#they said hmm time for you to get raped a little I think (live free or twihard)

[ardentpoop]

btw the way The Text deals with dean’s masculinity in early s6 in direct correlation with his aptitude as a hunter. truly hideous to behold

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: We’re starting Sam’s installment but this weekend I’ll probably only be catching up on my headcanons and drabbles because I’ve been a lazy bitch and I’m sorry to those who have been waiting.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: I've got a job, I explore

💀💀💀

The sleepy town of Birch was awake. 

In those last weeks, the arrival of outsiders had roused the attention of many once passive residents of the timeless territory. Those brick buildings unchanged by the tick of the clock inlaid into the old tower above the library that chimed every hour on the hour. They still stood with only chips in the mortar but the air tasted different. The frost was more bitter and the sky more grim. An omen of something no one could predict.

It was the perfect setting for a screenplay. The isolated town with its unsavoury secrets and the visitors who threatened to bring them to the surface. It was inspiring to you, to imagine what was hidden behind the stern wrinkled faces of the town elders and under the jackets of those men who wore the cut of the local club. The bikers ruled the town covertly but everyone knew that Bucky Barnes’ palm was lined with the map of Birch.

As a bystander, an unnoticed observer, just another ant in the hill, you watched from the side and amused yourself with the drama of others. It was like a soap opera or another HBO hype machine. Those things you aspired to when you could be free of this ho-hum town.

The snows added to the natural gloom of the place. The deep heaps smothered the noise and harkened back to those days of colonial settlement. Forgotten, desolate, fearful. 

You ventured down in your heavy boots that stretched to your knees and pushed your chin down into your scarf. As a child, you ran and jumped in those piles, now you were out of breath just trying to walk past them.

You stopped in the bakery that doubled as the only café, a place where the owner, Babs, tried to to intimidate the last caffeinated trends. She was always a few seasons behind but you didn’t mind so much. 

You ordered the salted caramel mocha and waited patiently as the quiet woman fought with the steaming machines. She was older than you but you’d work with her for one summer during high school, only five years ago. She had the eyes of a child still, but there was something worn in her. As if she’d been exposed to far too much in her three or so decades in that place. She was a harbinger of what you didn’t want to become.

You thanked her for your drink and set out once more into the billowing winds. Birch winters were never kind but this one was crueler than most. Your teeth chattered as you blew the steam away from the lid and hugged it with your mittened hands.

You stopped short as you heard the familiar ding of the diner door across the street. You recognised the mechanic who kept to herself and once growled at you in the grocery store. She stormed across the street, followed closely and quickly by a black-haired man you’d only seen once before. He was one of those outsiders who came to deal with the club men.

You sped up as you sensed chaos brewing and pulled out your phone as you balanced your paper cup in your other hand. You flicked your camera on just as you got to the front of the shop and the man grabbed the mechanic. You let out an ‘oop’ as she turned on him and you aimed the lens at the couple as they fell into the snow, the man’s shoes giving little traction to his steps. 

You moved closer, stunned by the scene, and kept your cell phone rolling as you found a better angle around the snowy walks. As she choked him on the ground he elbowed her and she coughed as she rolled away. She snarled as he clamoured to his feet, slipping and sliding as he marched away.

You killed the recording and watched the man cross the street again, nearly wiping out as he did and when you looked back to the mechanic, she was gone behind the clattering door. You chuckled to yourself and tucked away your cell. It was prime footage for TikTok; with a bit of editing, it would be comedy gold.

💀

You stomped up the steps of your grandmother’s house, this time through the front door as you heard her chair rocking in the front room. You usually took the stairs in the back as you paid her to live on the upper floor of the duplex. You checked in with her daily, she didn’t get out much more than the occasional trip to the grocery store when you couldn’t or you dragged her out to join you for a tea at Babs’.

“You’re late,” she grumbled as you set your cup down and unzipped your coat.

“For what?” you scoffed.

“It’s after noon and you don’t even come down to say hello? A ‘good morning, nan’,” she harrumphed.

You chuckled and hung your coat before shoving your boots over on the mat. You grabbed your mocha and leaned on the doorway as you watched her crocheting in her chair, reruns of some court show playing from the boxy television.

“I was working,” you said, “sent in some stuff for review. Hopefully not much work to be done.”

“I don’t know how you make money on that interweb,” she bemoaned, “I don’t trust it.”

“Maybe you’d trust it more if you used the Netflix subscription I got you,” you crossed your arms, “then you wouldn’t have to watch trash daytime TV.”

She shrugged and muttered under her breath. She could be crotchety but you liked her sense of humour. Your aunts and uncles never came around because they just took it as spite. You were the only one who knew how to handle the jaded old lady.

“Maybe you coulda looked out the window,” you snickered, “quite a show going on in town.”

“Hmm, what’s that?” she stilled her needles and reached for her tea stained cup.

“Just a fight. You wouldn’t believe it, that lady mechanic beat the shit--”

“Language,” she huffed.

“Anyway, she had this guy in a chokehold. It was awesome.”

“What guy?” she squinted at you over her glasses.

“I dunno. Some out of towner. Remember I told you about that burly dude hanging around the library?”

“There’s more?” she sucked on her teeth, “those bikers have never been good news and now they’re bringing in more.”

“Yeah, well, what’re you gonna do?” you sniffed as you took out your phone and rewatched the scuffle with the volume down. You shook your head and opened up your TikTok. 

“I don’t understand why you’re always on your dang phone,” your grandmother pestered.

“I’m not always on my phone,” you smiled at her smugly, “there are those time when I’m listening to you prattle on or you know, making you tea, oh, and cooking you dinner. What was it I did last week? Oh that’s right, I got Pippin out of the crawlspace.”

“I’m too old to be chasin’ that cat all around,” she huffed, “where is he anyway?”

“He’s your cat, I don’t know? Last time I saw him, I sent him back out the window for shredding my charger.”

“He knows you need to give it a rest,” she laughed to herself, “got your nose to that screen too much.”

“And what do you do, old lady? Crocheting doilies to put where exactly?”

She gave you that dry smile, the one that said watch it but carried a hint of humour still. You hit post and put your phone away as you waved off her irritation.

“Well, you know what, I sit all day at my computer, doing who knows what and you know what it got me?” you taunted, “a large mocha!” you sipped as you sat on the sofa and grabbed the remote, “and it’s paying my rent and putting bullet points on my resume.”

“Mhmm,” she scowled, “just remember, real life ain’t online. Those videos you’re always laughing at like hyena, that’s not reality. You forget it and it’ll come back and bit you. ‘Specially with those bikers.”

“Oh, nan, you know too well, don’t you? Didn’t you have a fling with one back in your hippie phase?”

“Two, actually,” she raised her brows, “I was young and stupid. Not like you, but still.”

“I love you too,” you chirped and sipped from your cup, flicking the station to Jerry Springer, “that’s more like it.”

💀

Your usual TikToks were sarcastic and dull complaints about your small town life. The response was less than pleasing but it gave you an outlet to vent. You liked to goof around and document the very specific type of weirdos that resided in Birch. But the video of the fight in the snow blew up your phone and made it difficult to ignore the buzzing as you went back up to your room to eke out the last of your captions for the ad agency.

When at last you could call your day hard-earned, you logged off and sent in your hours to the agency. Social media promotion was easy enough but the working gigs for a thousand different companies was tedious. You hoped you could build your portfolio enough to manage a single corporate page as you continued to chip away at your creative outlets.

You picked up your phone as you waited for Netflix to load on your tiny smart tv and flopped onto your bed, not two feet from your desk. You hit the icon in the upper panel of your phone and scrolled through the notifications, pausing to turn on another episode of the cable sitcom from ten years before. You snorted as you read each comment but the number under the video made your eyes round. The thing was bound to go viral.

As usual, you went down to help with supper. Pippin, the orange tabby, returned to cry at his dish and you fed him too. Your nan peered through her glasses at a crossword as she tasted the tangy pasta sauce. 

“More basil,” she snipped.

“Well, I asked if you wanted to help,” you muttered, “I think it’s good.”

“Hmmp, I need milk,” she jutted her chin out, “for my after-dinner tea.”

“You couldn’t say something like three hours ago?” you blinked.

“I could have but I didn’t,” she snickered. You rolled your eyes and she took another forkful of penne and filled in another line on her puzzle, “ah, no hurry, girlie, you know I’m patient.”

“Patient? You?” you chuckled as you took your plate and shoved it in the microwave to keep it warm. The ancient thing had a dial and the door stuck, “I’ll just go get it over with.”

“Don’t forget your mitts,” she called after you as you tramped into the front room, “it’s cold.”

You pulled on your knitted cap and matching mitts. You zipped up your parka and shoved your feet into the deep boots. You grabbed your wallet and buried it in the spacious pocket. You bounced out the front door and down the steps as the sky sent down another coat of powder for the night.

You went up White Forge Street and through the short path behind the diner that led to the main road. You glanced over at The Asp, the beacon of the dull town, and turned towards the grocer. Like anywhere in Birch, the store was outdated and stuffy. It felt like stepping into another time with the paper bags and chunky tills.

You went down the center aisle and stopped at the fridge to search through the frosted glass. Your nan only drank whole milk and the last time you carelessly grabbed skim, she whined that even Pippin wouldn’t drink it. She was particular but that was just her nature. You couldn’t say you were any less fussy in some instances.

You grabbed a jug and the door slapped closed against the worn rubber seal. You headed up the candy aisle and brushed your woolly thumb over your chin as you considered gummy bears or Reeses’ Pieces.

“Hard choice?” The deep voice jolted you.

You snatched the box of chocolate and looked over at the man in leather, his chin tucked down behind the collar as snow dusted his shoulders.

“Sure,” you said as you brushed past him.

The cut of the leather told you he was better not entertained. While you thought the men amusing, you weren’t stupid enough to engage with them. You rarely listened to your grandmother but she was wise in her own way. 

You knew a girl in highschool, she was fucking around with one of the club men in her junior year, she ended up with a baby and no support. You didn’t think he was into you that way but he could hardly have innocent intentions.

“How’s the old lady?” Clayton asked as he rung in your order at the end of the belt, you moved along with the groceries and pulled out your wallet.

“The usual, you know? She’s tryna quit again. Don’t know how long it’ll last.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll keep a carton aside for her,” he kidded as you felt your phone vibing in your back pocket.

“Don’t encourage her,” you swiped your card and punched in your pin, “although I don’t know what’s worse; the smoke or her sucking on those mints all the time.”

“Oh, it’s not the bitchin’?” he laughed.

“That, too,” you scooped up the paper bag and put your wallet away, “have a good one.”

As you came to the end of the first counter, you were nearly cut off by the club member as he swept around from till two. His own purchase of a car magazine and jerky was tucked under his arm.

“Ah, sorry,” he smiled, a sparkling smile, almost charming.

“No worries,” you continued on and he followed close behind.

“Those mitts look real warm. ‘Specially in this weather,” he said as you pushed open the door.

“Uh huh,” you kept on as your boots crunched out into the snow.

“You know where I can get a pair. Leather isn’t exactly thermal, you know?”

“These? My nan made ‘em. I’m sure Clayton got some hung up back there,” you looked across the street as you stepped up onto the ledge of snow between the sidewalk and the road.

“Am I bothering you?” he asked.

You looked at him dumbly and almost laughed in his face. You glanced back across the street then down towards The Asp.

“Sorta,” you answered.

“Make you a deal. Leave ya alone for your name.”

You eyed him. He was older than you like many of the Commandos. At least a decade, likely more than that. You chewed on your hesitation and cradled the bag more firmly against your side. His eyes strayed as he tried to see through the thick layer of your coat.

“Nah, I’m not s’posed to talk to strangers,” you said and hopped off onto the road.

You heard him behind you as he struggled to follow and as you came up to the other side, he came parallel with you and kept stride with you easily.

“I know you’re young but you’re not a kid,” he intoned, “what’s the harm in a name?”

“It’s a small town,” you stopped short of the end of White Forge, “I think I know enough about you to avoid you.”

“Oh ho, is that it? Well, I’m Sam, I’m not a stranger now, am I?”

“Not interested, Sam. Sure there’s women your own age over at the bar,” you nodded behind him.

“You wanna come see? Maybe have a drink?” he gave a crooked grin.

“You don’t give up, do you?” you shook your head, put off by his forwardness.

“Well?”

“Not tonight, Sam,” you turned around and headed down White Forge.

“Then what night?” he asked but you didn’t answer and he didn’t follow.

You turned down onto your street and refused to look back in case. It would be best not to mention the run-in to your nan, she was paranoid enough as it was. Besides, you’d forget about it by the end of next week.

[mortimer-writes-sometimes]

Hmm a sansby prompt? If you want something slightly more angst filled, maybe have Grillby be the knight in shining armor after someone won’t take no for an answer from Sans? Or maybe just some cute fluff, like cuddling while watching a movie :3

As I like to say in these situations- why not both?

Keep You Safe

Word count: 2667 Summary: When someone won’t take no for an answer, Grillby steps in. Warnings: Sexual assault SERIOUSLY, MIND THE WARNINGS

Sans always hated it when there weren’t any available seats at the bar. It was great that Grillby’s was getting good business these days, but it also meant he’d have to wait a bit to talk to his favorite fire monster, and he couldn’t even watch him while he worked very well. The skeleton caught Grillby’s eye as he came in and gave him a little wave and a wink before making his way towards one of the booths closest to the bar. Grillby gave him a nod and got back to mixing the line of drinks he was working on. Sans couldn’t help but notice that Grillby looked nervous. The skeleton frowned a bit and kept a careful eye on him, praying that a stool at the bar would open up soon so he could help. He was watching the bartender so intently that he barely noticed when another monster came and sat next to him in the booth.

“Well hi there,” the monster said with a toothy grin. Like, really toothy. Because she was a shark monster. She was probably wearing more makeup than clothes, and the look she gave Sans was positively predatory. The skeleton could already see where this was going.

“Lemme stop you right there.” Sans scooted sideways in the booth, putting a bit more distance between himself and the stranger. God, this lady reeked of perfume. “I appreciate it, but I’m not really looking for any’body’ to hand out with right now, heh.”

Sans knew he was hilarious, but he still thought she laughed too hard at that. Instead of backing off, she inched closer to him. “C’mon, cutie, don’t be that way! Besides, you didn’t need to look. I found you first~!”

“Unfortunately,” Sans grumbled. He moved over again, finding his shoulder against the wall. “Really, lady, not interested tonight.”

“You know, you’re really hot, for a guy with no skin.” The shark monster moved in closer, turning towards Sans and putting one hand on the wall next to his head. “Don’t be so cold. Why don’t you let me buy you a drink?”

With the shark monster leaning over him, it occurred to Sans just how bad this was. He’d teleport out, but he couldn’t focus on a location with this monster’s damn perfume giving him a headache. He was well and truly trapped, hidden by unsuspecting crowds of monsters and a secluded booth. “Answer’s no,” he tried, “Back off.”

She laughed at him again, suddenly slipping a hand under Sans’s shirt. He slapped it away, but she just grabbed his wrist and pinned it to the table, moving in again to rub his ribcage. “You really are just bones and magic, aren’t you? There are so many places I could get inside you, hehe~. Come on skeleton, let me show you some real fun~.”

Sans froze as her hand started to wander downward. This couldn’t be happening. Fuck, no, fuck fuck fuck fuck-

WHOOSH! BANG!

The monster over Sans went still as the bar went silent, eyes wide. There was a dark char mark on the wall above the booth’s table. A few inches to the left, and it would have hit her square in the back. She withdrew her hand and looked behind her, eyes widening further as she paled.

Grillby was standing in front of the booth, and he looked pissed. His fire was burning higher and hotter than Sans had ever seen, the heat radiating off him as his entire body crackled. The glare he fixed the shark monster was murderous, and to make things more frightening, he’d summoned an arc of fireballs over his head, ready for a fight. “Get. Your hands. Off him,” he snarled darkly. His usually warm voice had taken on a dark, steely edge that Sans had never heard from him before. In that moment, the skeleton was fully convinced that Grillby was capable of killing.

The shark monster was quick to comply, scrambling away from Sans and stumbling over themselves as they hastily stood from the booth. “Right! I’ll- um- I’ll be g-going the- ah!”

Grillby grabbed her by her neck, dragging her forward. The shark monster cried out as her moist skin steamed, drying out and threatening to blister. The fire monster paid that no mind. “Oh? And where do you think you’re going?” he asked threateningly. “We’re not done here. I think you and I need to have a little c h a t.” He raised his hand, the fireballs moving in closer. The monster whimpered at their heat, struggling as the grip on her neck tightened.

Ding! You’re blue now!

The shark monster was suddenly pulled down, out of Grillby’s grasp. As soon as she was free, she made a break for the door, terrified. The bartender moved like he was going to pursue her, but a wall of blue bones appeared in front of him, making him stop. Grillby stepped back, glancing towards the booth.

Sans had his hand up, both pupils gone and shaken. “H-hey, Grillbz? Why don’t we just calm down a sec? I’m okay, see? Nothin’ happened, s’all good.”

The fire monster paused, looking back at the door. After a moment, his gaze dropped and the fireballs he summoned disappeared in wisps of smoke. His hands were shaking. He turned back to the booth and walked towards Sans.

“Did she hurt you?” Grillby mumbled, hesitating by the table. All at once, the calm, caring Grillby that Sans knew had come back, eyes full of fearful concern. “I’m so sorry, Sans, I-i didn’t see her come in. I should’ve been keeping a better eye out, I know this booth can be secluded and-”

Sans’s pupils slowly lit up again as he relaxed. “Nah, Grillbz, I’m fine,” he reassured. He let out a shaky sigh as he finally relaxed. “Not gonna lie, that was pretty intense. Never thought I’d ever get to see you so ‘fired’ u- whoa!”

Grillby suddenly pulled Sans out of his seat, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in Sans’s hoodie. The monster was shaking all over. He was angry, but when he’d seen Sans cornered, he’d been so scared. The skeleton had insisted he wasn’t hurt, but Grillby found himself summoning small flames of green magic anyway, letting them dance over Sans as they checked for any injury.

Sans huffed fondly, the last of the tension leaving his bones as he returned the embrace. Grillby’s natural scent of smoke was much better than sickeningly sweet perfume. “I’m okay, Grillby, I promise. Maybe we should go somewhere quiet to chill for a sec?”

“Agreed,” Grillby mumbled into his jacket. He pulled back slightly, then suddenly picked Sans up.

Sans squeaked, then laughed. “I can walk, y’know.”

“I know,” was all Grillby said as he carried Sans back into the kitchen, bringing him to the small table in the back corner. Instead of setting him down, Grillby sat in one of the chairs and kept Sans in his lap, never releasing him from that warm, protective embrace. Safe and secluded, he let his guard down a bit, one hand coming up to cup Sans’s cheekbones. “I’m sorry. That- that was unlike me. I just…”

“Hey, I get it.” Sans brought his hand up to cover Grillby’s. “You don’t need to be apologizing. I should be thanking you. If you hadn’t come over she probably would’ve… she…” The full reality of what had nearly happened started to sink in and Sans started trembling. “She probably would’ve… fuck, what the fuck…” Tears started to fill Sans’s eyes as the last of the adrenaline drained from him. “Holy shit, I almost got raped. I almost got raped. What the fuck?”

Grillby pulled Sans close again, rubbing his back soothingly as the skeleton gripped his shirt. “I’ve got you, breathe,” he mumbled gently. There was the breakdown he’d been anticipating. “It’s okay if you need to cry, I’ve got you. We’re alone. You’re safe now.”

That was exactly what Sans needed to hear. He sobbed quietly into Grillby’s shirt, trembling as he tried to process what exactly just happened. What nearly happened. What could have happened, if Grillby hadn’t swooped in and put the fear of whatever God might be out there into that scummy pervert. He slowly became aware that Grillby was humming, the low vibrations soothing in Sans’s skull. The skeleton sniffled and wiped at his eyes. Deep breaths. He was safe. Deep breaths.

“I’m going to close early,” Grillby mumbled gently. “Will you be alright if I leave you here a moment?”

Sans nodded. “Yeah, I-i think I’m good. I’m just gonna go home.”

“No.” Grillby pulled away, meeting Sans’s eyes. “You are in no condition to be using your shortcuts, and I’m not going to let you walk in case that- ...in case it isn’t safe, this time of night. Go ahead and text Papyrus. You’re going to be staying with me this evening. I-if that’s alright,” he amended quickly. The last thing he wanted to do to Sans was force him into something, especially after what had transpired that evening.

