much she wanted to interrupt him —...but I won't question the way you work anymore. Okay? — He held out his hand.

— Okay. Now let's go shout some more. Maybe they'll hear that it's time to let us go. There is absolutely nothing to do here.

***

— If this is some stupid joke, I swear you'll get an arrow up your ass… — [Reader] muttered.

Jack didn't blame her for complaining. She was blindfolded, so he led her by the hand. He didn't think this through. He should have handed it over only at the bottom of the stairs. So he had to deal with an uncomfortable situation for three floors. He even offered to let them fly with a staff but the Guardian of Love wouldn't hear of it.

— Almost there! — He removed the cloth, revealing the headquarters.

He was glad that the yetis had managed to repaint the decorations. The blue color would spoil the whole effect. Now they could admire the rows of red and pink hearts. They decorated every corner. Soft pillows in the same color were placed on the sofa and in front of it. They also managed to repair the TV. Although there was never any reception here, the player worked flawlessly. Tooth was sorting through a pile of old films. Bunny kept complaining that she only chose romantic comedies. He preferred to see a bloody horror movie. Sandy was almost asleep standing up, sending sand hearts up from time to time. Behind him, on the table, there were mixed chocolates. North was stuffing himself with them, so Frost kept the rest of his food supplies in his room. Otherwise, they might run out quickly and the fun was only just beginning.

— Why doesn't this surprise me? — The girl rubbed her temple.

— Just so we're clear, I'm not interfering with your work. —  He rested his head on his staff. — I do my duty. I jumped at the chance and we're going to have a fun evening.

He gave her his trademark smile. He was surprised to see that she didn't yell at him after all. He was secretly pleased with it, although he hadn't counted on it. She also seemed to be having a good time with her friends.

Valentine's Day night passed quickly. Hardly anyone made it to the morning. After three movies, most Guardians were teary-eyed. Jack sat between the snoring Bunny and [Reader], who was sprawled on his shoulder. He was uncomfortable but he didn't move. He didn't want to wake anyone up. The movie was still playing. Frost didn't focus on the plot. Everything that was happening started to escape him a few scenes ago. He pulled a small heart out of his sweatshirt pocket. They handed out shiny pieces of paper to each other. Everyone had to write something nice about the other person. They promised not to read them until the next day but purely theoretically the new day had already lasted for several hours. So he smiled to himself, satisfied with this justification and opened all the Valentines one by one.

Thank you.

That one word let him know he had done a good job. Maybe next year he'll be able to take her out to celebrate with others.

PS Will you be my Valentine?

This sentence, in turn, sent a rush of heat through him. He was used to embarrassing others, not being  embarassed. And certainly not like this. The matter was explained by the other side of the heart. Marked with marker:

YOU'VE BEEN FOOLED!

He promised himself that he would never admit that she was right. In the morning he will pretend that he saw it after all. This was the plan. However, somewhere in the corner of his mind there was the thought of what he would do if it wasn't a joke...

[a-very-sparkly-nerd]

Rayllum Month 2024! (6/13)

i'm sorry that i couldn't always be your teenage dream

July 11th - Dream/Nightmare

~

Callum was dreaming again, and it wasn’t even a good one. It wasn’t even original. It was the same old shit he thought he’d worked through, but apparently “shoving into an itty-bitty box in the corner of his mind” didn’t count as “working through.”

Not being fast enough to catch Rayla as she fell, mangled body caught in a thorny bramble or never to surface again from the watery depths. Holding her as the life left her body because of something Aaravos had used him to do. Ezran’s blood blending into his shirt and Callum not having a clue he was dead until he found what should have been his pulse point and smelled the metallic scent of blood, Soren and Corvus’s necks slit as they died defending him. All because of him, because of the things he’d done for Rayla, because he just couldn’t live without her, that had led to a continent-wide bloodbath.

At least he’d finally stopped dreaming about what had happened back on the Sea Legs. But emotional pain was arguably a million times worse than physical. But, hey; options to pick from, Soren would’ve said in an attempt to cheer him up but ending up doing nothing of the sort. How had his life come to this, pain in every aspect of the word?

Callum wasn’t sure at what point he woke up, when the horrors his brain so loved to produce stopped being from his subconscious and started to come from how he tortured himself. 

Gradually, the world fading into focus but doing nothing to calm his racing heart, things became visible: His very first drawing of Rayla pinned up on his bulletin board across the room, a maroon tapestry patterned with swirling gold, teal covers over his too-hot body. Feeling and hearing came back next, and he dimly registered a hand stroking his hair, another loosely settled on his middle. Familiar callouses, familiar temperature, familiar body shape– Rayla without a doubt.

Callum clung onto that, onto that certainty that she was here, holding him and murmuring things into his hair that he couldn’t make out but at least sounded vaguely soothing.

“Ray-” His tongue felt heavy, like he didn’t deserve to say her name. Callum didn’t let himself finish her name or even start to say it again, simply desperately grasped the hand around his waist.

“I’m here. You’re okay,” the elf soothed, squeezing his hand tight. “Everything’s okay. You’re safe, I’m safe, Ez is safe. You have nothing to immediately worry about, I promise.”

Callum nodded, trying to let– make himself believe it with those two blasted Dark Mages out there, that damn elf in the mirror. The prison so close it would be nothing for Aaravos to just- take hold of him again and set himself free. Gods, he might be sick.

He gripped her tightly, trying to calm his racing heart by focusing on the feeling of Rayla’s hands on him, her sweet voice humming some old calming tune.

“Not that I’m complaining,” he said eventually, mouth dry, “but why are you in my bed?”

He could hear the almost unnoticeable catch in her voice, loud as thunder to his trained ears, practically see her eyes drop down as she replied so softly, “I heard you crying out and stuff. I didn’t want to wake you up, just… thought you could maybe use a hug.”

He pulled her hand around his waist, nestling further back into her, and felt her smile into his hair. "You thought right."

Read more on AO3!

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | Pt. 5

Secret admirer Part 6!!!

It's here! the final part!! Thank you all so much for reading this and for those of you who have left kudos and bookmarked it on AO3!! I am so appreciative, I really have no words but more 'thank you's.. so thank you thank you thank you!!!

ICYMI, this fic has a name and is now on AO3 here: Several Notes of the Most Amiable Nature and a brand new epilogue!!: (Reprise)

Steve meets Eddie’s gaze from across the room and he immediately starts to panic. ‘“I know.”?? What does he mean he knows?? Is he just being a little shit or does he know it's me? When did he figure it out?? Did Robin tell him? If he does know, is he glad its m_’ 

Steve is quite literally saved by the bell when the doorbell rings out. ‘Oh thank god.’

“Pizza’s here!” Steve claps his hands together, “Robs, will you answer the door so I can grab my wallet?”

“Sure thing, Dingus.” She grumbles and pushes herself off the couch.

Steve grabs his wallet and meets her at the front door, pays the driver, shuts the door, and immediately stops Robin from leaving.

“Robin, does Eddie know it’s me?”

“Whoa, hold on there Steve, these things are heavy…”

Steve grabs the pizzas from her with one hand, all six stacked up and balancing on his upturned forearm.

“Show-off.”

“Robin, I’m serious. He looked right at me and said ‘I know.’; What’s up with that? Does he actually know?” his voice whispering in an agitated tone.

“How should I know?” She whispers back in the same tone. “Maybe you should just tell him. Where are you going to go from here with the roses anyway? You literally left one on the man’s doorstep. What’s next, you going to somehow stick it up his ass without him knowing?? Wait_don’t answer that. I don’t ever want to know what you may or may not stick up his ass.” She waved her hands around frantically to Steve’s appalled expression as if trying to wave away her thoughts.

“Let's just get these pizzas to your children; but seriously, at least think about coming clean? I’m 100% sure he’ll be thrilled it was you.” She grabbed three of the boxes from him and turned back to the living room.

Steve followed, and couldn’t help but perk up at Eddie’s smile to him when he came around the corner. If Steve had a tail, it’d be wagging a mile a minute. Fuck, he was so gone on Eddie. 

Everything about him just glowed. Everyone says that about the people they care about “They light up a room as soon as they walk in.” but with Eddie, it was the whole truth. Well no, maybe not.. Eddie was like a spaceheater? He glowed with a warm light that did, in fact, light up whatever room he was in, but he was always something more. It was like you thawed out whenever you were near him. Like the rest of the world was so cold and bleak, but you didn’t know it until you were near him.

Steve thought about this the rest of the night. Watching Eddie as he spun stories out of nothing but a single thought. Watching him traipse around the room singing parts of Phantom (Steve pretty much had a copy rented out constantly now), much to the rest of the kids’ delight. Watched as he and Dustin acted out lightsaber battles during Star Wars, jumping between cushions and blankets on the floor (“Like Anakin and Obi-Wan did in the new movie Steve, have you really not seen it yet?” Dustin had asked. No, he hadn’t.).

Even after the excitement of the movies and the evening wound down, Eddie was still being their party’s personal spaceheater. Sidling up to Will on the floor while Will was doodling something in his sketchbook. Will seemed apprehensive about talking to Eddie about whatever it was he was drawing, but again Eddie managed to thaw Will out to where they both were talking animatedly and BOTH drawing things in Will’s sketchbook. Steve caught a part of the conversation as he stepped over them later, it must’ve been something about their dragon game or Game Meister-ing since the conversation fully sounded like a foreign language to Steve.

Near ten, after the last movie had stopped (a while ago now, no one had bothered putting in a new one), Steve looked around and found everyone hunkered down with sleepy looks in their eyes.

He got up to start clearing things away, when Eddie started to read.

Steve looked over to the metalhead, back in his spot in the middle of the floor, all the kids sprawled out around him, a copy of The Hobbit in his hand.

‘Where’d he get that? Did he really really bring his own book with him? What a dork’ Steve smiled at the thought.

“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbithole, and that means comfort.”

Steve found himself entranced by Eddie’s reading. So much so, in fact, that he didn’t even register Robin and Nancy getting up and start grabbing trash too until Nancy gently pried the pizza box Steve was still holding out of his hand.

“Oh, sorry Nancy, let me help.”

“It’s perfectly fine Steve,” she whispered back “Robin and I took care of it.”

Steve looked around his living room and she was right, there was nothing left to throw out or put away. How long had he been standing there?

“Thanks guys, I appreciate it.”

Robin came up on Nancy’s side then “No worries Dingus, we’re going to head upstairs though. Still okay to use the guest room?”

“Of course, you know where the towels are.” Nancy gave him a small smile and headed up the stairs. Steve stopped Robin as she turned away, whispering even quieter. “Don’t make too much noise okay?”

Her face turned beet red as he gave her a wink “Shut up!” Robin smacked his arm and turned to follow Nancy up the stairs. 

Steve chuckled at her retreating back before returning his attention to Eddie who was still reading, in a softer voice now. Almost everyone was snoring softly around him; tired from being outside all day in the sun, full of junk they probably should have had way less of, and probably just a sense of coziness, warmth, and safety coming from their heater. The only ones still awake were Erica and Dustin, both either too stubborn to want to fall asleep before the other (Erica), or just wanting to hang onto every word he could (Dustin).

Steve wished he could take a picture. Instead, he forced himself to commit the scene in front of him to memory. He never wanted to lose this one. The sight of the love of his life surrounded by his family, safe and happy.

