#or even admitting to things that Are breaking the rules but explained off or framed in a way so it isnt that bad

[mcytegg]

man. there comes a point where derap keeps admitting to doing things like vodwatching his teammate, "accidentally" having peoples streams open Just long enough to see a funny moment he can talk abt on stream, intentionally seeking out lifesteal spoilers, or using replay mod to see things he isn't supposed to know abt like the focus swords during the spawn war that it becomes incredibly difficult to trust anything he says or to continue giving him the benefit of the doubt

bc if he will admit to doing stuff like That fully on stream then how can it be trusted that he isn't cheating in other ways? like idk maybe its not that serious to anyone else but there's a reason the rules are the way that they are and even IF he claimed to not use the information he has on the server itself, his decisions and thought processes and everything are all still very much being influenced bc he has information he should not have :(

[estapa-edwards]

5 MINUTES - J. HUGHES

paring: Jack Hughes x fem! reader

word count:2.7k

requested? no

warnings: use of y/n.

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The music pulsed through the house, vibrating the floors and resonating with the thumping of my heart. I found myself standing at the edge of the bustling party, a plastic cup of some questionable punch in my hand. My best friend, Luke Hughes, had dragged me along, promising it would be a night to remember. And knowing Luke, he was rarely wrong about these things.

Luke and I had been close friends since childhood. Our families were intertwined in a way that only years of friendship could manage. He was the kind of guy who would make anyone feel at ease, and tonight was no exception. He had introduced me to a few of his friends, ensuring I was never left alone in the sea of unfamiliar faces.

Among those faces was Jack Hughes, Luke’s older brother. I'd known Jack for a while, but our interactions had always been brief and slightly awkward. He had a reputation for being a bit aloof and, frankly, somewhat rude. Despite this, I couldn’t help but feel a certain attraction towards him. His tall frame, tousled brown hair, and piercing blue eyes always managed to catch my attention, even when he was being his usual, standoffish self.

I looked up to see Jack standing a few feet away, a drink in hand. He glanced over at us, offering a half-hearted smile before taking a sip of his drink.

"Hey, Y/N," he said, his voice low and slightly mocking. "Glad you could make it."

"Thanks for the invite, Jack," I replied, trying to hide the nervousness in my voice.

Jack just smirked and moved on, leaving me with Luke who gave me an apologetic smile.

"Don't mind him, he's just being Jack," Luke said, rolling his eyes.

I tried to brush off the encounter, reminding myself that Jack was just being his usual self. But deep down, I couldn’t shake the feeling of disappointment. I had always harbored a bit of a crush on Jack, but his consistent rudeness had made it hard to see him in a romantic light.

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As the night wore on, the energy of the party continued to escalate. I found myself joining in on a game of "5 Minutes in Heaven," a classic party game that I hadn’t played since high school. The rules were simple: a bottle was spun, and whoever it pointed to when it stopped would be your partner for the next five minutes in a closet. What happened in those five minutes was up to them.

To my surprise, when the bottle came to a halt, it was pointing directly at Jack.

"Looks like it’s our lucky night," he said with a smirk, leading me to the closet.

The door closed behind us, enveloping us in darkness. I could hear his breathing, steady and controlled, as he stood close to me.

"So, what do we do now?" I asked, trying to break the tension.

Jack chuckled softly. "Well, I guess we could just talk, or…," his voice trailed off as he leaned in to kiss me.

Taken aback, I pulled away quickly. "What the fuck, Jack? You can't do that to me."

He looked shocked, his blue eyes wide and filled with regret. "I’m sorry, Y/N, I shouldn’t have done that."

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. "Why would you do that? Especially after being so rude to me all night?"

Jack sighed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I don’t know, I guess I thought it was what you wanted."

I looked at him incredulously. "You thought I wanted you to kiss me after you’ve been nothing but rude to me all night?"

"Yeah, I guess," he admitted, his voice filled with uncertainty. "I mean, the way you look at me says otherwise."

I felt a mixture of surprise and confusion. "What do you mean, the way I look at you?"

He shrugged, avoiding my gaze. "I don’t know, it’s hard to explain. But there’s something in your eyes when you look at me that made me think you might feel the same way."

I took a deep breath, trying to process what he was saying. "Jack, just because I find you attractive doesn’t mean I appreciate being treated the way you’ve treated me tonight."

He looked up, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "You think I'm attractive?”

I rolled my eyes, feeling a mixture of annoyance and amusement. "Of all the things I’ve said, that's what you focus on?" 

He looked taken aback, his blue eyes searching mine for a moment. "God, I hate you," I muttered, half-serious, half-teasing.

"Times up, you two!" Luke's voice called out. 

“Thank god” 

We stepped out of the closet, our eyes meeting briefly before we both turned away, lost in our thoughts.

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The rest of the night passed in a blur, the party slowly winding down as people began to leave. Luke approached me as I was getting ready to leave, a concerned look on his face.

"Are you okay, Y/N? You seem a bit off tonight."

"I'm fine, Luke," I replied, forcing a smile. "Just tired, I guess."

As I drove away from the party, the events of the night replayed in my mind. I couldn’t help but feel a mix of frustration, confusion, and disappointment. Jack had managed to completely turn my perception of him upside down in just five minutes, and I wasn't sure how to deal with it.

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The evening after the party, I was at at Luke's apartment watching TV when I heard a commotion outside my apartment building. Curious, I peeked through the window to see what was going on. To my surprise, I saw Jack involved in a heated argument with another guy on the street. Before I knew it, the situation escalated into a physical fight, with punches being thrown.

Feeling concerned, I quickly grabbed my keys and rushed downstairs to intervene. By the time I reached them, the fight had been broken up, but Jack looked worse for wear, his face bruised and bloodied.

"Jack! What the hell happened?" I exclaimed, rushing over to his side.

He looked up, his blue eyes clouded with anger and frustration. "It's nothing, Y/N. Just some guy who had it coming."

I frowned, not convinced by his dismissive tone. "That doesn't explain why you're all beat up. Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

Without waiting for his response, I grabbed his arm and led him back to the apartment he shared with Luke. He didn’t protest, allowing me to guide him inside.

Once we were inside, I guided him to the bathroom and began searching through the cabinet for first aid supplies. Jack watched me silently, his usual cocky demeanor replaced by a vulnerable expression.

"Sit," I instructed, pointing to the edge of the bathtub.

He hesitated for a moment, clearly uncomfortable with the situation, but eventually complied, sitting down as I began cleaning the cuts and bruises on his face. The tension in the room was palpable, the silence filled with unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

As I gently dabbed at a cut on his cheek with a damp cloth, I felt Jack's hand reach out, grasping my wrist lightly. I looked up to find him staring at me intently, his blue eyes dark with a mixture of pain and desire.

The intimate contact sent a jolt of electricity through me, intensifying the already palpable tension in the room. I tried to ignore the heat rising in my cheeks as I continued to clean his wounds, but it was impossible to ignore the sexual tension between us.

Jack's grip on my wrist tightened slightly, his thumb caressing the back of my hand as he watched me with an intensity that left me breathless. The air between us was thick with unspoken desire, and for a moment, all the past animosity and tension seemed to fade away, leaving only the raw, undeniable attraction that had always existed between us.

Finally, I finished bandaging the last of his cuts and pulled away, breaking the intense eye contact. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I stood up, trying to regain my composure.

"There, you're all patched up," I said, my voice slightly shaky.

Jack released my wrist, his fingers lingering on my skin for a moment longer than necessary before pulling away. "Thanks, Y/N," he murmured, his voice husky.

I nodded, avoiding his gaze as I gathered the first aid supplies and headed for the door. "You're welcome, Jack. Just try to be more careful in the future, okay?"

He nodded, his eyes still locked on mine. "I will."

"Y/N, wait," Jack's voice called out softly as I reached for the doorknob. I turned to face him, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" he asked, his eyes searching mine with a mix of vulnerability and hope.

The question took me by surprise, and for a moment, I was at a loss for words. The sexual tension between us still lingered in the air, and his request only intensified the emotions swirling inside me.

"Jack, I..." I began, struggling to find the right words. The temptation to say yes was strong, but I knew that giving in to the desire would only complicate things further.

He seemed to sense my hesitation and quickly added, "Just to make sure I'm okay. You know, in case there are any complications with the injuries."

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart and clear my head. "Alright, but only to make sure you're okay," I finally agreed, trying to keep my voice steady.

A grateful smile spread across Jack's face as he nodded, standing up from the edge of the bathtub. "Thank you, Y/N."

I followed him to his bedroom, still trying to process the whirlwind of emotions I was feeling. Jack sat down on the bed, watching me expectantly as I hesitated at the doorway.

"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked, my concern for him outweighing my discomfort.

He nodded, his gaze softening. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit sore."

I approached the bed cautiously, taking a seat beside him. The sexual tension from earlier still lingered, but now it was mixed with a newfound vulnerability and intimacy that left me feeling both excited and apprehensive.

As I lay down next to him, I couldn’t help but feel the warmth of his body radiating beside me. We lay there in silence for a few moments, both lost in our thoughts and the intensity of the moment.

"Thank you for staying, Y/N," Jack whispered, breaking the silence.

I turned to face him, our eyes locking once again. "You're welcome, Jack," I replied softly, the unspoken emotions between us making it difficult to find the right words.

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The next morning, I slowly woke up, the morning light filtering through the curtains and casting a soft glow over the room. As I stirred, I became aware of a warm, comforting presence beside me. Turning my head slightly, I found myself face to face with Jack, our bodies pressed close together in an intimate embrace.

We were cuddling.

The memories of the previous evening came flooding back — the fight, the tension, the unspoken feelings, and the unexpected intimacy. A wave of emotions washed over me as I lay there, trying to process the significance of what had transpired between us.

Jack looked peaceful, his eyes closed and his breathing steady. The bruising and cuts from the fight were still visible on his face, but in that moment, they seemed to fade into the background, overshadowed by the vulnerability and tenderness that I saw in his expression.

As I lay there beside him, I couldn't help but feel a mixture of confusion, longing, and contentment. Despite the complicated history between us and the unresolved tension that still lingered, there was something undeniably comforting about waking up next to him.

I carefully shifted my position, trying not to wake him as I untangled myself from his embrace. As much as I wanted to stay wrapped in the warmth of his arms, I knew that we needed to address the elephant in the room and talk about what had happened.

I quietly got out of bed, leaving Jack to continue sleeping. I headed to the kitchen to make some coffee, needing the caffeine to help clear my head and prepare for the conversation that I knew we needed to have.

As the coffee brewed, I couldn't help but replay the events of the past twenty-four hours in my mind. The fight, the tension, the intimate moment in the bathroom, and now waking up in each other's arms — it was all a whirlwind of emotions that left me feeling both exhilarated and apprehensive about what the future held for us.

Just as I poured myself a cup of coffee, I heard footsteps approaching from behind. Turning around, I found Jack standing in the doorway, his messy hair and sleepy eyes only adding to his disheveled appearance.

"Morning," he said softly, his voice husky from sleep.

"Morning," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady as I met his gaze.

We stood there in silence for a moment, the tension undeniable as we both struggled to find the right words to break the ice and address the situation.

Finally, Jack spoke, "About last night... and this morning... I just want you to know that I meant what I said about being more careful and controlling my temper. And I appreciate you staying to make sure I was okay."

I took a deep breath, grateful for his sincerity but still unsure about how to navigate the complicated feelings between us. "I know, Jack. And I appreciate the honesty. But we need to talk about what this means for us moving forward."

He nodded, his eyes searching mine as he took a step closer. "I agree, Y/N. Let's talk."

I took another deep breath, steeling myself for the conversation ahead. The weight of the moment was palpable, the tension between us still lingering but now mixed with a sense of urgency and determination.

"Jack, I think it's clear that there's something between us," I began, choosing my words carefully. "But we've also got a lot of unresolved issues and tension that we need to address."

He nodded, his expression serious as he listened intently.

"I'm not saying that there's no potential for us to be more than just friends, but we need to figure out how to move past our past disagreements and the way you've treated me," I continued, trying to convey my thoughts as clearly as possible.

Jack looked down, seemingly reflecting on my words. "You're right, Y/N. I know I've been a jerk, and I've got some work to do on myself. But I want to try, for us to try. I've always felt something for you, even when I was being an idiot."

“Then why were you such a jerk to me” i ask. 

ack took a deep breath, looking back up to meet my gaze. "Honestly, Y/N, it was never about you. It was always about me and my own issues. I guess I was afraid of my feelings for you, so I acted out and pushed you away instead."

I frowned, trying to understand his perspective. "That doesn't make it okay, Jack. You can't use your own issues as an excuse for treating me poorly."

He nodded, acknowledging my point. "You're right, and I'm not trying to excuse my behavior. I know I messed up, and I'm truly sorry for hurting you."

I sighed, feeling a mixture of frustration and sympathy. "Jack, if we're going to try and make this work, you need to show me through your actions that you've changed. I need to see consistent effort and respect from you."

Jack reached out, taking my hand in his. "I promise, Y/N, I'll do everything I can to make it up to you and prove that I've changed. I care about you more than you know, and I want to build something real and meaningful with you."

I looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of insincerity, but all I saw was genuine remorse and determination. "Alright, Jack," I said softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm willing to give you a chance, but remember, actions speak louder than words."

He nodded, a grateful smile spreading across his face. "I understand, Y/N. And I won't let you down."

As we sat there, holding hands and looking into each other's eyes, I felt a renewed sense of hope and optimism.

[sepublic]

Continuing my ramblings on Predator (1987), there's an interesting choice of cinematography when the protagonists start fighting back against their titular antagonist; Once Anna explains the Predator's schtick as a chameleon, our heroes begin making new traps meant to fool the Predator. And as they do, there's some pretty choice shots emphasizing the bulging muscles of characters like Dillon and the like. Dillon is interesting especially given he's framed as the least masculine of the guys due to being a dishonest pencil-pusher; Here, it seems as if everyone, even Dillon, is reclaiming their masculinity with this chance to fight back. With this chance to turn back the odds and restore their conventional status as action heroes.....

And then we know how it all goes down; The Predator breaks free of the trap, and kills its last four victims of the film to leave only Dutch and Anna. The Predator as a dark reflection of the characters' machismo makes more sense when you consider how he can mimic the voices of the others, and the wound that puts him down is identical to that of his final victim Poncho; Both are felled by a log trap.

From the perspective of the Predator, other characters' voices become noticeable high-pitched; I wonder if this is, in a way, meant to show how even a badass like Dutch is emasculated in the eyes of the Yautja. The line between Predator and the protagonists is further blurred when Dutch achieves his own form of cloaking that is also sabotaged when he comes into contact with water; He learns to fight more like the Predator, relying on stealth, ambush, and the environment around him to hide and attack. So now the Predator becomes the hunted too. Its final words are to repeat Dutch's only lines back at him before laughing in Billy's hearty voice.

You know that one post circulating around here, where people joke about what if the Predator was more the exception to his home's culture, rather than the norm? What if he was the Yautja equivalent to bored middle-class dudes who decide to go on a hunting trip for fun, to collect trophies from lions and other animals that are otherwise harmless and victimized, to flex how 'badass' he is? And meanwhile everyone else back home is rolling their eyes because what a loser. What if that's really just what the Predator is meant to symbolize, in the context of the original film at least; People who like to kill and hunt to show off how masculine they are.

But in the end, it's quite easy and cowardly, arguably, to rely on a cloaking device, whilst sniping oblivious targets from afar. Beforehand, I wonder if we could take into account how animals are treated by the human protagonists beforehand; One of the characters kicking a bird aside, Mac stabbing a scorpion. Them flexing their macho attitudes by killing an animal that for all intents and purposes is pretty helpless against the one who gets it. And then the roles are reversed where the human protagonists become the game for the Predator to make trophies out of.

I find it fascinating Dutch's reaction when Mac admits that Blain was his friend; You get the sense that this is quite uncharacteristic a thing for Mac to do. Nowadays it seems like a pretty obvious and understandable thing for any guy to do, but for someone like Mac, it IS quite the confession of emotional vulnerability here. Plus there's Poncho being a sad sopping wet cat for the rest of the film, once Hawkins is the first to die.

If Predator is a slasher film, then it subscribes to its own version of the rules, just as it has its own version of a 'final girl' in muscled badass Dutch, played by Arnold Schwarzenegger. You know how those who have premarital sex die first? It seems Predator operates on similar rules; Hawkins makes crude jokes about female genitalia and is killed first. Blain calls everyone else the f-slur and proclaims his own sexual prowess, in addition to being your typical badass macho man who's too tough to feel pain, and then he's unceremoniously killed off pretty early too. This is despite, or rather because of, being the "big guy" who wields a giant mini-gun.

Mac and Billy are stoic, but Mac unravels psychologically and sings lyrics about objectifying a woman shortly before his death, and Billy remains rattled throughout by the Predator's presence, even openly admitting to Poncho that he's afraid. And of course there's Poncho, who is on the verge of tears 24/7 once the movie's genre shifts, voice constantly wavering.

On a final note, one could be half-joking about homoerotic undertones between Mac and Blain, at least on Mac’s end. Which could be an interesting discussion in and of itself when you also account for Blain’s use of the f-slur and how he’s the most stereotypically masculine of the group. Because I know the military is known for being a place where homosexuality was often discovered and explored. How would that factor into the larger themes of masculinity in this film, I wonder?

[minisugakoobies]

"Noona, do you have any lotion I can borrow" - Best friend's brother San

“Huh? Sure, in my…” 

The word “vanity” never makes it past your lips as you glance up. San’s standing in your doorway, leaning against the frame with his head cocked, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans that hang low on his hips. 

At this point, you’ve seen San shirtless countless times, since he’s been living with you long enough to get comfortable being so, but now his torso is covered in dark whorls and streaks that look like they’ve been painted on, and a giant tattoo of a wolf. 

“Um…” you say. “That’s new.”

San grins. “It’s for work,” he explains, meaning the bar where he’s still picking up shifts as a bouncer. “For the Halloween party tonight,” he further clarifies. “A bunch of us are going as video game warriors.” 

“Ah. And you’re just wearing - jeans?” 

San disappears for a moment and returns wearing a long, tattered denim robe, with fraying edges and realistic chains wrapped around the sleeves. He mugs for a moment, striking a powerful pose, and you roll your eyes but can’t stop the heat that creeps up your neck at the sight. Or the giggle, which only makes him grin harder.

“So anyway - lotion?” 

He makes himself at home in your room, sitting on your bed as usual while you rummage through the bottles of lotion in your collection, finally finding one that’s unscented. He thanks you with a small nod and removes his robe.

The laptop open at your desk gives you an excuse to avert your eyes as he begins to rub the lotion on his chest. 

“Are you working tonight?” 

You nod, settling into your chair again. “Got a deadline.” 

“You should take a break and come down to the bar for a little bit. Don’t worry about the cover, I know a guy,” he jokes.

“Eh, I don’t know.” It’s been a few years since you last went out for Halloween. San’s sister is at work tonight, so it’d just be you and a bar full of costumed strangers running amuck. And San would be stuck at the door, so it’s not like you could even hang out with him, if he’d want such a thing.

“Noona.” You hear the pout and glance over to see San’s lips puffing out. “Come on. You deserve to have a little fun every now and then. You’re always working so hard.” 

It’s honestly unreal how easily he can manipulate you with that sad look. It’s a weakness of yours. He’s a weakness of yours, though you’d never admit it to anyone. But you dig your heels in.

“I really need to finish this article.” 

“‘Joong and Woo will be there.” Even though it’s a statement, his eyes gaze into yours inquisitively. 

It’s the first time you’ve heard those names since the party. The two of you have never talked about the fact that you kissed both of his friends that night. It was like an unspoken rule, that you shouldn’t mention it. 