Sans didn’t feel forced at all, though. He gave Grillby a weak smile. “That… that sounds nice. Yeah. I wouldn’t mind that. You go close up, I’ll text Papyrus.”

Relief filled the bartender and he stood, careful not to drop Sans as he transferred the skeleton to the chair. “I’ll be right back,” he assured as he straightened up. With that, he walked back out to his restaurant to herd customers out.

Sans had never seen the inside of Grillby’s apartment before. He knew the bartender lived in an apartment above the restaurant, and that the stairs lead directly into the kitchen, but that was about it. It was a little smaller than Sans had anticipated. Most of the space was taken up by the living room, with a cozy-looking couch piled with pillows and a bookshelf that looked ready to collapse under the sheer number of books that had been stacked on it. A small kitchenette was tucked into the corner of the apartment, and it looked like there was only one bedroom and a bathroom down the short hallway. It took Sans no time at all to make himself comfortable on the couch, kicking off his pink slippers and nesting into the cushy throw pillows.

Grillby gave the skeleton a fond smile, taking the comforter off the back of the couch and draping it over Sans’s shoulders. “Would you like me to turn on the television? I don’t have much in the way of movies, but my niece brought me a copy of a human show that I find to be fairly interesting. I mostly watch for the music.”

“Heh, so long as there are jokes in it, I’m down,” Sans replied with a shrug. He would probably fall asleep part of the way through it, but some background noise wouldn’t hurt.

Grillby kneeled next to the television and pulled out a small booklet, flipping through it to find the first disk. “Here we are,” he mumbled to himself as he found the one he wanted, getting everything set up before taking the remote and sitting on the opposite end of the couch. The disk loaded and a colorful title lit up the screen.

Sans tilted his head, mildly interested. “‘Steven Universe’, huh? No offense, but I never pegged you as a guy that’d be into cartoons.”

“It’s an occasional indulgence,” Grillby mumbled with a shrug. Was he blushing?

Sans snickered. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Grillbz. If you like it then it must be a good show. Let’s see what it’s about.”

Grillby smiled a bit, then hit play, relaxing back into the pillows. “I think you’ll like this one. Humans have such interesting concepts of magic…”

Four episodes later, Sans was hooked, watching the screen intently. He had to get himself one of those novelty backpacks. As he watched the protagonists fight evil breakfast foods, he turned to tell Grillby a joke, only to find himself meeting the bartender’s eyes. Grillby blushed and quickly looked back at the screen, but it was too late. He was caught staring.

Sans just chuckled. “Uh, can I help you with somethin’?”

“Sorry,” Grillby huffed, adjusting his glasses. At some point he’d undone his tie, letting it hang loose around his neck. He’d slipped off his shoes and pulled his knees up, hugging a pillow as he sat curled up on the couch. There was something about seeing Grillby this way that made Sans’s soul feel light. It just felt so… domestic, sitting there and watching one of the bartender’s favorite shows together. Grillby cleared his throat, breaking Sans from his thoughts as he continued. “I’m… still worried about you. Are you certain you’re alright?”

“Yeah,” Sans replied automatically, but that didn’t seem to reassure the fire monster at all.

“Sans,” Grillby sighed, reaching for the remote and pausing the show, “Please, be honest with me. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Sans took a deep breath and thought about it. After a long moment, he finally answered. “Okay, maybe not,” Sans admitted, “But I’m doing better. This,” he said as he gestured around himself, “Is helping. Like, a lot. I think this is exactly what I needed.”

Grillby nodded a bit, satisfied. “Well, is there anything more I can do for you?”

“I’m good.” Sans shrugged a bit, then took another look at Grillby. The bartender was great at reading Sans, but sometimes he forgot how good Sans had gotten at reading him in return. Grillby was tense, shoulders hitched up slightly as he hugged the pillow like it was going to run away. “Is there something I can do for you?” Sans asked, voice gentling as he did. “That scared the soul out of you, too, didn’t it?”

Grillby looked away again, feeling guilty. “I’m not the one that got harassed, Sans.”

“Nah, just the one who watched his best friend get sexually assaulted,” Sans pointed out. “We were both ‘rattled’, heh. Lemme help you out, too. Somethin’ I can do for ya?”

“Well,” Grillby mumbled, “Can I… is it alright if I hold you again?”

That hadn’t been what Sans was expecting, but he was more than up for it. “Sure. You’re gonna have to let that pillow breathe first, though.”

Grillby chuckled and let the pillow drop to the floor, lowering his knees and shifting so he was reclining at an angle before opening his arms to Sans. Sans crawled over and settled himself in the bartender’s lap, arms wrapped around his torso and head resting on his chest. Grillby pressed play on the remote, starting the show again before letting his arms fall gently over Sans’s back as he held him close. Sans felt the warmth envelope him and sighed, content. “Hey, Grillbz?”

“Hm?” Grillby looked down at him with a tilt of his head. Sans’s soul melted a bit under the gently, caring gaze. God, this monster was going to be the death of him.

“Thank you,” Sans mumbled.

Grillby gave him a small smile, bringing one hand up to briefly cup the back of Sans’s skull. “You’re welcome. So long as I’m here, I’m going to keep you safe. You mean the world to me, Sans.”

And oh, if that didn’t make Sans feel like the luckiest monster alive.

They settled into a comfortable silence, watching the cartoon play on. As the night wore on, Sans found himself starting to doze in Grillby’s arms, yawning as he fought to keep his eye sockets open. “Hey, Grillbz?” he mumbled, “Maybe we should…” He trailed off as he looked up, smiling. Grillby’s head rested against the back of the couch, the fire monster fast asleep. Sans levitated the remote to himself, determined not to wake Grillby as he turned the TV off before cuddling closer and closing his eyes. Who needed beds, anyway?

Grillby was the warmest pillow he could ask for.

I hope you enjoyed this one! If you did like it, why not reblog/leave a comment to let me know your favorite part? As always, thank you for reading!

[sweetchup]

Can I request a feitan x single mom reader?

The Spiders’ Way

Type: Feitan x Single mom! Reader

Au?: None

Word Count: 2,400+

Warnings: Mature Content, Yandere (Son and slightly Feitan), Abuse, PTSD, and Blood/Gore.

“Fei!” You screech, turning around fast. The short man only stares back at you, you couldn’t see his mouth but you could tell he had a sinister grin behind his skull collar. You glare at Feitan, causing him to let out a light snort. “That wasn’t funny Feitan,” you whine, rubbing your behind which he had just hit as hard as he could with a spatula. A metal spatula, “If you wanna do one of your torture session, take it somewhere else mister.”

“Watch what you say” Feitan growls, “Me sure you remember what happened last time.”

“Fei!” You whine, your face blooming up in a blush, “Kai will be home soon and My family is coming over for dinner!”

“Not my problem.” Feitan says, walking around to look at the many pictures decorating your wall. You sigh and use the opportunity of him being distracted to finish checking if the food in the oven is cooked. Checking the temp, you smile as you realized that the chicken and baked potatoes were finally done.

Puting the items on top of the stove, you finally go back to arguing with Feitan. Clearly knowing it could possibly get you in some trouble with the shorter man. “Well—“

“Mom I’m home!!” A young boy's voice echoes throughout the house. Your 11 year old son, Kai, was finally home after playing with his friends. You take a deep breath as you turn to Feitan. You were really worried for them to meet. It wasn’t because Feitan didn’t know about your son, you had actually told him before you started dating and he told you he honestly didn’t care, it was just…. it was going to be an interesting meeting. Especially with the fact that all of your previous boyfriends had weirdly broken up with you after meeting your son.

“Coming sweetheart!” You say as Feitan and you walk down the hall. Turning into the living room you see Kai was sitting on the couch reading a newly released horror book.

“Kai.” You call and the young boy looks up, “This is my boyfriend, Feitan. Fei, this is Kai, my son.”

You stand there anxiously as Kai gets up from the couch. You hold your breath as your son gently puts the book on the wooden coffee table. He quietly walks over to Feitan and as soon as he is in front of the man he sticks out his hand.

“Hello Mister Feitan!” Kai says, giving a pleasant grin. You let go of the breath you were holding and let out a sigh of relief.

Feitan looks over at you and raises an eyebrow. You had told Feitan your worries yesterday about the meet up, though it did come at a cost. He got mad due to the fact he thought that you underestimate him (even though you clearly didn’t). Let’s just say your throat was still sore today.

“W-well I’m going to leave you two to get to know each other while I finish prepping dinner.” You stutter out, leaving the boys to their devices.

You had walked about halfway down the hallway back to the kitchen when Feitan called you. You wonder what was wrong? It wasn’t like Feitan to call out to you. You were about to turn around to him when you felt a gust of wind and a sharp pain.

“Catch” He says, chuckling, and chucks the Spatula at you. You swear you were going to kill him if he continues to hit you on the ass with this goddamn spatula. Though maybe you shouldn’t have ever invited him to help you cook in the first place.

“Hey Mister Feitan”

Feitan turns to the child and lets out a ‘hum’, letting Kai know he is listening. He still couldn’t get why you were so worried about this kid. Sure, he didn’t like kids. Hell he hates kids, sometimes he even had to torture or kill them. But, still, he loves you, even though he does sometimes like to see you cry in pain or be in pain, he wouldn’t want to be really hurt or destroy you. And if the kid made you happy, he could deal with whatever bullshit the kid threw at him.

Kai's expression suddenly turns dark. “Did you know a person could get strangled by their own intestines?”

Well he surely didn’t expect that. Though, the kid had a good idea. He never thought of killing someone like that.

“Oh really? Me wants to know more…”

Kai glares at the man quickly before returning back to a smiling face. Man, this guy was a tough nut to crack. But he surely would break this man before the night is over. After all, this is his mother he is talking about. His sweet loving mother. Kai sighs, getting all happy thinking of his mother. He quickly snaps out of it. This wasn’t the time. He was on a mission, a mission to get this boyfriend to run away just like the ones before.

“Hmm~ I have tons. Let’s see…”

————☠️🕷☠️————

“Coming!” You shout as you finally put the last dish down onto the dining table. Thank goodness too since the doorbell had just rung meaning your family was here. Either that or the pizza delivery guy had gotten the wrong address again. Feitan was not happy last time when the pizza man interrupted you two while Feitan was trying out something new. You had to beg Feitan not to track him down and kill him.

Speaking of Feitan, You wondered how he and Kai are doing. As you were walking to the door you quickly stuck your head into the room to see the two hunched over Feitan’s phone. Aww, maybe Feitan lied and actually liked kids. You were also glad Kai has finally liked one of your boyfriends. Deciding not to interrupt the sweet moment between them, you continue on to open the front door.

Though unbeknownst to you, it wasn’t as innocent as it seemed. The phone they were hunched over was actually playing one of Feitan torture videos. More specifically a video of your old boss, who was previously sexually harassing you, being skinned alive. Kai giggled.

“So that’s what happened to him. I spent literally three weeks trying to track him down after he randomly disappeared.”

“Hmm. So your the tail Shalnark told me about.”

“Oh yeah. I had—“

“Man what a dump it is in here.” A male voice suddenly says, walking past the living room door.

Kai shoots up, scrunching his nose as he sees his grandfather. He still didn’t understand why you still made attempts at reconciling with your family. Especially after all the shit and mental abuse they had and currently still are putting you through.

While Kai was thinking, Feitan was making his way to you at the door. As he leaves the living room he bumps his shoulder with your sister, who rudely walked past him not looking up from her phone. He scrunches his nose up as he watches a Barbie doll from hell continue on down the hallway. Man how the hell were you two sisters.

“Mom. I don’t want him here”

“Now don’t be rude (y/n)!”

Feitan turns back to the door and freezes, anger flowing through every vein of his body. What the hell was your ex-fiancé doing here. Well, he knew you didn’t count him as your ex-fiancé due to the fact that it was an forced arranged marriage but it was all the same, since it was a man that had tried to steal you from him. Even if it had happened before he met you.

You sigh. It was no use. Your mother was one hell of a stubborn woman and it was going to be impossible to get your ex to leave without ruining the whole dinner. Oh, you don’t want Feitan—

You jump a little as you feel arms go around your waist but soon relax when you realize it was Feitan. Could he read minds or something? You swear if Chrollo got drunk and switched someone’s Nen again you would kill him.

“Now who’s this gremlin?” Paul, your ex, snears; blowing a puff of smoke in Feitan’s face. You go to rebut but before you do Feitan snatches the Cigar from the mouth of your ex and chucks it, outside, as far as he could. Your ex opens his mouth in shock while you are left trying not to burst out in laughter. Man were you glad Feitan was fast. “No smoking allowed inside.”

“Why you—!!“

“Mom!” “Oh— fuck... you, you little bra…t”

Now your face was bright red from trying to hold it in, you even heard Feitan let out a small chuckle. Kai had come running from the living room to give you a hug. While doing so, he jumped and kicked Paul right in the nuts. And we are talking hard since Paul likes to play soccer with his friends during recess.

Finally after a while and a couple of glares from your mother, you compose yourself. “L-lets go sit down for dinner.”

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

————☠️🕷☠️————

“Parc fo eceip...”

“Ah I’m sorry Fei. I didn’t mean to get you worked up.” You stutter; trying to wipe the tears off your face. You didn't mean to break down, you honestly didn’t. Especially when you walked into the kitchen to bring dessert. You dealt with all the shit thrown at you tonight, from insults to your cooking, to your lifestyle, to your looks, to your job, and much more. But you lost it when they brought up… brought up about how Kai was made, the night you got…raped. Just thinking about it left a vile taste in your mouth. It wasn’t because of Kai, you loved him with all your heart and soul, it was thinking about it brought you back to that night. Back to that high school party where you were drugged and forced into that bathroom. The dizziness you—

“(Y/n).” You look up at Feitan; you hadn’t realized you had almost forced yourself into a panic attack, “Calm down. Not your fault.”

“B-but—“

“What have me said about talking back?”

You let out a little laugh that Feitan still goes by his little rules even in a moment like this.

“Me will get them to leave. You go to bed.”

“Wait Fei—“

Your cut off as Feitan’s pulls your hand above your head and slams you against a wall. “Me order you not to argue.”

Leaning in, he growls and fiercely kisses you. You moan, blushing red, at the feral and animalistic fueled kiss. Not thinking it was quite a punishment, Feitan brings a free hand to your neck and squeezes. You sigh into the kiss as you could hear the blood rushing to your brain from the lack of oxygen. It was dangerous letting a man often fueled by torture do it but he did it so good. The tingling and dizziness you felt, proved it. After all, he did have a lot of practice.

Finally, as you're close to passing out, Feitan releases your neck and pulls away, leaving a couple of saliva strings still connecting you two. You stumble, dizzy from the lack of oxygen, and Feitan has to hold you up.

“Want to rebut again, (y/n)?”

“N-no, Fei-i”

Feitan lets go once he is positive you are stable on your own and you turn to leave. Though, of course, Feitan couldn’t let you off that easily. You yelp as you heard a large wack and felt a sting on your butt. Blushing you, hesitantly, continue up the steps. You were definitely throwing that blasted spatula out.

Once you were upstairs and Feitan had heard your door close, he opens up his phone and sends out a text. After the responder messages back, Feitan grins and walks back into the dining room. The family stares at the short man as he walks past them and to Kai. Leaning down to the boy who was reading his book, he whispers a couple of words in Kai’s ear which causes the boy to grin.

“Me is going to teach you the ropes, kid”

————☠️🕷☠️————

“H-huh? Where am I?!” Paul groans, opening his eyes. He blinks and his eyes widen as he looks around the dark and cold room. Where the hell was he? From what he remembered he got kicked out of (y/n)’s house from that pathetic shortass of a boyfriend. He couldn’t see what you saw in that creep of a man. Then, from there, he was on his way home when something dropped down on his car. It was a bear-like man— holy shit is that…

Vile comes up from his throat as he finally notices the tortured and dismembered bodies of (y/n) family members. He forces the puke down and begins to shake the chains wrapped around him, trying to get free. His blood turns cold as he is startled when he hears a giggle echo around the room. Looking to his left he sees a familiar face. “Y-you! You little shit!”

Feitan looks up from his book and turns to look at Kai who was staring and giggling at Paul. “Oh, You're awake.”

Standing up he walks over to Kai, touching the boy on the shoulder, “Kai.”

The young boy turns to look at Feitan. “Use what I taught you…. and do your worst.”

Kai grins, an evil grin, and Feitan leaves the room to leave the boy to his own devices.

“I didn’t know you were a protective father, Feitan.”

Feitan looks up to glare at Shalnark as he enters the main room of the hideout.

“Hey, hey. I’m not starting a fight,” Shalnark says, waving his hands as he jumps down from the rumble, “I was just curious.”

“Yeah Fei. I thought you hated kids.” Phinks shouts from his spot. Feitan tches as he hears all sorts of comments and theories from the other members. He was done with bullshit for today and turned away, deciding to just return back to Kai.

“Feitan,” Feitan pauses as he hears his boss call his name. He looks up at Chrollo who was sitting on the edge of a broken window. The two lock eyes and stare at each other for a while before Feitan turns away. Though things weren’t said between the two, the look Chrollo gave Feitan was all that was needed.

“Feitan. Teach the boy well.”

Feitan stiffles out a laugh as he enters the room. The boss didn’t have to tell him twice. A scream echoes around the walls of the room as he looks at Kai who was getting to the main part of his torturing. He stares at the young boy for a couple of minutes before letting out a small smile and muttering under his breath, “Me thinks maybe being a dad won’t be so bad.”

[hvitserkmarcosource]

The Arrangement

Chapter Five: Dancing with the Devil

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of rape, Sad (Warnings will be updated with every chapter, so make sure you read them!)

Chapter Five Summary: You do everything you can, to save Hvitserk.

Word Count: 2,259

This chapter gets a little dark, but don’t worry there is a light at the end of the tunnel!

Chapter Four

Chapter Six

................................................

The walk back to the castle was long, or at least it felt like it, like your feet were dragging. And maybe they were, your brain must have told them what you planned to do, and they were trying to stop you by slowing you down. By the time you reach the doors you are winded and sore. The cold finally catching up to you for not wearing the fur.

As you enter the castle the tall wooden doors slam behind you, sinking your heart further into your chest. Much like the night you arrived. Also like that night, you are terrified of the man sitting on the throne. His blue eyes are already boring into your soul and wrapping around all of your courage, effectively snuffing it out

Suddenly you realized that being the center of this man's attention was a very bad place to be. ”You are awake early. Princess.” Ivar states

To which you nod “I could not sleep, once the sun rose I decided to take a short walk. Try to clear my head.”

“Mmhmm, did that walk include visiting my brother?”

Lying to him crosses your mind, it would make this conversation much easier, but with Ivar being Ivar you know he already knows you saw Hvitserk. He probably had his men spying on you the entire time. So you tell the truth. “I did see him, yes. You did not forbid me, so I thought it would be alright.”

He smirks, and you get the urge to smack it off of his face. “It is quite alright,” he says, surprising you “ I could arrange for you to permanently stay with him outside. If you’d like?”

His words cause anger to bubble up inside of you. “I would actually like to talk to you my king, if you have a moment? I know you must be terribly busy, what with all the pillaging and murder you commit.” You hold your head up high. And with a smile you say “You must be so exhausted.”

Ivar stands up then and he begins to walk towards you. You stand your ground, trying to maintain what courage you have left. Even slumped over on his crutch he is taller than you. Much broader, and stronger. Almost as big as a bear, you imagine… you’ve never actually seen a bear up close. One thing is for certain though, Ivar is definitely more unpredictable. With a bear at least you can tell when it’s about to strike.

“When it comes to you, I have all the time in the world.”

You follow him into what you assume are his chambers. And he points to a table near the window “Please, sit down.” You do, hoping the nerves in your stomach will relax some now that you have a table between the two of you. “What did you want to speak about?”

You take a deep breath, and close your eyes for a moment. Were you really going to do this? Risk everything you’ve worked so hard to protect, just to save one man? Were you being selfish? Or the opposite?

“If I divulge something to you, Will you set Hvitserk free?”

He quirks his head and smiles, all teeth like a snarling beast. “Depends on what you are planning to divulge?”

“I need to know that Hvitserk being freed is a possibility first.” Your voice raises, trying to stand your ground.

He nods “If your information is good enough, yes. I will free him.”

Should you believe the word of a man you don’t trust? All of your past life experience is screaming no. But your heart is pleading with you to do everything you possibly can to help Hvitserk. And what will become of you if he dies? Will you return to England? You couldn’t do that.

“My father's kingdom,” you say, voice no longer strong “If you agree to set Hvitserk free, I will tell you how to get into his castle without being seen.” Excitement flashes across Ivars face and your stomach does a flip. “You must swear to me he will be set free.”