Wait.

Did he just think of Eddie as the love of his life?

Love?

Yes. Love.

Steve Harrington was in love with Eddie Munson.

Eddie Munson, town freak. Eddie Munson, Super-Super Senior. Perfect, beautiful, amazing Eddie Munson. Eddie Munson, the father of his children. 

The love of his life.

Steve felt the need to run away. ‘Just tell him! TELL HIM!’ So he did the opposite, he turned to run up to his room and hide away from what just happened inside his head. ‘Coward! Useless coward!‘

But before he could even fully step foot on the bottom step, Eddie was calling out to him in a whisper. 

“Steve! Wait for me!” 

Steve turned to the sound and started chuckling at the sight of Eddie trying to step between the bodies around him like he was navigating a minefield (and he really was, there were a lot of fingers and toes hidden under the blankets around his feet).

“As soon as I saw Dustin drop off, I knew Erica was going to follow.” Eddie said, smiling up at Steve before turning back to admire the piles of blankets on the floor and couches in front of him.

“Yeah, she’s a stubborn one.” Steve laughed quietly, “Come on man, you can bunk with me.”

They started up the steps “What, no guest room in this big house?”

“There’s only one, and Robin and Nancy already claimed that one for themselves.”

“Oohohoho! Good for them.” Eddie laughed 

“I warned Robin to keep it down, but if you hear anything, just pretend you didn’t for their sake.”

“No worries Stevie, I wouldn’t want to incur the wrath of Buckley for making fun like that.” Eddie paused before continuing, “Or Nancy for that matter.” He shuddered at the thought.

Steve snorted out a laugh at that as they came to the landing at the top of the stairs, and took a left.

“Here we are.” Steve opened the door and let Eddie in first.

Eddie let out a low whistle as he stepped into the room. “Wow Harrington, this wallpaper is…something.”

“Laugh it up Munson, I didn’t pick it.” Steve closed the door and leaned back against it with his arms crossed. “And my mom would have a conniption if I even asked to change it.”

Eddie looked at him with pity, but Steve pushed past the look and went to his drawers, “You need some underwear too, or are you good?” Steve asked, handing Eddie a pair of black sweats that were always too small for him. “I have some brand new ones if you need them, so you don’t have to wear mine.” Steve gave a soft chuckle, embarrassed to even suggest it.

Eddie laughed and took the sweats from Steve. “No man, I’m covered, I’ve got some of mine in my..oh fuck I left my bag downstairs. I’m gonna go grab it.” Eddie said, throwing his thumb over his shoulder toward the door as he also started walking back towards it.

Steve chuckled, “OK man, be careful not to wake anyone up. I’m going to jump in the shower.” Steve also gestured behind him with his thumb towards his ensuite.

“No need to worry about me Stevie, I am stealthy like a ninja.” Eddie lifted his leg and gestured to his socked foot before turning out the door and jingled down the hall.

‘Seems like he forgot about that damn chain around his hip.’ Steve laughed to himself and headed into the bathroom to get cleaned up for the night. 

—---

Eddie snuck down the hall from Steve’s room and down the steps toward the front door for his bag. 

As he was sneaking back, he checked in on the kids again. Everyone was where he left them earlier, all quietly breathing or (in Dustin’s case) snoring loudly.

Smiling to himself, Eddie stalked back up the stairs, taking them two at a time up to the landing. There was, in fact, some sort of noise coming from behind the closed door right at the top of the steps and Eddie had to slap his hand over his mouth to keep from bursting out laughing as he slunk back into Steve’s room softly closing the door behind him. 

Eddie didn’t quite know what to do while he waited for Steve to be done in the shower. He dropped his bag next to the door and fished out a new pair of boxers and a Judas Priest shirt, piling them with the sweats Steve lent him on the bed.

Deciding to poke around, Eddie went to Steve’s desk and looked at all the papers spread across the top. A couple pay stubs, a couple old notes that looked to be between him and robin, some notebooks that Eddie pointedly did not open, and a couple tickets. Most of them for movies, but one, just a small slip of orange paper stuck under the glass top of the desk itself, is printed with: “Hawkins High Presents the Fall/Winter 2002 production of ‘The Phantom of the Opera’. November 29, 2002.”.

Eddie ran his fingers over the glass above the ticket. ‘The first show..?’ he thinks. ‘But the first rose didn’t show up until the last show..on the 1st?’

His fingers catch on the edge of the notebook on top of the glass above the ticket and when it moves, for just a split second, Eddie sees more orange paper. 

He lifts the notebook out of the way and there are two other tickets, identical except for the dates printed on them. November 30, 2002 and December 1, 2002.

Eddie felt his throat tighten and his eyes start to burn. Steve went to all three showings? Why? That’s so sweet and also so unexpected? Shit, all of this is unexpected, god, he is such a fucking sap.. He kept these all this time?

Eddie didn’t get much farther in this spiral before he heard the shower turn off in the ensuite. Placing the notebook carefully back where it was, Eddie shot up out of the chair and started looking at the small cluster of photos above Steve’s dresser instead. Mostly shots of the kids, one of him and Robin in their Scoops uniforms, and one of the whole party at Eddie, Robin, and Nancy’s graduation. Eddie’s throat had stopped clenching up on him by now, but seeing that Steve had this picture made it seize tight again. 

Steve threw open the door and Eddie jumped like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Jesus H. Christ, you scared me!” Eddie slapped his hand over his chest. Managing to keep his face looking incredulous at the sight of a damp-haired, damp-skinned, shirtless Steve. Eddie thanked the universe that Steve had actually put on pants before coming out of the bathroom. Though the gray sweatpants that were hung low on Steve’s hips were only slightly better than if he’d come out with just a towel around his waist.

Steve chuckled at him and said “Your turn, Munson. Feel free to use whatever you want that’s in there.” Steve scrubbed the towel over his hair and stopped Eddie from his path toward the bathroom with his stack of clothes in hand, with an “Oh yeah, there’s a new toothbrush in the top left drawer for you if you like, and the towels on the shelf above the toilet are clean.”

“Thanks Steve!” Eddie smiled at him, closing the door (almost all the way) behind him. He set his clothes on the closed toilet lid before he leaned forward on the sink and let out a long breath. ‘Fuck he’s so hot.’ Eddie thought to himself as he stripped down, hopped into the shower, and started washing the sun, sweat, and sunscreen from his skin (and doing his best to ignore his *ahem* semi-problem).

Studying the bottles in front of him, Eddie grabbed the most un-assuming bottles of shampoo and conditioner, hoping he wasn’t using the most expensive shit here, and scrubbed the chlorine out of his hair.

This whole time, he was singing quietly. He decided to torture Steve a bit (if he happened to be listening) by singing the songs Steve had used the lyrics of for the roses. Eddie just wanted Steve to come clean already; he was going insane keeping himself from planting one on Steve’s stupidly pretty face every time he saw the younger man.

Once finished, he re-dressed, hung his towel around his shoulders to keep the water from soaking his shirt, and brushed his teeth with the toothbrush Steve told him about.

Opening the door, Eddie used the towel to scrunch the dripping ends of his hair up into the rest of his head like his uncle had told him to do (“You and your mom have the same hair, and that’s what she always used to do. Said it helps her curls.” Wayne shrugged). While busy with that, Eddie didn’t notice right away that Steve was pacing.

“Steve? You okay?” Eddie asked him, still scrunching his hair.

Steve stopped his pacing for a moment, looked at Eddie, and his already pinched expression pinched up tighter as he resumed his path on the carpet.

“Steve. Steve! You’re freaking me out, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this anymore!” he blurted, turning to look at Eddie. “I can’t do it anymore.” repeating himself, quieter this time.

Eddie froze. There it was. The other shoe he didn’t know he was waiting for, dropping. Here it comes, the ‘I can’t believe you thought I was into you.’, the ‘I was just flirting with you to see how riled up I could get you.’, the heartbreak.

“Hey, no worries, Steve. I’ll just head out, back off.” Eddie smiled through the pain.

“Wait, w_what?” Steve spluttered.

“Yeah, really, no worries. I’ll see you around at work but I’ll give you your space.” Eddie walked over and grabbed up his bag from the floor, throat constricting and eyes burning again. 

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice was small, broken sounding. Eddie forced himself not to look back at him.

“I guess we’ll see who gets what kids now, huh?” Eddie said with a sad chuckle. He turned the knob and started to pull open the door when:

“It was me!”

The silence felt like it went on for hours.

“What are you talking about, Harrington.”

“It was me. It is me. I’m the one leaving you the roses.”

Eddie clicked the door shut, but kept his hand on the knob, facing away from Steve.

“That’s what I meant. I can’t keep it from you anymore. I needed to tell you. And if you’re disappointed that it’s me, I_I understand.” Steve’s voice cracked and Eddie turned to face him.

Eddie’s heart felt like it was going to jump out of his chest, it was beating so hard. 

Eddie dropped his bag and slowly walked toward Steve, arms out like he was trying to contain a feral animal. “Steve. Stevie, sweetheart..”

Steve looked like he wanted to jump out the window.

“I’m sorry for lying Eddie, I was so convinced you were going to be disappointed that it was me.”

“Never. I had been hoping it was you since you threw that one to me on stage. Of course, I didn't know it was you then, but you were sneaky weren’t you Big Boy?” Eddie was close enough to reach forward and grab Steve’s hand, lacing their fingers together and smiling at him.

A small laugh bubbled out of Steve at that, his cheeks turning pink before his face dropped back into a worried frown.

“What, did you push through the crowd just to throw it and go back to where I knew you were before?”

Steve blushed harder “Well it worked didn’t it?” he laughed, the tension starting to ease from his shoulders.

Eddie laughed along with him. 

“Eddie,” Steve started, leaning into Eddie slightly

“Yes, Steve?” Eddie leaned forward too.

“Can I_can I kiss you?” 

Their faces hovered closer and closer

“Please..” Eddie’s voice was nothing more than a breathless whisper before Steve’s lips met his.

It was pure bliss.

Steve’s free hand coming up to Eddie's side and pulling him flush to his (still bare) chest punched out a soft moan from Eddie.

Steve hummed back and pressed himself closer to Eddie, only to spin them around and push Eddie back onto his bed.

Eddie crawled backwards to lay against the pillows and pulled Steve down on top of him, Steve slotted his hips into the space between Eddie’s legs like he belonged there. 

‘He does, he always will.’ The thought shot through Eddie and he hummed contentedly, his hips grinding up into the weight of Steve’s above him, unrelenting.

Eddie carded his fingers through Steve’s hair as he kissed him, pulling a bit, and causing Steve to groan so deep in his chest that he could feel it reverberate into his. 

Steve’s hands ran down Eddie’s sides, and up under his shirt. Their warmth left trails in their wake as they ran up his stomach, his right stopping to hold at his waist and the other continuing up, the fingers brushing over his only remaining nipple.

Eddie smiled against Steve’s mouth, giddy with what was happening, and also to laugh at the situation as a whole.

Steve felt it and smiled too, pulling back and looking down at Eddie with those beautiful hazel eyes, hair askew, “What?”

Unable to sort through every happy thought that was swirling through his mind at the moment, he decided to go with another observation he had made.

“You quoted the Phantom and Christine, but never Raoul. And you’re definitely Raoul.” Eddie couldn’t stop grinning.