Or maybe you’re just afraid to start down that path, because you’re not sure which way you want it to go. 

But now he’s thrown them out there, and somehow it almost feels like a trap.

“Well, I hope you guys have fun,” you toss back, returning to your document and typing a few words to make it look like you’re truly focusing on your work. 

San sighs. “Fine. But if you change your mind…” 

You hum as he trails off, rising from your bed. But before you can say goodnight, his arms slip under yours, surprising you with a back hug. Dazed, you peel your fingers away from your keyboard to grasp his arms gently. He’s so warm. So strong. 

“I hope you change your mind,” he murmurs, nose briefly touching your cheek. You wonder if he can feel the way your heart jumps in your chest at the sensation. “Night, Noona.” 

“N-night, San.” 

You hear the door close after a few minutes, as you stare blankly at the laptop screen, mind a million miles away from anything resembling your work.

Thirty seconds later you’re standing in front of your closet, wondering what last-minute costume you can pull together.

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

I'm just gonna call this a writing exercise, a little warm-up for all the work I'm hopefully gonna do today. But oh my god, Luce, I'm so in love with this man and the slow burn that's happening here. It's gonna be the slowest of burns - the sun itself will flame out before this does. 💕

Tagging @kiestrokes @yeontan-my-love because San 😆

[zahri-melitor]

I've been thinking about War of the Robins, aka 'Damian challenges the other Robins to prove he's the Best Robin' storyline from Batman and Robin 2011, and what I think worked about it in terms of characterisation. (look I'm reading New 52, you get to hear lots of my ten plus years out of date thoughts about New 52, enjoy)

Because look, I think it was successful in presenting how desperate for approval and validation Damian is, but it also feeds into the narrative you can see percolating during this time that Damian can't cope with just being one of the family, he has to be the best, have the most love and approval, have physical demonstrations of his superiority, because he's grown up understanding being one of the group to be a death sentence. (Dick has to be his Batman, and Damian Dick's Robin, he needs the writers giving him reassurance that they were 'the best' right before he dies, the new timeline cuts off any other occasions Dick was Batman, Damian gets given extra pets right before he dies as a sop for his death, etc etc)

Which is believable characterisation for Damian! It is understandable given the background they're building for him! But also sharply aggravating because nobody has ever accused fans of being reasonable and this just digs people into being more deeply opposed to the character their favourite is in conflict with.

So he 'challenges' Tim and Jason 'at something you feel unbeatable at' in a way that sharply exploits emotions they're sensitive about.

Damian...shows Tim a video of Tim considering killing and pulling back, and implies that that makes Tim a killer just like Damian and "they're the same". Now I think this one is actually pretty weak - while yes it's exploiting a point Tim's sensitive over (and in our world has dealt with twice in the calendar year prior to this story), it's also something Tim's pretty solid on; Tim knows he's not a killer and will pull back, while he's seen Damian kill. I also think that a Damian who's working to be a better person would not refer to the Spook situation as "a bit rambunctious", rather than it being something he regrets and tries to grow from. It does amuse me that Tim gets to smash Damian into Jason's trophy case however this time for the parallel, though being the one who breaks the case generally is framed to make you the one 'in the wrong' in the confrontation. Also as far as I can tell Damian never takes a physical trophy from this fight, which sort of ruins your whole premise, Damian. NB: I see Damian has Tim's bo in his room later, but Tim clearly ended the fight holding it and then left. There's definitely an art issue here.

Jason's fight is even more exploitation of a known weakness. Jason's got every right to be touchy about someone threatening him with a crowbar. Also I really really dislike that Damian's just freely admitting to the time he locked himself in with the Joker to beat him up at GCPD, because honestly that bit of story and its timing has always seemed to contradict the 'he's getting better' narrative that Dick maintains during Reborn. And again the whole conversation is "we're so alike but nobody loves you". At least this time Damian clearly takes his trophy (which is a helmet, which is still displayed in Damian's room during scenes there in the B&R Requiem issue).

Dick showing up at the end to explain to Damian that he doesn't need to try so hard prove his worth and just handing over an escrima stick - look it's sweet and it does impart the moral that Damian needed to learn over this whole situation. But also it does not really help, as it's just deepened the family fault-lines between Dick & Damian as a pair and *sigh* Jason & Tim.

The other thing I get out of it is whether it's just bravado or not, Damian's a lot more comfortable with his childhood violence continuing to come out rather than working to fit the rules of what makes a Robin and a superhero than people want to say he is. Yes, he needs unconditional love and support to grow and learn, and Dick's being used to provide that. But it's also occasion 3000 when I'm sitting here going "is anyone ever going to give Damian actual boundaries and enforce them when he tests them?" because he's once again well outside what is expected. Bruce tries at the start to defuse the argument, and Dick tries at the end to explain why Damian didn't need to do this, he's already won, but I do wonder how much of it sunk in.

[kittenshift-17]

"Okay, I think we need some ground rules," Stiles said when he walked into his bedroom three days after the pack bond had formed with Derek to find the alpha werewolf in question in the midst of climbing in through his bedroom window.

Stiles had gotten used to the casual breaking and entering from the werewolves in his life, but that didn't mean he appreciated his room being invaded when he happened to only be wearing a bath towel.

"Huh?" Derek grunted at him, blinking owlishly over at Stiles once he'd righted his posture after manoeuvering his big frame through the small window. "Oh. You're not dressed."

"Well spotted," Stiles huffed, rolling his eyes even if he felt self-conscious with his shirt off. He'd seen all of the werewolves - the male ones, anyway - shirtless enough times to know they were all ripped as hell, and Stiles - skinny, defenseless Stiles - was not ripped at all.

"Why are you embarrassed?" Derek frowned at him, mild annoyance and confusion filtering down the bond linking them.

It had taken some getting used to, and Stiles was actually completely freaked out by it—the whole sharing emotions thing. Knowing that the wolves in his life could use their noses to get a good read on how he felt about particular things had been bad enough, but this was a whole other level. He could feel what Derek felt, and vice versa.

"I'm naked. In front of you."

"So?" Derek raised an eyebrow, clearly not seeing the issue more obvious than Stiles's exposed nipples.

Stiles blinked at him, confused in return.

"Okay, dude, pack bond or not, we barely know each other. Being naked in front of you was not on the cards for me tonight. Or any night."

He could feel that Derek really didn't understand his embarrassment.

"Do wolves just... go naked all the time?" Stiles frowned at him. "Born wolves, I mean. Why isn't this weird to you? It's weird to me. I barely even take my shirt off in front of Scott and I've known him since I was, like, nine years old."

An echo of understanding trickled through the bond.

"It's normal for born wolves," Derek nodded, leaning against the windowsill and folding his arms over his chest. "Some of us can do a full shift, actually turn into a wolf, and the magic doesn't transform the clothes along with us."

"Oh, my god," Stiles shook his head, fascinated and horrified. "You lived in one of those weird families where everyone would wander around nude, didn't you? Oh, dude, this explains so much about why you're such a failwolf."

"A pack," Derek confirmed. "And I'm not a failwolf."

"You totally are. And I didn't grow up in a house where people went bare-assed in front of everyone," Stiles told him. "So turn around while I put on some pants."

Derek gave him a deadpan look, and Stiles twirled his finger at the alpha, waiting impatiently until he turned around.

"And no peeking in the reflection," Stiles grumbled, also turning his back and quickly pulling on some underwear before dropping the towel. He hurried into pajamas before giving Derek the all-clear to turn back around.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Stiles asked. "Don't you have a pack of juvenile delinquents to keep out of trouble?"

Derek rumbled a growl, annoyance echoing through the bond alongside the anger that boiled perpetually beneath the surface.

"They're annoying me," Derek admitted.

"Everything annoys you. I annoy you. Why did you think you'd be better off coming here? At least your betas are afraid of you enough that you could threaten them into silence."

Derek growled again, crossing to the bed and plonking himself down on it grumpily.

Derek was always grumpy. Stiles had thought maybe the wolf just really didn't like him, but now that they shared an emotional - potentially a telepathic bond, Stiles needed to test his theories - he knew that it wasn't just him that annoyed Derek. Everything did. He woke up angry, he went to sleep angry, he was angry while he worked out, he was even angry when he jerked off.

Yeah, that'd freaked Stiles the fuck out the first time he'd felt echoes of pleasure and excitement and bliss barrelling down their bond, especially since it'd hit him in the middle of the afternoon when he'd - luckily - cut out of school early during a free period. Stiles had almost crashed his Jeep when the unexpected tidal wave of sensation had swamped him. But even that had still been riddled with anger. Stiles didn't like to think about it, especially since he assumed Derek could feel it whenever Stiles did the same thing. Stiles was a teenage boy. He did it often. So far Derek hadn't said anything, but Stiles was pretty sure he would if he kept it up at his current rate.

Three times a day was totally healthy for a teenage boy. He'd looked it up.

"What are you doing tonight?" Derek asked because as freaky as it was—and Stiles had had a full-on meltdown when Derek came to his room in the hours after the bond formed between them to explain everything to him—the bond had definitely triggered a change in attitude from the alpha, at least where Stiles was concerned. This change frequently manifested as Derek turning up and wanting to spend time with Stiles.

"I have a raid," Stiles informed him.

Derek raised his eyebrows in confusion clearly having no idea what he meant by that. Typical jock behaviour, Stiles rolled his eyes.

"World of Warcraft," Stiles said. "It's a computer game, an MMO."

Derek just kept staring at him, and Stiles might hate being bonded and having the werewolf feel his every emotion, but it certainly helped him decipher what Derek's non-expressions (read: murderous scowls) meant.

"Massive multiplayer online game. I'm part of a guild, which is a group of friends from around the world, and we all join at the same time and, as a collective, undergo challenges and fight bosses."

"How long does it take?"

Stiles shrugged.

"A few hours, usually."

More annoyance tickled through the bond.

"What do you want from me, dude?" Stiles frowned. "I had a life before your freaky alpha werewolf magic hitched your brain to mine, or whatever. I've been raiding with these guys since I was thirteen. I'm not ditching them just because you bit a bunch of maladjusted teenagers that you haven't formed pack bonds with and you want to hide from them in my room."

Derek growled at him again, but Stiles could sense the hints of understanding sprinkled into frustration coming from the wolf.

"I'd invite you to play, but there's a player limit on raiding parties. And you don't have a PC. You don't even have a house to store a PC. You need a house. Hey, I know! You can use my laptop to look for real estate and get a house."

"I have a house."

"You live in an abandoned train car," Stiles disagreed since Derek had hauled Stiles back to said train car the night after the bond had formed, insisting Stiles officially meet the other pack members (like he hadn't already been beaten up, threatened, or extorted by all of them already). "And that train car is inside a walled-up train station so old that Beacon Hills doesn't even have a train station listed as one of the services offered here in the past six decades, dude."

"I have a house in the preserve."

"You have a demolition zone waiting to happen in the preserve."

Derek bared his fangs at him, flashing red eyes.

Stiles bared his blunt human teeth right back at him, knowing for a fact that Derek wouldn't hurt him. He'd explained on the first night that more than anything else, pack was about connection and safety and trust, and that the act of hurting or killing a fellow pack mate went against a wolf's nature except where the wolf was failing to lead them, or already attacking first. Stiles wasn't a wolf, so he didn't have those instincts, but he knew Derek did and that the alpha would never hurt him ever again, no matter what he threatened.

"Don't be such a sourwolf," Stiles chided, grabbing his laptop and opening it quickly, punching in his password before handing the device to Derek. "You need a house to live in that's structurally sound."

"I'm harboring a fugitive and two runaways, Stiles," Derek reminded him. "I can't protect them in a house."

"Yeah, well, you can't protect me, your squishy breakable human packmate, from tetanus or mold poisoning or having a building fall on me if you keep dragging me to unsafe locations that you've somehow deemed worthy of making your den. So, find a house, okay? I have a raid."

He went to his desktop and quickly logged into his game, sliding his headset over his ears and joining Discord to talk to his friends. He could feel the resentment and annoyance rolling off Derek, undercut with anger and resignation, and Stiles watched the wolf huff before he got comfortable on Stiles’s bed and began clicking around on his laptop, presumably looking for places to live.

Stiles got absorbed in his game the minute the raid kicked off, paying no more attention to Derek despite his frequent huffs and growls from the bed. Derek, meanwhile, was trying to blink through the haze of emotions pouring through the bond from Stiles while he played, happiness and excitement, little bursts of adrenaline, flashes of frustration and rage, all flooded the bond while Stiles smack-talked his friends, the bosses he was fighting on thee screen, and everything else in between.

It was getting difficult to untangle Stiles's emotions from his own as he diligently searched the housing market of Beacon Hills, looking for anything vaguely livable that would be defensible. It was all the harder because Stiles talked loud and laughed even louder, and the rapid thump-thump-thump of his heart pumping while he played was a perfect cocktail of distraction—not to mention the sound of Stiles's growling stomach.

Clicking into a new window, Derek pulled up the website for the local pizza shop and placed a delivery order, fishing his wallet from his pocket and punching in his credit card info to pay to have it brought to the door. He was pretty hungry too, now that he thought about it.

"No, no, no fuck! I died!" Stiles said into the microphone. "Scott! Heal me!"

Derek looked over at that, frowning to learn Scott also played. Setting aside the laptop when he'd bookmarked a couple of properties that he might drive past later tonight when there would hopefully be no Argents prowling the streets and hoping to run into him, Derek got off the bed and moved over to stand behind Stiles. The sunshine and caramel scent of him was overwhelming tonight, fresh from his shower and clearly having a lot of fun playing his game.

Derek folded his arms over his chest, standing behind Stiles's chair, shoving his hands into his armpits to keep from putting them on Stiles's shoulders, touching the warm skin of his neck, or running his fingers through his hair. His wolf was riding him hard with how badly it wanted to scent Stiles, desperate to cover his packmate in his scent and to get that sunshine and caramel scent all over himself in return until their scents were mingled, making something uniquely pack.

Derek watched the screen without understanding anything that was happening. It looked like chaos. There were what looked like hundreds of individually moving characters on the screen, flashes of light, depictions of violence, blinking lights everywhere. It hurt Derek's eyes trying to keep up with all of the different spots on the screen where things wanted to snatch his attention, and he suddenly understood how Stiles's chaotic thought trains must operate.

"We're so close, you guys," Stiles said, clicking madly. His adrenaline spiked, and his heart pounded as the creature in the middle of the screen they all seemed to be attacking was losing strength. At least Derek assumed it was based on the bar above its head, which kept getting less full.

Stiles's emotions were a heady concoction, and Derek had to fight the urge his wolf had to rise to the surface, sensing the adrenaline pouring off Stiles and immediately searching for a threat.

"Holy fuck!" Stiles jumped when Derek unfolded his arms, giving in to the wolf's urge to touch and smoothing a hand over his left shoulder, fingers trailing over the side of his neck before sliding under the neckline of his shirt and twitching across his chest in the direction of his rabbiting heart.

"No, no, I'm fine. Just got a fright. All good," Stiles said into the microphone though he didn't try to shrug Derek away or stop madly clicking and tapping the keyboard.

Derek's wolf didn't settle with the simple touch, his other hand trailing to the hair at the back of Stiles's head, fingers playing with the little tufts at his nape, the pad of his thumb smoothing over the soft skin behind his right ear. Stiles leaned back into the touch, remaining focused on his game. Derek was content to keep watching him play while he scented him until he heard a car pull up outside. Lifting his nose toward the open window, he caught the smell of pizza and cheese grease, and he grinned.

Stiles made a little sound of complaint when Derek let go of him, but he was in the middle of focusing on his game, so he couldn't stop while Derek headed downstairs to meet the delivery guy at the door.

"Woah, you're not Stiles," the teenager on the porch holding the stack of pizzas blinked at Derek dopily.

"I'm not," Derek agreed, taking the pizza and handing the kid his tip - twice the usual amount because he didn't have anything smaller on hand.

"Holy shit, thanks dude."

Derek rolled his eyes as the kid stumbled away beaming, the name Greenberg stamped on the back of the lacrosse jersey he was wearing. Closing the door, Derek carried the prize back up the stairs to Stiles's room. Stiles's head jerked up at the smell of them when he walked in.

"Oh my god, is that pizza? You got pizza? I'm starving!" he declared. "Dude, I love you."

Derek blinked at the declaration, his wolf just as startled.

"What? No, mind your business, Scott. I have been gifted pizza. Shit, how am I supposed to eat and play at the same time? Urgh! And we can't pause and take, like, ten minutes? Guys! Oh, I'm so hungry..."

He kept clicking while Derek put the boxes on the bed since there was no room on Stiles's desk.

"No, I get it. Yeah, yeah, Mark and his dumb kids, with their dumb homework and bath times and bedtime, get breaks all the time, but Stiles doesn't get three minutes to eat dinner. I'm not saying this is nepotism, but it's totally nepotism." Stiles complained, and Derek's brow furrowed before he shrugged and fished a slice of pie from the box, taking a big bite before crossing the room to Stiles. "No, fuck off, Mark. It's totally nepotism. Just because you, like, founded the guild, everyone lets you get away with cutting raids short and shit because you couldn't wrap your tool, and now you have triplets or whatever. Twins? I don't freakin' know, dude, you take enough breaks that I'm pretty sure you've got octuplets."

Derek nudged Stiles's cheek with his pinky, offering him the bitten slice of pizza and raising his eyebrows when Stiles twitched his gaze up to him briefly.

"Oh my god, dude. Are you serious?" Stiles asked, his eyes widening and gratitude flooding through their bond. "Aww, you're the best. I take back every bad thing I ever said about you."

He took a big bite of the pizza, and Derek was mildly concerned by how much his wolf liked the sight of Stiles enjoying the meal he'd provided when Stiles groaned around the mouthful, his eyes rolling up in pleasure.

"I'd be totally furious about being handfed like a baby if I wasn't starving, but since Mark won't let anyone else take breaks, this is the only way I'm eating before midnight. Oh my god, so good."

He took several more bites while Derek held it for him, Derek stealing bites of the same slice while he chewed before he returned to the box for more. He brought it back with him and balanced it on top of the printer, feeding Stiles bite after bite. The sense of satisfaction it brought him as Stiles's hunger was replaced by happiness and contentment had Derek rumbling a deep sound low down in his chest, but he didn't stop until Stiles took one last nibble and then shook his head.

"So full," he muttered. "Thanks, sourrwolf."

Derek hummed, fetching another box to keep eating because Stiles might be satisfied, but Derek was still starving. He stood there wolfing down pizza while Stiles kept playing until all the pies were gone.

True to his prediction, Stiles played the computer until almost midnight before bidding his friends goodnight and ripping his headset off, slumping back in his chair tiredly and scrubbing his hands over his face. Derek, having grown bored of watching a game he didn't understand, was back on the bed with Stiles's laptop open, watching a movie when the teenager groaned his way to his feet and stumbled out the door. Derek cocked his head, listening to see where he was going before hearing the bathroom door closed and tuning him out.

When Stiles came back, he stopped in the doorway rubbing one eye, squinting at Derek.

"Hey, you're still here," he smiled. "And you fed me pizza."

Derek moved the laptop to the side and sat up, but Stiles only bulldozed him back down onto his back before clambering on top of him and pressing his face into Derek's neck. He tensed because a wolf never liked anyone at his throat, but Stiles only hummed contentedly, going boneless on top of him.

"Thanks for the pizza," he mumbled tiredly and Derek curled his arms around Stiles sensing through their bond that he wanted affection.

"You're welcome," he said.

"Did you find a house?"

"Maybe."

Stiles lifted his head, squinting into Derek's face. "Really?"

"Mmm, I was going to go for a drive past a few of them, check them out."

"When? Tomorrow?" Stiles guessed.