Ivar extends his arm and lays it on the table. Rolling up the sleeve of his shirt, he shows you a bracelet. ”I know that you Christians have the Bible. But in Kattegat we believe in multiple Gods and this is sacred to us. It is called an arm ring, we cannot take it off, unless we renounce our Gods and Odin. It is holy to us like your Bible is holy to you. I will swear on my arm ring to set my brother free, how does that sound hmm?”

You agree, against your better judgement. If the arm ring was like their Bible then that was good enough for you. “Set him free first and then I will tell you.”

Ivar slams his hand on the table and points at you, his face red with anger “You are in no position to be making any demands!” He screams “I am your king!”

“And I am the woman who knows everything about the king and kingdom you wish to overthrow!” You yell back “I suggest, you stop yelling so we can act like civilized human beings and come to a peaceful compromise.”

Ivar snickers at you in disgust “The last man to yell at me like that was hung right outside of those doors, in front of his family.”

You stand up then and look down at your king “Then it is a good thing that I am not a man.”

................................................

A deal had been made, one that you were content with. Hvitserk would go free and you would show Ivar how to get into your father’s castle at the same moment. The only problem is you did not want Hvitserk to know what you were going to do, you did not want him to see you break just to set him free.

Because isn’t that what you are doing? Breaking? You are about to break the one promise you said you never would. You are endangering the lives of innocent people, your people. And you so readily thought to do so. You did not hesitate, you did not try to think of another way. You spilled your guts for the life of one man, because he was nice to you… you would make a terrible queen.

The sun had set by the time you and Ivar came to a decision. The sky a dark and inky black color, not one star shines tonight. No wind blows, it is deathly quiet. Even the people are silent. The only solace is the fire burning on the torches, lighting your way to Hvitserk. He is asleep when you finally reach him, asleep or unconscious. His face is bloody again and there is a dark bruise by his mouth.

“What happened to being a merciful King?” You seethe, as you bend down and wipe Hvitserk’s face clean once more. He groans in pain as he regains consciousness. Your name falls from his lips and you smile “I’m here, you will be okay.”

You feel Ivar place a hand on your shoulder and you look up at him “Let us finish this, I am a busy king as you stated earlier. Many lives to ruin and such, Princess.”

Ivar holds out his hand and one of his guards hands him a rolled up map, to which he taps you on the head with, once he has it in his grasp. Laughing at your shock at being treated like a child. “Show me where to enter the castle and my brother will go free.”

You hear Hvitserk grunt behind you and you take the map from Ivar. Unrolling it and laying it on the ground so you can have a closer look. “Here,” you say “there is a gate under the sewers. It is unguarded and the lock is old and rusted, easily broken. It will lead you to the wine cellar, you will be met with force but only two men stand guard there. After that you are inside.”

You are pulled up, harshly, The grip Ivar has on your upper arm is sure to leave a bruise. “Good!” He says loudly “let us go inside, we will work out some final details while my men free Hvitserk and take him to the healer.”

You begin to protest but to no avail, Ivar drags you back inside of the castle and throws you to the floor once you enter his chambers. “Why didn’t you let me stay with him? I gave you what you wanted, I kept my end of the deal.”

He shrugs “And I kept mine… but I need one more thing from you.”

Glaring up at him you say “One more thing, wasn’t part of the deal!”

He smirks “I was going to keep you awake for this, but seeing as you have trouble keeping your mouth shut-“

Before you have time to react, Ivar slams your head against the floor and your vision starts to fade to black. Much like tonight's sky.

................................................

Everything is a blur as you wake up, your vision foggy and dizzying. A sharp pain shoots through your head and you gasp, reaching up to touch it. Only to find it sensitive- and then it all comes rushing back. The deal, Hvitserk, being dragged back into the castle, into Ivars chambers… Your heart begins to race when you remember he knocked you out. Suddenly you sit up. Blinking away the fog from your eyes.

Relief washes over you when you see you are in Hvitserk‘s room and not Ivar’s. And then dread fills your heart, did Ivar really let Hvitserk go? Or were you a fool to trust him?

It seems early enough that you should be able to leave the castle without being caught by Ivar. You could go to the healer and make sure Hvitserk is there. Check on him and maybe get the healer to look at your head. Looking around the room you spot our cloak at the end of the bed and your shoes laying by the door. There was no need to dress properly right now, this was urgent. You have to make sure the king kept his word. If not you need to warn your father.

Uncovering yourself from the blankets, you swing your legs over the bed. Only to be met with more pain. A sharp pain that takes your breath away. A sob escapes you when you look down to see blood on your white nightdress. A small stain between your legs. More tears fall when you realize what Ivar did to you… what he took from you. What you would have to live with for the rest of your life. The knowledge of what he did without anyone to tell it to.

You would be hung if you ever spoke about this, and Hvitserk would never want to marry you if he finds out. You were no good now, tainted, destroyed by a man. Ripped open and used by someone that wasn’t your beloved. How could you stay here? How could you look at Ivar everyday knowing what he did to you? How could you live in constant fear that he would do it again? He may have knocked you unconscious this time, but you knew he would not show you the same kindness the second time.

Every word he said to you in the beginning was a lie. You were a prisoner and he made sure of it. He took this caged little bird and crushed it.

You cry until your tears dry and your eyes ache. And you sit at the edge of the bed for longer than that. Not having the strength to stand. A loud knock startles you, but you don’t find the words to tell whoever it is to leave you alone. A man enters and he looks at you with sadness. “Hvitserk has been asking to see you Princess. I will escort you when you are ready.” And then he leaves.

Hvitserk. He will hate you if he finds out. Hate you even more than he already does. You choke back another sob when you finally stand. Walking towards the end of the bad to get your cloak, and then your shoes. When you open the door the man is standing there “Is he alright?” You ask, your voice dry from crying.

He nods “He is, thanks to you. Would you like me to carry you Princess? The walk to the healer is a long one.”

You whimper. “Does everyone know?”

He shakes his head “No, and I only do because I saw the blood on your dress.”

“You do not have to carry me, I will walk.” If Ivar sees you, you will not let him know you are in pain. You will not give him that satisfaction.

He nods and takes your hand “At least let me escort you properly.” In his mind, it was a silent way for him to help you walk and you were thankful for that. Thankful for him to allow you to depend on his strength while yours is diminished.

When you reach the healers tent you spot Hvitserk immediately. There are people standing around talking in hushed tones, probably talking about how disheveled you looked. And about how a son of Ragnar could never want someone like you.

Yes they are looking and talking, but you don’t care.

You run to him anyway.

Tag List: @alexhogh7137 @ivarthebloodyking @sfyri @curlyhairedhoseok @mavalenovaninagavi @lol-haha-joke @joebob15274

[nightlight-stardust-and-rain]

My multishipper ass strikes again - I found some Lavi/Wisely fanfics and like. Nice?

OK so imagine : Lavi and the boy that would become Wisely (we don't know the name he had when he was human so I'll just call him Wisely) met when they were something like 9 years old. Lavi had just begun to get the "Bookman have no heart" thing but like he's a kid. He has feelings. Lots of feelings. So he's kinda... Not okay? I mean he is okay but he's learning to not care and he would very much like the awfully detailed nightmares to stop.

For Wisely, well. We know nothing about his past except that as an adult he's homeless we know nothing of his childhood and most likely never will. so... He's just a normal kid? His parents aren't rich but they aren't poor either - they're just not often home. He likes to wander through hmm London? When he's bored. Which happens pretty often! Wisely is very curious about everything!

When they meet, Wisely is once again wandering and Lavi is... Aslo wandering since Bookman asked him to map the city by himself. Wisely is immediately intrigued by Lavi because he knows pretty much everyone here and Lavi is new! Also his age! Weird hair color! Weird clothes! An eyepatch! Wisely almost scares Lavi by harassing him with questions even before he knew his name. Lavi is startled but well! He has questions too!

They talk for hours while Wisely shows Lavi all the interesting alleys and interesting bars and everything. Wisely is awed by how much Lavi traveled! He himself never left London :( but the other countries Lavi is talking about seems awesome!

Being only nine and still pretty bad at not getting attached, Lavi likes Wisely à lot ! They're the same age but Wisely is so... Pure. He never saw anyone die or being tortured or raped or beheaded... He's so naive and innocent! It's refreshing. Lavi only ever sees awful things - but Wisely is nice. Warm.

Wisely is just happy to have a friend! He didn't have any before and Lavi is so cool! He knows so many things! He seems a bit sad too... But he seems pretty happy talking about all the spices in India right now. So that's okay?

Lavi doesn't gives Wisely the name he has now - it will change pretty soon anyway. He tells Wisely he has no name - which isn't untrue. Wisely thinks it's weird but cool! He'll just call Lavi "my friend" then! (no, Lavi doesn't have tears in his eye. Shut up, it's the first time he has been called friend) that's how Lavi gets a new name - one that Bookman will never know but that he'll always have - "friend".

Bookman and Lavi leave three weeks after. Lavi spent all of his free time with Wisely and they're both very sad to leave the only friend they ever had.

Then Wisely manages to get one of those... Carrier pigeons? You see what I mean. So that Lavi can still talk to him! (I know that Lavi and Bookman travel constantly so the pigeon wouldn't be able to find them - I just have no other way to keep them in contact! Wait are there phones in dgm - I don't remember. If yes, then they talk by phone, if not then it's by pigeon!) - I mean the thing is : they stay in contact.

Bookman obviously knows about this. He doesn't says anything because while being attached to Wisely is not good, Wisely isn't part of the record - of any record, really. The rule is to not get attached to stay unbiased : Lavi is unbiased. His friendship with Wisely doesn't affect his records, so Bookman let it keep going. When Wisely die, Bookman will say something like "I told you so" to Lavi and that will teach him to not get attached.

Anyway - they're friends. They talk as often as they can. Lavi has a lot to say about the countries he sees - he never says anything about the wars and the blood and the smoke. Wisely doesn't really haves anything interesting to say - he doesn't tells Lavi that his parents kicked him out when he reached 16 and that he lives on the streets now.

They're in love.

It happened naturally, even if they only see each other when Bookman has something to do in London, which doesn't happens often. It's a long-distance relationship. They talked about it once. Said I love you. Decided they were dating now and kept going just like before. Their relationship doesn't really changes - it just has a different name now. Lavi has a different name now. Wisely still calls him friend - but now he also calls him love. Lavi never had a true name before being "friend" and now he's also called "love". Those are pretty weird names. But he likes them.

Then Wisely disappears. He's 17. Eyes grew on his forehead and he killed two policemen. He forgot the boy with red hair and one green eye and two names - my friend my love.

Lavi is... Devastated. He's been in the Order for a while now. Writing to Wisely had been a beacon of light in this war he's forced to fight - he never wanted to fight. Only observe (he wasn't sure he wanted to observe). And now Wisely doesn't answers to his letters anymore. Oh, he knows why. He noticed that Wiselys' letters were always in poor shape - water and rain and dirt - he knew Wisely was homeless. He would never stop answering if he could help it - he's dead. It hurts. "Lavi" feels awful to hear, because he wants someone to call him by his true name (my friend my love) but he isn't here. Wisely is dead. Bookman has a "I told you so" face for two days but says nothing. Lavi feels colder (he doesn't cares about them why won't they leave him alone??) and angrier (why are they alive when Wisely isn't why is he this isn't fair). His heart feels empty - he remembers why he hates humans. And now, now he's fighting a war. To save humanity. And he hates it. Why are they here why is he here. He hates them.

Wisely is quite happy with his new-old family. Something is missing. Someone (red hair green eye gentle words letters about somewhere else I love y-) but no. No one is missing. All of the Noah are here and there was no one with him when he woke up except those two policemen - no one's missing.

Then Lavi and Bookman are captured.

Wisely isn't here right now - he's home a week after Lavi's and Bookman's arrival. Lavi's been tortured by Sheryl for a while. His master refuses to say anything, even if that might save Lavi. It hurts a bit, but he's used to it, and his body is more painful than his mind right now. It's distracting.

He's being tortured when Wisely walks in. He's been called to read Bookman's mind. He sees the other person. The redhead. He freezes.

He feels his own mind nagging at him and he feels himself in the redhead's mind and memories he shouldn't have (a weird crooked smile not used to being genuine, only one eye and questions about the other, the books he carried everywhere, warm lips on his forehead, "let me show you how to light a fire from scratch", little bits of happiness when everything was wrong, "you don't have a name? Then I'll just call you my friend!" "remember when I decided your name was my friend? Now your name is also my love", a low laugh and a grin, I love him I love him I love him I love him I love him I love him -) it hurts. He has a headache. And then he looks, really looks at the redhead (my friend my love-) and meets a sole wide eye that is still exactly the same green he remembers.

(Lavi recognizes him of course. Not the same hair, not the same skin color, eyes on his forehead - doesn't matter. It's Wisely)

(Wisely is so so so happy. It feels weird, feeling something so intense. But he loves him so much. He was wrong - someone was missing. Someone very important. But he's here now!)

(Tyki and Sheryl look at each other, dumbfounded. They never saw Wisely smile like that. And the Bookman junior looks star-struck. They know each other - but how? And what do they do now?)

(Wisely asks him if he still despises humans. Lavi laughs, almost chokes on blood, and keeps laughing. Of course he does! And Wisely asks him if he wants to stay with him - join the Noah. Everyone in the room is surprised. Lavi spend quite a time mourning Wisely - he's not letting him go now. He smiles with blood-stained teeth)

(Bookman thinks he should have burned the first letter Lavi sent to London)

[silverlightqueen]

The Other Half - Part 2

badboy!Jimin x richgirl!reader ft. bts, nct 127, twice, red velvet, got7, blackpink and exo

Word Count: 15.1k+

THIS STARTS WHERE PART ONE FINISHED SO GO REFRESH YOURSELF ON HOW IT ENDS !!!

Summary - In Winchester, y/n has it all. Gorgeous and glamorous. A friendship group just as gorgeous and glamorous. Fantastic grades. A handsome boyfriend with a family just as successful as hers. A doting dad and a brother just as beautiful as she is. An amazing school, and an even more amazing house. As many cars and clothes and bags and shoes, and as much makeup and money she could ever ask for. But when Winchester Academy puts on an exchange programme with Burnley Tech School, a high school in an underprivileged area, two completely different worlds collide, and y/n has her hands full, practically overflowing, dealing with her exchange partner, bad boy Jimin with a whole lot of baggage…

DISCLAIMER - I do not know some of these idols very well and so the portrayal of their personalities and behaviour are not 100% accurate. They are also dramatised and changed for the purpose of this story. Please do not consider my portrayal of these idols as my opinions on them.

Warnings - TRIGGERING CONTENT !! talk of weight and dieting, toxic relationship, bad language, classism, discussion of rape, I guess kind of abuse within a relationship, discussion of death, discussion of sex, I think that’s it

a/n: part two is finally here ! lmk what y’all think and hmu if you wanna be on the taglist ! you can also ask my muse if you’d like !!

au masterlist

silverlightqueen masterlist

taglist💕: @sakurauchiha2018 @jesuislalune @haileykurayami @mayumioutloud @jiminsreads @rjsmochii @generousrunawaylove @jennafromhome @locharnathebanana @pjmcth @silverlightprincess​

When we re-join the group outside, they all stare at us amusedly. ‘You both left your bags. Oh, and your exchange partners,’ Dahyun says sarcastically, and I flip her off. ‘They aren’t little kids, they can look after themselves,’ Taeyong says as he goes to sit between Seulgi and Irene. ‘Sorry, Jimin,’ I say, perching on the arm of the bench he sits on. ‘It’s alright. Where did you go?’ he asks with a small grin, already knowing the answer. ‘He just wanted to talk to me about something,’ I reply, and his grin widens as he nods. ‘Hmm, okay. I’m surprised, princess. Wouldn’t have taken you for the type of girl to suck dick, especially not at school,’ he says under his breath, his crude language making me choke on air. ‘Because I’m not,’ I reply, and he nods indulgently. ‘Tell that to the marks on your knees,’ he says and, sure enough, my knees slightly scuffed and sore. I opt to not say anything, feeling heat rush to my face, and Jimin only smiles wider, immensely amused at the entire thing. At least one of us is. 

‘What do you think, y/n?’ Chaeyoung asks, and my attention is turned back to the group. ‘What’s this?’ I ask, pulling my skirt over my knees, Taeyong watching me do so with a cocky smirk. ‘I was thinking we should go on a night out this weekend, all of us, just to break the ice a bit, you know? We could invite Jen, Lisa, Rosie, Jisoo, Jinyoung and Chanyeol and their partners as well?’ Chaeyoung suggests, and I nod. ‘That sounds like a good idea. But if we definitely are, let me know far in advance. I’ll need to get an outfit,’ I say, the other girls nodding in agreement. ‘What kind of things do you guys wear on a night out? Where do you shop?’ Wendy asks, and we all exchange a look. ‘We don’t, um, really go shopping for a night out. We get our outfits made to make sure no one will be wearing the same as us. But we could all go shopping together, if you want?’ Mina says, the BTS students looking at us wide-eyed. ‘Wait, so every time you need a new outfit, you get someone in to make it?’ Jungkook asks. ‘Not every time. Usually just for a night out,’ Tzuyu says, almost sheepishly. ‘Wow, you guys are rich rich, huh?’ Xiumin says, all of us laughing.

‘Right, is everyone free on Saturday night?’ Chaeyoung asks, looking down at her phone as she taps away. We all give various forms of confirmations. ‘Good. I’m making a new group chat with all of us in it now. And none of you put it on mute, because we have to make sure no one misses out on any plans,’ she says. We all exchanged numbers and social medias earlier, so this group chat is gonna have all of the Winchester and BTS students in it. I wonder if it’ll die straight after the night out or actually last like our Winchester one has. I can’t remember the last time a day went by without someone sending something to the group chat. ‘Okay, I’ll send the restaurant, the bar and the club into the group chat then. And I get to choose because I’m the one who suggested it,’ Chaeyoung says, the boys groaning. We have different tastes in establishments, you could say. The boys say we choose boring places, but we just prefer to go somewhere classy. ‘Wait, you guys go to a restaurant, bar and club? Isn’t that really… never mind,’ Jin says, trailing off, and Sana prompts him to continue, ‘go on. What were you gonna say?’ ‘I was gonna ask if it was really expensive, but obviously, it doesn’t matter about the expense,’ he says.

‘Wait, so what do you guys do for a night out?’ Jihyo asks. ‘We usually have pre-drinks at a pub or someone’s house and then go straight to a club at, like, 11, or we have a party and then go out afterwards,’ Yoongi says. ‘Well, we could do that if you guys would prefer it,’ Mark says, and my heart melts at the way the boys seem to be trying to make the exchange students feel comfortable. I had been worried about the boys being insensitive, but obviously my concerns were unnecessary. ‘No, no, we wanna do a night out the way you guys do. We’re here to live like you do, right?’ the other Mark says, Nayeon grinning widely. ‘Trust me, you’ll all love our nights out. And Mark, I’ll get the tailor in tomorrow and we’ll get you a new outfit made too. You know, if you wanna live like we do,’ she says, her and her partner sharing a grin. ‘That sounds good, yeah,’ he says, Johnny watching the exchange with an unreadable expression. ‘Jae, what nights are you home this week? I’ll message Chaerin now,’ I say, referring to our stylist. ‘Um, we’re at home on Wednesday. We’re busy the other nights,’ Jaehyun replies. ‘We?’ I ask, my brother looking slightly sheepish. ‘Oh, well, we’ve got football on Tuesday and Friday, and the BTS boys are coming too. And then Thursday, I’m taking Jimin and Jungkook to the golf club with a few of the others,’ he says. ‘When was this decided?’ I ask, slightly annoyed that he’s making plans with my exchange partner without consulting me. ‘When you and Taeyong disappeared for your chat,’ Jaehyun says drily, and I have the grace to look slightly embarrassed.

‘Well, whatever. I’ll be crashing your trip to the golf club; you know I love it there. Oh, and father goes away on Friday morning, so that means I’ll have the house to myself on Friday night. Shall we have a girls’ night? Ooh, we could all get manicures, pedicures, facials and massages!’ I say, getting excited. I want more than anything to spoil the BTS kids while they’re here, knowing we’re privileged to be able to do what we do and wanting them to live that lifestyle, even if only for a while. ‘That sounds fun, but I don’t know if we’ll be able to afford that and the night out on Saturday,’ Joy says, almost sheepishly. ‘No, no, you don’t have to pay, for either. I’ll just hire the people for the night, and we’ll pay for Saturday. Don’t worry about it,’ I say. ‘No, I feel bad about you guys paying for everything,’ Namjoon says, and we all give protests.