Steve smiled down at Eddie, and what he did next made the grin fall off Eddie’s face, changing to disbelief. And this time, the constricting throat and burning eyes were fully welcomed.

Steve started to sing. 

“Anywhere you go, let me go too.” Steve started leaning down once again, “Love me. That’s all I ask of you.”

Steve kissed Eddie.

And Eddie melted.

-----------------

Epilogue here!

Last round of tagging, here we go! @cutiecusp @maya-custodios-dionach @allbymyselfexceptformycactus @mightbeasleep @bigboyandmetalhead @princess-eddie @ima-ghost-art @starkdusk @infinityonsighhh @lunaraindrop @pluto-pepsi @saramelaniemoon @roonilwazlib-main @eddiemuns0nl0ver @autumnrowancollector @beeing-stuupid @lilfroggies @goggles-mcgee @hagbaby420 @electrick-marionnett @00biscuit @llamaoftheinternet @imnotsureiexist @xthehatchick @kyoxyukiforever @e-dollly @cas7espresso @ilikechocolatemilkh @stevesworldxx @fromapayphone @freddykicksasses @a-bun-danceoflove @augustjustice @werewolfpeterparker @panicatthediaz @stellar-stevie @xstevex-world @2btheanswertothequestion @resident-gay-bitch @suddenlystrange @straight4joekeery @edmunsn @symbioticsimplicity @quevadilla @aringofsalt @sideblogofthcentury @homosexual-having-tea @nightmareglitter @deleataecount

[jimin-jungshook-over-literalbae]

Blinding Lights Chapter One

Hey guys! I wanted to try something new! This is content I’ve been playing around with for a long time but didn’t have any confidence in. This piece is already in it’s second chapter so I decide to try posting the first chapter to see if people are interested. I hope you guys like it!

Hybrids: Munchkin Cat Reader (Omega), Fox Jin (Omega), Panther Yoongi (Alpha), Golden Retriever Hoseok (Beta), Wolf Namjoon (Alpha), Calico Cat Jimin (Omega), Tiger Taehyung (Beta), Bunny Jungkook (Beta)

Masterlist

Word Count: 3312

Next Chapter

It’s easy to hate the world when you’re trapped in a box. Staring at the same walls and praying for a break in the mundane, ordinary, repetitive days. Hybrids hate being trapped. They crave freedom, open air, sunlight and comfort. Trapped Omegas are worse. Without a pack, their self-hatred only grows, leaving room for little else.

Since I was twenty, I had spent most of my time trapped in the small space under the floorboards. My newest owner said that’s where Hybrids belong unless they’re needed. My job is the please the boss’ clients. They get to live their fantasies. Some are sexual and other are more into physical pain. It’s a shock I have lost my mind completely.

It’s been seven years. Seven long year living a life worse than death. Learning to dread specific sounds, like now. Muted voices, the shuffling of feet, the whisper of the carpet being lifted, and the creak of the trap door. Next is the smell of my owner’s grossly expensive cologne. The person he’s with usually smells like some other gross cologne. It usually makes me feel like I should sneeze.

The man with my owner is a panther hybrids. He’s handsome, though in a less conventional way than the stereotypical pretty boy. The man appraises my small form, scantily clad in the outfit the maid put me in when she gave me my bath. I can’t read the look in his eyes, but the duffle bag in his hand sends my heart racing.

“I’ll leave you to your fun,” My owner makes his way back up the small ladder, closing the trap door and leaving us with no light but the bare single bulb. For a few moments, the Panther hybrids just studies me. He steps toward me and I shrink back, drawing my knees up to my chest.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” His voice is soft. Whether that is to put me at ease or because he’s scared we’ll be overheard, I’m not sure. He holds up a piece of paper. Written on it is ‘Can he hear us?’. I shake my head.

“Sound proof. He advertises not having cameras or microphones as a perk,” My voice cracks. He gives me a quick nod before rifling through his bag. He pulls out a walkie-talkie.

“I’m in,” His tone is clipped.

“Status?” A voice crackles over the speaker.

“One female munchkin hybrid. There’s a trap door under the carpet in the dining room. Close to the entrance. No guards in the room,” His words come out fast. This becomes more confusing the longer it goes. It feels like a fever dream.

“The hybrid?” The voice sounds different this time. Maybe a different person?

“No visible major injuries? She’s alert and conscious. One chain securing her. Cheap but sturdy. Shouldn’t take me long,” He pulls a couple of familiar tools out of his bag. My teeth dig into my bottom lip.

“10-4. Update me when we can move,” He sets down the device, picking up one of the tools,” And Yoongi? Just be careful.”

“I’m going to move your leg into a better position so I can get the chain off. You’re getting out of here,” He adjusts my leg and is about to start when I shake my head.

“Key is taped to the door. In sight but out of reach,” His eyes widen at my words.

“Bastard,” He mutters as he reaches up and removes the key. He unlocks the shackle on my ankle. My leg feels foreign without the added weight. I stand but stumble when I try to walk. Under everything else, I catch a faint whiff of his scent. Black pepper and rose. It twines with his Alpha’s scent. It nearly sends me into my Omega headspace.

“Hit it. Let’s get this asshole,” Yoongi throws the walkie-talkie back in his bag when he’s done and creates and creates a little distance between us. He hands me a t-shirt that is way too big. It fits me like a dress, going to my knees. He carefully positions me on his back, my legs and arms wrapped around him. My nose is pressed to his scent gland, relishing in his comforting scent.

“Don’t let go, no matter what. I’ve got you,” With the duffel bag, it must be difficult to carry me, but he doesn’t seem to be struggling.

The trap door opens, revealing a man with longish black hair and dark colored bunny ears. He reaches a hand down and helps Yoongi up. Tattoos wrap around his hand and disappear into his long sleeved t-shirt. He takes the duffel bag and glances around quickly.

“Van is outside the gate. I’ll guide you to the door. Stick close,” The bunny hybrid says.

“Bossy Brat,” Yoongi mutters. He follows the bunny hybrid to the front door. Then, almost like magic, we’re outside. Seven years of darkness leading to this moment of light.

He walks to the van and climbs in the back. The back of the van is mostly empty. The front seat is occupied by a Beta with a bright expression. I can’t help but tremble a little at the unfamiliar face.

“Let’s get you comfortable,” Yoongi gently lifts me from his back and settles me on a small pallet in the corner, near the seats. One of the blankets smells like him, and I quickly pull it around me. His scent soothes my nerves,” I’ll be back, Little One. Hobi, keep her safe for me.”

“Always. Go make sure Jiminie gets out safe,” As the person moves to the back of the van, I recognize him as another hybrid. He’s a golden retriever.

Yoongi leaves the van and I can barely suppress the whine that builds in me. I huddle in the little blanket, trying to stay out of Omegaspace. The Beta moves closer and I can’t stop myself from flinching. His scent makes its’ way to me. Mint and sunflowers. It’s a calming smell.

“Are you okay?” His voice is gentle,” My name is Hoseok.”

“Okay,” I meant to say ‘I’m okay’ but it’s hard to fight the drop.

Some time passes in a comfortable silence. The opening of the back door causes me to jump. The figure stepping in make me cower. His brown bear ears and the scar on his right cheek give him away. He’s the boss’ second in command, a Beta. He heads straight for Hoseok, and my body is moving before I can’t stop myself. I firmly place myself between Hoseok and the Bear. I hiss, only partially aware of the slip.

His hand closes around my throat, my feet leaving the floor of the van. A growl leaves Hoseok. My hand closes around his wrist, but it makes me feel smaller. My feet kick out, trying to find purchase to relieve some of the pressure on my throat.

“The boss wants to see you. Be a good little bitch and scurry to your master,” I can barely comprehend his words, the loss of breath getting to me.

“Let her go,” The voice behind me is much darker and rougher than I expected.

“I wouldn’t move, if I were you. It would be so easy to crush her throat,” His grip tightens just a little and I can tell he isn’t paying attention to me.

I dig my nails into his hand, my other hand going to where his thumb rests on my throat. You can’t grasp without your thumb. I manage to get my fingers under it, pushing it back hard. I feel it dislocate. I hit the ground hard and roll. I’m moving entirely by instinct, my Omega in full control. The two Betas leap at me and I panic. I scramble to the front and wedge myself in the front passenger seat floor. Then the sound stops.

“On the floor,” This voice is unfamiliar. A growl echoes through the van. I peek up to see a pink haired cat hybrid wit ha gun pointed at the unnamed Beta. The gun moves, pressing to the back of his head,” I said; down.”

I’ve never seen a more angry Beta as he lays on his stomach. Although I can’t smell him from here, in all the confusion, this reaction tells me the pink haired boy is an Omega. The Beta is dragged out of the van by people I can’t see from here.

“Missed the boss but got a few of his lackeys. Maybe they’ll have some info,” This comes from the pink haired Omega, his high pitched voice very distinctive.

“Lets load this one up and then we can head back to base,” This voice is unfamiliar.

“What happened to his thumb?” Yoongi. I can feel my Omega being pulled to his voice, to the safety and Alpha brings. The only thing keeping her here is the unknown voices.

“Your little Omega in there. She’s in a full drop right now,” This one is Hoseok.

“Can you guys load him up without me? I’m gonna check on her?” It’s Yoongi again.

“We’ve got him. She’s in the front passenger floor,” Hoseok’s voice already sounds like it’s getting farther away. They door beside me opens and I flinch.

Yoongi looks down at me, concern softening his expression. I move without thinking, somehow unwedging myself and wrapping myself around him. My face buries in his neck. His hands hold me gently.

“I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere this time,” His cheek rubs on the top of my head, gently scenting me.

He somehow climbs into the passenger seat with me wrapped around him. We sit in silence for a bit. HIs calm presence and gentle scenting do a lot to clear my haze. Coming out of a drop always leaves me feeling exhausted and scrambled.

“Did you really dislocate his thumb?” There’s a chuckle hiding in his voice. I nod my head.

“He had his hand around my throat,” A soft growl leaves Yoongi at my words,” You can’t grip without your thumb. Dislocation was just a side effect. It wasn’t intentional.”

“A little badass, huh?” He muses, leaning me back some so he can examine my throat. It’s probably already bruising.

“I’m not that young,” I huff, crossing my arms,” I’m 27. I’m just short.”

“You’re the same age as Jimin and Tae. Still younger than me, though,” His tone is teasing. I roll my eyes,” What is this on the back of your shoulder?”

It’s like a shock of cold water. Memories bombarded me. Tears, blood, the smell of burning flesh. My hands begin to shake and I have to shove back another drop.

“A brand. So everyone knows who I belong to,” My voice is smaller, and more emotional, than I would like. To my surprise, another growl leaves him and his face buries in my neck.

“He won’t touch you again. I’ll kill him,” His voice is muffled and rough,” Mine.”

My heart skips a beat at his words. Is he claiming me? Why me, of all people? His chest rumbles with a soft purr that melts my heart as his warm breath caresses my neck. He can’t mean it. I was born alone. The driver’s side door opening interrupts my thoughts.

“Jungkookie and Jiminie are taking the ones we caught and dropping them off. Namjoon is meeting them there,” Hoseok climbs into the driver’s seat,” Lets get home, shall we?”