"Now," Derek shrugged.

"But it's dark. We won't be able to see anything."

Derek hummed at the 'we' and it's implications.

"You won't," he agreed smugly. "I can see just fine in the dark."

"Werewolf," Stiles remembered. "So smug. Smugwolf, they should call you. Are we going now? Did you even drive here? Why are we going at night?"

"Less chance of running into the hunters on the prowl at this time of night. Gerard is still hunting me," Derek reminded him.

"That guy really needs to die," Stiles frowned. "Can we kill him?"

"There's plenty more where he came from, and they'd all come calling if we killed him."

Stiles sighed.

"You know, just once, someone needs to go with my plan of letting people die. It would solve all our problems. If we let the kanima die, no more kanima."

"You're the one who keeps getting in my way when me and my betas try to kill Lydia."

"Because it's not Lydia."

"She was bitten by an alpha, Stiles," Derek reminded him.

"Yeah, months ago."

"She went missing, naked, in the woods for three days."

"Two days."

"Whatever. She's the kanima."

"She's not the kanima. You also bit Jackson, didn't you? How do we know it's not him."

Derek growled at him.

"What? It's a fair question."

"Jackson's body is fighting the bite," Derek confided quietly. "It's not him."

"He's more of a snake than Lydia."

"Is he, though?" Derek argued doubtfully. "Lydia's pretty snakey."

"Lydia is a strawberry blonde goddess."

Derek rolled his eyes and tipped Stiles off his chest.

"Are we going now? Let me put on shoes," Stiles sprung to his feet when Derek sat up again. "Hey, dude, the door. My dad's not home, so we don't have to come and go via the window. Okay? Let's be human and take the stairs."

Derek flashed his eyes in annoyance, but he followed Stiles down the stairs just the same, leading the human down the street and around the corner to where he'd hidden the Camaro at the edge of the woods by Stiles's house.

"Stealthy," Stiles teased as he helped himself to the passenger seat and immediately began tinkering with the radio. "Where to first?"

Derek didn't answer. He just started the car and zoomed off down the street toward the first property he'd liked, laughing when Stiles reached for the grab handle and clung on for dear life.

"Soooo... what are we gonna do if he doesn't go away?" Stiles asked softly after spitting out the pool water that’d seeped past his lips.

They both knew what he was talking about. Derek was completely paralysed, and the dead weight of the werewolf was weighing him down. They could both feel Stiles’s strength beginning to wane after two hours of treading water.

"Risk whatever he's gonna do to us if we swim to the edge?" Derek suggested, and Stiles could tell from the look on his face that the werewolf knew that way led a gory, blood-soaked death.

"Think I'd rather drown than be gutted," he muttered.

Derek didn't say anything to that, but he didn't really have to. After two hours of this, Derek had accepted that any minute now, he would drown. He didn't trust humans, especially not Stiles, and he'd been waiting for Stiles to make the decision to save himself. To throw Derek's arm off himself and swim for the edge. To let him sink and leave him to die.

He hadn't yet, and Derek didn't know why, other than the fear of the kanima outweighing his fear of drowning.

"Maybe he'll go away," Derek suggested. "I'm pretty sure someone's controlling him."

"Controlling him to keep us in the pool?" Stiles frowned.

"He's clearly after one of us," Derek shrugged.

"Probably you after all the times you've hunted him."

Derek agreed, though he didn't say so.

"If that's the case, he'll probably let you leave," he pointed out quietly. "You... you can let me go, you know."

Stiles twisted his head to gape at him in confusion.

"You'll drown."

"Yeah, but you won't," Derek answered seriously. "I know you're tired. If you wait any longer, you won't have the strength to swim to the edge and climb out."

Stiles gave him an indecipherable look, the skin around his eyes tightening.

"You don't have to drown with me," Derek murmured quietly because he was certain they both would if Stiles didn't let him go.

"We don't know for certain that it's after you," Stiles replied evenly, looking away from him before he began kicking a little harder and using the arm not holding Derek up to begin dragging them both through the water toward the shallower end.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying not to drown," Stiles huffed.

Derek knew he was flagging. He could feel the way the younger man's muscles trembled with every circle of limbs designed to keep them afloat. Stiles kept swimming while the kanima circled the pool edge, hissing and flicking his creepy serpentine tail. Despite the lizard skin, he reminded Derek of a cat eyeing a bird it wanted to hunt but couldn't reach.

"The pool is still too deep at the other end for you to touch the bottom," Derek pointed out.

"The disability access steps aren't," Stiles grunted and Derek's eyes widened, remembering the school had installed a special staircase into the water that would allow those who couldn't use the ladder to still swim.

"He'll be able to reach with his claws," Derek warned.

"Not if I stay right at the edge of them. I should be able to stand up there."

He kept struggling, panting heavily and almost dropping them both under the water several times. Derek hated being so helpless, his limbs completely numb.

"You don't have to save me, Stiles," he tried again.

"Dude, you only got cut and fell into the pool in the first place because you were trying to push me out of the way when he came at us," Stiles disagreed. "I know you're fast enough to outrun that thing. You could have legged it like Erica did. But you didn't. I'm not gonna let you die for me."

The logic floored Derek.

Like, yeah, he had been trying to save Stiles, but he was bigger and stronger and faster, and the creature probably wasn't after the sarcastic teenager.

"Made it," Stiles grunted in relief, and Derek felt it when he got his feet under him on the solid steps and was no longer straining to tread water.

The creature snarled, swiping at them and it hissed and skittering away when it got wet again.

"It's definitely afraid of the water."

Derek nodded in agreement as Stiles adjusted his grip on him, unfurling Derek's arm from around his shoulders and turning his body to put both arms around his waist, Derek's back to his chest.

He leaned back against the bollard in the middle of the step, installed to ensure no one in a wheelchair using the steps accidentally rolled into the spot that would be too deep. On the step, the water barely cleared Stiles's stomach when he stood at full height - the perfect depth for someone in a chair to keep their head above water. But to keep out of reach of the creature, they had to stay as submerged as possible.

Derek ended up practically in Stiles lap, the boy using his own thighs to help keep Derek’s head above water, arranging his legs to balance the back of his thighs over Stiles’s knees. The alpha wolf inside his soul hated the position, so utterly vulnerable with Stiles at his back, his warm breath huffing at the side of his neck and cheek, over the top of his shoulder. His arms around his waist, supporting him.

"Thank you," he forced himself to say while Stiles panted tiredly, his forehead leaning against the back of Derek's head. "For not letting me drown."

"Yeah, well, you didn't let that thing gut me," Stiles muttered. "And you saved me when Isaac wanted to eat me on his first full moon."

They fell silent after that, Stiles still panting a little from the exertion - he was going to be sore in the coming days after the strain on his muscles, Derek was sure of it. The creature came back a few times, never getting close enough to the water's edge to reach them again, before eventually, it disappeared.

"He's gone," Derek said quietly, and Stiles jolted against his back, having almost dozed off.

"You sure? He could be hiding to try and lure us out."

Derek listened for the creature's heartbeat, but only the steady thump of his own and Stiles’s met his ears.

"We're alone," Derek confirmed.

"Oh, thank God. I'm freezing."

He stirred beneath Derek, beginning to drag him up the stairs to get them both out of the water.

"I think some feeling is coming back," Derek confided when Stiles had him on dry land.

"Of course it is," Stiles huffed. "Perfect timing."

Derek managed to drag himself into a sitting position right as another heartbeat reached his ears followed by the drum of rapid footsteps. He whipped his head around, looking for the source, only to see Scott running into view.

"Stiles! Derek!" Scott yelled.

"More perfect timing," Stiles muttered bitterly. "You couldn't have shown up an hour ago, Scott?"

Derek huffed as well because it was annoying that Scott, Erica, Isaac, and Boyd had all left them here. They could have died.

Stiles looked over at Derek when Scott hauled him onto his feet. Derek met his gaze, his legs still weak.

Stiles had protected him. This mouthy, sarcastic spazz had been willing to drown for him, to die with him rather than leaving him alone to save himself.

Derek couldn't remember the last time anyone had shown him that kind of loyalty. Maybe Laura? Maybe his parents? All of them wolves, all with blood ties to him. And yet here was this stubborn, smart ass human who annoyed Derek more than anyone else he'd ever met, and he'd saved him. He'd shown more loyalty than his pack members had.

The bond snapped into place with a crack like lightning, zinging through his cells, his blood, his soul, and Derek grunted at the sting. Stiles jumped like he'd had a fright, and Scott tensed nervously as the scent of ozone and lightning flooded the space between them. Emotion poured through, heat searing along the pathway linking the two of them. Confusion. Curiosity. Worry. Anxiety. Exhaustion. All of it sizzled into him, and Derek had to close his eyes, taking a controlled breath.

"What just happened?" Scott confirmed, sniffing worriedly.

Stiles was rubbing his chest where the bond originated, his eyes fixed on Derek, his mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something but had no words.

Derek met his gaze steadily, knowing firsthand how overwhelming a pack bond could be when it formed, even for a wolf. For a human, it had to be like being electrocuted, burned alive, and drowned all at the same time. The linking of souls, or mind, or emotions all designed to attune a packmate to another, designed to protect, to connect, to irrevocably link.

"Is... is this... a wolf thing?" Stiles asked and Derek was certain his own resignation, gratitude, confusion, and ever-present underlying anger were all flooding down the bond to Stiles in return.

"What?" Scott asked. "What happened?"

"A pack bond," Derek confirmed quietly, not daring to tell either of them that the last time he'd shared a pack bond with anyone, it'd been Laura. His family. He hadn't bonded with the wolves he'd bitten, and his bond to Peter had been burned out of him like everything else during the fire.

Something unknotted in Derek's belly when Stiles stumbled across the space between the two of them.

"What's a pack bond?" Scott asked dumbly because the boy was an idiot who kept rejecting everything wolfish instead of learning about what he'd become.

Stiles gripped Derek's waist, clinging to him, pushing into his space, and Derek managed to get his arm up, gripping the back of Stiles’s neck in return. He pulled Stiles in by it, burying his nose in Stiles’s hair and breathing in the scent of him, like caramel and sunshine, and the medicinal tang of his Adderall all currently overlaid with the stink of chlorine from the pool.

"Stiles? What's happening? What is this? I thought you two hated each other?" Scott asked, bewildered.

Derek didn't bother explaining it to him, just clung to Stiles tighter and closed his eyes relishing in the complete overwhelm of having a pack bond again, his wolf howling with joy after so long on his own. Stiles burrowed into him, arms curling all the way around him while he buried his head in Derek's neck, clinging to him tightly, hugging him while he trembled.

It might’ve been completely unintentional, and Derek was certain that when the euphoria wore off, he'd resent being so intimately linked with the spastic human, but for now, he had a new pack bondmate, and for the first time in over a year, Derek felt at peace.

.

Xx-Kitten

[illicitlimerence-writes]

cherry | b. barnes

pairing: quarterback!bucky barnes x cheerleader!fem!reader word count: 1.2k words warnings: sorta-smuttish??? like not full-on sex but like, making out?, dry-humping??, language, bucky's a horny little shit. don't know how to explain this but, forbidden love?? sorta??? idk author's note: i wrote this in like an hour, kinda short but i really like how this turned out. did not proof-read, though! as always, english is not my first language, so please be nice and sorry for any mistakes.

My Masterlist

(gif not mine, creds to owner!)

the loud cheering was now just background noise, all your focus was on the lips that kept assaulting your neck, sucking lightly.

"baby, no marks." you muttered, soft sighs escaping your lips as you threw your head back.

you heard him grunting in response, his grip on your waist tightening, pulling you closer. his other hand went to the back of your thigh, and you wrapped it around his waist, leaning against the brick wall for support, rolling your hips.

"fuck, cherry. you're gonna be the death of me," he moaned into your ear, hot breath that made goosebumps erupt on your skin, your nipples hardening against your top from the chilly night air. you shivered, throwing your arms around his neck, fingers threading through his soft hair.

he pulled his head out of your neck to take a good look at you. your neck a bright red color. cheeks flushed. loose strands of hair that fell from your ponytail framing your face. and your his favorite cherry red lipstick, completely untouched.

that was the rule whenever you and bucky made out before a football match. he could not ruin your red lipstick. it matched perfectly with your cheer uniform. but it looked even better on his neck, the stain of the trail of kisses you left on his neck clashing with his blue and gold football jersey.

bucky was the quarterback and captain of the west high wolves, meanwhile, you were captain of the cheerleader team of the east high eagles. it was basically common knowledge that your high schools were rivals, so imagine the scandal that would break loose if someone found the picture-perfect head cheerleader making out with the bad-boy quarterback of the rival team... it was risky, you both knew it, it would ruin both your reputations. but it was a risk you were willing to take, the thrill of the forbidden made your mind dizzy, your heart beat faster.

you had been careful up until that night. but you hadn't seen him in weeks, which was why you were a little too caught up to hear someone shouting bucky's name in the distance.

too lost in the feeling of bucky's lips back on you, small kisses on your cheek, your jaw, behind your ear, before finally settling back on your neck. he tapped your other thigh, and you wrapped both your legs around him, rolling your hips when you felt his hands settling on your naked skin. the red skirt you wore was now scrunched up around your waist, your red spandex shorts underneath the only thing protecting your heat from making contact with his tight jeans.

he grunted when he felt you around him, head snapping back to look you in the eyes.

"are you..?" he started, lifting one eyebrow, eyes darting to where your front met his. you bit your lip, nodding. a smirk threatening to break on your face. your heart stopped at the look he gave you, eyes dark, his grip on you tightening. "one kiss. please. i just need to taste you," he whispered, his lips on top of yours. you opened your mouth, tongue sliding out, licking his top lip.

"no, you know the rules." you muttered, rolling your hips again.

"such a fucking tease," he spat and the smirk you wore made him want to go to church to confess the thoughts that invaded his head, all the sinful things he wanted to do to you at that moment.

"you love me," you said, cocking your head to one side. with his hands on your ass, he lifted you up, making you hiss at the harsh friction.

"fuck yeah i do, cherry." he admitted, burying his face on your neck once again. "missed you so much, missed your tight little body all over me. missed my cherry," he chanted, lips traveling to kiss your breasts on top of your full shell top. in bucky's mind, you had never more beautiful on that cheer uniform. even if you were rooting for the wrong team.

"missed you too, buck. fuck." you whimpered, your senses taking control, seeking the friction you desperately needed. your soft sighs and his low moans were like music to your ears, each sound sending tingles down your body. "love you, buck. you're gonna win this game for me, baby?" you sighed, feeling adrenaline running through your veins.

"fuck, yes, cherry. gonna-"

"bucky? what the hell are you doing?"

you both froze, your eyes widening as you felt bucky setting you down on the floor, hiding you from whoever interrupted you two. he turned to face a blonde guy, bright blue eyes trying to get a glimpse of you. he wore a blue jersey that matched bucky's.

"nothing. i'll be there in a minute," bucky motioned for his friend to leave, his hand wrapping around yours protectively. the guy rolled his eyes, and instead walked up to you both.

"hi, i'm steve. you must be cherry, this idiot can't stop talking about you." he greeted you, offering you his hand.

with flushed cheeks, -the guy had caught you humping his teammate, for pete's sake.- you looked at bucky, and he sighed in surrender.

"cherry, this is steve. my best friend, he's an ass and everything he says is probably a lie. steve, this is my cherry. you know enough about her. there. now, go." he said, leaving you stunned for a second. your eyes met bucky's, you interlocked his fingers with yours. with your other hand, you took steve's.

"hi, my name's y/n. nice to meet you, steve." you smiled, shaking his hand.

"okay, enough," bucky separated your hand from steve's. taking it in his instead, which made steve laugh.

"geez, chill, man. i'm leaving. pleasure to meet you, y/n. good luck out there," he pointed to your uniform, which made bucky grunt.

"steven, i swear to god," bucky started, but was cut off by your laughter.

bucky finally relaxed his shoulders when steve turned to leave, you removed your hands from his, tracing your fingertips up his arms, locking them around his neck, fingers playing with his hair.

"your cherry?" you asked, biting your lip. and bucky wanted nothing more than to drown in the taste and feel of your lips on his.

"hell yes, cherry. mine. all mine. i'm yours, too." he wrapped his arms around your waist again, leaning your back against the brick wall, your hips flush against his.

"you're mine, bucky. and i'm all yours." you whispered, lips touching.

and right then and there, you broke the rules.

you lifted your mouth to meet his, lips crashing in a sensual, needy kiss. he didn't respond for one second, too stunned that you were actually kissing him, right before a game, ruining your his favorite cherry red lipstick. you couldn't care less. the only thing that mattered was kissing your lover like your life depended on it.

at that moment, you decided you didn't care if anyone found you. high school drama and rivalries meant nothing compared to what you felt right then. and, if the entire town decided to cast you out for being traitors, you could live with that.

all you needed was bucky.

and all he needed was his cherry.

[yanderenightmare]

uhm, yandere Katsuki with a small reader... like idk how to explain but fluff fear? like waking up together but all she can think about is how loud he sleeps and how BIG he is, also him being a total bitch about how small she is?

yandere kidnapper ! BAKUGO KATSUKI

Support me at KO-FI if you feel like it<3

goodiebag WARNINGS: dubcon/noncon mentions, kidnapping, abduction, abuse, degradation

PUFF

Waking up warmer than usual was something she’d gotten terribly used to. 

It had only been a couple days. A couple days in a foreign house without anything to do except prance around in what lingerie Katsuki bothered to give her, or sleep the hours away. Where which the latter was undesirable, because she’d be risking getting snuck up on by the brute predator once he returned. So, she was left walking about, dragging tired limbs through barren hallways, stopping to take in the space of each impersonal room, half-naked and cold in the marble mansion, doing nothing but dreading the time her hero came home. 

And in the absence of things happening, those moments where she was in fact preoccupied with something became so much heavier and longer than what they were in reality. Expanded, to the degree where she could pinpoint almost every single detail within the moment. 

This was one of those moments.

She wanted to focus on the bed, soft material, caky and cloudy beneath her, but it was difficult to ignore the mass behind her. His nose poking into the top of her head, nuzzling in her hair, a good measurement of knowing how close his teeth were to her neck as heavy breaths ran down her neck like a chilling breeze, ticklish and disturbing like crawling mites. His chest, rising, pushing into her back, the beating of his heart rattling her ribcage. His hands, large and so very warm, warmer than they were supposed to be, scathed like sandpaper as they scratched in their presence by rubbing her hip, arms slung around her body haphazardly, caging her, suffocating her, pulling her close, holding her steady, trapping her. 

Like a dragon protecting his treasure, she thought, but quickly discarded of the notion. It sounded too sweet. 

Katsuki wasn’t sweet.

He’d come home yesterday, coated in smog, droplets of blood flecked on his sand-skin in no particular pattern. He didn't shower, he’d only grabbed her and walked off to bed. No words shared, only whimpers and dark, disturbing chuckles. She’d struggled, as much as she could against the brute, but it felt as though he enjoyed that more. Tightening his hold until she swore she began to hear her bones ache, bristle as he squeezed the air from out of her lungs. 

She was happy she was spared his painful cock that night, but she was sure it would be a short-lived mercy.

His hold; though still strong, wasn’t as tight in the morning. She took it as an opportunity to create more space between herself and the fever-heat and blinding smell of caramel. She almost wished she could smell the blood and smoke instead, something bitter to disrupt the sickening sweet. She wished she could smell anything else, but even the smell of herself was overcome by him. She’d walked around the house thinking of it the other day, how it was almost as though he’d scented her, as though they were animals.