‘At the end of the day, the fact is that our parents are loaded. This money has to go somewhere because it can’t go to the grave with us. We may as well spend it where we can, and there’s no point you guys wasting your money on something that our parents could fund with no trouble,’ Taeil says, carefully and tactfully, avoiding any words that might offend one of the BTS students. ‘Well, I guess when you put it like that,’ Taehyung says with a cheeky smile, all of us laughing. ‘I’ll make another group chat, just for the girls’, so we can plan this girls’ night,’ I say, the BTS girls smiling at me. ‘That’s not fair,’ Jungkook complains, ‘I wanna be on the girls’ group chat.’ ‘Why?’ Yeri asks. ‘This girls’ night sounds fun,’ he says, ‘I wanna come.’ ‘Well, we’re going to football, remember?’ Jaehyun reminds him, and he nods. When Jaehyun looks away, Jungkook makes eye contact with me and mouths the words, ‘help me’. I burst out laughing, everyone looking at me quizzically. ‘Oh, sorry,’ I say as Jungkook grins at me, ‘just thought of something funny.’

‘And then she said that I was too…’ Jaehyun trails off when he sees me approaching and I raise an eyebrow at him, an amused smile on my face. ‘Don’t let me interrupt you,’ I say, the other boys around him all laughing. ‘No, I’ll finish my story once you’re gone,’ he says, and I roll my eyes. ‘Whatever. I just came to ask if you were ready to go, Jimin,’ I say, the boy nodding and rising up from the bench. ‘What’s the rush? Let him stay a while, we’re getting to know each other,’ Taeyong says with a smile. ‘I would, but I’ve made plans for us. Surprise plans,’ I say when they all shoot me questioning looks. ‘Okay, well, have fun,’ Taeyong says, grinning as he taps his cheek. I press a gentle kiss to his soft skin, the boy not as tense as he was earlier, before he staked his claim on me in front of all the new kids. ‘Come on, Jimin. See you tomorrow, guys,’ I say. ‘See you,’ Jimin says, the rest of the group bidding us goodbye. ‘We’ll be home soon,’ Jaehyun says about him and Jungkook, and I nod. ‘Alright,’ I say, leading Jimin away and towards where the girls wait for us.

‘Jimin, I love this colour on you. I’ve been thinking of getting purple done soon,’ Dahyun says as we walk to the car park. ‘Thanks. I used a box dye,’ he says, all of us looking at him in surprise. ‘And it turned out that good?’ Sana asks. ‘Yeah, it took a couple boxes to get the right colour, but this is the end result,’ he says. ‘I always get it done by a stylist, but maybe I’ll have to try box dye next,’ Dahyun says, Jimin grinning. ‘It’s the way forward,’ he says. ‘You’ll have to let me know which brand you use,’ Dahyun says, Jimin nodding. ‘Yeah, of course, I’ll text it you later,’ he says as we reach the car park. I bid all the girls goodbye and Jimin and I get into the car, both of us throwing our bags into the back. I put the RnB playlist on again and pull out of the car park as quickly as I can, not wanting to get stuck behind the other girls. ‘How come the boys stay after school?’ Jimin asks, and I shrug. ‘I don’t really know. They treat it like a social club. They don’t usually head home ‘til an hour after school’s finished. Why they want to stay at school even longer, I don’t know,’ I say, Jimin nodding in agreement.

‘I don’t know if I should tell you this, but I don’t owe the guy any loyalty so I will, because I have a sense of decency,’ Jimin says, and I look over at him, intrigued. ‘Taeyong was talking about you, a little while before you came over. He was being a bit… vulgar,’ Jimin says, the word sounding unnatural from his mouth. ‘What do you mean?’ I ask. ‘He was, like, talking about what happened when you two disappeared, and he was speaking about you like you were an object, not his girlfriend, or whatever it is you are to him,’ he says, and I don’t say anything. ‘Obviously, I get that I’m a newcomer, so I don’t know what your guys’ relationship is like, but I know that if I heard any guy back home talking about his girl the way Taeyong was just talking about you, I’d throw hands,’ he says. I’ve never heard the expression ‘throw hands’ but I’m pretty sure I can infer. ‘Truth be told, I’m not surprised. The culture here is different. We might be a lot more modernised in some senses, but we’re also a lot more old-fashioned. Boys always talk about their girls like that; it’s standard. I appreciate you letting me know, but it’s nothing out of the norm,’ I say, Jimin raising an eyebrow at me. ‘Seriously? You don’t have an issue with him degrading you?’ Jimin asks. ‘I do, Jimin, but it doesn’t work like that. It doesn’t matter if I have an issue with it or not. I can’t pull him up on it, because he’ll get angry, and if he gets angry, our parents will get involved. It’ll cause tensions in our relationship, and we’ll end up getting married when we don’t get along. If I just leave it, then we stay in this honeymoon period forever,’ I say, and Jimin scoffs. ‘You should be able to pull him up on it, and he’d change his ways if he loved you,’ Jimin says, the subliminal message in his words obvious; ‘he doesn’t love you’. ‘Well, thank you for your concern, Jimin, but you’re new here, so you don’t get how it works, and I’d appreciate it if you kept your nose out of it,’ I say, my voice tense, and he lets out a humourless laugh. ‘Whatever,’ he says, both of us falling silent as I pull up to a Starbucks.

‘What drink do you get?’ I ask. ‘I don’t have any money on me,’ he says. ‘That’s not what I asked,’ I reply. ‘A caramel frappe,’ he says. ‘Cream or coffee?’ I ask. ‘Cream,’ he replies. ‘With or without whipped cream?’ ‘With.’ I pull up to the drive-through and wait for the worker to ask me for my order, leaning out of the window slightly. ‘Can I get two grande caramel frapps, one cream based with whipped cream and the other skinny, coffee based with almond milk, no whipped cream and only two pumps of caramel,’ I say, and when the barista’s finished taking my order, I drive towards the first window. ‘God, it’s like the ‘popular American high school girl’ is based on you,’ he says lightly, obviously trying to clear the air, and I laugh in response. ‘They wish they were me,’ I reply, getting a laugh from him in return. ‘Listen, y/n, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried like that, and I’ll keep my nose out of your business,’ he says. ‘No, it’s okay, I understand where you were coming from. It’s just that-’ I begin to say, but the barista holds the card machine out and I’m distracted. I quickly grab my bag from the back, pulling out my purse and getting out my card. I hold it to the card machine and pull it away when it beeps. ‘Thank you,’ I say with a smile, the barista giving me a big smile in return.

I drive up to the next window, feeling Jimin’s eyes on me. ‘What?’ I ask. ‘Was that… is that a black card?’ he asks, and I hold up my card. ‘This? Yeah, it’s connected to my dad’s bank account,’ I say. ‘What does your dad do?’ he asks incredulously. ‘He, um, owns his own law firm,’ I say. ‘That’s so cool. I wanted to be a lawyer,’ he says, and I smile at him. ‘I could see you as a lawyer. Why not anymore?’ I ask. ‘You have to go to uni to be a lawyer, and I can’t exactly… afford it. And I gotta take over the bakery and stuff so… it’s whatever,’ he says, and my heart breaks. ‘That sucks, Jimin, I’m really sorry. If it makes it any better, I wanted to be a lawyer too, but I… I’m not really allowed,’ I say. ‘What do you mean?’ he asks. ‘Taeyong will be the one who goes out and gets a job, probably in law, and earns, and I’ll be at home, looking after the house and kids,’ I say, just before the barista leans out of the window, handing us a small paper bag along with our drinks. I hand Jimin his drink before peering into the bag, seeing a caramel shortcake and a number scrawled onto the packaging of it. I roll my eyes, offering him the bag, and he takes it. ‘Don’t you want it?’ he asks, and I shake my head. ‘Diet,’ I reply. ‘I meant the phone number, princess,’ he says, and I laugh. ‘No. A) I have a man – remember? – and B) it’s only because they saw the black card. Guaranteed,’ I say, putting my drink into the cup holder and driving off. ‘Do you always get free stuff?’ he asks. ‘Yeah, and it doesn’t make sense to me. Why give rich people stuff for free?’ I say, heading out of the Starbucks and onto the road.

‘Can we rewind just a bit? Did you say that you have to be a housewife while Taeyong earns?’ he asks, and I nod. ‘That’s the way it works around here,’ I say, and Jimin shakes his head. ‘That’s ridiculous,’ he says, and I shrug. ‘It’s also the reason why I can’t pull Taeyong up on anything. If he decides he doesn’t want to marry me, I’ll be screwed because it’s unlikely I’ll be able to get a job and provide for myself. That’s why I have to keep him sweet and pander to his every whim,’ I say, and Jimin shakes his head. ‘Why don’t you just be independent? Your dad seems supportive; he’d support you, emotionally and financially, if you went to uni after school, right? You should just live by yourself and become a lawyer,’ he says, and I smile sadly. ‘I’d become a social outcast, and I thrive on social interaction. Trust me, Jimin, I’ve thought of every possibility but what I’m doing now is what’s best for me. I’ll be Mrs Lee Taeyong for the rest of my life if it means I can be financially secure and safe and… content,’ I say, and Jimin sighs. ‘I might have it tough, but I guess you do too. I’m sorry you’re in this situation, y/n,’ he says. ‘Don’t be silly, my problems are nothing compared to yours. You can’t even go to uni to follow your dreams,’ I say, and Jimin laughs. ‘Not like you can either though,’ he says, and I shrug. ‘C'est la vie, mon ami,’ I reply, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘That’s life, my love,’ I translate, and he nods in understanding.

He opens his mouth to speak but before he can, a phone starts ringing. ‘Is that your phone?’ he asks, and I shake my head. ‘My phone’s connected to the car, so it would ring through the speakers,’ I say. ‘Well, it’s not mine,’ he says, holding his up in his hand, and I frown. ‘Have I picked up Tae’s or something by accident?’ I think aloud. ‘Oh, my God!’ Jimin suddenly exclaims, unintelligibly muttering to himself as he reaches into the back and grabs his bag, the ringing coming from inside it. He pulls out the phone, an old iPhone from years ago, and rejects the call, putting it away. ‘Who’s is that?’ I ask. ‘It’s, um… it’s mine,’ he says, and I give him a confused look. ‘You have… two phones?’ I ask, and he nods. ‘This one’s my main phone, and the other one… it’s my old one; it has all my pictures on it,’ he says, and I give him a confused look. ‘So who was calling it?’ I ask, and he shrugs. ‘Probably just a call centre,’ he says, and I nod. I’m still confused, and I don’t quite believe him, but I won’t pry. I don’t understand why he’d have another phone and I can’t come up with another reasonable explanation other than his pictures, so I leave the matter.

‘What were you gonna say?’ I ask. ‘I was gonna say that I don’t agree with things like that. ‘That’s life’ and ‘life’s not fair’. I see life as being what you make it. I know I can’t achieve what I want to, but there’s no point being bitter about it. So I make life better for myself, try to have a positive outlook on the life that I will have to lead. One day, I’ll get married and have kids and run the bakery. Yes, that’s a simple life, but I’ll be… what’s the word you used again? Um… content. Not exactly happy, but content,’ he says, and I nod. ‘And I guess I’m the same. I am positive about my future. Me and Taeyong may have our issues, but I still love him, and he loves me. We’ll move in to a beautiful house together when we finish school, probably get married while he’s still at university or law school or whatever and have an amazing wedding, and then we’ll have kids and I’ll be the ‘lady of the house’ while he goes out and earns. Don’t you think there’s something fun about your life being a permanent weekend? I’ll take the kids out all the time, have the girls and their kids over, or all go out on day trips together, and then have date nights or family nights when Tae gets home. Again, it’s a simple life, but I’ll be content,’ I say, and he smiles. ‘You’re right. Our lives will be simple but we’ll both be content,’ he says, and I smile back at him as we pull up to the house.

As I pull up on the driveway, Changwoo appears to put the car away. We both climb out, drinks in hand, and Changwoo takes the keys from me. ‘Good day at school, miss, sir?’ he asks us both. ‘Yeah, it was good, thank you,’ Jimin replies, seemingly surprised at being called sir. ‘Amazing, Changwoo. I got my English results back from that test last week; I got an A!’ I exclaim, and Changwoo grins. ‘As expected from someone as smart as yourself, miss. Well done,’ he says. ‘Thank you. How was your day, Changwoo?’ I ask. ‘Great, thank you, miss. Your father had to make a few trips, so I got to drive him around in the Bentley,’ he says, and I grin. ‘You do love the Bentley. Is father home now?’ I ask, and he shakes his head. ‘He’s at the firm, miss, there was some sort of emergency. I expect it’ll be another late night,’ he says, and I sigh. ‘As usual. Well, thank you, anyway. I’ll see you later, Changwoo,’ I say, the man bowing his head before Jimin and I head up to the house. ‘You’ve got a good relationship with your staff, huh?’ he asks as I push open the double doors, and I nod. ‘They basically raised me,’ I begin, but get distracted with the new flower display in the foyer.

‘Oh, my God, they brought in white orchids this week!’ I exclaim, deeply inhaling the floral scent. ‘New flowers every week?’ Jimin asks with a raised eyebrow, and I nod sheepishly. ‘I get them ordered in,’ I say, and he pulls a fake shocked face. ‘No way! I’d have thought Jaehyun was the one who has them ordered in if you hadn’t cleared that up,’ he says, and I stick my tongue out at him, walking over to the centre table where a display sits proudly. ‘I love flowers. Mum does as well. Well, she did. She took me, every week, to the flower shop to pick out a new arrangement. After she died, I used to carry on the tradition and pick out new flowers, but I started to get too busy, so I got the staff to order it in. Mum always smells like flowers too. And then the whole house smelled like flowers when she died. I like to think her spirit spread out into the house and she still wanders here, making the place smell like flowers,’ I say, talking without even thinking, and then look over at Jimin embarrassedly. ‘Obviously, I know it’s not really her spirit-’ ‘No, don’t. I think that’s really nice. And you’re right. If her spirit is gonna be anywhere, it’d be here. In the house she lived in with her husband, her son and her daughter who still fills the house up with flowers for her. Of course she’s here,’ he says softly, and I tear up. ‘I never thought of it like that,’ I say, and he smiles at me gently. ‘Well, there you go. She stays here because you make it smell like flowers, and you fill it up with flowers because it smells like her. It’s beautiful,’ he says, and I nod, agreeing. A tear spills out onto my cheek and, seemingly on reflex, he lifts his hand to wipe it away, my eyes locked with his chocolate brown ones. Almost as though his mind catches up with his actions, he jerks his hand away from my face suddenly, both of us flinching, and he looks away from me.

‘Anyway,’ I say, looking away from him, ‘let’s go get changed and then I’ll give you a tour of the place.’ We head up the staircase, and head towards where our rooms are. ‘I’m gonna just change into my comfies, you do the same if you want? Just knock on my door when you’re done,’ I say, and he nods, heading into his room. I practically run into my room, knowing he’ll end up getting changed so much quicker than I will. I strip off my uniform, going into my wardrobe and looking for what to wear. I decide on a pair of black cycling shorts (they’re my guilty pleasure; I’d never wear them in public – where a gossip magazine can take a picture of me – or around my judgy friends, but I practically live in them when I’m at home) and a black Balenciaga t-shirt that I tie into a knot, exposing a little strip of my stomach. I worked hard for this body, might as well show it off, you know? Jimin knocks at the door then, and I go to open it. He’s dressed in his Puma sweatpants again, this time with a black Nike hoodie, and he’s wearing white Nike socks on his feet (thankfully a little strip of his leg is visible as he hasn’t pulled them up; it’s literally a crime if people pull up their socks underneath sweatpants). ‘I’ve just gotta put socks on, come in for a second,’ I say, moving to the side. He looks around at my room, and I know what he’s thinking, slightly embarrassed. My room is ridiculously lavish; grey, white, black and pink, (faux) fur and velvet everywhere, a walk-in wardrobe that’s bursting at the seams with clothes, makeup spilling out of the drawers of my vanity with its light-up mirror. I go into my wardrobe, looking for my favourite black fluffy socks, custom designed by Rob Kardashian for my 18th birthday.

When I finally find them and go back into my room, Jimin’s stood at the wall that’s covered edge to edge with photos. Me with my friends, various celebrities I’ve met over the years, my family, our staff, Taeyong, dad, Jaehyun, mum. At parties, nights out, nights in, school, the golf club, the beach, the shopping centre, on birthdays and anniversaries and Christmas and Halloween and New Years and Valentine’s Day. I see Jimin lift up a hand, and expect him to point out the picture of me with the Kardashian children, Anna Wintour maybe, or Sasha Obama, possibly with Oprah, or the one with Kris Jenner. But he points at my favourite one on the wall. The picture that was taken a few days before mum died; we were just having a family day in. Dad was behind the camera and we were sat on the sofa with mum, seven-year-old Jaehyun and I on either side of her. We’re all smiling widely at the camera, all of us in matching Christmas pyjamas, something I remember Jaehyun not being too happy about. I remember everything from inside that picture, the way mum smelt, the way we’d had to beg Jaehyun to wear the pyjamas, the way dad had taken so many photos to get one without someone’s eyes closed or one that wasn’t blurry, the way mum had gripped onto Jaehyun and I so hard, as though she was desperate not to let us go.

‘That’s your mum?’ he asks, and I nod. ‘You look like her. A lot, actually. She’s a beautiful woman,’ he says, and I smile at him. ‘Thank you. She is beautiful, isn’t she? Or she was, anyway,’ I say. ‘No, talk about her in the present tense. She’s still here. As long as you and your brother and your dad live, she lives on with you. And I’m sure your kids will know about her, right? So she’ll live on through them too. As long as you remember someone, you never really lose them. They’re never really dead,’ he says, and again, my eyes have teared up at how touching his words are. I turn to look at him, but he doesn’t look back at me, eyes still fixed on the photo. ‘Have you ever lost anyone?’ I ask him, and he sighs, still not looking at me. ‘I… I nearly lost my mum. She had cancer, and it wasn’t terminal, but it did nearly kill her. I really thought I lost her. I used to be… not a bad son, but not a great one either. I was never really grateful for my parents and everything they did for me, I hated having to work in the bakery, I hated having to look after my brother, and I used to get in a lot of trouble. At school, and outside of school. Now, not a day goes by that I don’t tell mum I love her, that I don’t tell my dad and my brother the same too. I changed my life. I worked at the bakery all the time and I started to love it, because I could spend time with my parents. I loved looking after my brother, because it wasn’t long until we were spending time together rather than me looking after him; we were, like, best friends. I get in trouble a lot less, but old habits die hard, so I can’t help but get in a little trouble from time to time. But after nearly losing her, it put everything into perspective. You realise there’s more to life, you know? I remember saying to my dad that I was scared of losing her and – this was when we thought she was definitely going to die – he said to me what I said to you; as long as you remember someone, you never really lose them,’ he says, and without even thinking about it, I clasp one of his hands in mine. It’s warm and soft, and his fingers curl around mine in response, my heart jumping slightly.

‘I’m sorry that you had to go through that; I hope I can meet your mum one day,’ I say, and he finally turns to look at me, a small smile on his face and a tear in his eye, threatening to spill down his cheek. ‘I hope so too. And I’m sorry your mum died. I just know she’s an amazing person, and it would’ve been nice to meet her,’ he says, and I grin. ‘She is an amazing person. I’ll tell you all about her. But another time. Let me show you around the house,’ I say, and he nods with a smile. ‘Let’s do it.’

I let go of his hand and pick up my phone from the bed, both of us heading out of my room. ‘Okay, we’ll go this way,’ I say, leading him down the corridor, away from the staircase. I show him the home cinema, the music room (that nobody uses and is pretty much there for decoration), and my other wardrobe where the rest of my clothes and accessories are (this one’s two stories and about the size of an Olympic swimming pool). Then I take him downstairs and show him where the staff quarters are, before I show him the games room, the indoor pool, the library (one of my favourite rooms in the house) and the panic room. Then I take him outside, behind the house, and show him the outdoor pool, the football pitch, the basketball court, the tennis courts, the golf course, the greenhouse and the patio where I host garden parties during the summer. Then I bring him back inside and show him the three living rooms, the ballroom, the dining room and the various bathrooms around our house. ‘There we go. That is our house,’ I say as we reach the foyer, stopping by the table where the bouquet of flowers sits. ‘It’s amazing. I mean, who even has a ballroom?’ he asks, and I wince. ‘Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t think we’ve ever actually used it for its purpose. Maybe I should throw a big ball one day. On your guys’ last day!’ I exclaim, and Jimin laughs. ‘I’m not sure if we’re the right crowd for you to host a ball in honour of us,’ he says, and I frown. ‘Balls are for everyone, regardless of where they’re from, and how wealthy their parents are,’ I say pointedly, and he grins. ‘If you say so,’ he says, and I shake my head. ‘Okay, so what’s this big surprise you have planned?’ he asks, and I grin. ‘It’s not really that big of a deal, so don’t get your hopes up, okay?’ I say, and he nods. ‘Come on, then,’ I say, gently holding onto his wrist and leading him through into the kitchen. It’s been set up for us by Eunha, different ingredients and apparatus practically covering the island, and Jimin’s eyes widen.