The look he gives me is warm and kind. I smile back hesitantly. I rest my head on Yoongi’s shoulder, listening to the two of them talk. At some point, I started dozing off, exhaustion weighing too heavy on my sleepy mind. I’m not fully asleep, but I’m not awake either. There’s a faint ringing and Yoongi shifts some.

“Hello?” Yoongi’s voice is a soft whisper against my hair.

“Where is the girl?” This voice is unfamiliar.

“I have her,” Yoongi’s answer is clipped.

“Yoongi,” The man’s voice is exasperated,” We don’t know if she’s safe.”

“I’m not letting her go there, Namjoon,” Yoongi tenses.

“We don’t know-“ Yoongi cuts him off.

“Nobody consents to living like that. You haven’t seen her. She’s so frightened,” His fingers dance up and down my back absentmindedly.

“I know you’ve grown attached but we still-“ Once again, Yoongi interrupts him.

“They branded her!” I can smell his anger and I whine, nuzzling into his neck. He lets out a breath.

“Just… bring her here. I just want to talk to her first,” The call ends and Yoongi makes a frustrated sound.

“It’s okay, hyung. He’ll know. I feel it too,” Hoseok says gently.

“If he doesn’t, I”m staying with her,” His lips press to my forehead. We drive for a while longer but then I can feel Yoongi nudging me awake.

“C’mon. There’s someone I want you to meet,” He helps me out of the van and his hand engulfs mine. I squeeze it softly, trying to quell my nerves.

I follow him through the building. We end up in an office, sitting on a couch across from a tall Alpha with light brown hair and gray wolf ears. I sit gingerly, playing with the hem of my t-shirt. His scent washes over me, pine and fire. A warm and exciting at the same time.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Namjoon,” When he smiles, I see dimples wink at me from his cheeks.

“I just have a few questions to ask you,” He crosses his long legs and leans back in his chair,” How long were you held there?”

“Seven years,” I don’t miss a beat. I kept count. It helped me hold onto my scrap of sanity,” I was twenty when he bought me.”

“Bought you?” He presses.

“I’m a munchkin hybrid. They’re often passed between rich households. The last count came in at less than a hundred, nationally. Even fewer are female. It’s why I’m so small, despite my age,” My hands hover uselessly. I would normally play with my tail to keep me calm, but that’s not possible right now,” I moved homes super often. Plus, the boss would visit on our anniversary.”

“You don’t have to answer this, but what was your job?” He phrases the question carefully.

“To satisfy whatever urges his crew or potential new clients,” I can’t stop my voice from shaking.

“Did you choose this job?” His question nearly sends me into anger.

“Who chooses that job? I was tortured and raped. I can’t even-“ I stop myself. Yoongi’s hand lands on my knee, squeezing comfortingly.

“You can’t what?” It’s Yoongi this time, his voice hesitant.

“Use my tail,” My voice is small and broken. I didn’t want to talk about it.

“W-what do you mean?” Even Namjoon seems stumped by that one.

“Not long after I got there, less than a year, I tried to escape. It’s why they started chaining me. It part of my punishment. It’s best I just show you,” A sob nearly chokes me. I stand robotically and turn, lifting the shirt enough to show my tail. It’s a broken, twisted mess. It’s basically shaped like a bow, zip ties used to hold it in place until it healed that way. I feel numb as I lower the shirt.

“You’re safe here,” Namjoon’s voice calming, like his scent,” Yoongi, you should take her to see Jin. She needs medical care to make sure there are no other issues.”

“Namj-“ The door behind me opens and I turn to see the black haired rabbit,” Sorry, didn’t know they were here.”

Now that we’re here, away from the mansion, I can catch his scent. It reminds me of a salty ocean breeze. The shock comes at realizing he’s a Beta. Rabbits are almost exclusively Omegas.

“We didn’t get a chance to meet earlier,” The rabbit offers me a smile, little bunny teeth on display,” I’m Jungkook.”

“Y/N,” I find it hard to meet his eyes. I’ve been too well trained, I guess.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” Yoongi hops to his feet and reaches for my hand,” Lets go see the doc.”

This time, we end up in a normal looking car. While he drives, Yoongi fiddles with the radio, looking for something he wants to listen to. Once it stops on a station, he offers me his hand. I take it quickly, his touch bringing comfort. I play with his fingers, trying to quell my nerves about meeting another unknown person. When he parks the car, I can feel anxiety rearing its’ ugly head.

“Hey,” His voice is soft,” I’ll stay with you, if that’s what you want. I won’t leave you.”

“Why-“ My voice breaks,” Why me?”

“Hmm?” His ear flicks, obviously confused.

“You’ve comforted me so much, but I don’t deserve that,” My lower lip trembles, despite my best attempts.

“Come here, Kitten,” He unlatches our seat belts and pulls me on to his side of the car. He leans his seat back and suddenly, our noses almost touching. My breath catches as his dark eyes peer up at me.

“With everything going on, you may not have noticed. You,” He bumps my nose with his, his hands resting comfortably on my sides,” are my mate. Our mate.”

My eyes go wide, the scattered and missing pieces suddenly making sense. In my daze, my Omega took a little control and nuzzled into his neck, my nose lightly nudging his scent gland. He lets out a breath, his arms wrapping around me gently.

“I’ll always be here,” My head lulls to the side, a whimper leaving me, as he nuzzles my scent gland. His lips brush it gently, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine.

“We should probably go in,” My voice is breathless, broken up by soft purrs.

“Probably,” I curl up on his chest. One of his hands trails up and down my spine, causing a content purr to leave me.

The ringing of his phone rudely interrupts us. He sighs and fumbles a little, managing to get it from his pocket. He answers and presses it to his ear.

“What?” His tone is grumpy,” Okay, okay, we’re coming.”

We clamber out of the car, his hand, once again, reaching for mine. He pulls me along, leading me through the small clinic. His knuckles tap on the door in front of us. It opens quickly.

“Come on it,” Gray-black fox ears nestle on a mop of blonde hair. A floral scent, orange blossom and lilies, permeates from the Omega,” I’m Dr. Kim Seokjin. Mates know me as Jin.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N,” I peek up at his face for a few seconds, but I quickly feel awkward.

“Lets look you over and make sure you’re okay, hmm?” Jin’s voice is cheery.

The exam feels like it takes forever and parts of me fill with fear. Yoongi stays the whole time, holding my hand or petting my hair. When he gets to my tail, I can hear him gasp.

“That’s horrible,” His voice is broken,” So, for your tail, I’ll have to straighten it out. I can give you some meds and do it now. It should be healed by morning.”

I take the offered meds, which hit fast due to my hybrid metabolism. The next twenty minutes are grueling. I can feel him working, feel the bones breaking and readjusting.

“How are you feeling?” Jin asks when he’s done.

“Sleepy,” I answer honestly, struggling to stifle a yawn.

“You did so good, Kitten,” Yoongi’s voice is soft as his eyes meet mine,” Lets go home.”

He lifts me gently. I can hear them speaking but I can’t interpret their words, my brain too exhausted. The gentle motion of his walking lulls me to sleep, my head resting on his shoulder.

[eruden-writes]

Scent Match - Part 10 (Augustine x Amber)

lycan x human celebrity x non-celebrity contemporary fantasy

(Note: Started with an anon asking for the phrase prompt, “Oh. Oh.”)

Summary: When Amber Dyer decided to attend a Creator Con, she never expected to run into Of Wolf and Blood lycan heartthrob, Augustine Prime.

But, there he was, stooping over her table, asking to buy the unflattering drawing of his character. Valuing integrity over taking money from a celebrity and running (though she was sorely tempted,) Amber finishes the sketch and delivers it to Augustine.

However, he continues to doggedly pursue her and entwine their lives.

All because of her scent.

x x x

First Part - Master List - Previous Part

x x x

The longer Augustine left Amber alone, the quicker her temperature fell. What was she doing? If they had sex, she'd just be a notch in his belt, right? Hell, he probably was planning to get a new number after this weekend so even giving her his contact info meant nothing!

Even if he was genuine, he'd get tired of her, bored. Or find someone that matched his lifestyle better. Best to leave on a high note and with some dignity intact. If she moved fast, she might even be able to sneak out while he was busy on the call.

"Alright, back," Augustine announced loudly as hereventured the room. He hopped back on the bed, sprawled onto his side as he flashed a teasing grin at Amber. "Now where were we?"

She stared at him, suddenly struck by his amiable smile and unarguably attractive face. Yeah, there was no way this wouldn't end poorly for her, no matter what he said or what she wished. "I should get going."

The way his features fell made Amber jump off the bed and start for the door. She wasn't about to be caught by his puppy drg eyes. She wasn't going to be guilted into anything further!

"Wait!" Augustine yelped, lurching forward and snagging Amber's wrist. She froze, eyes wide and staring at where he grasped her. Heat raced up her arm, tingling through her bones. 

Augustine swallowed, realizing he had moved before thinking as the wolfish ears atop his head sagged. It was too late to release her and he couldn't bring himself to loosen his fingers. "Please, stay."

"I'm not interested in doing anything else," she stiffly bit out. Despite the steel in her fore, she didn't pull away from him. She didn't know why. Maybe a small part of her wanted to see what he'd do, see if he'd let her go or push his desires.

"That's fine." A relieved smile fluttered over Augustine's face, his ears pricking forward. He stared up at Amber from his position still partially seated on the bed. "I just want to get to know you more… maybe wake up next to you in the morning?" 

He knew he was sounding needy, clingy. But he didn't want to say goodbye yet. The thought of being away from Amber, without her scent, without her, was a bitter thought.

She stared down at him, an internal battle waging behind her eyes. Could she trust him? He had seemed surprised at himself,  even ashamed, for grabbing her so suddenly. And when he voiced what he wanted, his voice had dipped soft and… Well, with anyone else Amber would say shy, but did Augustine Prime even feel bashfulness?

His gaze held hers, so earnest it made something in her twinge. She swallowed heavily, already knowing her answer before she said it. "Okay. I'll stay."

—

The next morning, Amber groaned as her phone shrieked at her. Cracking her eyes open, she spotted the infernal thing sitting on the bedside table, next to Augustine’s bed. The man in question laid next to her, on his side with a heavy arm slung around her middle. Deciding to be embarrassed about the position later, Amber reached out for her phone and squinted at the screen. 

A multitude of texts from Addie filled the chat box, but they seemed to be the same copy-pasted message: Where are you? We need to pack & leave the room before noon!

“Shit,” Amber mumbled to herself as she bolted upright. If they didn’t pack everything and get out of that room in time, they’d have to pay for another night or upcharges. Though the two could possibly pay it, it ate into the profit margin they had attained. 

Augustine’s arm tightened around her middle, not loosening even as she tried to shove him off. She was about to smack at his arm, before a sleepy, rumbled question came from the man, “Where’re you going?” 

"I need to go. Addie and I have a long drive back home." Amber swatted at his arm to which Augustine, thankfully, released his hold on her. Although she couldn’t help but notice how he pouted. She ignored that observation as she hopped out of his bed, still wearing her clothes from the prior night. 

As Augustine pushed himself up in bed, Amber’s gaze briefly detoured down his body. In the light that filtered through the blinds, every contour of his body became highlighted. He really was attractive, she thought, as her eye traced over his happy trail and back up his body to his face. His stubble had grown overnight into a scruffy short beard and his hair was tousled from sleep.