He didn’t take lightly to the disturbing of his slumber, grunting and growling, stirring that overbearing sense of fear inside her gut, her stomach folding in every possible way. She didn’t want to stop, she wanted to fight, she wanted to roar. He tightened his arms around her, squeezed her hip, planting her ass better against his crotch and she froze.

He smacked his tongue against his teeth. “Now what?” He coaxed. She expected his voice to sound groggy in the morning, but she’d learned in the past days, it never shed its ugly tone. “You gonna cry?” His voice sounding almost hopeful as he bit down on her earlobe, earning a gasp that along the way turned into a delicious little whimper. She tried clawing at his hand, his own nails digging into her skin. “Do yourself a favor and relax” All his taunting, patronizing overbearing words, dismissive to her discomfort, rather enjoying it, if only she could see the cracked smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. She kept struggling despite the obvious futility. “Yer’ not going anywhere, yer’ exactly where you need to be... exactly where you belong.” His tone was casual as he sucked in a breath, sighing with a grumbling growl, still sleepy, yawning behind her, comfortable when squeezing her plushie little form, keeping her close like child with a teddybear. 

But he wasn't enjoying how her legs were kicking, despite the rest of her struggles being teasingly pleasurable.

Pushed down on her back, manhandled into position, he made to move himself between her thighs. Now, with more mistaken freedom, she tried pushing him away. Foolish fists hit against the stiff muscles of his chest, until he grabbed them by the wrists and pinned them above her head. His face so much closer now, but he didn’t kiss her, still longing to hear her speak up, to beg, to plead, to scream. But he remained close, knowing how every one of his words made her heart beat that much faster, and how those especially crude words made her quiver or better yet bleat, like a little lamb beneath him.

“Come on…” He hauled out. She barely made out the words, as far hidden in the growl as they were. His voice tickling her burning ear, his head resting its heavy weight on her arm. “I know I’ve been busy, but…” He spoke as though she wanted to spend more time with him. “It’s my day off.” His voice in singsong, as if she’d be excited, the tone sounding dreadful and wrong when coming from him, dark as it was. But it earned him what he’d been wanting, that soft and struggled sniffle, breath caught in her throat, an uncontrolled shiver breaking the sweet feeble noise.

Content with what he’d reduced her to, he rested his head on the pillow beside her face, his weight laid down upon her in a lifedraining fashion. He hummed, closing his eyes, enjoying her small frame beneath him. In her rightful place, he snickered. Eyes fluttering to look at her pretty face, hand covered in dried blood and smoke as it ascended to tug a lock of hair behind her ear, his thumb stroking over her lips when he made to retract it. The state of his skin made him cringe when he touched the fairness of her complexion. It felt wrong, he admitted. 

They needed to find an even ground.

“Let’s shower, I’m dirty.” She could feel his lips on her ear now, but she was too shell-shocked to snap her head away, knowing what was coming.

In all honesty, she wouldn’t mind a shower. She’d been there a while and didn’t exactly feel clean with him spread, smeared all over her, inside her. But, he’d insisted on being so very close at all times, she was sure the same rules would apply in the shower. 

She tried her best to fight, but it was all so easy to simply grab her arm and pull her with him, yanking on her like a child with a toy. Throwing her inside the large bathroom, with strength that almost had her falling to her knees.

“Take yer’ clothes off.” He commanded, having her backed up against the cold tiles of the walls. “Or… they’re not really your clothes.” He tugged at the black fabric of his shirt, one she’d put on after realizing her own clothes were far from wearable anymore, singed as they were.

Towering over her petite shape, enjoying how she had to tilt her head a drastic degree to stare up at him. 

She was so tiny, it sent pleasurable shivers down his spine to look at her, small like a little pet. His shirt hung around her in the same way you’d expect a tent would, reaching all the way down to her knees, only barely fitting on her narrow shoulders.

She wanted to sound strong. “N- no.” It came out weak.

Snickering, he placed a hand on the wall beside her head. “I was hoping you’d say that…” His smile was so feral, she began wondering if smiles were ever a nice gesture in the first place. Katsuki seemed to do it simply to show her those large teeth stored in his mouth, teeth that could rip her throat out if he were dedicated enough. “Better you learn sooner than later just how helpless you are to stop me getting what I want.” He leaned in closer, stepping further into her space, threatening to crush her toes under the soles of his feet, his much too hot breaths striking her face on repeat. “Weak.” He spat the word, as though it were venom on his tongue. “Defenseless.” It disgusted him, distaste clear in the growl lacing his tone. “Fragile.” 

He’d not gotten exactly what he wanted. He wanted her to scream, whether it was of rage or of fear, didn’t really matter. The tears were no less satisfying though, dribbling down her cheeks, eyes glossy and sparkling.

He grabbed the collar of the t-shirt. She felt the pull, but the tear still came as a surprise. The ripped fabric, now reduced to useless singed rags, pooling around her ankles, and she found herself regretting her wish to smell smoke because the burn of the textile at her feet was not the type of bitter like morning coffee, but bitter in the way that made her eyes sting. Her knees almost gave out when his hand neared her again, his other hand placed above her head, meaning to cage her in between his warmth and the freezing wall behind her. 

Her nipples perked at once when he made contact, which made him smile, hand still hot, much too hot. He cupped one breast in his hand, much too small to fill it entirely. He didn’t seem to mind though.

“So soft…” The disdainful tone was gone, but she found herself missing it as opposed to what lingered in his voice now. “So delicate.” Lust was so terribly more frightening than his distaste. “So…” He licked his lips, a hot breath fanned over her face and goosebumps sprung to the surface of her skin. He hummed in response and she was sure she might just faint. “So sensitive.” She yelped when he pinched. “Mine.” His voice was low and rumbling, hot like raked coals. Tugging down her bottoms as well, she did little to prevent it. 

Not that it would have mattered if she did.

Support me at KO-FI if you feel like it<3

[fickleminder]

soul on paper: forever valentine

Spin-off from this scenario (spoiler alert!) with a Valentine’s Day twist. Features Satan x GN!MC 💚

The bouquet in Satan’s hands isn’t overly extravagant, but you can tell it’s definitely pricey. He enters the café exactly one minute into your break and presents you with a dozen dark crimson roses wrapped neatly in pink craft paper and furnished with a light green bow.

“Good morning to you too.” You greet him smoothly despite your burning cheeks, accepting the flowers with only the slightest bit of hesitation. The sweet scent of the roses is a refreshing contrast to the smell of coffee permeating the air, and you can hear the hushed whispers of your coworkers fawning over the romantic display of affection. “A little much for our first Valentine’s together, don’t you think?”

The florist’s is only two shops down, but Satan looks as though he ran multiple blocks just to catch you before the lunch rush. “Oh! I just thought — I mean —”

“I’m kidding, these are great! Thank you.” You tug at his sleeve for him to sit down next to you in the booth, and press a kiss to his flushed jaw. “There’s only one thing that can beat this.”

“What’s that?”

You hug the bouquet to your chest and grin at him. “Going out to dinner with you tonight.”

If Satan didn’t seem breathless before, he certainly does now.

.

.

.

Thin oval petals in pink, peach, and creamy white, and a handsome face framed with blond hair greet you at the start of your shift. “Good morning. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” A bashful smile crosses your face as you take in the flowers. “Uh, I’m kind of embarrassed to admit I don’t know what these are.”

“These are called honeysuckles,” Satan explains patiently, handing you the beautifully crafted bouquet. “They represent happiness, affection, and everlasting bonds.”

“They’re gorgeous, thank you.”

A lady behind Satan clears her throat, reminding you that you’re technically on the clock. Satan’s eyebrow twitches at the interruption, but rules are rules. “I should let you get back to it. See you tonight?”

“Looking forward to it.” You send him off with a wink, switching places with another barista for a quick second to stash the flowers safely in the backroom.

.

.

.

“Camellias,” is the first thing Satan says to you. “Like roses, the different colors have different meanings.”

“Oh? Do tell.” Bouquet in hand, you let Satan lead you to an unused table, ignoring the excited giggles from your coworkers as they watch him pull out a chair for you. They’re supposed to be covering you while you’re on break, not spying, the nosy bastards.

“The pink ones represent longing.” Satan gives you a soft look that makes your heart do just that, long to close the distance between the two of you even if it’s only the width of a small table. “The red ones say: you’re a flame in my heart.”

You have to resist the urge to fan yourself from how warm your face is. “And the white ones?”

“They mean you’re adorable.” He reaches over and boops your nose playfully, pulling away with a laugh when you make a show of biting it. “Happy Valentine’s Day, love.”

.

.

.

A herbal bouquet isn’t the most conventional, but Satan gets points for creativity: rosemary for remembrance, sage for longevity, thyme for courage, and parsley for gratitude.

“Plus you can cook with them too.” Satan waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

You’re already thinking of recipes for the next time he comes over for dinner.

.

.

.

“Oh,” your eyes grow wide in recognition, “tulips!”

“Very good.” Satan awards the bouquet to you as a prize. “For perfect and deep love. Speaking of, if I had a garden…”

Grinning widely, you meet him halfway and peck him on the lips, mindful of the delicate flowers between your chests.

.

.

.

Red salvias, forever mine.

.

.

.

Forget-me-nots —

“Aw, Satan…” You cradle his face in one hand, rubbing his cheek with a thumb as he angles his head to press a warm, reverent kiss into your palm. “I won’t ever forget you, I promise.”

For some reason, Satan’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

.

.

.

Heliotropes, eternal love and devotion.

.

.

.

You’ve had your fair share of shady customers, but these two are just… weird.

The man with white hair looks like he could be a model. Designer shades, aviator jacket, expensive-looking boots — you can totally picture him on the cover of some fashion magazine.

His companion, on the other hand, is dressed in a black uniform decorated with an emblem you don’t recognize. One thing’s for sure, it’s definitely not from any school or institution in the area.

Mr Model hadn’t been able to look you in the eye, choking up when he tried to place an order. Anxiety issues, perhaps? Not that you’re in any position to judge. Mx Student had to nudge him aside and take over.

“MC,” they said when you asked for a name.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Levi,” Mr Model muttered under his breath as he left to find seats. “Do you think you’re in a video game or something?”

Even after serving them their drinks, they continue to not-so-discreetly check you out from their table. Not for lack of trying, but those two clearly aren’t accustomed to using their indoor voices.

“We are so dead,” you hear Mr Model groan, all the way from where you’re wiping down the counter.

“Dude, just chill —”

“Satan’s going to kill us. I told you not to go into his room this time of year!”

“We’re here now, and we need his help to get out anyway. Instead of wandering around town aimlessly, we might as well wait where he’s bound to show up, right?”

Your ears perk up at the mention of Satan’s name. Does he know these people? It sounds like they’re in trouble, and you debate sending him a heads up via text.

As though summoned by your thoughts, Satan chooses that moment to walk through the door with a bouquet of pink carnations in hand.

His eyes land on you first, brightening at the sight of his favorite barista hard at work. Then they swivel towards where you’re nervously looking, and his gaze immediately hardens as his entire posture goes rigid.

“What the fuck are you two doing here?!” He growls, marching over to them.

Mr Model quickly stands and puts himself in front of Mx Student, hands raised slightly in surrender as he attempts to talk Satan down. Their subsequent conversation is lost in a mixture of whispers and hisses; Mx Student catches your worried stare and waves sheepishly in apology.

You resolve to stay out of it, deciding to intervene only if things seem like they’re about to escalate. Besides, you trust Satan to explain after he’s finished settling whatever this is.

After a minute of tense discussion, the group appears to reach a consensus. Mr Model and Mx Student grab their cups and leave, but not before the former sends you a final, wistful look.

“Sorry about that. I — shit.” Satan returns to you, only to realize that he’d crushed the stalks of the poor flowers in his death grip. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to —”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You gently pry the mangled bouquet from his trembling fists, setting it aside to hold his hands in comfort. “It’s alright, I’m not mad or anything.”

“But —”

“Trust me, I’ve had worse first Valentines. Did I ever tell you about the time my ex tried to rope me into a flash mob — wait, no, that’s too embarrassing —”

Satan’s shoulders shake with silent laughter, and you smile in relief.

“Listen, if you have an emergency to attend to, I completely understand.” You say, nodding toward the street where his acquaintances were headed. “We can always get dinner another day —”

“No, they can wait. I’ll handle them after our date tonight.” Satan presses a lingering kiss to your knuckles. His expression is tender as he gazes into your eyes. “Pick you up at seven?”

You blush and nod. Satan lets you go almost reluctantly, his steps hesitant as he walks away. You’re struck with a sudden pang of yearning, despite knowing that you’ll see him again tonight.

The flowers do little to soothe the ache in your chest, and several petals fall to the ground as you carry the bouquet to the backroom for safekeeping.

[delimeful]

taking the fall (4)

warnings: pain, injury, mentions of captivity

-

Roman woke to throbbing pain in his leg and an uncannily soft surface below him.

He resisted the urge to groan theatrically as he was unwillingly dragged back to consciousness, and then resisted the urge to groan harder as he recalled just what had happened before he passed out.

He’d been seen. After all his careful planning, his little one-in-a-lifetime excursion had still landed him in the hands of a human. He wasn’t fool enough to believe that Logan had left him alone just because he’d fallen out of sight for a moment and then passed out like a wimp who couldn’t even handle a little bone-breaking.

Humans often lived in blissful ignorance, but not ‘lack of object permanence’ levels of it. Logan had definitely seen him fall, and odds were that he was now in the human’s clutches. Which was bad.

Tiny furniture hobbies aside, the guy was a textbook nerd, which was only barely a step down from an actual scientist. Roman wouldn’t be surprised at all if he woke up in one of those clear glass vials that scientists were always using on TV. Would that be better or worse than a jar? Probably worse, but if he could tip it over…

He dragged his thoughts away from the hypotheticals, well aware that he was stalling. Whatever he was laying on now, it certainly wasn’t glass.

Hesitantly, he peeked one eye open a tiny bit.

A pillow. It looked absolutely bizarre from this angle, his body just barely heavy enough to sink in and cause a few wrinkles in the fabric, but it was still recognizable as one of the huge fluffy pillows that normally rested on the human’s bed.

He turned his head a little further, and found that the pillow was on the desk that he’d previously taken a dive off of. The miniature set was still present to one side, surprisingly enough. Perhaps less time than he thought had passed, if it hadn’t been sent off to wherever Logan had promised to take it yesterday?

Or perhaps Logan had decided to forgo that responsibility in favor of his exciting new discovery. Roman shuddered.

“Hello? Are you awake?”

The voice nearly made Roman jump out of his skin, and he couldn’t help but freeze guiltily, totally giving away his awakeness. He craned his head up and saw that Logan was sitting on the desk chair, pushed back a few feet from the desk, a tiny dresser in one hand and a paintbrush in the other.

That was… considerably less menacing than he’d been expecting. “What are you doing?”

Logan blinked at him, nonplussed. “Wood detailing?”

Roman squinted at him suspiciously, trying to figure out what nefarious plans one could enact with the details of a tiny dresser. Perhaps it was supposed to be a part of some sick enclosure that the human was designing for him? He had wanted Roman to talk about the chair, of all things, so maybe he needed a tiny victim to test out his furniture.

That wasn’t exactly torture, but he still needed to escape. His presence here risked every other borrower in the building and out of it. Growing more somber, he testingly shifted his leg, trying to figure just how effective the human-applied splint actually was.

… Ouch.

“Is it sufficient?” Logan asked, unknowingly echoing his thoughts as he leaned over slightly to peer down at him. Roman pulled on his fiercest scowl, and was gratified to see the human retreat slightly. “I have pain medicine, but I was uncertain about the proper dosage, so I decided to wait until you woke up to see what you wanted to do.”

“Oh, I just bet you want me to take pain medicine,” Roman shot back sharply, ignoring the fairly nonsensical nature of what he’d just said. Like he was helping a human figure out the best ways to drug a borrower!

“... I do?” Logan replied, sounding downright confused by his hostility. “Normally, I would encourage anyone with injuries as significant as yours to seek out professional medical attention, but after witnessing your fear of me, I assumed that you would prefer to not be exposed to more humans.”

“I wasn’t afraid!” Roman snapped indignantly, and then paused as the rest of that spiel caught up with him. He was unspeakably glad that the human hadn’t been dumb enough to waltz into a human sickbay with him, but-- “I would prefer to not be exposed to you, either, BFG!”

“BFG?”

“Big Frustrating Giant!”

Logan looked dubious, but carefully averted his gaze. It wasn’t what Roman had meant, but those huge eyes being off of him were admittedly a relief. He shuffled his body to the side slightly, trying to ignore the sharp pains from jostling his leg.

“I will remind you, you are the one who came into my apartment, not the other way around,” Logan said, frowning slightly but keeping his eyes locked on the furniture in his hand. “Why were you there?”

“I’m afraid it’s none of your business,” Roman sniffed haughtily, ignoring the way his heart had sped up in his chest at the idea of making the human angry.

“Apologies, I don’t mean my apartment. I’ve already discerned that you likely find sustenance and other helpful items in human living spaces, going by the ease with which you traverse large terrain and the repurposed human items that make up your belongings,” Logan clarified, casual as anything. “I was asking why you were in my stage miniature. There is no food in it, and you must know that I would notice if anything went missing.”

Roman stared at him, feeling the blood drain from his face at the offhand way that the human had correctly guessed a lot about how borrowerkind survived, all from Roman’s unconscious presence.

It was beans like this that the rules had been designed for, so of course he would be the one to catch Roman. He set his jaw, resolving not to say anything else that might give anything away to this wannabe Sherlock.

-

Logan glanced up from the layer of drying varnish that he’d been staring at for the past thirty seconds, wondering if maybe the tiny person had fallen back into unconsciousness.

But no, despite their silence they were still awake and glaring at him, brow furrowed and arms crossed firmly. He tilted his head curiously, trying to indicate that he was listening, but it seemed they didn’t plan to answer at all.

“If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine,” he said, hurriedly looking back to the miniature he was fiddling with in an effort to not stress the tiny person out any further. “I simply wanted to see if there was anything you needed that I could provide you, since I’m partially responsible for your injury.”

“Partially?” they echoed, incredulous.

Logan nodded. “I startled you, and your attempt to flee led to injury. I should have known better than to move so quickly, particularly with the disparity in our sizes.”

“That was a strategic retreat,” they emphasized, “and you never would have caught me if you’d moved slowly. I’ll have you know I’m no slouch.”

Caught them…?

“My intention wasn’t to grab you,” he said. “I was reaching for one of the chairs to try and compare the scale. If it was incorrect, it would have been obvious when put side by side with you.”

“Yes, yes, I already guessed that you have nefarious furniture-related plots for your poor captive, you don’t have to explain it.” They were rolling their eyes when Logan glanced at them, and seemed to be an inch or two away from where he’d originally placed them on the pillow.

It felt to Logan as though they were talking cross-ways, even more so than his usual pop culture reference confusion(and didn’t it just figure that a tiny person that lived in the walls was more familiar with human colloquialisms than him?) during conversation. Perhaps it was due to their less than fortuitous first meeting?

“It seems like there might be some misconceptions here,” he tried. “I’m not keeping you captive.”

The stranger lifted a skeptical eyebrow, spreading their arms to gesture at the surrounding area. “Aren’t you, though?”

Logan followed the gesture, eyebrows drawn in. As far as he knew, a pillow on top of his desk hadn’t turned into an impenetrable prison within the last few moments. “No. I’m not.”

“So if I were to, say, walk out right now, you’d just be all peachy-keen with it?” they asked, almost condescending in their doubt. “You wouldn’t try to stop me from leaving?”

Logan paused, a firm denial on the tip of his tongue. “Are there others like you nearby?”

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say, going by the way their tiny hands went white-knuckled for a moment.

“No,” they answered mulishly, “I’m the only one of my kind. And I’ll have you know, if there were others-- which there’s not-- I would never sell out my hypothetical fellows for my own freedom!”