‘What’s all this for?’ he asks, and I grin, picking up the two aprons sat on the counter, throwing one to him. ‘You are going to teach me how to bake something, because you have baking experience,’ I say, and he smiles at me, both of us putting our aprons on. I try to tie mine myself and he laughs. ‘Let me do it, princess,’ he says, and I turn to face away from him. I feel him take the straps into his hands and knot them, pulling them tight, before he skilfully ties it into a bow, his fingers gently grazing the strip of my exposed back, and I try not to shudder as a little shock runs through me. ‘Tight enough?’ he asks, and I nod, turning back to face him. ‘Shall I do yours?’ I ask, and he nods, turning away from me. I tie it for him and then he turns back to face me, grinning. ‘What shall we bake?’ he asks, and I shrug. ‘You tell me, baker boy, you’re the expert here. What’s your bakery’s speciality?’ I ask him, and he thinks for a moment. ‘Um, the hotteok is pretty popular. And the bungeoppang,’ he says, and I nod. ‘Shall we make both? They won’t take too long, right?’ I ask, and he nods. ‘It should take like an hour max,’ he says, and I smile. ‘Perfect! Let’s get baking!’

We start by Jimin picking out the ingredients and kitchenware we need, moving everything else to the side and out of our way, whilst I choose a playlist, ultimately settling on a hip-hop and RnB one. Then we begin making separate doughs for the hotteok, Jimin talking me through step-by-step. His seems to look better than mine, which I’m slightly jealous about, but I guess the years of experience he has have paid off, making him a great baker. We then put it to ‘ferment’ (which sounds gross but apparently, it’s just means that it’ll double in size – who knew?) and start on the bungeoppang. We mix the batter and then pour it into the mould. Jimin says to make some with the usual red bean paste, and some with Nutella because they taste really nice, so we do so, working as a team; he pours in the batter, I put the filling, and then he puts the rest of the batter onto the top, our method quite successful. Our bungeoppang turns out really well, and we set them to cool before getting out the ‘fermented’ hotteok dough. We split up the dough into pancake sized pieces before cooking them in a pan until they’re golden brown. We set those to cool too, the final results looking amazing, and the room smells great too.

Jimin sighs contentedly, and I look at him as he leans against the counter. ‘You’ve got flour on your nose. And cheek. And forehead,’ he says amusedly, reaching over to brush it off. ‘Thanks,’ I say, laughing, once he’s done, and he smiles. ‘It’s fine. My mum’s the same; whenever she bakes, more of the ingredients end up on her than they do in the food,’ he says, a wistful smile on his face, and my heart goes out to him; he must miss his mum, his family, his home a lot. He takes a deep breath in, eyes closed, before slowly breathing out, a soft smile on his face. ‘It smells like home,’ he says gently, and I grin. ‘I thought it might,’ I say, glad that my idea worked, and he looks at me, surprised. ‘Wait… don’t tell me you thought we should bake so that it would smell like my home?’ he says, and I nod. ‘I know you must be missing home already – I know that I would be – so I thought it’d be a nice way to bring your home to you,’ I say shyly, and he smiles a wide, genuine smile, eyes disappearing behind their lids. ‘Thank you, y/n, that’s really thoughtful. I appreciate it a lot,’ he says, and I smile, feeling blood rushing to my cheeks. ‘It’s the least I could do. And anyway, your surprise isn’t over yet. I’ve got something else planned… but I wanna try these first,’ I say, looking over at our baking, and he laughs.  

‘We’ll wait a little while then, yeah?’ he suggests, and I nod, watching as he takes a seat at the breakfast bar. ‘You want something to drink?’ I ask him, and he nods. ‘Just water, please,’ he says, and I nod, getting out two glasses and filling them up with water from the fridge. I hand him one of the glasses, getting a straw out for myself, and offer him one. He shakes his head amusedly as I sip from my water with the straw, not wanting to ruin my lipstick. We both go on our phones for a little while, scrolling through social media, and then a message from Chaeyoung comes through on a new group chat. ‘Ooh, she made it,’ I say, both of us opening the message straight away. It’s a long message, including the bookings she’s made for the restaurant, bar and club, and what times the bookings are for, bullet points and all. She’s booked an Italian restaurant called Bella Vita for 8 until 10, then a bar that I love called Midnight Violet (they serve all these really cool drinks – some of them are on fire, or have smoke coming out of them, or they’re glow-in-the-dark) from 10.15 until 11.30, and then a booth in the RnB room at our favourite club, Nova, from 12 until closing time, 5.

‘We’re gonna be out from 8 ‘til 5?’ Jimin asks, and I nod with a grin. ‘That’s nothing. Sometimes we go for a night out a little further away, about forty minutes from here, and there’s club there called Sunrise that opens at 4am and closes at 10am. Sometimes we’ll go there after the first club and stay out ‘til the late hours of the morning,’ I say, and his mouth drops open. ‘Wow, you guys really are… hardcore,’ he says, and I nod. ‘You don’t know the half of it. But it’ll be a great night out. Nova’s a really good club too; there’s loads of different rooms for every music taste; there’s a pop one, a RnB one, a hip-hop one, a techno one. You guys will love it, trust me,’ I say, and he grins. ‘Sounds good. But, in Chaeyoung’s… itinerary, she hasn’t put anything about home pre-drinks and post-club-kebabs. Please don’t tell me you guys don’t do either of those things,’ he says, and I bite my lip. ‘Um, we don’t. But we can introduce them! We can do home pre-drinks all together, get taxis to the restaurant, and then stop for kebabs on the way home from the club! Dad’s away this weekend, so I’m sure we could host pre-drinks here. Oh, my God, everyone could stay over at ours for the night!’ I say, starting to get excited. ‘Okay, okay, princess, before you get too excited, why don’t you put it on the group chat and see what everyone says?’ Jimin suggests, just as Jaehyun and Jungkook enter the room.

‘Put what on the group chat?’ Jaehyun asks. ‘Mmm, it smells so good in here. It smells like… like…’ Jungkook says, sniffing the air intently to try and work out why he recognises the smell. ‘Like my house?’ Jimin prompts, and Jungkook takes another sniff before nodding. ‘Yeah, yeah it does. What did you guys bake?’ he asks, spotting the racks covered in tea towels on the other side of the room. ‘Hotteok and bungeoppang,’ Jimin grins, and Jungkook’s mouth falls open. ‘Your mum’s recipe?’ he asks, and Jimin nods. ‘Oh, my God, can I have some? Please, y/n, pretty please?’ he begs me, and I’m taken aback at him asking me. ‘Yeah, of course, they should be cool enough now, right, Jimin?’ I ask, and Jimin nods, Jungkook taking that as a cue to pounce and stuff an entire hotteok in his mouth. ‘Ew,’ I say before I’m able to stop myself, all three of the boys laughing, Jungkook having to hold a hand over his mouth to stop the food from coming out, and I can’t stop myself from laughing with them. We all try some of the food, both the hotteok and bungeoppang, and it tastes amazing. ‘Mmm, this tastes amazing, Jimin,’ I say for the sixth time, and Jimin laughs. ‘You made it too, y/n,’ he says, and I shake my head. ‘It’s your recipe and expertise and so, the credit goes to you,’ I say, and he shakes his head. ‘Both of us,’ he says, and I roll my eyes with an amused smile.

‘Anyway, what were you telling y/n to put on the group chat, Jimin?’ Jaehyun asks. ‘Oh, she had an idea to have everyone sleep over here this weekend after the night out, and she was making all these different plans, and I said to put it on the group chat and see what they all say before getting carried away,’ Jimin explains. ‘She has a habit of that,’ Jaehyun says, and I scowl. ‘No, I don’t.’ ‘You do. But it’s fine. It’s cute. The flowers are nice this week, aren’t they?’ Jaehyun says, changing the subject, and I nod. ‘They smell amazing. I wanna find a perfume like it,’ I say. ‘Get one made. Ooh, that can be your next birthday present from me, so I’ll get it done,’ he says, and I pout. ‘No, birthday presents are supposed to be surprises, Jae, think of something else,’ I say, and he rolls his eyes. ‘Well, whatever. That’s a good idea about having everyone over, you should put it on the group chat. We could use the bigger living room, get loads of mattresses and airbeds put down so we can all sleep in the same room,’ he says, and I nod. ‘Oh, but…’ I begin, but trail off, Jaehyun raising an eyebrow. ‘Me and Mina will be in the living room with everyone else, so you and Taeyong should be too. You know dad doesn’t like it when you two share a room,’ Jaehyun says, and I feel blood rushing to my cheeks again. ‘No, I… well, you’ll have to have that conversation with Taeyong then,’ I sigh, and Jaehyun raises an eyebrow.

‘I have to tell your man that you two can’t share a room?’ Jaehyun says. ‘Jae, you know it’s not that simple,’ I say, not wanting to get into it in front of Jimin and Jungkook. ‘I think it’s pretty simple, y/n, and I also think it’s pretty shitty that you’re scared to tell your man that you’re not gonna have sex with him,’ Jaehyun says. ‘Jae, shut up!’ I exclaim, knowing any of the staff or even our father could walk in at any moment. ‘Well, it’s true! What do you guys think?’ Jaehyun says, turning to Jimin and Jungkook, who both looking slightly awkward and embarrassed. ‘Jaehyun, you know it’s not like that,’ I say before they can answer, and he scoffs. ‘y/n, what I know is that it is exactly like that! You want me to tell him because you’re scared to refuse him, which literally means that he is having non-consensual sex with you, which is rape! But you won’t tell me, and you won’t tell dad, and you won’t tell anyone, because you’re scared of something and I don’t know what it is because you don’t speak to me! I bet you didn’t wanna suck him off at school today, but he was angry at you because of Jimin, and you don’t like it when he’s angry with you, so you did it. I can’t even imagine how many times something like that has happened to you!’ he says. ‘It’s not rape! I’m in a relationship with him!’ I exclaim, tears coming to my eyes, and Jaehyun scoffs. ‘Of course it’s rape. If you didn’t want to have sex but you do anyway, then it’s rape, you moron! But I can’t even say anything to him, because if I do, you’ll stick up for him like always, and I don’t know why! You don’t have to marry him, y/n!’ Jaehyun says. ‘I want to marry him! I love him! You’re making him sound like an abuser, and he’s not!’ I shout, the tears spilling down my cheeks, and Jaehyun laughs humourlessly. ‘When will you understand that I’m not saying this for no reason? I’m saying it because it’s what I see, because I’m worried about you, because you’re my sister and I love you, y/n!’ he shouts back. ‘I know that, but you don’t need to worry,’ I say defeatedly, another tear falling with every blink, and Jaehyun lets out another humourless laugh. ‘I don’t know if you’re just in denial, or completely delusional, but when you realise that what you and Taeyong have is not love and you’re better off without him, I’ll be waiting to help you. But until you realise that, y/n, until you realise that you and me are on the same side, and it’s not the side with him on it, there’s nothing I can do,’ he says, leaving the room without another word.

Jimin hands me a tissue and I take it embarrassedly, blotting away my tears gently. ‘Sorry… about all of that,’ I begin to say, but Jimin and Jungkook both wave it off. ‘It’s fine, don’t apologise. Are you okay?’ Jungkook says, and I nod. ‘I’m fine, I’m fine. Jaehyun’s just being dramatic,’ I say, both of them silent. ‘Do you agree with him?’ I ask them, and Jungkook looks to Jimin, the latter sighing. ‘Well, it depends, y/n. Did you want to do what happened earlier at school, or did you do it because you were scared to say no?’ Jimin asks. ‘He didn’t force me! And he repaid the favour, so it’s not like I didn’t get anything out of it,’ I say. ‘That’s not the question I asked you. Just because he didn’t force you, it doesn’t mean it was consensual, or you wanted it. Did you want it?’ he asks, and I hesitate. ‘Well, no, but I didn’t mind,’ I reply, and Jimin shakes his head. ‘It’s not about whether or not you mind. It’s that you didn’t want to do it, but you did it anyway because… well, I don’t know why. Whether it’s because you want to keep him happy, or whether it’s because you’re scared of him. How often do you… indulge him when you don’t really want to?’ he asks me. ‘I don’t know, like… 8 times out of 10,’ I say, both of their mouths falling open. ‘Oh, my God, y/n,’ Jungkook says, and I shake my head. ‘No, it sounds bad, but it’s really not,’ I say defensively, and they exchange a glance. ‘All I’m saying, y/n, is that if I had a girlfriend and I found out that 8 out of every 10 times we have sex, she doesn’t want to, my heart would be broken,’ Jimin says, and I fall silent.

‘Are you scared of him, y/n?’ Jungkook asks gently, and I don’t reply for a moment. ‘I’m not scared of him. I’m scared of what falling out with him would mean,’ I say, looking at Jimin, who nods, remembering our earlier conversation. I explain to Jungkook what I explained to Jimin earlier, the boy shaking his head in disgust at everything I say. ‘y/n, Jaehyun said it; you don’t have to marry him. Why are you forcing yourself to?’ Jungkook asks. ‘It’s more complicated than that. I do love him, and I do want to marry him, and he’s all I’ve ever known. If I left him… it’d be leaving everything comfortable, everything familiar. He is my home, as much as my family and friends are, as much as this house is,’ I say. ‘So, because you’re scared of the unknown, you give in to him to keep him sweet?’ Jungkook asks, and I nod. ‘I feel sorry for you, y/n, I really do. And I hope it gets to a point when the two of you love each other enough for you to refuse him without it affecting your relationship,’ Jungkook says, and I smile sadly. ‘Thank you, Jungkook, I appreciate that. One day, maybe,’ I say, both of them nodding.

‘Anyway, moving on from all that depressing sad stuff, I’ve still got another surprise for you, Jimin! And you and Jaehyun should come too, JK!’ I say excitedly. ‘Shall I go get Jaehyun then?’ he asks as I write on a little post-it note for father and the staff to help themselves to the food we made. ‘We’ll come up too. You can get changed into something more comfortable if you want,’ I say, wrapping some of the food up in a tissue and heading towards the door, the two of them following behind me. We go back up the stairs, chatting idly about school, and I knock on Jaehyun’s door when we reach it. He answers it a few moments later, still annoyed. ‘I’m sorry. I know you worry about me, and I promise to talk to you more and explain it all to you. And I brought you food,’ I say, handing him the tissue. ‘Whatever, idiot, you don’t need to apologise,’ he says gruffly, taking the food from me. ‘You know that surprise I planned for Jimin? Do you and JK wanna come too?’ I ask, Jaehyun looking to Jungkook who nods. ‘Yeah, we’ll come. You’re not dressing up, are you?’ he asks. ‘Nope, I’m wearing this. Casual,’ I say, and Jaehyun nods. ‘We’ll meet by the front door in 5?’ I suggest, Jaehyun nodding before retreating into his room, Jungkook doing the same. ‘Jimin, come with me. I’ve just gotta get a couple things,’ I say, the boy following me into my room.

‘Sit down, if you want,’ I say, the boy gently sitting on my bed as I head over to my vanity table, pressing the buttons in the wall to put some music on. I pull the hairslides out of my hair and brush through it before putting it up into a sleek ponytail, pulling out a few baby hairs or I’ll look like an egg. I put on some lip balm and change from my fluffy socks into a pair of black ankle socks, sliding on my black fluffy sliders. I quickly put some body lotion on my elbows and knees, before getting out a little backpack, a custom black Gucci one, and put in my lip balm, a brush, my phone and a portable charger, and my purse. ‘Let’s go,’ I say, heading to the door. ‘Don’t you need a jumper or jacket? It might be a bit colder now, right?’ he asks. ‘Um, I should be fine. I keep a hoodie of Taeyong’s in my car anyway, so I’ll just put that on,’ I say, Jimin nodding. We leave my room, and he grabs a pair of black and white Nike trainers from his room before we head down to the front door, Jungkook already there and waiting, playing some sort of game on his phone. His all black attire, a black Fila t-shirt and a pair of Puma sweatpants, black socks (thankfully showing a strip of his leg) and black Fenty creepers (of which I have a pair myself), accentuates his slim and muscly figure nicely. ‘Hmm, now, we’re just waiting for Jaehyun,’ I say, just as I hear footsteps coming down the stairs. ‘For once. Usually I’m waiting for you,’ Jaehyun says, coming to join us, dressed in a practically identical outfit to Jungkook’s, the brands slightly different. ‘Shall we all go in the same car?’ Jaehyun suggests, and I nod. ‘You drive,’ I say, and Jaehyun nods. We go out to his car, and I slide into the back. ‘I’ll sit in the back,’ Jungkook says, joining me as Jimin and Jaehyun get into the front.

‘Can I connect my phone, Jae?’ I ask, the boy just nodding as he zooms off the drive, and I do so, instantly putting on the playlist Jimin and I were listening to in the kitchen. ‘All you ever listen to is RnB, don’t you get bored?’ Jaehyun asks. ‘What else is there to listen to?’ I ask. ‘Loads. Pop. Rap. Hip-hop. Blues. Funk. Country. Electro. Techno,’ Jaehyun lists, and I laugh. ‘Or UK music’s good. Like bashment and grime and drill and afrobeats and stuff,’ Jungkook laughs, Jimin laughing along with him. Obviously there’s some kind of joke here, but it goes over mine and Jaehyun’s heads. ‘Grime? Drill? What?’ Jaehyun asks, Jungkook and Jimin looking at us incredulously. ‘It’s like… I don’t know. Like a mix of hip-hop, rap and urban. I was just joking, really. But it’s actually not that bad. You should put some on,’ Jungkook says, and I hold my phone out to him. He types something into Spotify, and then puts on a playlist, presumably one full of said ‘UK music’. A bass heavy beat begins, practically blasting out of the speakers, and both Jimin and Jungkook rap every word, the lyrics talking explicitly about money, drugs, and women’s bodies. Once the song finishes, Jungkook pauses the playlist, looking for our feedback. ‘It was good. I liked the beat and the flow. Not sure about the lyrics but… we move,’ I say, Jimin shooting me a grin. ‘I liked it too. Play some more,’ Jaehyun says, Jungkook playing the playlist, another song playing. The beat is similar, and so are the lyrics, but the song’s still good. We bop to the playlist, Jungkook and Jimin singing and rapping along as Jaehyun and I just listen.

‘Do you wanna stop for food? There’s a McDonalds up here on the left,’ Jaehyun says. ‘I don’t mind, whatever you guys wanna do,’ I say. ‘Um, I could eat,’ Jungkook says, Jimin agreeing, and Jaehyun pulls into the McDonalds drive thru. ‘What do you want?’ Jaehyun asks. ‘I’ll have a large 5 chicken select meal, with a coke please,’ Jimin says. ‘I’ll have a large Big Mac meal with a Sprite,’ Jungkook says. ‘Um, I’ll have a spicy chicken wrap,’ I say, all three of them turning to look at me. ‘y/n, cut it out. If you’re having a wrap, I’m getting you nuggets or fries too. What do you want?’ Jaehyun asks, and I sigh. ‘Jae, I’m fine with ju-’ ‘What do you want, y/n?’ ‘I’ll have the wrap with 6 nuggets,’ I say, and Jaehyun raises an eyebrow at me. ‘And a Diet Coke. No ice,’ I say, my brother grinning at me. He orders all the food, getting himself a large Chicken Legend meal with a Fanta, and pays with his black card, the conversation I had with Jimin earlier happening again with Jungkook now. We get our food through the second window, and they try to give us four free McFlurrys too, a number written on one of them.