"I could come with you,” Augustine offered when Amber’s attention finally returned to his face. He liked her looking at him like that - it made excitement swell in his chest - but he knew better than to mention it.

She shook her head, her nose wrinkling though there was a tinge of amusement in her voice. "Don't you have a plane to catch or something? Big fancy actor things to do?"

"Not right away. I was going to stay in town for a few days." He gave an easy shrug before he shoved off the bed, moving to stand a little closer to Amber.  "No necessary obligations for a couple weeks or so."

"And you want to go on a road trip with me and Addie?" Amber’s expression and tone fell flat as she crossed her arms, not believing his interest had sustained this long.

Augustine smiled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Addie's nice, but I'm going to spend time with you."

"We don't have too much extra room for luggage,” she retorted, waving a hand and all the sheer stuff the man had around the bedroom alone. Gods knew what else in the massive hotel room he had. Saddling Addie with the job of transporting it all, on top of all their own gear and souvenirs, was unfair. 

In fact, how selfish of him to think he could so easily come along! Amber tried to hang onto that outrage, but in the face of Augustine’s hopeful smile, it was hard to cling to anger.

"I'll take one bag - just some necessities - and send the rest back by courier,” he answered with a slowly growing smile. Over the decades, he could sense when people were caving to his requests. But she had surprised him before, so he held his breath.

Amber hummed, narrowing her eyes on the man. His tail waggled gently behind him, but it seemed as if he was trying to tamp down his excitement. She had to admit, having another travel companion might be okay. After pressing her lips together, an opportunistic thought scurried through her head. "Can you drive?"

"Um, yeah?" Augustine’s eyebrows furrowed, uncertain where she was going with the sudden tangent.

"That doesn't sound convincing,” she mumbled, her frown deepening. Would Addie even let him drive her car? There was insurance to think about, plus she wasn’t even sure how well the man could drive. Weren’t actor sorts constantly getting into car wrecks? Or was that due to all the partying and drinking?

"Yes, I can drive,” Augustine sighed with a firmer tone. His hands pressed to his hips, his head cocking to the side. "Why?"

"I hate driving. If you come with, you're taking my driving shifts." She pointed in his face, as if it was a challenge being issued.

"Okay.” He shrugged, his smile tilting into a crooked grin. Amused and delighted. If driving was all he had to do in order to ensure more time with Amber, he’d drive for-fucking-ever. As long as she was in the car with him. Well… no, that wasn’t true. He’d do whatever he needed to do to stay or be in her proximity. 

"Okay…" she echoed his consent slowly. That was too easy. Amber let her hand awkwardly drop, her eyebrows furrowing in uncertainty. Biting her bottom lip, she had to tear her eyes away from Augustine lest the creeping heat in her body splashed across her face. She busied herself with gathering her purse and shoes, still not looking at him, though her words were bashful, "I guess you can come then. If Addie agrees."

"Sweet. Let me get dressed and throw a bag together real quick.” The bed squeaked beneath him as he hopped down, padding to the bathroom.

She didn’t dare look up as he passed by her, too deep in her own sudden worries to really see Augustine. This all had been a mistake, hadn’t it? From last night to this morning, she had bumbled into a terrible situation. The whole point of coming to him last night was to end whatever it was he wanted and feed her own hormones! Now they were going to travel together. For hours. In a car.

Amber swallowed, glancing at her phone once more. She would just have to rely on Addie to be the blockade that stopped this off-the-rails situation.

x x x

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[svuobsessed]

Can I request something for Casey! Some fluff and maybe helping fem reader with her depression, maybe she’s having a downer day and Casey is the only one who can make her feel better, get her to open up

Casey Novak X Depressed Teen Reader

My first request! Thank you!

Request: Can I request something for Casey! Some fluff and maybe helping fem reader with her depression, maybe she’s having a downer day and Casey is the only one who can make her feel better, get her to open up.

Third person pov...

As the sun rose over the New York City skyline, sixteen-year-old Y/N sat alone in her room, staring at the ceiling. She had been struggling with depression for months now and today was one of her darker days.

She had no motivation to get out of bed, no desire to face the world outside. As she lay there, feeling lost and alone, she had been sexually assaulted a couple months ago and was trying to get through it.

As she sat she thought of Casey Novak the ADA who helped her get justice and put her attacker into prison where he was staying for a long time.

That thought should make her happy, but instead she didn't she only felt empty. Then she rememberd that she had the Detective who worked on her case had given her a card with her number on.

Rummaging through her draw she found her card. 'Detective Benson' sighing she called the number. "Benson" came a familiar voice.

Hours later...

Casey received a call from Detective Olivia Benson, her close friend and colleague. Olivia informed her that there was a young teenager at (address name) who had requested to speak with her specifically. With a curious frown, Casey made her way to the apartment Olivia told her.

The red haired woman remembered the traumatized teenager, Y/N hadn't wanted to tell them who assaulted her, she was scared to tell them, but after a few days Y/N came forward and told them who it was.

The young teen had easily bonded with both Casey and Olivia Benson, after the case Casey thought about the H/C girl often.

It was usual that she felt such a connection with a victim but the teen made her want to keep in contact.

When Casey arrived at the L/N family apartment, she was greeted by Y/N Mother, the woman was surprised to see her of course.

"Hi Mrs L/N, I'm Casey Novak. I was wondering if I could talk to your daughter Y/N?" She asked the woman, recognition shined in her eyes before she stepped aside and Casey walked in.

"Y/Ns room is the last door on the right"  she smiled at the prosecutor. When she knocked on Y/Ns door a shy and withdrawn teenager greeted her.

Y/Ns H/C hair was unkempt, her eyes were red-rimmed from crying, Y/N self consciously rubbed under her eyes, she wore baggy clothes that seemed to swallow her petite frame.

But despite her appearance, Casey could see the strength and resilience in the young teens eyes.

"Hi Y/N, i dont know if you remember me, but im Casey" she introduced herself, offering a gentle smile, she watched as Y/Ns eyes widened in recognition and she nodded, but she didn't say anything.

Casey could see that Y/N was shutting herself off, fear and shame controlling her actions.

"We can take it slow, if you want. There's no rush. I just want to help you in any way I can" Casey assured her, choosing her words carefully.

Y/n looked at Casey for a few moments, and then without warning, she burst into tears. Casey quickly pulled her into a hug, rubbing her back and offering her a comforting presence.

The young teenager cried for what seemed like hours, and all the while, Casey stayed by her side, holding her hand and whispering words of encouragement.

As Y/N slowly calmed down, Casey handed her a box of tissues and sat down next to her on Y/N unkempt bed.

She knew that sometimes, all a person needed was someone to listen to them, to make them feel heard and understood. And that's exactly what Casey did.

For a couple minutes the two sat in Y/Ns room, the teen fiddling with her hands waiting for one of them to break the silence, Casey was the one to speak.

"What happened to you was not your fault. You are not alone, and you don't have to go through this alone" Casey said, her voice full of empathy.

Keeping her tears at bay Y/N fianlly opened up to the prosecutor.

As the H/C teen opened up to Casey about the assault, her struggles with depression, and the constant fear she lived with, Casey listened with patience and empathy.

She shared her own experiences of working with survivors and assured Y/N that she was not alone in her fight.

With Casey's help, the traumatized teen slowly began to open up more and more. They spent the entire day together, and by the end of it, Y/N was becoming herself once again.

The heaviness in her heart seemed to lift, and for the first time in a long time, she felt hopeful for the future.

As they sat in Y/N bedroom, drinks in hand, courtesy of Y/N mum, Y/N held Caseys hand in her own a genuine smile on her face.

Big E/C eyes looked into her. "Thank you, Casey. I don't know what I would have done without you" Y/N finally spoke up, her voice filled with gratitude.

Feeling herselfgetting choked up at her words, Case smiled and held her hand. "I'll always be here for you, Y/N And if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to reach out" Casey replied, her eyes shining with sincerity.

After saying good bye and leaving y/N her card, Casey left the L/N apartment late that night, she couldn't help but feel fulfilled.

Being able to help someone in need was the best feeling in the world for her, and she knew that Y/Ns road to recovery wouldn't be easy, but she was determined to be there for her every step of the way.

From that day on, Casey and Y/N developed a strong bond. Every time

Y/N had a downer day, or she felt overwhelmed with what happend to her she knew she could count on Casey to make her feel better and help her get through it.

The end!

Hoped you liked this oneshot, sorry for not updating for a while haven't been well these last few days so here I am writing this because I feel better finally.

As usual sorry for any grammar and Spelling mistakes.

Request page is open!

Word count: 1120

[oboetemasuka]

Burn

An "Order of Attack" side story

If only because it's an offshoot of "A much more restricted existence"

Otherwise, it stands on its own.

From Fuuta's point of view, in which he attempts to be crafty about destroying the restraints rather than asking for help.

This leans on the crack side. But please do not do this at home. Be responsible around fire.

-

A few days after the restrictions had been enacted, Fuuta decided that enough was enough.

These stupid uniforms with the annoying restraints needed to go.

But there were only a few times throughout the day when he could try anything. Mealtime was the obvious choice, but he was too slow an eater to have any spare time, and he wasn't going to skimp on food just to try his luck.

Why not grab the scissors before sitting down to eat, then? Because that would draw attention, and the last thing he needed was the others' judgmental glares. It would make him a hypocrite after all the scrutiny he gave weapons in the prison.

And hell if he asked anyone to help him out. 

During the few breaks in the restrictions, people would always be in the dining hall. He should just forget about using scissors.

While Fuuta was holed up in his room, trying to think about what else to do, Amane tapped the door with her shoe. What was she here for, to mock him? He shooed her away.

If the dining hall was a bust, then there had to be some other room he could try. Maybe the warehouse, but Haruka and his new buddy were there all the time. Fuuta wasn't going to make a fool of himself in front of them.

Maybe the smoking room might work. Everyone knew that Fuuta hated the smell of smoke, but maybe he could play on their expectations. He could claim to want a little company after his usual group left him. He could claim he just wanted to listen in. And when they all left, he could pocket a lighter. Nobody would expect him to take a lighter.

-

"Fuuta-kun, I… uh… what's that you're holding?"

So now Haruka decided to talk to him.

"None of your business. Go talk to your little girlfriend there. That's what you've done ever since you decided you're above me."

"But I- I just-"

"Don't pay him any mind. He's just sour about his verdict." Muu ushered Haruka away. At least she was helpful for drawing away one of those kids. But what about the other?

"Fuuta-san, are the voices getting to you again? It helps to sit down and recite the tenets of-"

"Go away, brat!"

Amane turned tail without another word. So now she decided to cut her losses.

-

In the far corner of Fuuta's cell, he opened a metal box and put the end of his sleeve strap in it. He flicked the lighter on.

The flame only caused the fabric to melt slightly. Perhaps he needed a bigger fire.

He looked through his bookshelf for things he didn't need anymore. A coloring book that Haruka left for him. A nutrition pamphlet from Shidou, with a rainbow of vegetables in the front. An issue of a magazine that Mahiru recommended to him. A prayer journal from Amane. A self-help brochure from Mikoto.

He tore and crumpled up the pages, tossed them in the box, and set them on fire. Then he hung the strap over them.