“That’s…,” Logan sighed, deciding not to mention how incredibly dubious he was of the likelihood that there was only one of a species. “That’s not what I meant. You clearly pursue an active lifestyle, I just wanted to ensure that there would be someone to support you and help you recover from your injuries. You won’t be able to even walk on that limb for a fair bit of time without permanently damaging it.”

Logan thought for a moment that he’d gotten through to them, witnessing the way trepidation lingered in their expression when they looked down at their leg, but then they shook their head firmly.

“That’s just an excuse! I know that you’re planning on keeping me, humans always do. I’d rather deal with a permanent limp than be a pet in one of your little dollhouses,” they spat, vitriol in every word. “So either let me go or admit your foul plans!”

The words were sharp, designed to incite, but Logan was used to scanning for the tiniest of flaws in his work, and he could spot the subtle signs of fear that his tiny visitor was just barely concealing. Clenched fists to hide shaking hands, the curl to their shoulders that suggested they wanted to curl up defensively, even their expression wobbled slightly when Logan spent a moment too long looking at them.

He took a deep breath, trying to ease the tension in his own frame and put them a little more at ease. An impossible task, considering they expected him to-- to know that they were a talking, feeling person and try to ‘keep them’ anyhow, but it helped clear his head.

“What will it take?” he asked, keeping his voice even.

“Um, what?” they asked, thrown off.

“To get you to stay here, just until you heal. I’m asking this of you, so it’s only reasonable that you ask for something in exchange,” Logan said. “If we can’t come to an agreement, I’ll leave you to your own devices, but there has to be something you want badly enough to remain here for a few weeks.”

“And what, you’ll just give it to me and let me leave after I’m all healed up?” they asked, continuing their trend of acting like a future in which he acted with normal human decency was an impossibility.

“Yes,” Logan answered, as earnest as he could manage. “That’s part of the arrangement. I would also like to know your name and pronouns, though that is secondary to being allowed to treat you.”

“What if I said you weren’t allowed to grab me? Or touch me at all?” they asked.

“That would be acceptable,” Logan replied without hesitation, mentally trying to figure out how non contact would alter a treatment plan.

“And you… you aren’t allowed to take notes on me! Or pictures!” they continued, watching him intently. He kept his expression agreeable, only nodding. “And you have to give me food, you can’t withhold it or make it part of another deal.”

“Medical treatment for someone on bedrest also includes things like meals and mental enrichment,” Logan replied, concealing the displeasure he felt at the idea that someone else would have tried that in his position. He really did hope these were all hypotheticals.

“And… and…,” they cast about, looking for something else to add to their ‘ridiculous’ demands, “I also want a sword!”

Logan paused, admittedly caught off guard. “A functional one?”

“Yeah-- yes, that's right! I want a sword perfectly sized to me, entirely functional, or the deal is off!” they replied, smug as though they thought they’d finally found something he’d refuse.

Unfortunately for him, Logan wasn’t the type to be deterred by a challenge. “I’ll have to go through some prototypes, but it can’t be too different from some metal decor I’ve worked on in the past.”

“Sorry, what now?” they asked.

Logan was already reaching for a post-it to jot down ideas for the base source of metal-- A nail? Or perhaps a piece of old silverware?-- eyes bright with anticipation. “I’m saying that you have a deal. You’ll stay here, and I’ll make you a sword.”

Caught up in schematics as he was, he completely missed his guest’s exasperated groan.

[hypersonicxd-blog]

Obey

You stumble through the compound door clumsily, smashing into the cold arch of the doorway. "Sorry" You mutter looking back to check the arch was okay, you hesitate, shaking your head trying to clear the fog mixing in your brain. You have just got back from a mission; the only problem being you couldn't remember the mission; well the end of it. You walked into the mission room, finding your teammates sat around the oval table.

You gulp as you stand in the doorway, breath hitching in your throat. "Shut the door." Your boss snaps, you gulp obeying immediately. You freeze in place, scared for the debrief to begin. "Sit down." Fury orders again, already tired of your shit. You drop in your place automatically sitting where you were stood. You register a snicker from Tony.

"Don't be a smart ass Agent Hale, get your ass up." Again your body shoots up before your brain has the chance to process the command. "Take a seat." Fury orders again, this time pointing to a vacant seat between Steve and Bucky. You body obeys, rushing over and sitting in the seat, Steve shoots you a caring glance, worry in his eyes. You try to nod at your best friend, but only manage to move your head a fraction. "Agent Hale, eyes front." You head snaps back to look at the director of Shield, missing the confused glance Bucky was shooting your way.

"Mission report" He snaps, growing increasingly annoyed at your behaviour. He was used to your stubbornness and sassy tones, it's why he never paired you with Tony. He couldn't cope with you both at the same time. This behaviour was odd. "Yes Sir, so we got to New York, we were fighting the Chitauri, we managed to close the portal that was allowing more ships through and now here we are." You say, recalling what you could. In reality you could not remember anything from the portal closing, to walking into the compound.

Your mind was a complete blank as you try to think about why you hadn't come back with the team. "Right, but where did you go?" He presses. A rather masculine British voice breaks through the fogginess of your mind an answer. 'When they ask, tell them you went for a pint to celebrate. You fell and knocked your head pretty bad, hence why your a bit hazy on details.'

You clear your throat and repeat the words; "I went for a pint, to celebrate. I fell and knocked my head pretty bad, hence why I'm a bit hazy on details." You say, staring at Fury. "You went for a pint?" Fury seethes the same time Bucky and Steve speak. "You mean a beer, your ain't British doll." "Shit are you okay?" You maintained your eye contact with Fury as your answered his question. "Yes I went for a pint." You turned to Steve "I'm good Capsicle." You turn your glare on Bucky. "Same thing robocop."

"You sure, Bruce should check you out." Nat voices, concern on her face. The same male voice piques in your head. 'No, tell them you're fine. It won't be good for you if they investigate further, or for the people you love.' "I'm fine, I promise the medics checked me out before I left." You lie. "I thought you said you didn't remember anything after your fall." Bucky questions, your turn slightly and shoot him a glare. "I said I was hazy of details, clean your ears out gramps." Tony laughs, clapping his hands together.

"Well that's definitely the Y/N we all know and love, so I'd say everything is fine." He makes to stand when Fury orders him to sit back down, he huffs but did as he was told. "This is not fine, Loki is still at large, we have no idea when he will strike again." You scrunch your face in confusion, before righting your face to neutral expression. 'Who the hell if the Loki?' "I will ask Heimdall to keep me updated if Loki appears anywhere within the 9 realms." Thor speaks up.

"Loki is your brother Thor, shouldn't you know him well enough to find him." Again you felt confusion flood your mind; 'Why was this the first time hearing of this man, who was supposedly Thor's brother? You tighten your lips not wanting to interrupt with a question that would draw more attention to your current predicament. 'Good girl.' The same male voice purrs in your mind, you almost gasp at the jolt the praise sends to your core, quickly schooling your reaction. You look at your hands in even more confusion. 'I will explain in dew time, my pet.'  You freeze slightly. You tune out of the conversation going on around you. 'I'm going crazy. Maybe I did really hit my head.' 'No pet, not crazy. Now focus and be a good little obedient pet, for me.'

'Yes Sir.' You tune out of your head snapping your attention back to the room, the conversation coming too a close with the dismissal of the agents. You make to stand and leave, when Fury's voice calls you back. Telling you to sit back down, he wasn't done with you yet. Steve gives your shoulder a squeeze on his way out, leaning into your ear.

"I'll come find you later, don't sass him. It will only make it worse." You nod as he stands and pats your shoulder once more before leaving the room. You turn your full attention back to your boss and settle in for your lecture.

~

A hour later you leave the briefing room, huffing to yourself. 'An hour of your day wasted, just great.' The fogginess in your head has simmered into a dull cloud allowing clearness to peak through like sunshine in an over cast sky. 'Not a waste pet, I now know exactly how much they know about me.' You smile to yourself, happy to please the mysterious voice.

'So I did good, sir?'

'Yes pet, I'm very proud. Now I have some business to attend to so I won't be in your head as such for a while. Do you remember the rule kitten?'

'Yes Sir, I am to obey my teammates, so they do not question me. I need to be believable, keep them happy and keep our interaction a secret.'

'Good girl,' the voice purrs. You preen again at the praise and rub your thighs together as you walk. You're looking down as the fogginess starts to once again cloud your mind, your body bumps into something again. "Sorry" You mutter expecting to see another door frame, instead your eyes fall on Bucky. "Did you just apologise to me?" He smirks, you roll your eyes at him and shove past him. "Wait." He orders, your body freezing without your consent. You glare at the floor, trying to figure out why you couldn't move. "Apologise, you just slammed into me, twice." He says smugly, taunting you. "Sorry for slamming into you, twice." His eyes widen slightly.

"Wow, I didn't actually think you would." Bucky pauses. "You must have really hit your head doll." He laughs. "Don't call me that." You snap angrily, he glares at you a smirk playing on his lips still. "Oh I'll call you whatever I want, got that?"

"Yes Sir." You hear James' breath hitch, but he doesn't say anything. "Can I go now?" You huff, as you watch confusion flush his face, but he still doesn't respond. As if trying to figure something out. "Please Sir?" You ask impatiently. You just wanna go vent to Steve and then have a bath. "You can go." He pauses as your feet lift to storm off. "After you've given me a kiss doll." He teases, testing his theory. Your body obeys without your brain obeying, you approach Barnes before leaning and placing your lips on his and kissing him. His metal hand reaches and wraps through your hair, pulling you closer.

 After a few seconds, he pulls back smirking. "This is going to be fun, doll." He releases you and walks away, calling over his shoulder. "You can go now Kitten." You walk off confused. Why had you just kissed Barnes, you hated him and he hated you. Or at least that's what you thought. You shake your head and storm off in the direction of Steve's room. You reach his room and walk in without knocking, your eyes scan the room finding no sign of Steve. You sigh and head over to his bed, flopping onto it and laying on your back.

'Why on earth did Barnes want me to kiss him? Why did I kiss him? Why did I not just flip him off and leave? Did I want to kis -' You're pulled from your thoughts by Steve walking into the room. "Of course, help yourself to my bed." Steve groans, as he approaches the bed, joining you. You turn to face him and take in his appearance, beads of water rest on his chest, dripping down his sides as he lays next to you. Your eyes travel further down his body taking in how the towel is wrapped around him, how it parts slightly at the legs.

'Damn, what I'd give for that towel to just fall open.' You sigh, rolling your eyes at yourself. You force yourself back onto your back, looking at the ceiling. 'Keep your legs crossed.' "Did Fury give you a hard time?" Steve asks, turning to face you. "Of course he did, guy needs to remove the lead pipe from his ass, may be a little bit more tolerable then." You admit. "And did you sass him?" He asks, looking at you intently. You turn yourself to him once again, keeping your eyes on his face.

"No Captain, I was well behaved." You mock as you prop yourself up on your arm. "Good girl" Steve teases. You bite your lip as your core throbs. 'What is wrong with me?' Your clench your thighs slightly as your core throbs for a second time, you whimper softly as you feel the wetness pooling in your panties. Steve notices your thighs clenching and moves his gaze down, you follow his eye line and see his towel has fell open, from lying on his side. You gasp as you see the angry looking head of his erection. A drop of precum hangs from the tip, tempting you to taste.

You rub your thighs together, trying to get some much needed friction. "Like what you see baby?" Steve asks, a smirk on his face. You choose not to answer, instead closing your eyes to try and calm yourself. "Don't ignore me." He growls, gripping your face. "Sorry Captain" You start, he tightens his hold on your chin. "Answer my question." He demands, mischief in his eyes.

"I like what I see." You moan as your core throbs, releasing more slick. "Show me how much you like it babygirl." He orders, releasing your face. Before you can decide otherwise your body moves off the bed, till your kneeling in front on Steve. He perches himself on his elbows, giving you his full attention.

"Well..." He pushes. Your hand reaches up, unwrapping the towel from his body, you groan as you clench around nothing. Your finger wrap around his member, your fingers not meeting due to his girth. Your hand rubs up over the tip softly causing Steve to buck his hips into your fist. You use his precum to ease the slide of your hand. "Fuck Y/N." You tighten your fist slightly, rotating your hand on the upstroke.

"Fuck, use your mouth and get it nice and wet for me." Steve purrs as he watches you. You lean forward and capture the tip in your mouth, laving over the head before moving your lips down his shaft. You begin to bob your head up and down in addition to your hand movements. "Fuck, I knew you'd be amazing at this with those lips of yours." Steve groans, pushing you up. "You're gunna let me fuck your face, okay?"

"Yes Captain." You obey. Steve stands up, guiding you up until your level with his crotch. "Open up for me, you slut." He hisses as he pushes forward, pressing his tip against your lips. You obey, opening your mouth for him to slot himself in, which he does. Sliding home in one thrust, his head breaches your throat and you fight to stop yourself from gagging. You place your hands on his thighs as he draws out.

"Breathe baby." He purrs, before sliding back in your mouth again, throat constricting around the head of his cock. You groan around his member as he thrusts in and out of your mouth relentlessly. "Fuck, you're too good at this" He groans as his hips speed up chasing the sweet relief.

"Hey Stev-" Bucky's voice cuts short as his eyes fall upon the scene in front of him. His blood begins to boil, anger consuming him. "What the fuck are you doing?" He screams storming over to you. Your mouth stays on Steve's shaft as he keeps his pace, too caught up in the feeling. "Y/N! Get off him." Bucky orders, your body obeys trying to pull off Steve immediately. Steve follows your face, chasing his orgasm, not caring about his best friend being there. He thrusts into your throat one last time before Bucky pulls you back. Steve groans as his hips still and his member pulses, painting your face with his release. Steve doesn't get to enjoy his climax too much as Bucky's fist soon connects with the side of his face.

"You knew! YOU FUCKING KNEW HOW I FELT ABOUT HER?! HOW THE FUCK COULD YOU DO THAT TO ME" Bucky screamed punching him once more. Steve just laughs. "She wanted it, trust me." You could see Bucky getting even angrier, before you could stop yourself you stood up placing yourself between the two super soldiers. "Bucky stop." You beg, holding your hands in a pleading motion.

He looks at you, your plump lips, covered with his best friends discretion. Your watery eyes, from being throat fucked, by someone he trusted. "Fine" He snaps at you, looking at you with venomous eyes. His gaze settles back on Steve. "You need to back the fuck off, she's mine." He hisses, grabbing your wrist and pulling you from the room. "We'll see about that" Steve's voice follows you as you're pulled towards Bucky's room.  Bucky's grip on your wrist doesn't lessen as he drags you through the compound towards his room.

He drags into his room, slamming the door behind you turning the lock into place. Before you get a chance to protest Bucky is ushering you towards the bathroom. "Strip" He commands, your fingers shake as you obey him, without question. Your body moving on its own accord. You reach up to your combat jacket and undo the zip as quick as you can, not wanting to anger or displease the super soldier in front of you. You could still fell Steve's release on your face, sliding down your neck and you shivered as your jacket slid from your arms.

Once your jacket fell to the floor you bent at the hip to untie your combat boots, before standing and toeing them off. You reach for the hem of your vest and tug it up out of your pants before bringing it over your head, trying not to tarnish is with the cum on your face. You next unbuttoned your pants, shimmying out of them. You looked at Bucky as you stood only in your black bra and black lace panties, it was the plainest set you owned. But it was still cute and you knew you looked good in it. You lock eyes with Bucky as you stand tall, proud almost. You notice the icy blue of his eyes has practically disappeared, being replaced with black. You gulp, you know that look. Had seen it aimed your way so many times. You just never thought you would be on the receiving end of that look from Bucky Barnes.

You thought he hated you, so you were very confused right now, not just about him. But Steve as well and why the hell you had obeyed to strip in front of the super soldier. You couldn't stop though and a fullness in your stomach told you, you didn't mind it as much as you thought you would. You rubbed your thighs together subconsciously. Buck smirked as he caught your action, he reached a hand down to adjust himself, groaning as his palm brushed his arousal. His action caught your attention and your gaze was drawn to his crotch. You gasped as you took in the bulge that had formed in his pants.

"If you thought Steve was big, you're in for a shock with me doll." He purrs as he motions to your bra and panties, a non verbal command you quickly rush to obey. He watches you reach behind yourself to unhook your bra and chooses to talk again. "Even better than Steve, I was always big, so the serum only made me bigger by a little. Steve's is mainly serum." He huffs a laugh, not caring that he's talking shit about Steve. He put his hands on my girl, he thought angrily. He watched intensely as your hands reach to the straps, sliding them down your arms, allowing your breasts free from their captors.

Bucky groans as he absorbs the image of your breasts greedily, eyes falling on the shining glimmer underneath your stiff nipples. "Fuck, I'd hoped you had your nipples pierced, whenever I'd look I always had a feeling you had them done from the outline." He purred as he reached to palm himself through his pants. "You've stared at my tits?" You question, hands moving to your panties. Your brain prompts you to stop, but your body doesn't let you as you hook your thumbs into the side of them, drawing them down your legs in an almost seductive manner. "Yeah doll, I 've stared as pretty much every part of you. You're just to dense to notice." You halt your movements.

"I didn't say stop, did I. Panties off." He orders as he steps forward. "I'm not dense." You snap, removing your panties and standing up, trying to cover your body slightly. "Ah don't cover up. Let me see you." He purrs stepping forwards. "And you are dense when it comes to some things doll, like seeing that you drive me absolutely fucking insane. You can't even imagine how many times I've thought about bending you over the meeting table and fucking that sass you like to spew so much out of you." He growls as he pulls you flush to him.

You startle slightly at his admission. "Bucky, please don't." You know its futile, you don't understand how you ended up here, why you'd even listened to him in the first place. "Don't what doll. I'm not doing anything." He replies, as his finger traces the curve of your breast, ghosting over your pert bud. "You're going to shower, I'm just here to make sure you clean yourself." He pauses as he pinches your nipple between his fingers. "Thoroughly, we don't want you missing a spot, now do we." He purrs as he pushed you towards the shower. He opens the door and reaches in for the switch, setting the water to a mild temperature.

He didn't want it to be too hot as he didn't plan on letting you relax to much, that and the coolness would help cool you both down. He motioned for you to step into the shower, but you hesitated, finally feeling like you had a ounce of control over your own body. "In the shower Y/N. Don't make me repeat myself. You won't like what happens." He growls the last part as he removes his t-shirt, throwing it in the corner on the floor. He smirks when you obey this time, reaching to pop the button of his pants open.

He watches you stand under the fall of water, washing away the disrespect of his so called best friend. He removes his pants and boxers in one move, before joining you quickly and crowding you against the wall. "So how is it that Steve got you on your knees for him, huh?" He pushes you as he cages you with his arms against the cold shower wall. You shiver as the cold washes over you, arching away from the wall slightly and pushing your breasts against Bucky. Your nipples run against his chest teasingly and you moan at the contact, feeling the jolt it sends to your centre.

"I don't know" You admit honestly as you shake the lustful thoughts from your mind. "I know." Bucky laughs, crowding against you further so he's flush against you, his length poking your thigh. You look at him in the eyes. "How?" You ask. He ignores you and brings his hand to your head cupping your face and bringing it to his. "Doesn't matter. But tell me something honestly. Do you like Steve?" He is face is a mere breath away from yours now, your heart pounding in your chest. 'How is Bucky Barnes of all people making me go weak in the knees.'

'Sshh Pet, I wanna see how this plays out.' The voice purrs , his tone a mixture of lust and amusement. 'Sorry Sir.' You prompt immediately, angry at yourself for disappointing the voice. 'It's okay Kitten, I know you're confused and I will explain all in dew time. Right now though I need to see more of you. I want to devour you.' The voice rasps, you gasp as Bucky grips your throat, drawing the focus back to him.