‘The one with the number is for the girl, from my colleague,’ the server says. ‘Well, the girl is my sister, and she has a man, so tell your colleague thanks, but she’s good,’ Jaehyun says, as kindly as possible. ‘Oh, um, well, take the ice creams anyway,’ the server says. ‘We’re alright, thanks,’ Jaehyun says, giving them a tip before speeding off. ‘Damn, I thought it was a one-off earlier, but obviously not. Is this a regular thing for you, y/n?’ Jimin asks, and I nod tiredly, rolling my eyes. ‘It’s so annoying. It’s only because we’re rich,’ I say. ‘And because you’re pretty,’ Jaehyun says, and I scoff. ‘No,’ I reply. ‘Yes,’ all three of them say, and my eyes widen slightly, taken aback. ‘Wait, really?’ I ask, and Jungkook laughs. ‘Why else, y/n? If you were ugly and rich, they wouldn’t give you their numbers, but if you were poor and pretty, they still would. What’s the common denominator?’ Jungkook says. ‘I’m not sure that’s accurate,’ I say, and they all shake their heads. ‘Shut up and eat your nuggets,’ Jaehyun says, all of us laughing.

We arrive at the shopping centre around ten minutes later. The others have already finished eating, and I’m still on my nuggets as Jaehyun pulls up to the delivery entrance. The guy waves us through, recognising the car, and Jimin and Jungkook look around in confusion. ‘What are we doing? Where are we going?’ Jimin asks. ‘You’ll see in a minute,’ I say excitedly. We park up by the entrance where security stands, and we all get out of the car, drinks cups in hands. ‘Jaehyun, y/n, nice to see you again,’ one of the security guards says, shaking our hands. ‘Nice to see you too, Sihyuk. This is Jimin and this is Jungkook,’ Jaehyun says, the security guard shaking their hands too. ‘Let me take you up,’ Sihyuk says, leading us through the door. He takes us through cold corridors, almost like tunnels, with industrial wires and tubes everywhere, bright fluorescent hospital lighting in strips above us. ‘Are you taking us to be murdered?’ Jungkook jokes, all of us laughing. ‘We’re nearly there,’ I say, just as we near a door on the left of us. Sihyuk opens it for us, letting us through, and we step into a clean and classy room, crystal chandeliers streaming with mellow lights, marble pillars, cream sofas and fluffy cushions. The staff in there practically rush over, shaking all of our hands. ‘Ah, you brought guests,’ I hear a voice from behind me, turning to see Chaerin. She embraces Jaehyun and me before shaking hands with Jimin and Jungkook as my brother introduces them. ‘It’s nice to meet you both. Shall I do the speech?’ she asks, and I nod excitedly. ‘You’ve gotta make it authentic for them,’ I say, and she grins affectionately, rolling her eyes at me.

‘Welcome to our personal shopping experience. We’ll take your measurements and then we’ll bring clothes out for you, one-by-one. The models will be wearing them first, and then you can try them on if you like them. Jaehyun will go first, followed by Jimin, then Jungkook, and finally y/n. Do we have any questions, or can we begin?’ Chaerin says, and Jaehyun and I turn to look at the other two, both of them looking slightly overwhelmed as they nod. ‘Brilliant. y/n, Jaehyun, take your seats, and Jimin, Jungkook, we’ll take your measurements if you don’t mind,’ Chaerin says, four staff members with tape measures appearing behind her. I take a seat on one sofa, tucking my legs beneath me, as Jaehyun sprawls across the other, kicking his shoes off and putting his feet up on the armrest. I watch amusedly as the stylists take Jimin and Jungkook’s measurements, the two looking like deer caught in headlights. Jimin has to take off his jumper so they can take his chest and waist measurements accurately, and his t-shirt gets caught with his jumper as he pulls it over his head, exposing a flash of hard abs and a prominent v-line, the sight making my stomach turn. I look away almost instantly, meeting Jaehyun’s eyes, sparkling with amusement, and then look down at my lap, embarrassed at being caught.

Jimin and Jungkook come and join us a few moments later, Jimin coming to sit on the sofa with me as Jungkook sits on the other sofa with Jaehyun. ‘This is so cool. Is that how you guys always shop?’ Jungkook asks. ‘Yeah, it’s so that we can buy our clothes in peace without people approaching us because they recognise us, and also so we can get a look at the newest releases before they’re put out on shop floors,’ I explain. ‘I bet it costs a bomb,’ Jimin says drily. ‘Yeah, but trust me, it’s so worth it. Wait ‘til you guys see some of the stuff they bring out for us,’ Jaehyun says excitedly as I sip on my drink. ‘Is it all designer stuff?’ Jungkook asks almost embarrassedly. ‘Some of it. But it’s cool, we’ll cover the cost. Don’t even worry about it,’ I say, both of them looking like they want to argue, but they opt not to. The models start to come out wearing clothes for Jaehyun and we all point out items we think would suit him, ranging from tops, trousers and coats, to shoes, jewellery and bags, even socks and underwear. He then goes to try them on, and we choose what we like him in, and what we don’t. Jaehyun’s always been a guy with expensive taste, and so he ends up choosing many of the same brands he’s always worn; Prada, Supreme, Fendi, Givenchy, Balenciaga, Gucci and Alexander McQueen.

Then it’s Jimin’s turn, and he ends up mainly taking a liking to Chanel, Gucci, Saint Laurent, Louis Vuitton, Dior and Celine, his clothing choices tasteful and classy, lots of Chelsea boots, slim fit trousers, plain tops, and distinct jackets. He also chooses a lot Chanel, Louis Vuitton and Saint Laurent jewellery; earrings, necklaces, rings and bracelets that are delicate and feminine. I love the fact that he doesn’t care about which gender the pieces are aimed at, choosing clothes and accessories from both the male and female collections. When he tries them on, I have to actively keep my mouth shut, opting to just nod and smile, because I’m speechless. His figure is amazing, slim shoulders, even slimmer waist, mile long lean legs, hard muscle built up everywhere except for his face and ass (which is deliciously round and pert - it gives my ass a run for its money). He’s beautiful, the clothes making him look like a supermodel, his purple hair giving him such a unique look. Jaehyun and Jungkook both give me amused looks every time Jimin goes into the back to change, and I try to ignore them, just sipping on the complimentary glass of wine they’ve given me.

Then it’s Jungkook’s turn, and it’s clear to see that his style is definitely comfort first; mainly black, oversized and cosy clothes, occasionally opting for some tighter, more form-fitting pieces. The designers he chooses include Acne Studios, Fila, Nike, Adidas and Balenciaga, with a few Saint Laurent, Ralph Lauren and Gucci pieces too, amongst many others. When he tries them on, he either comes out looking like an e-boy – with cargo trousers and military boots, chains and harnesses galore – a college boy – with oversized sweaters and loose sweatpants, hats and trainers – or a supermodel – with skin-tight trousers, form-fitting tees and tops, and fashionable jackets. He also has several ear piercings, and chooses several pairs of earrings, studs, hoops and dangly, all of them silver.

And then it’s my turn. I choose practically every piece they bring out for me, not discriminating against a single designer. I choose dresses, tops, trousers, jeans, skirts, jackets, coats, co-ords, heels, boots, trainers, flats, sandals, all different kinds of bags, necklaces, bracelets, rings, earrings, arm bracelets, anklets, hairslides, headbands, scarves, hats, socks, underwear (not gonna lie, I felt my face heat up when the underwear models came out and I picked nearly every pair, all of them lacy, strappy and slightly risqué. Jaehyun, used to my hoe antics, doesn’t bat an eyelid, helping me to pick some out, but I don’t even dare to look at the other two, slightly embarrassed). It takes an age for me to try them all on, Jaehyun and Jungkook hyping me up and even choosing which outfit I should wear this Saturday (a Balmain velvet little black dress with silver embellishments on it), but Jimin does nothing more than what I did, smiling and nodding with a random cough thrown in every now and then. Either he couldn’t care less about which clothes I choose, or I’ve got more of an effect on him than I thought (which makes me awfully proud of myself).

Once I’ve changed back into my original clothes and re-joined the boys, Chaerin reappears after disappearing all night. I know from previous times that she’s in the back, processing which clothes we choose and getting them bagged up to be sent to our house before we get back. ‘Thank you, Chaerin, we loved it,’ I say, the boys murmuring their ‘thank you’s behind me. ‘You’re most welcome, my loves. Now, get on home, and don’t be strangers. Remember, if you need styling, I’m always available for my favourite twins, and any of their friends,’ she says warmly, hugging us all, the BTS boys included. We say another ‘thank you’ before we’re led back through the draughty industrial corridors out onto the car park. We all climb into Jaehyun’s car, and it isn’t until Jaehyun starts driving that conversation starts up. ‘I wanna just say, guys, that that was the most boujee thing I’ve ever done in my life, and I’m really grateful for it. Like, thank you so much for all those amazing new clothes,’ Jungkook says, my heart warming. ‘Oh, JK, it was nothing. Trust me, we’ll have you doing loads of different boujee things while you’re with us. But you’re welcome,’ I grin at the boy. ‘Yeah, guys, I wanna say thank you too. I’ve always… I’ve always wanted to change my style, but I’ve never been able to afford much more than the standard teen boy fashion. Being able to get all those clothes that I’ve been into for years is such a privilege. I’m really thankful,’ Jimin says sincerely, nearly bringing a tear to my eye. ‘It’s nothing, bro, we got you. Anything you want, let us know, we’ll get it for you. We’re spoiled brats, let us spoil you guys now,’ Jaehyun says, slapping Jimin’s thigh, a brotherly gesture, and Jimin grins at him. They’ve only been with us a day, and yet I feel like our bonds with them are already strong.

After around ten minutes of just listening to chill RnB (we’re too tired for grime right now), Jaehyun speaks; ‘hey, y/n, you remember that diner we used to go to all the time? Mum used to take us.’ ‘Yeah, I remember,’ I say, wondering where he’s going with this. ‘It’s about a minute from here. Do you guys wanna go? They do the best desserts there, and the milkshakes are beautiful,’ Jaehyun says. ‘Yeah, sure,’ Jimin says, Jungkook agreeing. ‘It’s so cool in there. Like an authentic American diner. It’s been a while since we went, to be fair, but from what I can remember, it’s amazing, so cute and retro,’ I say, just as we turn onto a familiar road, and I know that it’s near. Half a minute later, Jaehyun pulls into the car park of The Golden Spoon, and I practically leap out of the car, eager to go get my favourite strawberry milkshake. ‘Aren’t you cold, y/n?’ Jungkook asks me, and I realise then that yes, I am cold. ‘I’m fine,’ I say, and he raises an eyebrow at me as we head towards the entrance. ‘You so should’ve worn a jumper,’ Jimin says. ‘Yeah, but I told you I had one of Taeyong’s in my car. It’s just a shame that we went in Jae’s car,’ I say, Jimin shaking his head. He starts to pull off his sweater, exposing his muscles again, and hands it to me, leaving him in just a thin white t-shirt. ‘Are you sure? I bet you’re cold now,’ I say, and he laughs. ‘I don’t have my legs out as well,’ he says, and I take it embarrassedly, pulling it over my head. It smells amazing, like the same smell that was on the air when he first got into my car yesterday; a nice cologne, baked goods and something distinct I’ve never smelt before, something that must just be Jimin. We step into the diner, the smell of greasy food and baked goods hitting us like a tidal wave. The walls are painted baby blue, the floor checked black and white, and the booths and seats are all red, pictures of old cars and big groups of white people in the 50s hung up everywhere, making it seem authentic.

We slide into a booth, scanning the menus and a server instantly comes over to take our order. ‘I’ll have a chocolate milkshake please,’ Jaehyun says. ‘I’ll have a chocolate too please,’ Jimin says. ‘Can I have strawberry please?’ Jungkook asks, and then they all turn to me. ‘Um, how many calories are in the strawberry milkshakes?’ I ask, Jaehyun groaning, Jungkook and Jimin shaking their heads and the server looking taken aback. ‘I don’t know from the top of my head, but I can check for you,’ she begins, but Jaehyun waves her off. ‘It’s fine, she’ll have a strawberry as well please. Do we want any food?’ Jaehyun asks. ‘Can I have a slice of the, um, Sandy’s Chocolate Cake please?’ Jungkook says, the server writing it down. ‘I’ll have a chocolate fudge brownie with custard. And can I have that with an extra serving of custard please?’ Jaehyun asks, the server nodding with a blush, obviously finding my brother attractive (you’d have to be stupid not to). ‘I don’t want anything,’ I say, and Jimin looks at me. ‘I’m not really that hungry either, I was gonna ask if you wanted to go halves?’ Jimin suggests, and I nod. ‘Yeah, good idea, let’s do that. Do you like lemon? Because they do the most amazing lemon meringue pie here,’ I say, and Jimin grins. ‘We’ll have a slice of the lemon meringue pie please,’ he says, and I smile at the server who notes it down. ‘That’s it, thank you,’ Jaehyun says, the server smiling before going to the back to put our order through.

Gentle retro music plays through the restaurant, only two other booths occupied; one by a young lovestruck couple and the other by an old lady by herself. She’s sat by the jukebox, choosing the songs, and I watch as she roots around in her purse, obviously looking for money to put into the jukebox. ‘Jimin, come with me to choose a song?’ I ask, and he nods instantly, both of us sliding out of our side of the booth. We walk shoulder to shoulder over to the jukebox, and I put in a coin from my purse. ‘Hmm, I can’t choose a song, I’m too indecisive. Will you choose one for me?’ I say, directing the question to the lady, who smiles at me. She picks an Elvis song, and then I put more money in, and she chooses another song. We carry on going until an hour’s worth of music is queued up, and as we head back to the table, Jimin grins at me. ‘That was cute,’ he says. ‘What?’ I ask. ‘You putting money in for that old lady to choose her songs. It was cute,’ he says, and I smile shyly to myself, looking down at my feet. ‘Whatever,’ I mumble, Jimin laughing under his breath. ‘You’re cute, princess,’ he says, and I feel myself getting even more embarrassed, trying to hide it as I slide into the booth, sitting up against the window.

Our milkshakes come then, topped with mounds of whipped cream, strawberries on mine and Jungkook’s, and a chocolate wafer on Jaehyun and Jimin’s. I take a long sip, savouring the taste, before offering it to Jimin. ‘Wanna try some?’ I say, and he nods, taking the straw into his mouth and taking a small sip. ‘Oh, my God, that tastes amazing,’ he says, and I grin. ‘Right? Way better than chocolate,’ I tease, and he rolls his eyes with a small smile. My phone pings then, and I look down at it, quickly replying to a text from Nayeon, and when I look back up, Jimin’s offering me his. ‘I’ll try a bit. Just to prove that strawberry’s better,’ I say, leaning forward to take a sip. And he pushes the glass towards me, covering my nose and left cheek in cream. ‘Jimin!’ I shriek, the boys bursting into laughter, and I can’t hold back my giggles as I blot the cream away with a tissue. ‘Idiot,’ I mutter, hitting him gently, which makes them laugh even more. And then I notice that Jaehyun has his phone up in his hands, recording us. He stops the recording when I look, and I hold a hand to block his phone. ‘Please don’t put that on your story,’ I say. ‘I was gonna put it on my private,’ he says. ‘Still.’ ‘Why not? Don’t worry, you look nice,’ he says. ‘That’s not it,’ I say, and he sighs. ‘I’m sorry, but if your man can’t deal with you having male friends, then that’s his problem, not yours or mine or Jimin’s or anyone’s. Okay?’ Jaehyun says, and I fall silent, not even bothering to say anything. ‘Put it on, then,’ I say, and all three of the boys grin victoriously.

Jaehyun starts to show Jungkook a funny video on his phone, and so I turn to Jimin. ‘So, how was your first day?’ I ask. ‘It was great. Thank you, for everything,’ he says, and I grin. ‘You are most welcome, Jimin. I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it. Trust me, we’ll have loads more days like this,’ I say, and he smiles. ‘I hope so.’ ‘Well, tomorrow, you guys are at football, and you won’t get back ‘til like 8.30, so I’ll have dinner ready for when you all get home. Then Wednesday, we’re free, so we can do something then. Maybe we could go out for a meal somewhere. If you guys wear your new clothes, you’ll end up in some kind of gossip magazine, guaranteed. Then Thursday, we’re at the golf club. And then Friday, you guys are at football, and you’ll probably end up going for food and stuff after, and I’ll be at home with the girls for a girls’ night. Then we can kill some time on Saturday, and then tell everyone to come over around 6ish. And Sunday will be for recovering,’ I say, Jimin laughing. ‘Are your guys’ schedules always this packed? Because I don’t know how you can hack it,’ he says. ‘Hack it?’ I ask. ‘Um, it means like… manage it, deal with it, cope with it,’ he says, and I nod in understanding. ‘This week is actually quite laidback compared to my usual. Honestly, there is always something going on around here. And then nobody does anything on a Sunday, because you’ve gotta spend Sundays resting. The most I’ll ever do is meet Taeyong or Nayeon for food,’ I say, Jimin shaking his head incredulously. ‘I definitely wouldn’t be able to hack it,’ he says, and I laugh, a little grin playing at his lips.

Our dessert arrives then, and Jimin and I take alternating bites of the pie whilst Jaehyun and Jungkook scoff their desserts down. I have a few spoonful’s of Jaehyun’s custard (considering he got another helping because he knew I’d have some), and it all tastes amazing, just like it did all the previous times we’ve come here. When we’re finished, the server takes our plates away and Jaehyun pays. We all rise up from the booth, and I leave a very generous tip on the table for the server. As soon as we get into the car and Jaehyun starts driving, my phone starts ringing. I get it out and see that it’s Taeyong. ‘Great,’ I mutter before answering it. ‘Hey, babe,’ I say as cheerfully as I can, knowing what I’m in for, as Jaehyun turns down the music. ‘Either you’re purposely trying to annoy me, or you’re that oblivious as to what you’re doing,’ he practically spits down the phone, and I sigh. ‘Tae, what are you talking about?’ ‘You know exactly what I’m talking about. Whose jumper were you wearing in that video on Jae’s story?’ he asks, Jaehyun watching me in the mirror, both Jimin and Jungkook turning to look at me. Obviously, they can hear Taeyong’s words too, because he’s talking that loud. ‘Jimin’s,’ I say, seeing no point in lying.

‘What makes you think that that’s okay, y/n?’ he asks, and I laugh. ‘I was cold.’ ‘Why couldn’t you wear a jumper of your own?’ ‘It was still warm when we left the house, and we ended up taking Jaehyun’s car, so I couldn’t put on the jumper of yours that’s in my car,’ I explain. ‘That’s not good enough, y/n.’ ‘Tae, I’m sorry, but I don’t think there was anything wrong with that. I was cold, Jimin wasn’t, he offered me his jumper, and I said yes. That is it,’ I say. ‘But don’t you see what it looks like, y/n? First of all, that video looks like you’re flirting, and then to make it worse, you’re wearing his jumper. You’re making me look like an idiot,’ he says. ‘Tae, no one thinks that. For all anyone else knows, that jumper I’m wearing is yours, or Jaehyun’s,’ I say, and he laughs. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, y/n, neither of us wear Nike,’ he says, and I see Jimin let out a humourless laugh, turning back to face the front. ‘Oh, get real, Tae, no one knows or cares what you or Jaehyun or I wear. No one will think deeply enough into that video. They will laugh and then skip to the next story. It’s not that big of a deal, and you need to get a grip,’ I say bitterly, surprised with myself. ‘y/n, people will notice. I don’t want people to think my girlfriend is going around with other boys,’ he says, voice shaking with anger, and I scoff. ‘I think it’s pretty obvious I’m yours, I had your dick in my mouth at school a few hours ago,’ I spit out, all three boys in the car pulling faces, but I pay no attention, shaking as I speak. I’ve never spoken to him like this before, and it feels good. Scary, but good. He stays silent for a few seconds, and all I can think is that this is it. He’s gonna dump me, and I’ll be left single and alone. And then he speaks; ‘I’m coming over to your house. I’ll be there in twenty.’

The line clicks off, and I put my phone back into my bag. ‘I’m proud of you for standing up to him like that, y/n,’ Jaehyun says, and I smile, feeling nervous. ‘Why’s he coming over?’ Jungkook asks, and Jaehyun laughs. ‘Either because he knows that y/n will struggle to speak to him the way she just did in real life and so he thinks she’ll apologise and he’ll win, or he’s coming to stay the night… if you get what I mean,’ Jaehyun says. ‘Oh,’ Jungkook says. ‘What if he hits me or something? He seemed angry, Jae, I’m kinda scared,’ I say as we near the house. ‘y/n, relax. He wouldn’t, he wouldn’t dare to lay a hand on you. I’ll kill him before he hits you. You’ll kill him before he hits you,’ Jaehyun says. ‘I’ll kill him before he hits you,’ Jungkook says, all of us laughing. ‘God, he’s such a pompous moron. He really annoys me sometimes,’ I say. ‘I’ve known him for less than one day, and he annoys me sometimes too,’ Jimin says, coaxing more laughter from us as Jaehyun pulls up on the driveway. All of us climb out of the car, Changwoo greeting us. ‘Is father home yet, Changwoo?’ I ask, and Changwoo shakes his head. ‘I’m afraid not, miss,’ he replies, and I sigh. ‘Okay, thank you anyway. Goodnight,’ I say, and he bids us goodnight in return. ‘Oh, Changwoo, by the way, Taeyong’s coming over, he’ll be here soon,’ I say. ‘Okay, miss, I’ll make sure the gate’s open for him,’ he says, and I thank him before heading into the house with the boys.