A smoke detector alarmed. Fuuta frantically looked around the room and found the cell door already kicked open. Shidou ran up to him and sprayed an extinguisher over the fire.

"Kajiyama-kun, what in the world are you doing?"

So much for not drawing attention. Fuuta had nothing to say for himself.

"Don't tell me… Are you trying to burn your uniform?"

Fuuta nodded slightly, his face flushing red with humiliation.

"That fire could have gone out of hand! It takes a lot to make that material catch fire, and if it did…" Shidou sighed. "I didn't think you were that stupid."

[mac-lilly]

Alone together

Happy last Juke Jeudi of 2023!

(I'm still sick - so this doesn't make much sense.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

When she climbs up the wooden ladder, Julie is not surprised to find the loft occupied. She has expected as much.

Luke’s hiding in the farthest corner, body mostly obscured by cardboard boxes and other junk. He’s awfully still. And that’s all wrong.

Luke’s never still. Not even in death.

With a sigh, she hoists herself up on the landing and carefully weaves through trash bags of clothes and Carlos’ discarded ghost-hunting equipment. The floorboards creak with every step. She rounds another box – this one has CHRISTMAS written across its front. Curious, Julie peers inside. It contains a golden star inside as well as a few plastic bags with handcrafted paper ornaments that she and her mom made a few years ago.

Julie frowns. Her dad gathered all the Christmas decorations the other day, but this one must have escaped him. Julie idly wonders if she should bring it downstairs. He’s surely looking for this one. But she’s come here for a different reason, which she needs to focus on first.  

Shaking her head, she turns her attention back to Luke.

He’s the picture of misery. He’s hunched over, arms slung around his knees. His thick, worn flannel with the familiar plaid pattern is wrapped around his torso like a blanket. The lighting in the loft is terrible. But there’s a dusty skylight just above Luke’s head. The tears on his cheeks glisten in the hazy sunlight.

Julie’s heart shatters. Suddenly, doubts begin to creep into her mind. Maybe this is a terrible idea. Maybe she should just turn around and leave. There’s still the excuse of the forgotten box of Christmas supplies that she could use and …

But Luke has long sensed her presence. He shuffles in his spot, using the movement as a disguise to dry his tears and clean off his face.

It’s all Julie needs.

Squashing down the idea of abandoning him – now the very thought makes her feel pathetic and a bit nauseous – she takes another tentative step in his direction.

“Hey …,” she says, forcing a smile that doesn’t feel right. It just makes her cheeks hurt.

Luke rubs at his eyes with the sleeve of his flannel one last time before lifting his head, meeting her gaze.

“Hey,” he responds, voice raspy and raw. “What’s up, boss?”

He tries to smile back. But the outcome is abysmal. His smile is wary and doesn’t quite reach his eyes, which are puffy and red-rimmed.

Julie doesn’t comment on it. In fact, she doesn’t say a word. Instead, she settles down beside him, drawing her knees to her chest. As she moves, she feels his eyes on her, tracking her every movement. His brows are knitted together; concern and a hint of fear are etched into his features. The sight almost breaks Julie’s heart again.

Closing her eyes for a moment, Julie draws in a shaky breath, then …

“The second year is worse.”

Luke blinks at her, confused. He can’t follow her.

Julie swallows around the lump that is forming in her throat.

“Last year was my— our first Christmas without mom.” Her voice is low – like a whisper – but surprisingly steady. “But at the same time, it kinda wasn’t. We didn’t celebrate it last year. Not really. We didn’t put up any lights or decorations. We didn’t even have a tree. We did get presents, though.”

A tiny, sheepish smile steals on her lips at her last confession. But it wears off quickly, leaving an odd, hollow feeling in its wake. Hugging her knees tightly, she continues.

“It was all too fresh, I guess. There wasn’t enough time for the implications to sink in. But this year …” Julie pauses, unsure how to put it into words. “I know Dad wants us to feel normal this year. He wants to do Christmas the way we used to – when Mom was still alive. But that’s …” She swallows again, shaking her head to chase off the unwelcome yet familiar sensation of tears pricking at her eyes. “No matter how much time will pass, it’ll never be the same again. Because Mom’s gone.”

Julie’s voice cracks with emotion, and she has to take a few calming breaths to regain control. Meanwhile, she risks a glance at Luke to gauge his mood. She half expects him to be annoyed by her monologue, maybe a bit bored.   

But all she finds is understanding. Compassion is shining in Luke’s eyes, and there’s even a hint of a genuine smile on his face. He’s been hanging on her lips the whole time.

It’s the reassurance she needs.

“You miss your mom; I miss mine. So I thought, maybe we can miss them together?”

There’s an edge to her voice, almost a plea, and then her voice is gone. Instead of words, a heavy sob flees her throat. Her tears begin to flow freely, and suddenly, her nose is clogged up. She sniffles.

Maybe she should be embarrassed. Under different circumstances, she certainly would be. But she isn’t. Not around Luke. Never around Luke. Luke, who seems surprised at her proposition. But only for a moment. His surprise fades quickly, and the look on his face turns into an expression of stunned awe. It's a sight that never fails to make the swarm of tiny butterflies in her stomach flutter with excitement.

Then, Luke's smile is back in place, and he reaches out, attempting to wipe her tears away. But his thumb phases through her skin, making her cheek tingle.

Luke groans in frustration.

“This sucks.”

It does. But Julie doesn’t mind.

Okay, maybe she does mind. Just a little. Or maybe a lot. Because she really, really wants to feel him.

Reluctantly, Luke withdraws his hand. Julie watches solemnly as he retreats, feeling like he's taking a crucial part of her with him. She’s yearning for more, not less.

Then Luke shifts his incorporeal weight, and suddenly, he’s leaning into her space, lips hovering by her ear.  

“Thank you, Julie,” he whispers. His husky voice sends a shiver down Julie’s spine. And then he kisses his cheek. More or less. She can feel the ghost of his lips brush her cheeks – his breath is like a caress, surprisingly warm as it dries her tears.

Closing her eyes, Julie revels in the feeling.

“It’ll be better next year, I promise.”

Julie isn’t sure what Luke means. But when he retreats again, there’s a mirthful twinkle in his eyes.

And Julie believes him.

[little-diable]

Be aware of the strangers watching - Spencer Reid (2/2)

@hidingsikki and I kept watching Spencer TikTok edits those past days, so we came up with this idea. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: It didn't take the team long to notice that (y/n)'s missing, while they are trying to find her, she's forced to realise that she probably won't make it through the upcoming hours. Time is fleeting and so is her life.

Warnings: 18+, angst, panic attack, fear of dying, kidnapping, mentions smut

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (3k words)

header by @hidingsikki

dividers by @firefly-graphics

Part One 

“Try calling her again, maybe she’s stuck in traffic.” Hotch’s voice filled the room, drawing the worried gazes of the team members towards him. They should have left minutes ago, called away by a new case, and yet (y/n) was missing - without a message or a note telling the team about her whereabouts.

“Did you always split up on your way here? Weren’t you supposed to drive together?” Derek murmured his words into Spencer’s direction, gaze flickering towards the elevator whenever somebody stepped out of it, filling them with hope for a fraction of a second till the sinking feeling of realisation swapped over them. 

“No, we used to come in together, but like I said, I had to pick up my bag, so (y/n) went ahead and drove here on her own.” Spencer’s voice dripped with worry, seemingly just as scared as the rest of the team. Their thoughts were racing, coming up with cruel scenarios about what could have happened to her. 

The more minutes passed by, the more confused the others got. No longer was their case a priority, no, they were all focused on (y/n), trying to locate her. Garcia had disappeared minutes ago, trying to find something online, hoping that wherever (y/n) may currently be, she’d make it through the next hours. Alive. 

“I’ll call the Sheriff to let them know that we won’t come in today. Reid, drive back to (y/n)’s place, take Derek with you. Emily, see if you can help Garcia locate (y/n) on any cameras, Dave with me.” With a nod sent Aaron’s way, the team began to disappear out of the room, leaving behind nothing but the reminders of the conversation they have been forced to share.

“Hello?” Her voice was trembling, echoing through the dark (y/n) found herself stuck in. Her hands tried to find something she could use to hold on to, though it only took her a few seconds to realise that she didn’t have a way out. She was stuck. In a box. 

“Hello? Spencer!” (Y/n)’s breaths grew panicked, growing faster and more shallow with every passing second as the thought of suffocating in a box dawned on her. “Spencer? Please, oh god.” 

Tears welled up in her eyes as she tried to kick her legs, hoping that she’d be able to break through the material of the box, but without any luck. It didn’t take her long to realise that she wasn’t stuck in a wooden box, but a metallic one. 

It was almost ironic, but her mind couldn’t help but focus on Spencer, on the calming words he’d speak to her. Fuck, the mere thought of Spencer used to calm her, but now it didn’t do much but haunt her. (Y/n) could still feel the anxiety thumping through her veins, wondering why he had done something this cruel. 

Her screams grew raspy, no longer able to give her anxiety enough room to verbally bubble out of her. 

“Are you okay?” Derek stopped Spencer from stepping out of (y/n)’s home, faces full or worry as it slowly dawned on them that somebody must have ripped her away from them. It took the man a moment to reply, staring into Derek’s eyes as if he was trying to find answers to the questions keeping his thoughts racing.

“I wish we didn’t split up, it’s all my fault.” Derek pulled Spencer in for a hug, patting his back to wordlessly communicate that everything would be alright. The team wasn’t stupid, all were awfully aware of the tension between the young profiler and (y/n), the emotions keeping them chained together like secret lovers having to make it through their days. She’d have to make it back to them, for the sake of the team, for the sake of Spencer. 

“We’ll find her, we have to.” Slowly they pulled away from one another, leaving the place with a heavy heart and darkening thoughts. The sound of Derek’s phone going off echoed through the air, making the man falter in his steps as Spencer closed the passenger door. 

“Tell me something positive, babygirl.” It took Penelope a moment to reply, whispering her words as if she was scared that anybody close could pick up on the things she was about to share.

“Are you still with Spencer?” Derek’s eyes found Spencer’s frame in the car, momentarily staring at the man who had his eyes closed, seemingly wrecking his brain for any clues, things they could have missed.

“He’s not around, why?” A heavy gulp was heard, followed by a shaky exhale of breath. 

“I haven’t told the others yet, but he didn’t leave her place on his own, he left with (y/n).” Penelope was rambling, clearly distressed by what she had seen on the traffic cameras, allowing her to follow the couple from (y/n)’s place to Spencer’s. “I lost them shortly after they left her home, but he lied to us.” 

“Alright, I’ll talk to him. See if you can find them again, maybe something happened that he was too embarrassed to share with us.” Derek’s heart kept racing faster with every step he took towards the black SUV, starting the car without speaking another word. Spencer kept studying him, clearly waiting for the man to spill whatever new information he had just stumbled upon. 

“Why did you lie?” His voice dripped with anger and confusion, eyes finding Spencer’s as the car came to a halt at a red light. No longer were Spencer’s eyes wide, with his pupils dilated to carry the sadness he felt, no, he stared at his colleague with no expression tugging on his features, unemotional as one can be. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You left with her, you lied to us, Spencer.” No words followed Derek’s murmurs, making an uncomfortable silence linger in the car. It took the profiler moments to reply, moments filled with dread, passing by slower than the hours before.