"ANSWER ME" He roars at you. You whimper slightly as your body releases another wave of slick. "Of course I like Steve, he's my best friend." You say, as you try to make yourself smaller, hoping you can disappear. "You don't just suck off your best friend doll. Me and Steve are- were best friends for 70 years and I never once sucked him off nor he me." He laughed as your face blanched. "SO I'll ask one more time doll. Do you have romantic feelings for Steve?" He demands. "No Sir. I think he is attractive and sexy, but I only see him as a best friend. I don't know why I did what I did. It's like I couldn't stop." You huff out.

'Be careful Pet, can't have you letting out my secret. You intrigue me. But don't think that will save you, if you fuck this up.' The voice warns sternly. You gulp; 'I'm sorry Master, I'll do better I promise.' You hear a dark pleased chuckle bounce through your head. 'Good girl, now give this fellow a kiss, one so passionate he drops his arms. I want you to place your front on the glass door. So I can see you better. Okay kitten?' The voice purrs.

You almost lunge forwards at Bucky trying to obey the voice, but stop yourself from crashing into him just in time, allowing a more gently touching of your lips. You put all the emotion into the kiss you could muster, lust, anger, fear, love. You kissed Bucky like your life depending on it, moaning into him as his hands wrapped around your lower back, pulling you impossibly closer to his body. Bucky's tongue probed your bottom lip, but you hesitated for a second too long, causing Bucky to reach down and pinch your ass with his vibrainium hand. You yelp into the kiss, Bucky taking this opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth.

You manage to manoeuvre yourself so that your back is flush with the glass of the door. 'Your ass would look beautiful brandishing my mark, pet.'  You moan into the kiss as your pussy throbs, a weird sensation falling over you. You moan again as you feel the sensation travel up your thigh. You feel Bucky's hands, one is cupping your breast the other is palming your ass, so what is touching your thigh. You get drawn back to Bucky as he bites your lip, creating a small cut and suckling at the blood there. He groans as his hips thrust against you, his erection rubbing against your thigh.

That explains it, you think. You feel yourself being spun around as Bucky slams your front against the door, previously warmed by your back it doesn't make you gasp, what does is the glowing emerald eyes staring back at you. 'Master?' You ask, the person smirks and nods. 'Yes Kitten, you look ravishing. I bet you feel it too. Shame this oaf is going to get you, before I do.' He purrs. You freeze slightly at the implication Loki just told you. Now he's in front of you, you recognize the black haired god. The one you were supposed to take down on the earlier mission. 'Hold on you're Thor's brother?'

'Adopted brother, but yes Kitten. Now shush and enjoy this.'  You stare at Loki in confusion, but don't ask any further questions as instructed you shush and enjoy the sensation of Bucky rubbing soap onto your shoulders and back. "Gotta get you all clean, pretend you and Steve never happened. Mine." Bucky says to himself as he kneels and begins working on your legs. You feel the phantom sensation again on the vee of your pussy, it feels like fingers trailing along the skin. You gasp as you feel a long, thin finger brush through your folds.

You look up at the man on the other side of the glass, noticing the green swirling around his hand as he makes circular motions. You moan as the phantom fingers circle your bud, applying just the right pressure to bring you so close to the edge. Bucky works on scrubbing your knees, moving to your thighs, as another phantom hand joins the mix, two long fingers thrusting deep into your centre, you arch your body. You hear Bucky groan as you all but shove your ass in his face, he teasingly nips at your check. "Patience doll." He teases as he rubs soft motions on the inside of your thighs.

'Poor guy has no idea you're about to cum, does he. I was gunna just watch.'  The voice paused as the thrusting fingers sped up and the fingers circling your clit  increased speed and pressure. 'But I decided I want to be the one who makes you cum first tonight Kitten.' He smirks as he locks eyes with your through the slightly foggy glass. You bite your lip as your legs begin to shake. Bucky moves from your thighs, standing flush against you, his erection slips between your thighs, rubbing along your folds. Pushing the phantom fingers impossibly deeper.

'Be a good girl and cum for your master.' Loki maintains eyes contact with you as Bucky's hands grope your breasts toying with your nipples. The extra stimulation sends you over the edge as you gush over the phantom hands and Bucky's length, you bite your lip to keep in your cry of ecstasy. 'Good girl Kitten, shame I had to waste my seed on a rag though. You would look delectable round with my child.' Loki purrs. "Did you just cum?" Bucky asks confusion evident in his tone. You don't answer, but whimper in reply. "Words doll, use them." Bucky spins you around to face him, seeing the flush of red on your face, already answering his question.

"Yeah I just came, I'm sorry." You begin, before Bucky crashes his lips to yours in a searing kiss. "Don't apologise babydoll, that was so fucking hot. You squirted untouched as I played with your nipples. Fuck. I was gunna wait but I need you now." He lifts you up so you wrap your legs around his hips, his length resting against your entrance. "Tell me you need me, tell me you want me." He begs, knowing you'll do what he says. He knows he shouldn't be taking advantage of you, but he's past caring. "I want you Bucky.." You say as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. "I need you Bucky." You pant in his ear, he thrusts into you as hears the final word leaving your mouth. He slams into you, groaning into your neck as your tight channel grips his cock.

"So tight for me baby girl." He purrs as he begins a brutal pace of thrusting in and out your wet walls. "Do you feel that baby, feel how your walls cling to me. How you fit me like a... " Bucky groans as he feels you clench around him, your orgasm fast approaching. "Like a fucking glove. Fuck. I'm gunna cum. Got me so worked up by squirting on my cock. My little cock slut. All mine." He growls as you whimper, nails digging into his back. "You gunna cum again baby? Gunna cum all over my cock, milk my cock so you can be filled with my cum?"

You moan as you capture Buckys lips. "You like that? Wanna be my cum slut?" He growls as his pace slams into you, probably leaving bruises on your ass from how hard his thighs are slamming into it. "CUM" He demands as his cock twitches inside of you, his thick release coating your insides. Your body obeys him as you seize and your orgasm floods you, drowning you in euphoria. You feel your vision start to blur, as your eyes fading to black.

[obae-me]

Hi again! If it's not too much trouble, can I request the brothers reacting to an MC who usually bottles up their anger (they have a LOT of patience) until one day they just explode? You are an amazing person, and thank you for everything! I hope you aren't pushing yourself too hard!!

Hi, welcome everyone to another episode of Mara Doesn’t Know When To Stop, this time featuring this lovely request! I had a small idea, which then turned into five whole pages for Lucifer alone, so, I will also be doing this request into parts, I really hope you don’t mind! I get a bit carried away sometimes...I admit it... Anyway, Lucifer’s part is first! I hope you like it! 💜

Warning: Angst, arguing, cussing, It does lead to a happy end though, it’s a bit cheesy but sometimes we love it

We All Get Angry Sometimes

Word Count: 2707

He was fully aware of MC bottling up their true emotions. Being well acquainted with angels, he knew, despite all their holy patience, that even they had their limits. He will admit, he was impressed and proud with how far they had taken it, being human after all. Their control was practically as good as his own. No matter what his brothers did, what they said, how much they pushed them, for weeks MC just smiled and swallowed it. He was pleased. Until they could no longer retain their anger, and turned it all on him.

It had been at dinner, nothing unlike their meals every day, except recently Lucifer’s nerves had been on edge. It had been a few days since he had been blessed with adequate sleep, and his brothers were more bothersome than usual. Little did he know, MC’s mental state was about the same, close to the breaking point. An unhappy MC meant unhappy brothers, which meant it would all lead back up the ladder to Lucifer. There was only so far MC could be shoved around, only so long they could stay calm, and Lucifer had been the last straw. No one can really remember how it started, it hadn’t been important, simply some passing comment from one of the brothers discussing recent school projects. MC had scoffed, explaining their thoughts on how ridiculous the rules of said assignments were. Then it all went downhill from there.

“I’m not sure it’s your place to be making claims like that based on what your grades have been looking like recently,” Lucifer quipped. The rest of the siblings prepared to stand up for the human, knowing that MC was typically passive in nature.

Only, that same human beat them to the punch. “So, you’re saying that because I don’t meet your lofty standards, I’m not entitled to my opinions?” MC set down their fork, sending chills down the other demon’s spines as the room went silent.

Lucifer narrowed his gaze, already annoyed with their tone. “I’m merely explaining that maybe your statement would have more merit if you worked a little more at your studies instead of slacking off. And for the record, no, you haven’t been reaching my standards. I honestly expected more from you.” Every member of the household felt that line deep in their bones.

MC’s jaw clenched, the fire building up in their chest overwhelmed them to the point where if they shoved it down any longer, they felt like they would explode under the pressure. “You expected more from me? What more could you possibly want?! You’ve taken my home, my family, my friends, my culture, my time! You’ve constantly belittled me, ordered me around, expected nothing but perfection from me, and you still want more?! What have you possibly done to deserve more of me?!”

He was stunned at first, yes, but it didn’t last long. The shock factor was quickly replaced with a wave of fervent irritation. There’s no surprise he was already in demon form, doing his best to intimidate MC into submission. His eyes were glowing that deep red of his, looking down at the human as he got to his feet. His siblings slowly raised up from their seats as well, at the ready to intervene at any second. This whole event had them astonished to their core. Mammon and Levi had their jaws open. Asmo had his hand covering his mouth. Satan would have appeared proud of MC if not for the wary frown. Beel was instantly engaged in protection mode, already in a stance to grab onto Lucifer if he needed to. The eldest was barely able to control himself. Somehow MC had gotten deep under his skin, his body prickling with anger. “What have I--I’ve brought you into my home, ensured your protection, done nothing but make sure your experience down here is sufficient for your fragile little life! Do Not speak to me that way. Know your place.”

MC was physically vibrating from rage and frustration, their mind clouded with fury. Logic was far out the window now, they simply were saying whatever came to mind. Profanities were no longer held back. “I’m sick of your pompous holier-than-thou shit! I’m sick of working my ass off for you and not being good enough! You have a serious fucking lack of respect for everyone around you!”

The air was thick with his aura, his wings fully extended from his body. “Not another wor-”

“Fuck you!”

In a quick blur of motion, everyone worked together in tandem. As Lucifer lunged forward, his brothers held him back. Mammon scooped MC up in his arms and raced to the safety of their room before MC could get hurt, although deep in his heart he hoped Lucifer wouldn’t resort to violence. Lucifer growled inhumanly, flinging his brothers off of him in a single swift movement, ready to pursue the person that dared attempt to say such things to his face.

“How pathetic for you to have gotten so riled up over a few words from a human,” Satan shouted at him as he got up from his spot on the floor. Swallowing the small lump in his throat, he hoped this would prove a decent distraction as well as a way to snap his brother back under control.

Lucifer loomed over him. Satan seemed hardly disturbed. “Watch yourself.” But Satan’s words proved efficient, Lucifer’s Pride wounded as he realized how quickly he allowed MC’s words to get to him, how quickly he had lost control. All of his sibling’s eyes were on him, observing how he was acting. His head was pounding, but instead of heading up to MC’s room, he swiftly retired to his private study where he locked the entrance behind him. He paced around the area for a while, magically turning on some soothing music as his wings twitched in vexation.

He had been completely unprepared for MC’s retaliation, for their venom towards him, but perhaps he knew there was only so much a living being could take before they snapped. Had he been pushing them too hard? Expecting too much of them? Mistreating them? Had he gone too far? What if this spat ended up becoming a problem for the program? What if MC relayed this to Diavolo? His image, his reputation, they would be tarnished. Did MC think less of him now? Did he really care what they thought of him? He was better than this. He expected more from himself. He lowered his head as he sat heavily down into the chair behind his desk. He sunk down low, proper posture be damned. As he took a deep breath in, he realized he hadn’t been breathing for a while, lungs aching. He hadn’t meant to rub MC the wrong way. He simply strived to lead them towards the potential he knew they had. All he wanted was for them to feel proud of their accomplishments, to show the world what he knew they were capable of. But perhaps, it was unfair for the same standards he kept for himself to apply to MC as well. He pinched the bridge of his nose as that deep breath turned into a heavy sigh. He had failed in nurturing the success they’d already accomplished. He’d made them feel like they weren’t good enough, and now look at what he had done, in front of his family no less. Humiliating.

Meanwhile, Mammon was in the process of rubbing MC’s back as they lay on their bed, screaming into their pillow as angry tears fell from their eyes. They hadn’t meant to snap at Lucifer, it all...was just so much. They finally had cracked from the pressure. Everyone’s expectations had gotten the best of them. Be a human representative. Don’t let anyone down. Don’t show weakness. They weren’t purposefully slacking off from their studies, they just were burnt out, almost completely. Lucifer demanding even more from them...was the last thing they needed to hear today. Their own words made them feel sick to their stomach. Being angry wasn’t like them, it never sat well, which is why they always attempted to bury it in the first place. Mammon continued to tell them to breathe and calm down, doing his best not to freak out himself. He’d never seen his human act like this before. After some time, they both heard a polite knock on the door. As MC tensed, Mammon got up to answer it on their behalf. Lucifer was waiting, back in his casual clothes as his arms were settled folded across his chest, foot tapping impatiently against the floor.

“You’ve got a lotta nerve coming back here so soon,” Mammon scowled. “I won’t let anything happen to them, ya hear?”

“Nonsense, Mammon, I have no intention of harming them, I just want to talk. Calmly.”

“Yeah? Well I don’t think they’re in the mood for talkin’.” Mammon did his best to let his body block the entrance to the room, his shoulders nearly touching both sides of the door frame as he made his stature appear bigger. Lucifer peered over his younger brother’s figure, spotting MC sitting with their legs crossed on top of the bed, mostly calmed down as well, refusing to look at him. He noted the tear stains on their cheeks, and he resorted to having to clench his own teeth to stop the bubbling guilt rising up in his chest. He would make this right, if he couldn’t do this, how could he possibly call himself the wise and mature older brother?

“It’s...okay, Mammon,” MC assured him. The demon of greed scoffed, stating much too loudly that he would be right outside the door. He threatened his older brother not to even think about laying a single finger on them, unafraid of any punishment when it came to protecting MC. Lucifer waved him away with a single hand, too exhausted to deal with him further. As the door shut, he strode over to MC’s bed, chin high but spirits low. He had no intention of apologizing first, but if he could just persuade MC to start, he might be able to swallow enough pride to follow.

“Have we calmed down now?” He asked, MC simply nodding in response. “Very well.” He paused for a moment, letting an uncomfortable silence settle over the room. He did have many things he wanted to say, things he wanted to rectify, but for the life of him, he couldn’t bring himself to say them. Not yet. “Did you have anything you wanted to say to me?”

He observed them fight back their irritation before slumping their shoulders as they gave in. “I’m sorry, Lucifer.”

“And?” His voice sounded like a parent scolding a child, causing MC to nearly flinch in humiliation.

They bit their lip. “And the things I said to you were uncalled for. I know how much you do for all of us...for me.” They sat up a bit straighter as they stammered over the thoughts they wanted to say, to explain their feelings. They were afraid to be honest and vulnerable, much like he was, but they had the courage and humility to be open. It was a trait he secretly admired. “I just...I’m finding it difficult to--to find the--the energy and motivation to make everyone happy. And...and it hurt when…” They looked down, swallowing their emotions once more as they halted their watery eyes from crying again.

Lucifer let his body unwind ever so slightly. It would be rude of him now to not follow their example. “I...regret my words and my actions. I allowed my emotions to get the best of me, it won’t happen again.” He let the conversation fall once more as he took the time to straighten his coat around his shoulders and his gloves tighter over his fingers. “It was not my intention to invalidate your efforts. You’ve already accomplished more than I originally thought you were capable of, and it was foolish on my part to expect more from a simple human.” His rather backhanded compliment forced MC to rest their face in their hands in shame. The nerves in Lucifer’s spine shot a jolt up his back as he realized how terribly this was going. His temples were pounding, and he finally put his pride aside for the sake of reconciliation. He couldn’t stand to be the cause of their distress. MC stiffened as he sat himself beside them on their bed. A gentle hesitant hand hovered above their body before it settled between their shoulder blades. He glanced at the door where he knew Mammon was behind, probably listening in, and so he spoke softer. “I’m...sorry.” He had to ignore how harshly the words hurt him, but something about it was freeing. “I seem to have pushed you too far. I am thankful and truthfully astonished of what you’ve done during your time here. Not only did I cross a line today but I was blind to the fact that you’ve been overtaxing yourself. I know how hard it is to juggle my siblings and my work.”

He allowed his hand to drift up and down their back in a soothing rhythm, relaxing some himself as their muscles eased at his touch. MC finally raised their head from the confines of their palms and looked him in the eyes. “Do you think I’m a disappointment? A burden?” He found himself stunned for the second time today, and for a while he wondered when it was that he could be so easily swayed by the words and emotions of this human. Here he was, not only apologizing, but expending every effort he had in consoling them. He wanted MC to be happy again, because somehow it seemed to make his days a little brighter, his mood a little softer. Perhaps...he cared more for them than he realized. Their shouts had wounded him deeply at dinner, but somehow these new words hurt him more. Their forlorn face spurred an unfamiliar pain in his chest. 

“I’m sure it will be hard to convince you after the unforgivable things I said to you today, but it could not be further from the truth. I suppose the fact that you question yourself is one of my biggest failures. Clearly, we have not been communicating properly. For that I am..s...sor…” The words got caught in his throat. Apologizing once had been difficult enough, a second time seemed impossible. Out of the blue, he felt a tight set of arms wrap around his torso. He held his arms up in the air, his body turning rigid as his little hairs stood up on end. MC had pulled him into a tight hug, burying their face in his side. He felt their nose nestle against his ribs. As soon as he found his breath, his arms slowly lowered, settling around the smaller human. His body felt warm. Allowing himself a small smile, he cleared his throat. “I would prefer a situation like this to never happen again, do you understand?” MC detached from his sides, sitting back up as they nodded silently. “So, for the future, instead of quarreling with me, I expect you to come straight to me to discuss any woes or issues you may have. Fair enough?”

“Yes, Lucifer.”

He gingerly brushed his fingers against MC’s cheeks. “But it would be remiss of me to ignore the faults of my own. Since our meal was interrupted, what do you say to me taking you out to dinner, as my way of making amends?”

MC felt themselves blush a bit. “Sure-”

The door burst open, Mammon leading the charge as the rest of the siblings spilled into the doorway. They’d all been eavesdropping. Mammon came over and tugged MC further away from Lucifer. “Oi, what did I say about touching MC?!”

“And our dinner was interrupted too, I think we deserve something!” Asmo whined.

A loud grumble echoed from Beel’s gut. “I’m starving…”

Lucifer’s eyelid twitched a bit, and he gave MC one last apologetic look before he sighed. “Fine...we’re all going to dinner then.”

[harryspet]

For your holiday darkfics, I'd like to request an angel reader/demon Steve, with "Your soul is mine", "Oh, did someone get lonely?", and "Remind me why I can't kill the carolers?" -🐇

your soul is mine | steve rogers 

[Warnings] dark!steve rogers x reader, demon!steve x angel!reader, noncon, kidnapping

a/n: this was a lot of fun, i hope you enjoy!

In which you’re an angel and a demon named Steve Rogers owns your soul. 

word count: 1.6k 

taglist: @buckysbunny @cherienymphe @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011 @visintaes @watercoolerpaint @disaster-rose

A darkness wrapped around you, invading your dream state. You went from imagining a shining sun over a meadow, running with your brothers and sisters to a setting sun and scorched earth. Your eyes snapped open and you found your captor looking at you from across the room. 