We head into the smallest living room, the one beside the kitchen, and Jaehyun practically throws himself down onto the biggest sofa. Jimin and Jungkook sit on another sofa, and I perch on an armchair as Jaehyun turns the on the TV, some kind of sports match beginning to blare out into the room. The clock on the wall reads 10.51, and I know that Taeyong will be here in the next nine minutes, the thought making my stomach turn. I stare unseeingly at the TV as the boys get comfortable, watching the match whilst scrolling through their phones. ‘y/n, stop stressing, it’s gonna be fine,’ Jaehyun says, breaking me out of my reverie, and I nod, trying to ease my nerves. I look up at the clock again, the time now reading 10.57, and then I hear the front door, my heart jumping in my chest. All three of the boys look at me, giving me encouraging smiles, and I nod, hearing footsteps nearing us. The living room door opens, and Taeyong stands there, in a pair of slim-fit trousers and a plain t-shirt, a jacket in his hand. ‘Hey, Jae, JK, Jimin,’ Taeyong says, going around to the room to shake their hands, all of them greeting him in return, before he turns to look at me. ‘Can I speak to you, baby? In the kitchen?’ he asks, and I nod, feeling slightly more relaxed at hearing the pet name.

He gently grabs one of my hands and we go next door into the kitchen. ‘What’s this?’ he asks, spotting the food on the counter. ‘We did some baking earlier. Try some if you want, it’s really nice,’ I say, and he does so, breaking off small pieces of both food items and trying them, nodding at me afterwards. ‘They taste nice. Have you had any?’ he asks, obviously wondering how much I’ve been eating, and now that I think about it, I’m mortified. I’ve had a Starbucks, a McDonalds, wine, a milkshake, and dessert, as well as the baking. But it’s about time he stopped monitoring my diet, right? That’s something I should do myself; he doesn’t need to. ‘I tried a bit of each. I’ve actually had a lot to eat today, more than I have in a long time,’ I say, and he nods. ‘Well, that’s okay. It’s good that you have cheat days. It’s not good to eat as little as you do every day. I don’t want you withering away into nothing,’ he says gently, and I have to stop my mouth from falling open in shock. Where has this new attitude come from?

‘So what did you want to talk about?’ I ask, and he takes a seat at the breakfast bar. ‘I wanted to apologise, and I wanted to do it face to face. I’m sorry for speaking to you the way I did on the phone, and I’m sorry for getting so jealous and possessive all the time, and I’m sorry for watching your diet, and I’m sorry for treating you the way I’ve been treating you the past few months. It’s not… it’s not right, and I’m sorry. I was just thinking that I missed the way we used to be, remember? We used to be so in love and romantic and annoyingly sickly, and I miss that. Now, I just feel like we’re an old married couple, and I realised it’s because of me. I’m trying to keep you close, keep you mine and keep you as you are, but I’m only pushing you away. I miss us, baby, and I’m sorry,’ he says sincerely. I can’t believe my ears; I never expected him to say this. ‘What… where is this coming from, Tae?’ I ask. ‘Seeing you with Jimin, it scared me. It hit me, y/n, that even though we’re promised to each other, nothing is guaranteed, nothing is certain. There’s nothing stopping you from leaving me, and I never realised that before, which is something I should’ve been aware of. I can’t just treat you however, because I could lose you to someone else. And my treatment of you, it wasn’t right. I was treating you like my property, but that’s not the case,’ he says, sounding slightly more hysterical with every word. When I don’t reply instantly, he runs a hand through his hair, his eyes looking teary and bright. ‘I’m sorry, y/n, I really am. I love you, baby, and I don’t wanna lose you. I’ll sort myself out and I’ll fix things, I’ll make it right, just please, don’t leave me,’ he says, and for the first time in years, I see Taeyong cry. I take a hesitant step towards where he’s sat, before moving to stand between his legs, and I pull him into my arms. He buries his head in my chest and I hold him tight, gently scraping my nails across his scalp to soothe him, knowing that he likes the feeling.

After a couple minutes, I move away, and he takes a deep breath, composing himself. ‘Taeyong, I’m not gonna leave you. Yes, for pretty much all of this school year, your behaviour towards me hasn’t been great, but that doesn’t mean I’ll leave you. Every couple goes through rough patches, not just us, and I still love you, just as much as I always have. I could never leave you, baby,’ I say. ‘Promise me, y/n. I know it’s silly and immature, but pinky promise me,’ he says, holding out his pinky. ‘I promise to never leave you. As long as you treat me well,’ I say, locking my pinky with him. ‘Always, always. I love you, y/n, I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘Stop apologising. It’s okay,’ I say, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. I pull away after a few seconds, and he smiles at me. ‘I wanna start over with you. I want us to fall in love all over again,’ he says, and I smile shyly. ‘What, so we’re gonna start dating from the start?’ I ask, and he nods with a grin. ‘I’m gonna court you,’ he says, and I laugh. ‘Court me?’ I ask, and he nods. ‘Like in the 50s,’ he says, and I laugh, putting my arms around his neck and toying with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. ‘Well, I’ll telling you now, don’t throw rocks at my window or anything stupid like that,’ I say, and he bursts out laughing, resting his head against my chest. ‘What about our… agreement?’ I ask. ‘Well, that can stay the same, right? It doesn’t have to change,’ he says, and my heart sinks slightly. ‘Yeah. Yeah, you’re right,’ I say as he sits up, and I have to put on a smile to hide my disappointment. He can’t really love me as much as he claims if he doesn’t want to stay monogamous to me. ‘Are you gonna stay the night?’ I ask him, and he shakes his head, standing up. ‘If I’m courting you, I’m doing it properly,’ he says, and I can’t help but pout at him. ‘Don’t give me that face. We’re gonna start over, like it was when we first started dating when we were, like, 16,’ he says. ‘Fine,’ I sulk, and he laughs. ‘I love you. Come on, let me go say bye, and then I’ll go back home. Seulgi’s alone,’ he says, wiggling his eyebrows, and when I frown, he laughs. ‘I’m kidding, I’m kidding,’ he says, leading me back into the living room where the boys seem suspiciously focused on the TV.

‘I’m heading back, I’ll see you guys tomorrow,’ Taeyong says, all of them bidding each other goodbye with fist bumps and handshakes. ‘Shall I walk you to the door?’ I ask. ‘It’s fine, baby, stay in here. I’ll see you tomorrow,’ he says, pulling me into his arms and pressing a very PG kiss to my lips. ‘I love you. Goodnight,’ he says, blowing me a kiss before he leaves. I turn back to face the boys who all look up at me. ‘That… was not what I was expecting,’ Jaehyun says as I throw myself onto the sofa beside Jungkook. ‘Me neither,’ I sigh, my head spinning. ‘Did he… did he cry?’ Jungkook asks, and I nod. ‘He did. Took me slightly by surprise,’ I say, and I spot an amused smile on Jimin’s face. ‘What’s funny?’ I ask, genuinely intrigued. ‘I don’t know if it’s my place, y/n,’ he says. ‘Tell me. I wanna know your take on it,’ I say, and he shrugs. ‘I don’t buy it, personally. We’ve been here one day, and he’s crying because he doesn’t want to lose you to me? I think it’s because of the way you spoke to him on the phone. It took him by surprise, so he spouted all that crap, squeezed out some fake tears, told you he loves you a couple times, to butter you up, to get you to comply with him, to pipe down. I don’t see how me being here for literally a day can have such an effect on him. That’s just my opinion, anyway,’ he says, and I digest his words. There’s no way he would fake all of that, surely? ‘I disagree, but thank you for the new outlook. I’ll keep that in mind for the next couple weeks, and see if your theory becomes more plausible depending on his behaviour,’ I say tactfully, and he grins. ‘Not gonna lie, y/n, I think he’s right. I don’t think Tae’s being genuine with you. I completely agree with Jimin; he did that to keep you sweet,’ Jaehyun says, and I feel tears coming to my eyes. How many times have I cried today? ‘So you don’t think he cares?’ I ask, voice wavering, and they all look slightly panicked. ‘No, y/n, he cares, of course he cares. It’s just that he probably doesn’t like the way you spoke to him on the phone and instead of going at you, he pulled the guilt trip,’ Jungkook says gently, patting my shoulder, and I nod, sniffling. ‘I think you need to go to bed, y/n. Get a good night’s rest,’ Jaehyun says carefully, not wanting to set me off again, ‘you’ll feel better in the morning.’

[shannygoatgruff]

My Brother’s Keeper

Genre: Psychological Thriller

Modern Ivar X Modern Hvitserk

Warning:  Dark story told from an emotionally distributed person’s POV with graphic and sadistic material including rape, terror, torture, kidnapping, drug use, slash, implied incest, necrophilia and insecurity. Heavy trigger warnings.  

Summary: Mama always said to be their brothers’ keeper. Now there is absolutely nothing these two won’t do for each other.  Boys will be boys...

A/N: So, I wrote this story about 10 years ago, under a different fandom.  With age and a more vivid imagination, there is so much more I want to do with it.  So, what did I decide to do?  A reboot!  

Chapter I

The amber light of the cigarette as I inhale, sends a flash of brightness across this dark room. As soon as I take in a healthy drag and feel the cool flavor of menthol opening my lungs, everything seems to have a spark of life. 

This room looks like all the others - small, dirty, and the only window in here is covered by a thick sheet of dust. I find myself wondering what this place looked like in its heyday before the demo crew came in and knocked down half the building. Did it have all of the latest amenities before the slum lord forgot that he had tenants? What kind of people lived here? The neighborhood’s changed so much, lately. 

Not that it matters much now, I guess.

This place is abandoned, has been forever judging from the size of the termite holes in the walls and floorboards where the wood has completely rotted through. It's a death trap if you don't watch your step. We spent enough time scoping out the layout in the daytime, we know exactly where we can and can't step. I know I could close my eyes right now and walk from here to the front door and avoid the hole in the floor covered by that threadbare rug.

I guess that's why we always choose places like this. They aren't so easy to escape from. I mean, if they actually manage to get away from us, they'll have one hell of a time actually making it to the outside without breaking their necks in the process. It's an unfair advantage, but it's a small price we pay to protect ourselves.

The muffled sound of whimpering makes me look over to the darkened corner by where the kitchen used to be. I can't really see what she's doing, but judging from the sound of the table leg scraping across the floor, I guess she's trying to get her hands free.

I hate that he ties them up so tight. The sound of them struggling always makes me feel sorry for them. What's even worse, is he insists on gagging them and leaving me here alone to watch them.

The least he could do is leave the gag off so they could talk to me. I know it isn’t a smart idea, especially since they could start screaming. But sometimes, when I know that he'll be gone for a while, I untie the gag so we can talk. I get bored in the dark alone and the sounds of their whimpering makes me feel weird. At least when I take the gag off, it seems to help them relax. I can always calm them down when we can have a two-way conversation. But, I can never get him to understand that.

They don't scream, usually. I don't really know why. I like to think it's because they know I don't really want to hurt them. I don't know. I can't really explain it. It's like, I don't want to cause anybody pain and knowing that someone got hurt because of something I did disturbs me. But on the same token, I love the power of fear. I love the look on their faces when they realize it's me. Really, who would ever suspect me of anything?

I don't know how I got like this. I wasn't one of those types you read about in the DSM-5 that labels sociopaths as displaying symptoms since early childhood. I didn't have a rough childhood. We had all kinds of love as kids. We had a big family, 5 boys, and our mama loved us. She made sure we looked out for each other. We protected each other. We defended each other. We loved each other.  

I wasn't abused as a child. Nobody touched me and I didn't have any early onset traumas to blame anything on. I've never had brain damage or ever been bullied before that I can remember. There's no explanation for it.

I once had this shrink tell me that was the scariest thing about it. There was nothing in my psychopathy to suggest I would turn out the way that I have. There’s just always been something in me that wasn’t quite right. According to her, that's what makes me a danger to society. 

I'm a whole lot different than him, that's for sure. He's the sick one out of all of us. Looking at him, you’d never know. I don't even ask anymore where he gets some of the ideas he comes up with. I think he's watched one too many scary movies and now he wants to play everything out in real life. He worries me some times because it's getting to the point where this isn't enough for him anymore. Every time we've got to do a little bit more, make the chase a little bit harder, punish them a little bit longer. It's like he's never satisfied now.  

I remember when we first started, it was our secret. It was pretty cut and dry. We'd see someone we wanted and we'd grab them. We'd have fun with them and drop them off in some remote area of town when we were done. Now, it's this big, elaborate game for him. He's into wooing them, getting them to come willingly and then when we get them in the car the fun begins. He's into the screaming and begging now and I honestly don't think any of them have walked away afterward in the past few months.

He's getting out of control, but what can I do about it? It's not like I can walk away from him or this life. I'm in too deep and truthfully I don't want to. I tried once. I tried to make a clean break, but the hunger got to be too much. I felt like I was going to crawl out of my own skin. My heart raced all the time, my hands shook, my mouth stayed juicy… I couldn't sleep or eat. I guess this is my addiction.

"If you don't break your wrist trying to untie yourself if you're free when he gets here, he'll do it for you." I feel like it's the least I could do. She should at least know that he's not really a person you want to fuck with. If he ties you up, when he comes back, your ass better still be tied up. It makes him crazy if they upset the scene that he has in his mind. “Besides, if he comes back here and finds out that you got your hands free, he's gonna be pissed. There’s no telling what he might do to you then."

I notice how quiet she is suddenly, but I can still hear her muffled cries. I almost feel sorry for her. Almost. But she has something I need so my sympathy only goes so far. Still, I feel like I should be doing something to try to make her stay here a little more enjoyable. I mean, she did ask to come. She wanted us to show her a good time, but this part isn't very fun though. I wish he would hurry up. 

I move over to the leg of the table that he's got her tied to and sit down next to her. "You smoke?" I notice the way she's trying to scramble away from me like I'm going to do something to her. I understand her reaction but really where does she think she's going to go? The binds are entirely too tight and I'm not tied up. Anywhere she can scramble too, I can, too.

If I felt up to it, I'd play along and show her that I'm in charge, but I’m really not that into it tonight. I just want to get this over with and go home. I'm tired. She put up much more of a fight than I thought she would. I hate it when I'm exhausted before we even get started.

I fold my legs beneath me and touch the end of the lit match to the wick of the candle. It really doesn't illuminate the room much, but at least it allows her to see my face and me hers. She really is pretty especially with the way the tears have stained her smudged face and her hair clings to her skin with sweat. Her teeth are so white against the soiled rag tied around her head to keep her quiet. She has the prettiest blue eyes, even if one is almost swollen shut. He didn't have to hit her so hard.

"You want a cigarette?" I hold the pack up to her face and watch as her eyes fix on me and not on the pack. "They're safe. I didn't put anything in them."

I try to offer a smile to lighten the mood, but she doesn't seem any more relaxed. "I'm gonna untie your gag, but you gotta cooperate, okay? If you scream, I'll cave your face in." I notice how she flinches when I talk to her. I hate threatening her, but I think it's only fair that she knows what's coming if she disobeys.

I reach over to her and put my hands behind her head. Her hair feels like silk under my fingers. Even after I loosen the tie I let my fingers curl around her locks for a few seconds longer to feel how soft they are. Once the gag hangs loosely around her neck, I sit back and smile at her. I don't really have anything to say at the moment, so I pack the box of cigarettes and select one for her enjoyment.

"Here ya go." I feel my own mouth open as I put the cigarette up to hers and my heart speeds up when I see her lips open and close around the filter. I pick up the candle and hold it close to her face and watch as the flame catches to the end of the butt. "That's better." I light my own cigarette with the candle before I place it back on the floor.

She looks like she's struggling to puff and keep the thin layer of smoke from getting into her eyes. Poor thing. I'm trying to be helpful, as I reach across and take the cigarette away from her mouth to giving her a moment to breathe in some of this moldy air.

"What are you gonna do to me?" This is the first time she’s spoken since we left the bar. While we were there I found her voice to be whiny and irritating, but now I like it. It's soft and vulnerable and it quivers with each word.

Hmm? What are we gonna do? He doesn't like to do the same thing two nights in a row, and we did so much last night. What is he planning for tonight? "I don't know. What would you like to do?"

The look she gives me amuses me. I love it when they're interactive. It’s like she’s enjoying this as much as I am. "I'd like to go home."

"I can ask if that can happen. But you have to be good." It’s better if she knows the rules, upfront. If she knows that if she pleases him, there’s a better chance of just living with the memories of tonight instead of not living at all – I think that puts the odds in her favor. See, I’m a nice guy like that.

Of course, you always get the ones that take that information and go crazy with it. Those are the ones that piss him off. Those are the ones that don't get to see the next day. Those are the ones we read about in the newspaper while we're sitting around at the breakfast table.

I place the cigarette back to her lips and she takes a deep breath. I love the way the plume of smoke dances around her face as she exhales. It seems to be working…she’s relaxing. "Why me?"

"Why not you?" No one is so special that we can't use them. That's why we pick the ones we do because they're special. "You're perfect for what we need."

"And what's that?" Her tears are falling faster as her fear is taking over.

"A fantasy woman." I can feel myself smirk as I hand her back the cigarette.

It’s something about seeing her pink tongue touch her bottom lip that ignites something in my belly and turns on a switch in my head. All of a sudden I don't feel like I'm sitting on the floor in this broken down, dirty room, instead, I'm running in a field of green grass, chasing fireflies with my brothers. I feel young, wild and free. I feel creative and imaginative.

I feel alive.

I don't know how much time passes before I hear him enter the room. All I know is I can't look at him. I can't meet his eyes.

"What the fuck happened?" I hear his voice from behind me and it takes everything I have to pull my wet hands from my face.

"I don't know." I can feel the cold stickiness left on my cheeks and the warm tears that run across them. I let my eyes focus on my red hands as the almost completely burnt out candle flickers.

I hear his footsteps moving closer to me. He's walking slowly, so I know he's not angry, but that's no excuse. His presence looms as he stands beside me, but then he runs his fingers through my hair. There's nothing I can do but turn to him and wrap my arms around his waist and cry against him.

"It is okay, Brother." I can feel his lips touch my scalp as he bends down to coo and stroke the back of my neck. Even though I can't see his face, I know he's looking at the scene on the floor. I know he sees the blood still dripping from where her face once was. He has to notice that her skirt has been pulled away and instead of the gag in her mouth, her panties are halfway down her throat.

I swear I don't know how she got like that.

I don't remember.

Clinging desperately to him, I try to bite back my sobs. "I don't understand why this keeps happening. I can't stop it, Ivar. I need help."

"No, Hvitserk. You don't need help, Big Brother,” He says looking down at me with a reassuring smile, gently wiping away my tears. “You just need me."

Next Chapter

Tag list: @geekandbooknerd @thelastemzy @the-jess-life @a-mess-of-fandoms @leilabeaux @cfmvirgo @gingerbread-the-indoor-tomcat @where-beauty-goes-to-die @amy8220 @justanothterlazzyperson @unmotivatedwritings @dangerousgiantalmondbat @b-j-d @youbloodymadgenius @waiting4inspiration @oddsnendsfanfics @alexandersenx @flowers-in-your-hayr​ @honestsycrets​

[the-odd-job]

Harem AU - First time Sideswipe meets Megatron

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Characters: Megatron, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Unnamed Characters Relationships: Megatron/Sideswipe, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Additional Tags: Sticky, Throatfuck/Deepthroat, Purging, Referenced Gangrape, Humiliation, Size Difference Words: 2841

A certain someone shared their harem AU yesterday, which made me go like “???? WHY DON’T I HAVE A HAREM AU THIS IS A TRAVESTY”

Now I have a harem AU.

Snippets of this ‘verse will probably get posted intermittently and wildly out of order as I get inspired to write them. Maybe one day there’ll be enough to compile and fill in the gaps for a full fic. We’ll live in hope!

In the meantime, please enjoy.

And heed the warnings. Plz.