“It must have slipped my mind, I guess I was too focused on the other questions.” 

Tears kept rolling down her cheeks, dripping from her quivering chin. She had stopped kicking her feet, slowly but surely accepting the fact that nobody would find her. Perhaps the team was looking for her, perhaps they had left before they could notice that she was in fact missing, ripped away by a lie Spencer had told them.

And yet, deep down she desperately clung to the thought of her team, something inside of her tried to reassure her that she would make it out alive. Now she was one of them, one of the ones she’d rescue on a weekly basis. Did they feel as confused as she felt? Were they angry at the ones making them suffer? Were they sad about the sudden turn of events or had they always anticipated that something would eventually happen? 

Not once had she tried to imagine that Spencer could be the one behind all of this. Not once had she even tried to ask Spencer about his behaviour, the confusing switches in his emotions - a clear sign for the trauma he had experienced at prison. 

Her mind kept wandering back to the past days, reliving the moments they’ve shared, how he had taken care of her with his lips pressed against hers and his hands wandering down her sides. (Y/n) couldn’t help but curse herself for the excitement she’s felt, how for the first time in months she had been able to give into her feelings

„Fuck, help, please. I don’t want to die.” Slowly but surely she felt the air getting thinner, no longer able to breathe properly. 

“Is that him?” Derek was standing behind Penelope, staring at the screen that showed a video of Spencer leaving his home with a body, presumably (y/n), thrown over his shoulder. Quick, panicked breaths left the woman as she kept watching the video, not able to understand what was going on.

“It is, I followed him through traffic, he parked in front of a warehouse, and carried her inside. Minutes later he left without her.” Tears welled up in Penelope’s eyes as she looked up at Derek, wondering why Spencer had done something like this. 

“Call Hotch down here, send me the address of the warehouse.” Derek was out of the room before Penelope could even try to reply, eyes flickering back to the screen, following Spencer’s frame with glassy eyes. 

The next moments passed by in a blur, while Derek violated every traffic law, pressing down on the gas to reach the warehouse, the others had surrounded Spencer, asking the man with wide eyes questions he didn’t seem to understand.

“What did you do to her?” Emily’s voice dripped with anger, an anger so burning she no longer acted professionally, rather like a friend fearing for her friend’s life. Tears welled up in Spencer’s eyes as his gaze flickered between the ones staring him down, shaking his head with a sob rumbling through his trembling body.

“I don’t know. Oh god, I don’t know.” His voice was raspy, carrying the emotions he felt. He couldn’t remember what had happened, couldn’t remember being at his place with her, all he could remember was the drive to the BAU, nothing else. 

“I need a number!” Derek’s voice echoed from the speakers, screaming the words as if he was the one fighting for his life. Spencer stuttered, unable to pronounce his reply, choking on the heavy sobs that clawed through him.

“We need a number, Spencer. Which part of the warehouse belongs to you?” Hotch had his arms crossed, managing to stay calm, at least that’s what it seemed like to his colleagues, not nearly as emotional as the others. 

“43.” 

The sound of Derek’s heavy breaths filled the silence that now lingered in the room, eyes not daring to move away from Spencer. Within the next moments the sound of a gun going off rang in their ears, a sign of victory, allowing Derek into the warehouse chamber that belonged to Spencer. 

“(Y/n)? It’s me, Derek.” No reply could be heard, forcing the hearts of those who were listening to beat faster. “I can’t see her anywhere. (Y/n)?” 

A silence so defeating engulfed them that even the others couldn’t help but let the tears well up in their eyes, preparing for the truth that could rip their lives apart. The mere thought of losing (y/n) left them trembling, not able to think of a life without her close. She was their lynchpin, the centre of their relationships. 

“(Y/n)? Fuck.” 

“What is it? Did you find her? Is she alive?” The questions bubbled out of Spencer before he could stop himself, not daring to look away from the phone that had been placed on the table. Derek’s heavy breaths kept filling the dreading moments of silence. 

“She’s in a box, I got her. C’mon, doll, you have to breathe for me, c’mon. Don’t you dare die on me now.” 

[foewreckem]

shipping and handling

681 words on the boat to Old Sharlayan, for wolcred week day 6

---------------------

“Do you think we could draw them on?” Estinien asked. He was inspecting his neck and jaw intently in a reflection on a cabinet. Aoife pulled herself out of a daydream to look at him in confusion.

“If you’re trying to grow a beard, Urianger might have better advice than I would.” 

Estinien looked at her in mild horror. “Woman, I’m talking about Archon marks. We’re the only ones without them and we’re going to stick out like sore thumbs.”

“You will! I’m dressed nicely,” Aoife pointed out.

“Amending my statement. A sore finger and a pinky. I’m trying to keep us from getting arrested,” Estinien said pointedly as he dodged a thrown pillow. Aoife froze at his reply, arm still extended from the toss. 

“That’s a good point, actually.” She leapt to her feet and was halfway up the ladder when Estinien called after her.

“Leaping off the ship won’t help!”

“I have to - handle - something!” Her reply was interrupted by the effort of pushing open the trap door and emphasized by the slam of it as she scrambled onto the deck. 

Estinien shook his head and went back to examining his neck.

—----

Aoife found Thancred in a quiet spot on the deck, staring intently at the horizon, arms folded on the gunwale. It was a nice image, and she felt a pang of regret as he stood up straight on her approach. He beckoned her over and nodded in the direction he’d been staring.

“Right about that direction, when we get close, you’ll be able to see Thaliak’s head. There’s a giant statue in Scholar’s Harbor and the first time I saw it I thought the head was floating in the water on its own.” He leaned close enough for her to follow where his arm was pointing.

She squinted. They were still a day out from Old Sharlayan, so there wouldn’t be anything to see tonight besides sea and stars, but she was encouraged by the vague excitement in his voice.  “Is his statue handing out books to newcomers?”

“Pouring water from a jug, as it stands, but there’s books enough in every other building. Even under the statue, supposedly.”

“What, books where he’s pouring the water? That doesn’t seem very wise at all. Maybe we should turn the boat around.”

Thancred elbowed her lightly before returning to the position she’d found him in. She folded her own arms over the gunwale, and for a while they watched the horizon in a companionable silence, until the dusk claimed the rest of the sky.

“Estinien reckons those of us without Archon marks might have some trouble for a bit,” Aoife said eventually. She turned her face toward him, resting her head on her folded arms. 

“I won’t let that happen,” Thancred replied. He had tensed up a bit and Aoife recognized the set of his jaw all too well. 

“Right.” She thought carefully before she went on. “You might have to, though. Besides! Old Sharlayan isn’t the worst on the list of city-states that could possibly throw us in jail. They’re the first-most-likely to actually feed us.”

“I don’t like that you have that list,” he mumbled, relaxing slightly.

“It isn’t really a list, they’re in a sort of grid. Tataru says that if I can check off enough of them to make a line she’ll give me a prize.” Aoife drew in the air with her fingers to demonstrate; Thancred ran a hand down his face and she knew he was trying not to laugh. “So you see, it’s in my best interest to get arrested a bit.”

“Sharlayan doesn’t do anything in bits, but I suppose I could give you enough time to get your box checked.” Thancred pushed away from the gunwale and herded her gently toward the door she’d come from, following her back belowdecks. “Does a guard need to be conscious to check the box, or does Tataru accept your word?”

“The guard needs to be conscious. They need to be very, very conscious,” Aoife replied as the trap door closed over them both.

[pastriibunz]

WELCOME TO THE KAI DREWNIVERSE!

“MONSTERS, MAYHEM, AND GODS GALORE! I’VE GOT IT ALL! TAKE MY HAND, AND I’LL TAKE YOU ON AN ADVENTURE YOU’LL NEVER FORGET!”

hi there!!! im pastriibunz! you might know me from the ask blog, @beaniibunzz i ran with my friends, chillibeanos and local-soda-can!

you might also know me for writing the Kai in Hatchetfield series (KIHF Masterpost), an OC insert fanfic series written like a script for the Hatchetfield Saga!

(PS I have an atabook! Leave me some messages!)

but more on that later, i wanna talk about ME >:]

Basic Info About Me:

☆ i think am aroace! 

☆ i'm trying out she/they pronouns!

☆ i have ADD! My friends keep saying i have undiagnosed autism-

☆ i do theater and i was in voice/singing lessons!

☆ i will be Kai Drew’s VA in TKWDLM: Voiced, as well as any other projects she needs a voice in!

☆ my best friends are @chillibeanos, @local-soda-can, and @evnt777!

☆ i like to draw and write!

And that’s me! i was kinda scrambling for things to add, so forgive me if it’s boring. But, i just wanted to get through it so i could get to the fun part. now onto my blog!! :D

i have a lot to say about this silly little blog!!!

note: my ask box is always open! fill it up with whatever your heart desires!

Things To Note:

★ I was grounded for a month, I’m back, but not without restrictions. I have 3 hours of screen time on weekdays, and 5 hours on weekends. This is subject to change.

★ Mutuals, please use the tag ‘#pastrii don’t look’ for posts with: anything very overtly sexual that isn’t written in a comedic tone. I am a sex repulsed asexual, and that type of content is very icky for me. :< [contents subject to change]

Content You Should Expect From Me:

★ my art, both silly doodles and full pieces!

★ fanfics/drabbles, mostly angst

★ my brain dumpy thoughts i thought were funny

★ oc insert content

notice how that last bullet point is bolded and italicized?

yeah that’s cause it’s super important

practically all the content on this blog will be about my OC: KAI DREW!

now, who is Kai Drew?

and why the hell is she in a shit ton of random fandoms?

well, Kai Drew is the little goober who’s managed to weasel her way into my brain, and 5 years later, she’s STILL. HERE.

she’s also on tumblr as @shxwstxpper!

she has her own silly little lore (to summarize: adoption, accidental mass murder, is god, and then shes inserted into various fandoms im into) that is super long and silly!!! maybe one day ill write about it. who knows!

so expect lots (if not all) of my content to surround around Kai!

speaking of my content…

Important Tags:

⛤ #kai drew 

⛤ #tkwdlm

⛤ #the kai who didn’t like musicals

⛤ #black kaiday

⛤ #bk

⛤ #npmk

⛤ #nerdy prudes must kai

⛤ #the kai drew and bean power hour

⛤ #kai drew and bean power hour

⛤ #kai drewniverse

⛤ #kai in hatchetfield

Kai Drewniverse Related Fandoms:

✰ Bendy And The Ink Machine

✰ Doki Doki Literature Club

✰ Toilet Bound Hanako Kun

✰ Clover 2020

✰ My Hero Academia

✰ South Park

✰ Welcome Home

✰ The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals

✰ Peggy Suave

✰ The Kai Drew And Bean Power Hour!

Non Kai Drewniverse Fandoms:

⛥ Ride The Cyclone

⛥ Chad Chad (Chadlings)

⛥ Danny Gonzalez (Greg)

⛥ Psych

⛥ Drew Gooden (Little Stinkers)

⛥ Kurtis Conner (Kurtistown)

⛥ Jarvis Johnson (Unnamed Fanbase)

Important Links:

✩ TKWDLM Masterpost!

✩ Nightmare Kai-me Masterpost!