“Oh, did someone get lonely?” Steve noticed how you were curled up in your bed, hugging a book and pillow tightly. You sat up quickly, pushing the book to the side and your hair from your face, “You could hold me at night if you wished.”

You had to admit that the body that Steve was inhabiting was quite handsome. He probably chose someone strong and handsome, knowing how far it would get him in the real world. Still, the blonde hair didn’t quite match those black eyes. 

“I’d never be able to sleep with you so close to me,” You said, distaste in your tone, “And you’d probably be miserable showing any ounce of affection.”

Steve smirked, “Who said anything about affection? I imagine sinful things when I think of lying next to you, darling. Rough …. cruel, ungodly things. Your devout leader wouldn’t let you back into his gates after what I’d do to you-”

You looked away, “Stop it, please. I know what you’re trying to do.”

“I know, I know, I won’t get a rise out of you. I’ve been torturing angels for two hundred years and I’ve never made one raise their voice. Even if I’m sawing off their little wings, they won’t say a cruel word towards me … it’s quite infuriating.”

You couldn’t help but imagine that pain, like your soul being torn from your body. 

“If I’m no different than the rest then I’m not sure why you keep me around,” Unexpectedly, you saw his smirk falter. He’d been stoic for your entire kidnapping but your words had struck a chord in his empty heart. 

“Your soul is mine,” He said, “And, sadly, that’s worth quite a lot so I have to get a good use out of you. Speaking of, get up and get dinner ready.”

He snapped his finger and the chain connected to the bed frame detached from the collar around your neck. The sigil engraved into the metal was a kind of angel trap which kept you tethered to the house and your powers at bay. You frowned, “You said you’d give me a break for the Holidays.”

“You know better to trust a Demon, I shouldn’t have to explain that,” Steve spoke, sound amused, “And I’ve decided that I want to get into the holiday spirit and it’s in your best interest to be merry and jolly just like me. Up, up, up.”

You stood up from the bed, your white dress falling down to your ankles, and you made your way past him. He followed you down the hallway and to the stairs. The home was old and gothic, decked out in antiques. As you made your way down the stairs, you realized why he was following. 

The house was decorated in red and green, fairy lights, and even a Christmas tree, “So? Do you feel like a human again?”

You didn’t answer immediately as you admired everything. It reminded you of a time that was very far away, “It’s beautiful,” He sensed your hesitance as you worried this was all an elaborate trick, “Why?”

Steve shrugged, “I wanted to see what the excitement was all about.”

“And do you feel it? The holiday spirit?”

He smiled, ignoring your question “I feel like I could go for a delicious Christmas Eve dinner. Get to work.”

+

You were intently listening to the cascade of angelic of voices coming from outside the door. Looking out the living room, you saw them walking along the sidewalk and singing The Little Drummer Boy. 

“Remind me why I can’t kill the carolers?” Steve asked from his chair as he stared down the burning fire. You’d finish dinner moments ago and had resigned to the living room.

“Just let one beautiful thing exist, please,” You looked at them longingly, wishing you could feel the snow, and sing the lord’s praises. Surprisingly, Steve didn’t immediately respond. A while passed and the voices of the carolers faded away and so did your peace. 

He snapped his fingers and you were out of your trance. You turned to face him, his hellish eyes burning holes into your skin, “Let’s play a game, angel,” He smiled. 

“A game?” At first, your thoughts were innocent. You imagined a board game or cards but those thoughts didn’t last long, “I’d rather not.”

“I’m sure you’d rather keep your wings as well.”

You crossed your arms, “Fine.”

“Good girl,” He smirked, “How about a simple game of Truth or Dare?”

“... Do I get to ask you questions too?” Steve’s eyes narrowed at you, “It’s only fair.”

“Right, it’s only fair. Come, sit,” He beckoned you over and you assumed he wanted you to sit on the couch but he stopped you, “No, here, on your knees.”

You paused, trying to swallow your fear. You stepped in front of him before moving down to your knees. You imagined that he wanted to maintain your power imbalance. He couldn’t have you feeling any sort of pride when you asked him truth or dare. 

“Truth or Dare, angel?” He asked, leaning forward, his eyes on your collar. 

“Truth,” You answered, looking up at him.

“Are you waiting for a particular, little boy angel or girl angel to come and save you?”

You tried to hide the emotion in your eyes, “No … not one that you haven’t already killed.” You couldn’t look at his smile without tears brimming in your eyes. He opened his mouth, probably to say something hurtful but you interrupted, “Your turn. Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.” 

“Why haven’t you killed me?”

He hesitated which you hadn’t expected. Demons weren’t known for having feelings, Satan had tortured it out of all of them, but you thought you saw a glimpse of something in his eyes, “I enjoy watching you break every day. Usually, I get quite bored of angels after a while. Not you.”

“But-”

“Your turn. Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.”

“You can’t say Truth twice.”

“I’ve never heard of such a rule.”

“I just made it up,” Steve grinned, “Now, what’s a good dare for an angel? I dare you to … kiss me.”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head, “No, please, anything else.”

Your words angered him, “You could kiss something else of mine-”

“Steve…” You tried to plead with your big doe eyes, “I know you think I’m different than the others … I’m not.”

He leaned forward, his hand grabbing your face, and you shut your eyes tightly, “You are. I can see something you cannot,” Warmth spread through your body and you felt waves of darkness and violent pictures in your mind, “Kiss me. I won’t ask again.”

Shaking, you leaned forward, your eyes blinking open. Steve had closed his eyes, waiting for your lips to touch his. His fingers touched your neck and hair. Your lips were soft against his, despite how stiff you were from the nervousness. Steve stroked your cheek with his thumb as he slowly moved his lips against yours. 

He heard you whimper and his anger began to grow. The kiss deepened, and Steve got more rough as he explored your mouth. You grabbed his arm, trying to pull away, and Steve felt the light inside you only for a moment before it was stomped out. 

When you roughly pulled away, Steve knew he’d sunk his talons into you. Your eyes were dark, the light fading away, as you were overcome with emotions. You fell back on your elbows, breathing heavily, before you wiped your mouth, “What … what did you do?”

“You don’t know what happens when you kiss a demon?” Steve turned his head, looking down at you curiously. 

You scrambled away, getting to your feet, though you felt a bit lightheaded, “Y-You took my light …,” You breathed out, “No more games. Stay … please don’t touch me.”

Steve stood up, his shadow draping over you, and you stepped back, “I didn’t take it,” Steve chuckled, “I destroyed it, darling. You’ve been here in purgatory for months, you’re incredibly weak, and you won’t survive with all that good inside you. You need me.”

“I’d rather die.”

“I’d rather keep you around,” You turned to run but he grabbed you by your upper arm, pulling you into him, “Destroying that purity… fucking that darkness into you, that’s what I want.”

That winter night, Steve held you down in front of the burning fireplace. He tasted you in unthinkable ways, giving you a pleasure you’d never experienced, dipping his fingers inside of you. It hurt and you screamed but that feeling didn’t last long. He took his time making sure you were a moaning mess and, by the time, he entered you, you were a wet chasm wanting to be filled. 

He’d thrust into you deeply and watch how your eyes grew darker and darker. You tried holding onto whatever good things you could and, because it was your nature, you still wished for him to be saved. 

Your body was still writhing when he collapsed beside you. You had nothing left to say, feeling great shame for letting a demon pleasure you. “You’ll thank me later … for helping you.” Still, he carried you up to bed that night, leaving so you could sleep without the nightmares his touch would bring. 

Before you closed your eyes, you realized he hadn’t connected the chain on your collar to the bed. Though a dark cloud now surrounded your heart, you thought that maybe some of your light had sunk into him. 

[itsclydebitches]

I am briefly pausing my normal RWBY content to talk about something completely different: Kang Soo-Jin. 

I binged True Beauty recently. As in, “I haven’t managed to watch anything new in half a year, discovered this drama, and promptly marathoned 14+ hours of content,” so to say I’m enjoying it is an understatement. I might do another post sometime about why I think the show works so well, but for now, like many (drama only) viewers, I’m specifically grappling with Soo-Jin’s descent into antagonist territory. At first I was just as shocked and disappointed as others seem to be, but upon reflection I don’t think this is badly written in the way many fans are claiming. To frame this as, “I can’t believe they would make wonderful Soo-Jin suddenly OOC and bully Ju-Kyung over a guy!” is ignoring core parts of her character. I’m as sick of the girl-hates-girl-over-guy plotline as the next viewer, but in the interest of acknowledging that there are exceptions to every rule, I think this is one of the times where that choice makes perfect sense. 

Soo-Jin has been abused throughout her life and I’m not simply talking about the fact that her father hits her. Though that’s obviously horrific, what I think is more pertinent to this conversation is the intense competitiveness her parents have instilled in her. The physical abuse comes about because Soo-Jin fails (in their eyes) to be the best, which is where Ju-Kyung comes in. The Soo-Jin we knew in earlier episodes wasn’t faking. She isn’t an inherently evil person who was just waiting for the right time to show her true colors. Rather, at the start of the story Ju-Kyung—crucially—was not in competition with Soo-Jin. Or rather, Soo-Jin did not perceive her as competition. She’s after the best grades in the school and Ju-Kyung is notoriously at the bottom of the class. All she has going for her are her (new) looks and her easy-going personality that makes her popular, two things that Soo-Jin isn’t interested in. Even if she were, those things already come naturally to her too. She’s already friends with Soo-A and, as is commented on multiple times, naturally beautiful without any makeup on. Soo-Jin has been taught—literally had it beaten into her—that she must be the best and in the beginning of the show she pretty much is: popular, mature, confident, smart… just not the smartest in her class. Ju-Kyung doesn’t threaten any of that, so friendship initially comes easily for Soo-Jin, the sort of friendship that allows her to chase perverts off busses or hide her friend’s real face. 

This changes once Soo-Jin’s “perfect” mask begins to slip. They’re heading towards college, she’s running out of time, and she still hasn’t managed to take the top spot in the class. Worse, she drops out of the top ten. This exacerbates the abuse to the point where, as we see, she’s constantly in the bathroom trying to cope by washing her hands. Any tiny deviation from that “perfection”  — like, say, leaving your tutoring session when you realize your lifelong friend just got devastating news — results in the sort of yelling/physical abuse she can only escape from via a locked door. While things get worse on her end, they get better on Ju-Jyung’s. Her grades go up some and she becomes even more popular, attracting not only school-wide attention, but the attention of the two hottest guys too, including Soo-Ho. For a while this is still fine from Soo-Jin’s perspective, but things really take a turn when Ju-Kyung changes Soo-Ho. Meaning, she helps him come out of his shell and teaches him how to be a kinder person… which includes being a better friend to Soo-Jin. The Soo-Ho who suddenly lies and announces that they have to go study just to get Soo-Jin away from her father’s insults, all of it stemming from a small tick he paid attention to, or comforting her while she sobs over the abuse… that Soo-Ho didn’t exist at the story’s start. He was too wrapped up in his own grief and has been that way for a long time. They may have known each other since childhood, but Soo-Jin and Soo-Ho don’t appear to be particularly close in the past—all Soo-Ho’s flashbacks are with Seo-Joon and Se-Yeon. But that starts to change once Soo-Ho himself changes. Soo-Jin’s ability to keep it together is unraveling, Soo-Ho is opening up and becoming more emotionally available (something Soo-Jin even comments on), then her whole class starts eagerly talking up how good they would be as a couple… so Soo-Jin sees a lifeline. Soo-Ho will care for her even when no one else will. Of course he will. She’s already seen him be that person multiple times. 

The problem is that Soo-Ho has his own life and his own problems to grapple with. Between grief over See-Yeon, panic over telling Ju-Kyung how he feels, and the initial rush of dating—what couple doesn’t want to spend all their time together at the start?—he doesn’t have much energy for Soo-Jin. Which from his perspective is fine. They don’t normally hang out together outside of study groups, so yeah, he can put off a conversation with her… not realizing that Soo-Jin is now putting all her emotional eggs in his basket. By the time her feelings are coming to light, Soo-Jin is actively sabotaging her own attempts to get attention and compassion from Soo-Jin. By manipulating them—here’s a new scrunchy to remind you that you’re my best friend and you can’t ever betray me, here I am showing up unannounced at your apartment and guilting you into not spending more time with me, etc.—Soo-Jin has put Soo-Ho (rightfully) on his guard. He’s wary of having a private conversation with her about something she won’t name when he knows Ju-Kyung has been a mess over losing her friendship. He has no desire to listen to her confession of love after she’s just tossed Ju-Kyung’s beloved necklace into the fire. In her efforts to ensure that Soo-Ho pays attention to her, she only succeeds in driving him away. 

All of which makes Ju-Kyung the enemy in her eyes. The new competition. To her mind, friendship and love cannot co-exist because Ju-Kyung stands in the way of that love, therefore one has got to go. (In contrast Seo-Joon, coming from a loving family, is in time better able to accept that he can be friends with Soo-Ho even though he likes Ju-Kyung. We can discuss the problems inherent in giving one plot to the girl and the other to the guy, but as they are, these characters have concrete, in-world reasons for their different reactions to what’s essentially the same situation.) And why does love (“love”) win out over friendship? Because Soo-Jin has latched onto Soo-Ho being her boyfriend as the way to finally “win” at life and fix all her problems. It’s fine if she’s not the best provided she’s dating the best, just look at how much Dad fawned over him. Second place academically is suddenly an option provided the top student is on her team, so to speak. The fact that Soo-Ho is also one of the most handsome, a great athlete, super rich, and one of the few people to provide her with feelings of safety certainly doesn’t hurt matters. And the only thing that stands in her way of securing this life-saving “win” is Ju-Kyung. Who is she? No one compared to Soo-Jin. Her grades are terrible. She’s not wealthy. She’s pretty… but oh, only with her makeup on. 

Soo-Jin doesn’t need makeup, so why not win this competition by showing the whole school—showing Soo-Ho—what a fraud Ju-Kyung is? 

From Soo-Jin’s perspective she’s done the math and come out on top. Everything that (supposedly) matters she either has equal to Ju-Kyung, or is superior, therefore it’s obvious that Soo-Ho would choose her in the end. She says at much: If I had confessed first you would have loved me first, so now that I have confessed you’ll break up with her. Hell, even Ju-Kyung believes this. She has the nightmare about Soo-Ho learning that Soo-Jin has feelings for him and immediately, publicly breaking up with her. After all, if he suddenly has both as an option the winner is obvious, right? It’s all about competition, what they’ve been taught to believe is a competition: Ju-Kyung through her bullying and Soo-Jin through her abuse. The difference is that Ju-Kyung has had the whole series with Soo-Ho (and others) helping her slowly unlearn this mentality. Soo-Jin had the rug pulled out from under her in an instant. 

Soo-Ho says no, I wouldn’t have loved you if you had confessed first and I’m not going to date you now. It’s important to realize that this shatters Soo-Jin’s entire world. It’s not about a girl being upset that she can’t get the guy — not even about Soo-Ho as an individual, really —  it’s about an abused girl not knowing how to grapple with the fact that she finally did everything “right” and still couldn’t “win,” coupled with losing the last bit of security she had. Soo-Ho broke the unspoken rules Soo-Jin’s father beat into her and she doesn’t know where to go from there. She literally has no one else to turn to. So she falls back on the only way she does know how to handle a situation like this: by still trying to win. If Soo-Ho won’t admit that she’s better, she’ll force him to realize that by plastering Ju-Kyung’s “ugly” face all over social media. Which, to be clear, isn’t an excuse. This isn’t meant to be a way of absolving Soo-Jin of her absolutely horrific actions, only a means of explaining them. Her descent, while shocking to those of us who loved her initial character, is well written because it’s a nuanced look at what can happen when you abuse a kid her whole life and teach her that competition is everything. Oddly enough, she’ll apply a competitive outlook to everything and deal with her stress in unhealthy ways. Ju-Kyung is a victim of Soo-Jin now, but Soo-Jin is a victim too. Her home life has ensured that she does not know how to accept failure—or what true failure even means—so it was inevitable that when things got bad, she’d  try to fix it in ways that hurt both her and those around her. It’s all she knows how to do. 

So far less “Perfect girl goes ooc and abandons her friend over a boy” and far more “Abused girl falls into a terrible, but predictable cycle that the other stressed high schoolers around her are not equipped to break.” Soo-Jin’s story isn’t bad writing, it’s tragic. Thanks for coming to my three page TED talk ✌️

***

2/4/21 FINALE UPDATE! 

[attllhak]

Surface Too Soon .2

@tortilla-of-courage and also @emenerd because apparently this story is getting a proper tag list now!

So, here’s chapter 2, featuring Zelda and Fi. I’m actually pretty happy with how I managed to write Fi here. I was worried I’d have trouble with her considering how different of a character she is from any other character I’ve written before.

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

Chapter 2: Chasing Fi

There was something familiar about this woman, though Zelda didn’t know what or why.

“You are not Master Link,” the woman said, meeting Zelda’s eyes, voice gentle but robotic.

“Link, he’s alive?” She asked.

The woman ignored her, looking back around the walls. “I do not sense my master here. Proceeding to search elsewhere.”

“Hey, wait!” Zelda shouted, running after the woman as she floated away. “Wait, come back! Why are you looking for Link?”

The woman ignored her, floating out through the door of the academy. Zelda nearly ran into the door, grabbing at the handles and yanking it open, running out into clear, cool night.

She scanned the area, spotting the woman floating off a ways away.

Zelda jumped from the roof, landing in a roll and keeping up her chase.

“Hey! Wait!” She shouted, finding it hard to keep pace. “Why are you looking for Link?!”

The woman disappeared into the bazaar, and Zelda ducked under the heavy fabric to follow, mentally apologizing for breaking the rules about it being closed.

The woman paused, floating in the center of the dark building. Zelda had to squint to see her in the darkness.

“Hey!” She called, and the woman finally turned to look at her.

The woman just floated there, watching her in the darkness.

“Why are you looking for Link?” Zelda asked. “What do you need from him?”

She floated there for longer, and Zelda was about to speak again when the woman finally broke the silence.

“Apologies, Your Grace, but it is not my role to speak with you. My role is to seek out your chosen hero and assist him in his role,” she said, voice devoid of emotion, and confusing Zelda a lot. Her chosen hero? “Your presence confuses me,”

“What?” Zelda asked.

“My master is not here,” the woman said instead. “Proceeding to search elsewhere,”

“Wha- hey!” Zelda gasped, nearly tripping on a stall, and most certainly bruising her hip, trying to follow as the woman started moving again. “What does any of that mean?!”

She ducked under the fabric, desperately trying not to lose this weird blue woman. Your Grace? Chosen hero? What was she talking about?

“Stop running away from me!” Zelda shouted, only able to keep up since the woman stopped to stare at every door they passed for a few moments before moving on. “I’m trying to talk to you!”

The woman never hesitated, nor turned to look despite Zelda’s repeated shouting. It was like she couldn’t even hear her, which Zelda knew for a fact was untrue.

“I know what happened to Link!” She finally tried as the woman passed over the plaza.

The woman stopped at that, finally, turning to look at her and giving her a chance to catch her breath.

“You have information pertaining to the location of my master?” The woman asked.

“Yes,” Zelda gasped, leaning her weight on her knees. This woman was fast! “Yes, I know why you can’t find him,”

“I must ask you to provide me with this information so that I may locate him,” the woman said, staring at Zelda with her expressionless face, even the eyes looking like it was part of a smooth blue mask. “It is essentially that I meet with him as soon as possible,”

“I want some answers first,” Zelda huffed, straightening up and planting her hands on her hips. “And don’t think you can find Link without my help, because you won’t,”

The woman watched her, tilting her head slightly for a long moment.