✩ Blog Boundaries: Do’s and Don’ts!

and that’s all for now! be sure to stick around to see where Kai’s silly little adventures take her next!

bye bye! :]

[phtharticdelights]

I had written this at the time of my Freddie Mercury/Queen hyperfixation. It’s on ao3, but some of you might not use that site so I thought I’d bring it here as well.

If I Found I Could Fly, I’d Soar To The Sun

CW: internalized homophobia & implied sex

Sleep evades Freddie that night.

He rises from bed and stalks over to the window. A cool gust of wind caresses Freddie's skin as he opens his and Mary's bedroom window. After days and nights of sweltering heat, the drop in temperature is welcomed with open arms. With his elbows propped up on the window sill, Freddie leans out into the night. The breeze lifts his ebony tresses of hair like a gentle lover.

Freddie remembers the cigarette dangling between his lips. He reaches for the box of matches beside him, liberating one from its confinement and striking it against the rough surface of the box. Freddie sets the cigarette ablaze. The match, having served its purpose, is tossed into the dark. Maybe Freddie will pick up the used match tomorrow morning and dispose of it properly. Or maybe he'll leave it there. He isn't entirely sure.

Taking a long, slow drag of his cigarette, Freddie gazes at the luminous moon. It is nights like this─quiet and dreadfully lonely─where his mind becomes a wasteland for wandering thoughts. His doubts, worries, and fears fester like an untreated flesh wound. Freddie finds nothing to soothe the infection, which leaves him in unbearable agony. The mental anguish is enough to remind him why he shouldn't be left alone in the first place.

But he isn't alone─not physically, anyway.

A lingering glance over his shoulder confirms Mary's presence. Strands of blonde hair partially obscure her fair face. With the moon's silvery light filtering throughout their bedroom, Mary's golden locks are practically glowing. She's glowing. His own real life sleeping beauty, as radiant as the morning sun.

Freddie should consider himself a lucky bloke. Out of all the men in London, it is he who lays claim to such a lovely woman. He is the one who has the privilege of lying betwixt Mary's milky thighs. He gets to make her double over in a fit of laughter. He wishes her goodnight at the end of the day before sleep takes them under.

I love you, Freddie proclaims a thousand times over.

And he does. How could he not? Mary, with her belief in him and kind words of reassurance, makes loving her easy. Only a fool would resist her.

Yes, he's lucky.

So bloody lucky.

Freddie's dark eyes quickly return to the moon. He mustn't venture to that place. He won't allow himself to muck up his one chance at normalcy.

Freddie loves Mary.

Mary loves him.

It's enough for him. Mary is enough. She has to be enough. Freddie needs her to be enough. He doesn't know what would become of him if he loses Mary all because of─

"Freddie?"

Her sleep ridden voice forces Freddie back to reality. Back to their little bedsit on Victoria Road, Kensington.

The rustling of sheets suggests movement.

"What are you doing up so late?" Mary asks.

Freddie finds himself tongue-tied. He feels her draw nearer, but doesn't dare look back. The eyes are a window to the soul, and his is too dissolute for any decent person to bare witness to. Especially his ray of sunshine.

"Freddie," she wraps her arms around his shoulders. "What's the matter?" Concern is evident in Mary's tone. Of course. It’s in a woman’s nature to worry, after all.

A barely audible sigh escapes Freddie's lips. "It's nothing, darling." he lies without hesitation. "I just had a little trouble staying asleep. I thought a smoke would do the trick."

It truly pains him to be dishonest. However, falsehoods and half truths seem to be essential if this relationship is to last until they're both wrinkled and grey. To tell the truth─the sickening, ugly truth─would mean to admit his wickedness to not only Mary, but to himself.

Thoughts and hazy memories are one thing, but the idea of actually putting his─it into words makes Freddie want to curl into a ball and just die.

Freddie takes one last drag of his almost forgotten cigarette, then he asks Mary to bring the ashtray over. She obliges his request. He puts out the cigarette, quietly thanking his girlfriend as she places the ashtray on the nightstand.

He finds himself in Mary's warm embrace once again. Her head fits snugly in the space between his neck and shoulder. Long, soft blonde hair brushes against Freddie's skin, sending a wave of apprehension down his spine.

"Come back to bed, love." She whispers suggestively, her small lips faintly touching his ear.

A lucky bloke.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Freddie closes the window and lets Mary lead him to their bed. When she sheds her nightgown, Freddie knows that he should be aroused by her nude body. Mary's humble, perky breasts and soft curves should awaken in him a want─an overwhelming need. He should be more than willing to explore the inner-workings of her womanhood.

But most of all, he shouldn't be wishing for those breasts to vanish into thin air, replaced by a flat, toned chest. For those soft curves to become angular in shape. For the velvety, moist opening between her legs to morph into─

No!

He can't go down that road. Not tonight. Not ever.

[scorpiongrassfield]

Mazes are difficult to navigate 

Start | Prev

You try to head back to the cabin. You technically succeed. Except it’s empty. No sign of life. Or afterlife, in the case of Theo. 

You guess you should have known. The cabin here and where Pat are have to be two different places. 

If you were Theo, you might put several identical cabins around to confuse Ametrine, too… 

You’ll need to find another way back. 

You close your eyes, try to see if you can hear Pat. 

Nothing. 

Back to the drawing board, you guess. 

The field is a very comfortable place to return to. You wish you could stay. 

It’s not like Pat won’t be able to solve the mystery on their own. They don’t need you. They probably don’t want you around at this point, either. Now that they know what you are. 

Your vision is a little blurry, the way it might get if you went too long without sleep. 

You can hear music playing faintly. Music box-ish. 

You are very tired. Maybe getting some rest wouldn’t be so bad… 

A flicker of burgundy snaps you to attention. 

Ametrine is standing at the edge of the field. The music is coming from her. 

“Ah, I should have done this the second I got a hold of you last time. It really makes things easier…” she says, but she’s not really talking to you. 

“You don’t have a hold of me,” you point out, your words half-slurring. 

“No, I won’t be going in there. I know better than to step directly into the domain of something like you,” she says. 

She pockets the music box. 

“I can just burn the whole field with you inside, instead.” The smile on her face is sharp enough to cut. But her voice sounds almost as tired as yours. You wonder if it has an effect on everyone who hears it.

Now is not the time for wondering. 

“Where’s Theo?” you ask, backing away to the far edge of the field. 

“He won’t be saving you this time. That’s all you need to know,” she sneers. 

She puts her hand in her pocket to take something, but seems to come up empty. She frowns and checks her other pocket. 

She pats herself down, looking for whatever it is. 

An awkward silence hangs between the two of you as she realizes she doesn’t have whatever it is she needs to finish you off. 

“I will return for you,” she says. 

“I won’t be here when you return,” you point out. Like hell you’re going to let her catch you. 

She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll be able to find you now, no matter where you go.” 

That sounds bad. 

Ametrine storms off in a huff of righteous anger, leaving you to contemplate what just happened in peace. 

You shake your head trying to clear up the effects of whatever that music was. 

This has opened up quite a few new questions, but you’ll have to find the answers later. 

For now you need to get going. 

The question is, where will you go? 

Do you want to look for Theo and make sure he’s okay, or do you want to go find Pat? 

Next

[littlemissaddict]

Christmas Cheer - Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader just wants to spread some Christmas cheer to Eddie.

Word Count: 983

This was a bad idea. Sitting in her car mere feet from Eddie's trailer with a trunk full of christmas decorations and a mini christmas tree mocking her from the passenger seat. She’d been here for all of ten minutes and she was still yet to get out of the car, she could have sworn that she saw the curtains in the trailer moving a couple of times and it had to be Eddie because Wayne’s truck was nowhere to be seen.

As if sensing something was up Eddie had somehow made his way out of the trailer without her noticing and had managed to knock on the drivers side window before she had even noticed he was there. “Jesus Eddie, don’t scare me like that” she complained, hand over her chest feeling the way her heartbeat had sped up as she dropped the window so she could speak to him.

“Well if you’re going to sit out here like a creep then I gotta find out what you’re doing” he teases, drawing a laugh out of her, “and I wasn’t expecting to find you’d robbed the town of their christmas decorations, who are you the grinch?” He is very confused as to why she’s sat outside his home with a car full of christmas.

The light amusement that had filled her with Eddie’s teasing was taken over by the dread in a second as she remembered why she was sat out there in the first place. “I uh remembered how you said that you don’t decorate the trailer for the holidays and well I just wanted to help spread the holiday cheer” she paused seeing no change in Eddie’s expression and her stomach drops, “but now I realise that it’s stupid and you probably don’t for a reason so I should just go” she sighs beginning to roll up the window but Eddie’s hand stops her.

“It’s not stupid to want to spread a little happiness” he reassured her with a smile, faltering slightly when he revealed the only reason they don’t decorate is because of the cost of decorations. She nods in understanding, the Forest Hills trailer park was not an affluent part of the town that a lot of the rich folk looked down upon but it didn’t bother her how much people had, she looked for how they treated people instead, “So are you coming in or are you going to sit here some more?” he asked with a raise of his brows.

Turning off the car and waiting for Eddie to move so she doesn’t hit him with the car door, she climbs out and heads to the trunk. Pulling it open she hears Eddie’s voice beside her, “Jesus H. Christ, how much did you bring?” 

She looks over at him and can’t help but let out a chuckle at his shock, “This is nothing compared to mom’s collection so trust me when I say she won’t miss any of it”. Eddie doesn’t look convinced but he helps her bring the boxes of decorations into the trailer, setting them down before going back out for more until she follows him in with the tree.

Taking a seat on the couch in the crowded area at the front of the trailer Eddie looks amused at how even half of this is going to fit in the trailer without it looking as cramped as it already does. “So where do we start?” he asks, looking at the mess of boxes with no idea what’s in them.

“Well these two are for the tree but there maybe too many because it’s quite small” she points out only now realising that she may have gone overboard with the thought of surprising him, “Lets just go through and see which ones you like and we’ll put them on the tree” she suggests with a sigh.

It takes about an hour to go through the boxes and decorate the tree, Eddie constantly asking where he should hang it but she just shrugs and tells him wherever he thinks is best because it's all for him, and Wayne and she’s a little worried that he's not going to like any of it. 

“So what’s in here?” Eddie asks curiously, looking at the last two boxes and pulling out what looks like an inflatable snowman, “If this is what I think it is I don’t think Wayne will thank us for it” he says, turning back to face her and she nods. She didn’t think that they’d want it but she wanted to give them the option anyway.

“I think there's a few string lights in there as well if you did want to put some outside but the tree looks good” she smiles, stepping back to look at his handiwork as Eddie looks for said string lights.

“Let’s do it” he laughs, getting excited and taking off with the lights trailing behind him. She laughs following behind him to make sure that he doesn’t hurt himself somehow.

By the time Wayne gets home, the string lights are up and lit, the tree is sitting pretty by the couch and the excess decorations are packed away back in her car. The first thing he notices is the decorations, which look nice after so long of not having any but the second thing he notices is her and Eddie curled up on the couch asleep with a long forgotten movie playing on the tv. The content look on his nephew's face brings more joy to him than the decorations that he guessed were intended to do the same job. Not that he’d tell them that because as long as Eddie is happy so is he, so as he quietly switches the tv off he steps back outside to sit on the deck with a cigarette he casts one last grateful glance to the two on the couch.