“My analysis concludes that there is an 87% chance of you being correct about needing your help. Very well, I will answer a few questions in exchange for information on the whereabouts of my master,” the woman said, floating up in front of Zelda, who stumbled back a step. “My records indicate that your culture demands I perform an introduction at this point. My designation is ‘Fi’. You may begin asking questions now.”

“Why are you looking for Link?” Zelda asked immediately. “And what’s this about him being your master? And the whole thing with the ‘chosen hero’ deal. And why were you calling me Grace?”

“I am searching for Link because he is my master, and as destiny has begun to unfold my directives demand that I seek him out,” the woman, Fi, said simply. “He has been chosen as my master since a time long before your people have recorded memory. He has been chosen for a very important role in the future of your people, and those on the Surface. I call you Your Grace because that is your respectful designation, and I do not know your mortal name,”

Zelda frowned. Destiny? The future? Her designation? And, wait…

There was something below the clouds! If Link survived his fall, then he was down there, on the Surface! Oh, she had so many questions for when he got back!

In the meantime however…

“What’s this about destiny?” Zelda asked. “And, there’s land below the clouds? What does Link have to do with any of it?  Oh, and, um, my name is Zelda,”

“Your Grace, Zelda.” Fi said. “Your preferred designation has been noted. I am not permitted to speak on your destiny, as it is not my role to help you fulfil it, nor am I permitted to speak on the nature of my master’s destiny with you. Yes, there exists a land your people call ‘The Surface’ below the cloud barrier. Your Link has been chosen to play an important role, and it is imperative that I find him quickly,”

“That is not very helpful,” Zelda frowned.

“I have answered your questions,” Fi said. “Should you have no more, I would request that you fulfil our agreement and provide me with the information you have on the location of my master,”

“Ah, right, about that,” Zelda bit her lip, looking away. “He’s, not on Skyloft,”

“I am not sure I follow, Your Grace, Zelda,”

“It’s, it’s my fault really, it’s all my fault,” she admitted, feeling about ready to burst into tears all over again, once again exhausted by the weight of her guilt and all the crying she’d already done. “I didn’t listen to him when he said he couldn’t sense his loftwing and I, I pushed him over the edge. I didn’t realize that something was wrong until it was too late and, and he’s gone now, and it’s all my fault!”

She reached up to wipe at her face, feeling somewhat embarrassed for crying in front of this strange woman but unable to stop herself.

Muffled sobs tapered off in confusion as she felt what might have been fabric woven of metal settle around her shoulders. She looked up in confusion to see Fi looking down at her with what might have been concern or sympathy.

“What are you doing?” Zelda asked through tears.

“My records indicate that this motion is used commonly among your people as an act of comfort,” Fi said. “Your distress led me to believe this would be a soothing action to take,”

Zelda nodded, sniffling. “I’m not sure anything you do or say could help, but thank you for trying,”

“My analysis concludes that this information may alter your emotional state,” Fi said, and Zelda looked up in confusion. “My master, your Link, is alive.”

Zelda froze, looking up at Fi in confusion and shock.

“How do you know that?” Zelda asked, voice shaking.

“I am somewhat connected to my master,” Fi informed her. “I also have the ability to sense and locate certain individuals, called dowsing. My dowsing would not work if he was not alive, and it does. Therefore, he is alive.”

Zelda felt like collapsing all over again. There was so much to take in there.

Link was alive. She hadn’t killed him. He was alive and on the Surface.

He must be terrified! Alone down there, no idea where he is or how to get home. He must be so scared. Not to mention hurt! It was such a long fall, even though he survived, who knew how injured he was? He could be curled up on the Surface somewhere, injured and unable to move, vulnerable to all sorts of dangers.

The relief and worry and fear that replaced the guilt was crippling, and she dropped to her knees, clutching at her hair. She didn’t even realize she was struggling to breathe until Fi told her.

“Your Grace, Zelda, your breathing has become irregular, and I can sense you are in emotional distress. I would recommend you attempt to regulate your breathing to ease your distress,” Fi said. “I am willing to provide you with a grounding point to match your breathing to if you must,”

Zelda nodded, and Fi gently began moving one of her ‘arms’ in a gentle motion. Up, in. Down, out.

Eventually she calmed down, moving her hands to fist in her dress, knuckles still white from how hard she was holding the fabric.

“I conclude that you have returned to a stable emotional state,” Fi said simply. “If my master, your Link, is on the surface, this provides a difficult problem in my location of him,”

“Take me with you!” Zelda said abruptly.

Fi paused to look at her. Zelda imagined she would have been blinking if she had eyelids to do so with.

“Take me to the Surface with you,” Zelda explained, a bit of desperation seeping into her voice. “Let me help you find Link. If you can find a way down there safely, then I’ll help you find Link. Please,”

Fi looked at her for a long moment, then floated up. “I do require a wielder to make it to the Surface. Very well, I accept your offer of assistance. Please follow me so that we may open a path to the Surface.”

Zelda had no idea what Fi meant by wielder, but stood to follow the strange woman regardless. If she could help Zelda find Link, then she’d follow her anywhere.

Fi led her to the statue of the goddess, and then into a small room under the statue that Zelda swore wasn’t there before.

Fi, it turns out, was a sword. Which, explained a lot, actually.

It didn’t explain the sense of deja vu she got when she pulled the blade.

Her father arrived as she swung the sword and activated the little thing that lifted the frame for the tablet that Fi produced.

Fi and her father went back and forth a bit about some prophecy, but Zelda was more focused on putting the tablet in the frame, and then putting the sword in a sheath on her hip.

“Your Grace, Zelda,” Fi said as she finally tuned in. “I can confirm that a beam of light has created a small rift in the cloud barrier separating your world from the one below. Using this rift, we will be able to travel to the place you call ‘The Surface’ and begin our search for my master, your Link,”

“What?” Zelda’s father gaped a bit.

“Fi is taking me to the Surface,” Zelda told him firmly. “Link is down there, and we’re going to find him. Don’t try to stop us.”

“Well, you aren’t going now,” he said. She opened her mouth to argue, but he held up a hand to pause her angry argument. “Zelda, it is nearly dawn, and I know you have not slept yet. At least take some time to prepare before you go. I know I cannot stop you, but if you at least promise to sleep first, I can find you a better outfit to wear than your current one. It’s not exactly suitable for a trip to the Surface,”

Zelda looked down, still in her outfit for the Wing Ceremony that had been cancelled.

“I’m taking the sailcloth,” she said, and when her father nodded she eventually agreed to sleep before she left.

Fi vanished into the sword, and Zelda followed her father back down to the Academy.

The green light breaking through the clouds called to her. Link was down there. He was down there, alone, and he needed her.

Just a few hours, Link, she thought, setting Fi’s blade down on her desk, eyes still drawn to her window and the light breaking through the clouds. Just a few hours to appease my father, and then I’m coming to get you. I swear it,

She only realized exactly how tired she was when she passed out the moment her head hit the pillow.

[squiggledrop]

Tying the Knot - Spencer Reid x Reader

Masterlist

Part 1: No Strings

Part 2: Frayed Ends

Summary: Strings Part 3– Spencer and Reader have a friends with benefits arrangement. The only problem is, they both have feelings for each other. Spencer tries to fix things between them and convince Reader to let down her guard and let herself love him.

Word count: 3k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: implied smut, crying, kissing

Note: Thank you so much to everyone who showed so much support for the other two parts!! You all mean the world to me!

Spencer sat on the subway alone that night, his mind swarming with thoughts of you. When he saw you smiling earlier today, he knew he never wanted to see it fade, and that he would do whatever he could to make sure it stayed like that. 

He loved you. There was no denying that. He felt horrible that you thought he didn’t love you because that was the farthest from the truth. He needed to tell you how he really felt. He couldn’t live with himself otherwise, knowing that you thought he really meant it when he said it was just sex. It was never just sex, at least not to him. It was never just anything when it came to you.

That night, he decided to write you a letter explaining everything. He came to the conclusion that it was the safest option, and if things went in an unfavorable manner, it was the easiest medium to recover from and pretend nothing happened.

So, that’s how Spencer found himself sat up at his desk all night, crumped paper littering his floor, as he tried to pour all his feelings for you onto a piece of paper. Needless to say, he didn’t get much sleep that night.

The next morning, Spencer gently placed the cream envelope on your desk, fiddling with the corners to make sure it was noticeable. He looked around the room, feeling his heart rate increase. How would you react? Would you throw it away and never talk to him again or would you realize that you love him too? Spencer told himself he would be okay either way, so long as you knew how he felt. He didn’t want to hide his feelings from you. He knew you were it for him, and he would love you for the rest of his life. And if he would have to hold his unrequited love for you for the rest of eternity, he would do so happily, knowing that he was honest with you and gave it his all. He couldn’t live with himself, thinking you didn’t know the extent of his feelings for you. Trying to calm his nerves, he ran his thumb along the pads of his fingers. Not wanting to be here when you read the letter, he heads to the bathroom when he hears the ding of the elevator.

Taking a deep breath, you walked into the bullpen. You had already survived one day of heartache, what’s one more? Sure, with every breath you took, you could still hear Spencer’s last words to you piercing your lungs: “I didn’t mean it. It’s just sex.”  And every time you closed your eyes, you were met with his cold, rigid frame walking away from you, as if you meant nothing to him. Which apparently was the case. How could you be so stupid and think he actually meant it. But, it doesn’t even matter now, because no matter how much you want to blame this on Spencer, you can’t. Yes, he broke the rules, but you were the one who left. You were the one who took a heat of the moment slip up and blew it out of proportion and pushed away the one good thing in your life.

When you got to your desk, you threw down your bag, grateful that Spencer was nowhere to be seen. Although, you would lie if you said you weren’t a bit disappointed. As you took out some paperwork from your bag, you noticed an envelope sitting on your desk next to a stack of papers. You felt your heart clench, instantly recognizing the handwriting your name was written in on the back of it. Slowly, you wedged your finger under the flap, breaking the seal. You pulled out the slightly crumpled lined paper that looked as if it had been read through a hundred times already. Letting out a small gasp, you fell into your seat, scanning the room for Spencer. Not seeing him anywhere, you held up the letter with shaky hands, your watery eyes pouring over every word.

(Y/n),

Throughout every book I have read and paper I have written, words never seem to fail me, that is until it comes to you. No matter how many times I try to write this, it still doesn’t feel good enough. I have read countless stories about the triumphs and tribulations of love. I have tried finding a single one that could capture even an ounce of the love I hold for you, but they all fall short. 

I think that’s because, when I read the words that surround me on these dusty shelves, I am reminded of all the things I love about you. Ask me to find a poem about your beauty and I can do that with no problem. Ask me to find a book about how it feels to kiss you and make love to you, and I can reach for one without leaving this chair. But, ask me to find one that perfectly explains why I love you, and I would not be able to. 

Yes, I love your beautiful smile and sparkling eyes. I love how it feels to hold you in my arms and press my lips all over your captivating body. I love everything about you, even the parts that you deem unworthy, but that is not why I love you. 

I love you because, in a group of people, you are the only one I care that is laughing at my stupid jokes. I love you because when I am having a terrible day, you are the person I want to sit with me and just breathe. You are the person I trust with all my secrets, and the one person I want to share all my accomplishments with. I love you because you are the person I want to bicker with over stupid, petty things. You are the person I want to set off the fire alarm with while attempting to cook dinner and the person I want to yell at me for getting the wrong kind of milk at the grocery store. You are the person I want to wake up next to every morning, sipping our coffees in a calming silence before we head into work. 

We see the darkest parts of humanity through our job. Yet, every time I look at you, I am reminded of how beautifully wonderful life can be. You make my life beautiful. And because of that, I love you.

I lied. That night, when I said that I didn’t mean it, I lied. I meant it, and I mean every word that I just wrote. (Y/n) (Y/l/n), I love you. I love you so much that it consumes every part of me. I’m sorry that I ever made you doubt my feelings for you. I will never do that again. I love you.

I know you said not to get feelings involved, but I have loved you from the first day I met you.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I lied. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry that I broke our rule and that you left. But, I’m not sorry for saying it. I will never be sorry for telling you how I feel. Because I love you. I just hope that you love me too.

All my love,

Spencer Reid

Tears now covered the paper in your hands, and you threw it onto the desk, not wanting anyone to see you like this. You cupped your hand over your mouth, trying to hold back your sobs until you made it to the file room. Once inside, you collapsed onto the floor, slamming the door shut behind you. You don’t know what to feel. You are so overwhelmed and your heart is beating too fast and Spencer’s words that are replaying in your head are too loud. You don’t know what to do, so you do all you can do, and just sit there.

Spencer convinces himself that he has given you sufficient time to read the letter and that he should probably make an appearance. If not for you, then at least to actually do some work. What’s the worst that could happen? You ignore each other again? He could handle that, or so he tells himself. He just has to walk out there and sit down at his desk. He can do that.

Exiting the bathroom, his steps falter as he notices you aren’t at your desk. He walks over, noticing that the envelope had been opened. But, when he looks at the contents of the letter, his heart drops. The ink is smudged with tear stains. He didn’t mean to make you cry. That’s the last thing he wanted. He curses himself for hurting you even more and begins frantically searching the office for you.

He hears muffled sobs coming from the file room, and he reluctantly knocks on the door. After hearing nothing in response except for your continued whimpers that were sending daggers through his chest, he forces himself to open the door. When he sees your disheveled state on the ground, he gasps, feeling guilty for causing you to feel this way.

At the sound of the door opening, you turn your head, revealing your puffy eyes. Upon noticing that it was Spencer, you quickly stood up, trying to dry your cheeks. You both stood there in shock, not knowing what to say. Through your foggy eyes, you notice as tears begin to form in his sullen eyes too. Both of you looked miserable, and it broke the other’s heart. 

Spencer was the first to say something, breaking the silence. “I-I’m so sorry for making you cry, I didn’t-”

“Spence-” you cut him off. You didn’t think you could handle the sound of his pained, raspy voice. You didn’t trust yourself, not with how broken you felt inside.

“No. I just- I need to say this,” he insisted. Reluctantly, you nod, figuring it was the least you could do while trying to stop any more tears from falling. “I meant every word,” he continued, trying to meet your gaze. “A-and I don’t want to take it back, any of it. I don’t regret any of it. I-I love you (Y/n).” 

You sigh at his words, unsure of how to respond. There was no doubting what you felt about this man, but you couldn’t admit that to yourself, let alone him. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” you croaked out. You still hadn’t dared meet his eyes, but you could feel his heavy gaze penetrating into you.

“I want you to say you love me too,” he whispered. 

“You know I can’t do that.” You bit your lip as you shook your head.

“Why not?” The desperation in his voice was almost palpable. You swallowed thickly before speaking again.

“Look Spencer, I’m sorry I hurt you, and I’m sorry I can’t be what you deserve, but I-”

“But that’s just it,” he interjected. “I don't need you to be anything but yourself. That’s all I need. You are all I need. I love you and I just need you to let me.”

“But Spencer, I-”

“Please,” he begged, shaking his head while on the verge of tears. “I can’t listen to you say you can’t do this. I can’t listen to you lie to me and to yourself. I know you love me too. If you didn’t you wouldn’t be here crying.” You roll your eyes, running your hand through your hair. “If I'm wrong, and you truly want me to stop, I will.”

You were silent. Spencer’s eyes searched yours for an answer, for any indication that you wanted him just as badly as he wanted you. 

“Am I wrong?” he pressed. The insecurity he was trying so hard to quell still seeped through his voice.

After another moment of silence, you looked away, blinking away more tears that fell.

“No.” you choked out, looking up at the ceiling. “God, Spencer, why do you have to make this so difficult?” You look back at him, finally meeting his gaze. “Of course I love you. How could I not?”

“Then what’s the problem?” he demanded, stepping towards you. But, you still backed away from his touch.

“Because I love you too much,” you whispered.

Spencer’s mouth opened as looked at you, confusion clouding his face. “I-I don’t understand.”

“Fuck, Spence,” you sighed, gathering your thoughts. “I can’t let you love me just so I can hurt you later on, okay? Every time I've let someone in, I end up hurting them. And I've hurt you enough already.” 

Spencer stared at you in disbelief, trying to formulate a response. At his silence, you swallowed the lump in your throat, pushing past him towards the door. Before you could, however, Spencer grabbed your wrist, pulling you back.

“I don’t care,” he whispered. His eyes bore deep into yours, his hand that still clung to your wrist was burning your skin. 

“Spence-” you scoffed, pleading with him. 

“No!” he shouted, full-on sobbing now. You reluctantly rolled your eyes again, trying not to show him how the tears that dripped down his face were plummeting straight into your heart, each one forming creators in the fragile fabric of your wounded heart. Spencer swallowed thickly before continuing. “You don’t get to decide how I feel or what I can handle, okay? That’s up to me. I love you and that’s all that matters. I don’t care if we break up in fifty years or in five weeks. I love you, just give me a chance before you give up on us. I-” he choked on a sob, “you haven’t even given me a chance”, he whimpers.

You were so close to caving in and just letting yourself give in to him. You wanted to feel his arms around you again. You desperately missed how safe and warm they made you feel.

“But what if we do break up?” you cried, looking deep into his eyes.

“Then we break up.”

“But I can’t lose you, Spence. I-I couldn’t survive it. I don’t want to know what it’s like to have you just for it all to be taken away one day”

“Who says I’m ever going to leave?” Your mouth opened and closed, you didn’t know what to say. “(Y/n), I love you. Even if we break up, I promise I will always be there for you.” He ran his hand through his hair, pacing slightly in the tiny room. “God, (Y/n), before I met you I didn’t even know it was possible to love someone this much, and I want to spend the rest of my life showing you.” He stopped moving, turning directly towards you. “But, I can only do that if you let me. I-I know it’s hard to let yourself be vulnerable, but I promise I’m here to catch you. It’s okay if you want to go slow, I’m willing to wait as long as you need. I just need you to not act like it’s over before we’ve even started.”

“I-I don’t know…”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I don’t know, okay?”, you snapped, looking up at him

“What are you so afraid of?”

“Everything Spencer!” you admitted a bit too loudly. “Everything…” you sobbed, collapsing. Spencer rushed forward, catching you in his arms. He wrapped his arms tightly around your back, supporting you. He ran his hands up and down your back, trying to soothe your muffled cries that stained his shirt. He could feel his own tears running down his face, but at that moment, he didn’t care about anything but holding you, so he let them roll down his face and into your hair. 

Your mind was racing, voicing screaming at you to leave and never look back. They told you that you were only hurting him more and that you were ruining everything. 

But, when you felt Spencer’s gentle hands roaming your back and his soft hushes brushing against your ear, you had never felt safer. When you had finally calmed down and your breath steadied, you pulled back slightly so you could look at him. You stared at Spencer, into his deep amber eyes. For the first time, you didn’t see all the ways you could destroy him and lose everything. Instead, you saw a future. You saw all the possible ways in which you could love him and share a life together. Slowly, after taking a deep breath, you nodded your head.

“Okay”, you whispered.

Spencer’s face lit up upon hearing you. “Yeah?” he asked, weary that one wrong move would send you running.

“Yeah,” you smiled, falling back into his open arms. He wrapped his arms tightly around you, never wanting to let you go. He sighed in relief and kissed the top of your head while rubbing your back. Your arms tightened around his neck as you lifted your head to his ear. He could feel your warm breath on his neck, sending comforting shivers down his spine.

“I love you too,” you breathed into his ear. You pulled back slightly, but before you could do anything, Spencer smashed hip lips onto yours. He kissed you with such passion, that swore you felt your heart become physically tethered to his. 

When you finally broke apart, desperate for air, you looked at each other, both standing there with glassy eyes, reflecting each other's smiles. You held one another in comfortable silence, knowing that regardless of what uncertainties the future held, it would be okay, because Spencer loves you, and you love him.

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