His valve throbbed, and not in the good way.

Sideswipe struggled to swallow through the aching in his throat, staring up at the ceiling and trying so hard to ignore the talk and laughter around him.

Laughter. The bastards were seriously laughing while raping the wits out of them.

And Sideswipe was honestly coming to his wit’s end. There was no end to the spikes they’d shove up his valve or down his throat. He wasn’t sure how long this had lasted already, or how much longer it would last still.

How much he’d endured already, and how much more he would still need to endure.

If there even would be an end to it. What did he know, maybe they’d keep raping them until they died from it. He felt pretty ready to die from it, at least. They’d hit and beat him enough times that he felt more than a little dinged. His throat was raw, stretched past capacity by spikes far too large for him. His jaw ached. He couldn’t get the taste of transfluid off his glossa. His valve burned from being penetrated time and time again without there ever being enough lubricant for even the first one.

At least all the transfluid had started to ease the way after a while. It was seeping out of him now, where he lay spread on one of the tables, unable to quite scrounge up the will to move. It was no use anyway. No matter which way he moved, they’d just manhandle him into the position they wanted him in.

He’d tried running enough times to know it would only elicit uproarious laughter before they’d grab him and throw him back to the center of the room.

Running was a little silly, he had to admit that much even to himself. He had no idea where he was or which door would’ve led to somewhere he wanted to be in—if those doors would’ve even been open. It wasn’t much of a wonder they laughed.

But what else was he supposed to do? Fighting hadn’t worked. He was so vastly outnumbered they had no issues whatsoever just pinning him down until he couldn’t fight anymore, and that was if they didn’t alone already mass so much more than him that they could pin him without any help.

Those spikes hurt the worst.

He could hear Sunstreaker’s ragged ventilations off to the side where they’d dumped his brother onto the floor. Sunstreaker hadn’t tried getting up again, and Sideswipe wasn’t sure if that was because he was too hurt to, or because he had similarly come to the conclusion that it really wouldn’t have done any good.

Endure. That was all they could do at this point.

His ventilations hitched, but Sideswipe continued to ignore the tears that streamed from his optics. They’d made fun of those too, when he’d first started crying. By now it was old news and they only laughed if they got him to cry harder with something they did.

But for the moment there was no one touching him beyond the grip that kept his wrists pinned together on the surface of the table—mech wasn’t even paying attention to him anymore—and Sideswipe took the second’s respite it was to pick the pieces of his pride and dignity off the metaphorical floors, dust them off, and store them for a later moment when he might have a chance to try to put them back together.

Now if they’d just let him pick up the physical pieces of himself too. They hadn’t given him the time to retract his valve cover, doubtful as it was that he would’ve done that voluntarily. And maybe that was what they’d figured, that he might not even do it anyway, so just cut the chase and tear it off completely!

What did he even need it for, amirite?

Sideswipe couldn’t quite contain his sob this time around, but luckily no one took notice of it, because one of the doors opened just then. Sideswipe turned his helm to look, and his spark sank at the sight of the massive grey mech even he, a certified street urchin, could recognize. 

Megatron. The tyrant of Kaon, dictator of the city-state.

Unquestioned ruler of the whole damn place.

Megatron asked something from the room at large in a tongue Sideswipe couldn’t understand—Kaonite—his red optics passing between Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Sideswipe couldn’t see Sunstreaker himself, but he heard his twin growl. Down but not out.

One of the beatifically grinning lackeys at Sideswipe’s feet responded in the same language. Sideswipe growled too now, to the tune of more laughter around him.

Megatron was smiling right along with the rest of the room, a genuinely amused expression at complete odds with the usual furious scowl he was depicted with in all the images Sideswipe had seen of him.

Megatron walked into the room like he owned the place, as he did, with mecha moving from his way as surely as if he had had a physical barrier around him keeping everyone at a respectful distance. He walked all the way to where Sideswipe judged Sunstreaker to be laying, then nudged something—Sunstreaker—with his pede.

Like he was shocked, Sunstreaker lunged to his pedes with another reverberating snarl. Everyone laughed again, barring Megatron who merely cocked an optical ridge in amusement. The noise only doubled when Sunstreaker stumbled and fell back into the waiting arms of their rapists.

He only growled harder when he was harmlessly caught, but when he tried to jerk away, they wouldn’t let him.

Sideswipe could see him ventilating hard, before his attention was stolen by Megatron again. He was approaching, and with a wave of his servo the mecha scattered from around Sideswipe.

He shot into a sitting position, a sinking feeling in his spark warning him he likely wouldn’t like whatever was going to come next.

Megatron was next to him before he had the time to force his numb limbs into further cooperation. “Let’s see what you have, little one, hmm?” Megatron asked from him in perfect standard, freezing Sideswipe in place with the weight of his red gaze. His spark was spinning in his chest like a mad thing, and he couldn’t but squeak when Megatron grabbed him by the throat in one sudden motion, forcing him back against the table and spinning him in place until his helm faced Megatron’s crotch.

He knew exactly what was going to come next. “NO!” Sideswipe flailed hard, trying to pull and twist himself free from Megatron’s hold, but it was like Megatron didn’t even feel his struggles with how easily he kept his grip. Sideswipe’s servos shot to the wrist of the hand holding his throat, digging his claws on, but if looks were anything to go by, Megatron’s armor was beyond thick.

He probably didn’t even feel it.

But Sideswipe would feel this. His mouth started aching all over again when Megatron retracted his upper modesty panel and let his spike pressurize.

It was just as big as a mech his size should have, which meant nothing short of colossal next to Sideswipe.

And he didn’t want it anywhere near him, not his mouth, not his valve. Desperate, Sideswipe bent his body in half to kick at Megatron with all the force he could muster—what good could that possibly do for him? Primus, he had no idea—but Megatron merely stepped to the side, his grip on Sideswipe’s throat tightening to a threatening degree.

There was no anger, not even annoyance when Megatron said something to his peers. At once Sideswipe’s legs were grabbed and brought back to the table, and pinned there. He tried to kick free, but it did nothing. “Get the frag away from me!” he barked at Megatron, glaring with undisguised hatred and fear at the mech easily more than twice his mass.

This would hurt so, so bad. Tears were streaming from his optics unbidden again and his throat was constricting from more than just Megatron’s hold on it.

There was an uptick at the corner of Megatron’s serene mouth, but that was all. “Enough of that, now. Open.”

Like hell.

Sideswipe bared clenched denta and growled.

There was more laughter from all around him, but no sound from Megatron. He made up for his silence with action, bringing his free servo around and slipping one of his massive digits past Sideswipe’s lips, all the way to the farthest reach of his mouth where he could jab it in the empty area behind his denta and force his mouth open.

He did it with swiftness and familiarity that made Sideswipe think he’d repeated that same move far too many times before.

Thick digits were shoved into his mouth the moment there was a gap between his denta, and pushed far enough that Sideswipe gagged on them, his back arching off the table. Megatron kept them there for one torturous moment before replacing them with his spike in a move that was similarly so practiced Sideswipe couldn’t help but despair.

And the spike was so much worse. It instantly forced his jaw open wide enough that his faceplates stung from the stretch and Sideswipe screamed as it was rammed straight to the back of his mouth, hitting his throat and making him gag all over again. Except this time it didn’t end there, like it hadn’t any of the times the others had decided to use his mouth.

Megatron pulled him forward enough for his helm to fall off the edge of the table, straightening his throat so that he could shove his spike down it with a jab of his hips. Sideswipe’s servos tightened around the wrist steadily holding him when his throat was stretched far enough that he was surprised it didn’t rupture right away.

It hurt so much, and none of the other spikes had adequately prepared him to take it. Sideswipe cried out, or tried to, but his vocalizer was all but crushed and nothing but a garbled little peal of static came out.

Then Megatron pulled back until only the tip of his spike was still in Sideswipe’s mouth, leaving his throat a gaping hole, only for him to push back in again in the next moment. 

On the next withdrawal, Sideswipe managed a scream, and he could hear a cheer rise in the room. Celebrating his pain.

And Sunstreaker was yelling above it all. “Let the frag go of him you slagger! Leave him be! Fragging– Take me instead, just leave him alone!”

Megatron had to hear, but he paid it no mind. There was no time for Sideswipe to adjust to any of it, if he even physically could have ever, before Megatron had already increased his pace, pulling almost all the way out of his mouth before thrusting back down his throat.

Sideswipe struggled. There was nothing left of conscious effort in his motions, just the primal need to get away from the abuse, from having his burning throat opened up over and over again by something that was never intended to go down it. He flailed, but they had his legs, and Megatron ignored anything his arms did, whether it was hitting, scratching, or gripping.

Eventually it was just gripping, his servos having landed back on Megatron’s arm to do no more than hold on.

Megatron kept fragging his mouth. His gag reflex could only take it for so long before his frame heaved and expelled the contents of his tanks—what little there was left from the past times this had already happened.

Megatron just ignored it, even as Sideswipe’s regurgitation bubbled past the spike stretching his mouth open and streamed down his face. It mixed with tears and oral lubricant, and the old messes of energon and transfluid already painting his face.

There was more casual chatter and laughter in the room, Sideswipe could hear it dimly past the wet sound of having his throat ravaged, past the pain that kept trying to steal all of his focus. 

It hurt. It wouldn’t stop hurting, and Megatron wouldn’t stop thrusting in and out, stretching the pain filled moments just as his throat was being stretched.

He screamed again in another brief moment his throat was temporarily abandoned by Megatron’s spike, and this time he could both hear and feel Megatron rumble, the vibrations traveling down his spike and touching his sore lips. “That’s it, you little bitch,” Megatron growled at him, lowly, quietly, as if only he was supposed to hear. “Cry for me.”  

And Sideswipe did, yelling weakly again only for the sound to get distorted into a bleat of static when Megatron pushed back in. There was no sense to this. No one gave one single damn about his comfort, his pain, his anything, just as long as they could use his body and whatever hole they pleased to take their pleasure. 

Megatron was no different from the rest, and his words were no different from the abuse already hurled at him, but he was the leader. He was the only one who could’ve made this stop, but instead he sanctioned all of it and partook in it himself.

And took pleasure in it. Sideswipe could feel that much in the way Megatron’s thrusts began to eventually stammer and lose their rhythm. He pushed in deep only to grind his hips against Sideswipe’s face in circular motions that brought a new fresh hell of hurt to his stretched throat.

Tears were running from his optics despite how tightly he’d shut them. Megatron pulled out, did a few shallow humps that barely dipped into his throat, then thrust in deep again and circled his hips.

Endure.

That was all he could do, but Sideswipe doubted there would be an end to this. Now or ever. Was this what they’d been brought in for? Would death be his only way out?

He didn’t want to die.

But this didn’t exactly make him want to live either.

Megatron thrust as deep as he could get one more time before gripping Sideswipe’s throat tighter, squeezing him around his spike through one tiny thrust, then another, before Sideswipe could feel the hot pulses of his transfluid deep down his throat. Mistakenly he tried to swallow on reflex, which pulled a pleased rumble from his assailant. The last thing he had wanted, but it was too late by that point. 

Megatron held him there for what felt like an eternity, rubbing his spike through Sideswipe’s throat and milking the last bits of transfluid out of it where Sideswipe refused to swallow again. His mouth twitched around the stretch his lips were forced into while he waited, and cried, and hurt, and silently prayed for it to stop already.

Panic nearly overtook him again when Megatron didn’t stop there but instead rocked his hips with the threat of just fragging continuing. He flailed, but his legs were still obediently pinned by Megatron’s followers, and this time Megatron struck him across the face for the way his arms hit him.

It wasn’t any small strike either. Sideswipe gasped through his vents at the additional pain in what was already a life of torture.

And Megatron continued rocking, moving his hips just so to slide his spike up and down in Sideswipe’s throat.

Sideswipe had already almost drowned in his pit of despair by the time Megatron pulled out and didn’t push back in again. Immediately the contents of Sideswipe’s tanks followed him all over again, though this time it was mostly Megatron’s own transfluid that came out. Some of it splattered into Megatron’s thighs from the force of its expulsion, but the tyrant utterly ignored it just as he went on to utterly ignore Sideswipe.

Crying, defiled Sideswipe with his face a mess of tears, lubricant, transfluid, and his own vomit. His legs were released, but he didn’t try to move beyond wiping one shaking servo across his sore mouth.

It wasn’t just his servo that was shaking, it was the whole rest of him too. Shivering, interrupted with larger jerks when his sobs took the better of him.

His throat hurt. He wasn’t sure it would ever return back to its normal size, it sure didn’t feel like it had yet. Maybe it would be better if it didn’t, if this was just going to repeat.

And Sideswipe feared this was going to repeat.

“You were so eager to have your turn. Now you’ll have it,” Sideswipe heard Megatron say, and looked past his veil of tears at him. Megatron had turned his attention to Sunstreaker, his spike still standing proudly between his legs, and Sideswipe thought he now knew the purpose of Megatron’s last little jerks: to keep his spike in pressurization so he could rape Sunstreaker next.

“Please,” Sideswipe whispered, but between the pain and fear robbing his voice and his vocalizer only barely functional from the abuse it had taken, he wasn’t sure if anyone even heard him.

Please, not Sunstreaker.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Bent, not broken 4

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; violence; injury; blood; fingering, mean Steve, watching, manipulation, poly dynamic-ish

This is a dark!fic and features the winter soldier and Captain Hydra x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: An attack leads to the uncovering of decades old secrets when you are taken by the deadliest assassin in the world

Note: Tomorrow we’ll have an Andy one shot (we’ll see if it stays that way ahah) but first enjoy this depraved pair.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The soldier pushed you ahead of him. You limped as you hugged your sore ribs, his steps echoing around you ominously. He directed you around endless corners and stopped you at a door. 

He reached around you to push it open and pointed you inside. As he came close, you once more caught a stench of the blood and dirt in his hair. You entered and he followed, the door clanging loudly. 

The bedroom was spacious and lived-in, unlike much of the immense hideaway. There was another set of tall windows looking out into the mountain passes and a large bed against the other wall. You rubbed your upper arms as you looked around and in the milieu of the room, you saw the existence of these two men, if they were still that.

You felt a tug on the back of your dress and as you glanced back at Bucky, he pulled your skirt up roughly and snapped his fingers. You stared at him as he unbuckled the holster around his shoulders and retreated. 

You watched him cross to a metal cabinet with the same censor lock as your door. He opened it and carefully placed each weapon strapped to his body inside. He closed the door harshly and glared at you as he unzipped the slanted zipper of his jacket. He shrugged out of it and tossed it over one of the ample armchairs. 

He pulled off his long-sleeved shirt and set it pointedly atop the disposed jacket. He tilted his head and neared you, curling his fingers under the straps of your dress and lifted them.

You lowered your chin and raised your arms slowly. He stripped you in a single swoop and you shivered as you stood naked before him. His breath grew gristled and deliberate as his fingertips traced the line of your collar bone then the curve of your chest and waist. He lingered on your rib cage and pressed more firmly. You flinched and he dropped his hands.

He shook his head and turned away, pointing to a door just opposite him. You followed the gesture and carefully crossed the room, peeking back at him nervously. You pushed through the door and entered the equally astounding bathroom. 

The round chamber was walled completely in glass and the plunge below made your stomach sink. A vast, round, stone tub stood central to the room, a large showerhead hung above, the floor built in a precise mosaic as an arced counter lined the left wall. It was unlike anything you’d seen before and belonged on one of those ridiculous lifestyle shows that featured houses you could never afford.

You heard a step behind you and looked over your shoulder. Bucky had removed his stained ribbed tank and his boots, his hands loosing the belt at his waist. He nodded to the tall taps and you went over to twist each and tested the temperature from the faucet as it spouted to life.

You heard the rustle of fabric and the clink of his buckle. His bare feet slapped on the floor as he neared and he nudged your hip as he stepped over the side of the tub pulled down the stopper. The stone basin began to fill as you climbed over the high wall and lowered yourself opposite him, just beside the faucet as you folded your legs.

You felt his eyes on you as he let his legs sprawl out, the tub big enough to do so. He sat forward as the water crested his thighs and grabbed your arm. He drew you over to him and you let him guide your body around and against his. He nestled you between his legs and drew your back against his hard front. He took a deep breath and bent his knees to cradle you as he reclined.

You shivered as the water grew higher and watched the foam as the falling stream met the surface. As it reached just an inch below the rim, he pointed over your shoulder and you slid forward to turn off the flow. You sat back and he slung his arms around your middle. You felt his heart beating, quickly at first, and then it slowed as the hot water lulled you.

You sat like that for a while before he gently moved you away from him. He took a cloth folded over the rack and a bottle from the shelf below. He moved toward you through the water and urged you up onto your knees. He began with a drop of the soap on the cloth and washed your neck and chest softly. He kept on, lifting you to your feet until he got every inch of you, then handed over the cloth.

You took it and unfolded it then folded it outside in. You lathered it with fresh soap and looked at his muscled chest. There were some shallow cuts along his flesh and down his arm. As you got the scars that lined the conjunction of flesh and metal, he stopped you and led your hand back to his stomach. He pushed his metal arm back as he watched you scrub away the grime on his body.

You shied away around his intimate parts but he pulled your hand back. You washed him as quickly as you could and when you were done, he took the cloth and tossed it in a wad beside the bottle of soap. He sat you back down and had you clean his sweaty hair with aromatic shampoo, little groans slipping out each time you touched his scalp.

The water was cold when at last he pulled the stopper and stood. He helped you up with a mechanical yank on your arm and guided you out of the tub. He gave you a towel and took one for himself. He pointed you back into the bedroom with two fingers and you obeyed.

He followed and went to the closet. He pulled out a navy blue tee and crossed to you. He pushed it into your hand and parted again. He dried himself and slipped into a pair of flannel pajama pants. He went to the bed and flopped onto his back with a pitiful sigh.

You glanced over as he looked at you. You patted your skin with the towel and pulled on the large tee. You left your towel with his and went to him as he sidled over on the mattress. He drew you down to lay against him and dropped his arm over your middle. You felt him inhale your scent and his hot breath grazed your scalp.

You still felt him between your legs, his rough fingers against your walls, the noise of his ravenous grunts as he tortured you. You held in a quiver and closed your eyes. For now, he was docile and that was the most you could hope for.

★

You were half-asleep when you heard the door. Bucky was snoring into your hair and didn’t rouse as you turned under his arm and peeked past him. Steve shut the door, certain to snap it into the frame so that the man beside you snorted and woke. The soldier sat up and rubbed his eyes, his hand on your leg, and he squeezed as he looked at the other man.

“Mmm,” Steve hummed as he paced along the bottom of the bed, “you smell better at least.”

He came around your side and you leaned away from him as he reached to tug at the neck of the tee. He let it go sharply and dropped his hand to his hip.

“If you wanna sleep,” he snarled over your head, “you can go right ahead but I haven’t even got a taste.”

You were jarred as Steve grabbed the back of your neck and forced you onto your knees. He pushed you down onto your face as your legs were caught beneath you. He slapped your ass hard and you cried out. The bed jostled and you glanced back as far as you could as Bucky clung to Steve’s wrist and kept him from doing it again.

“What did you think would happen when you took her, soldat?” Steve hissed dryly, “hmm? You think I wouldn’t figure it out? That I wouldn’t want to share?”

Steve kept you pinned as he remained in a deadlock with the metal arm. You whimpered as he squeezed and sent a pang down your spine. You reached back to grasp his wrist and kicked your feet.

“Fine, you want her, you get her,” Steve retracted his hand and yanked away from Bucky, “go ahead and fuck her already.” You shakily lifted yourself on your arms as you sensed the intense gaze above you. Steve pushed you back down and barked, “no, just like that.” He rapped his knuckles on your skull before he stepped back, “get behind her and let her feel who you really are.”

“Please,” you begged, “I… he doesn’t want to.”

You looked at Bucky, his jaw ticked as his eyes sparked. He swallowed through his tight throat and you turned back to Steve as he cracked his knuckles and drew a chair up and sat. He put his feet up on the end of the bed and crossed one leg over the other.

“Is that what you think? You think he cares about you?” Steve leaned his head against his fingers, “he’s just a machine. A tool. He doesn’t think, he only wants and takes.” He pushed his head back and let his arm straighten, “I almost think it wasn’t an accident, just an excuse.”

You tried to push yourself up again and Bucky shoved your shoulder back down. He grabbed one wrist and then the other and pulled them behind your back. He locked them in one hand and his other rippled the fabric of the tee shirt.

“I’m right, huh?” Steve taunted, “this is what you wanted all along. Her tight little cunt.”

“Please,” you whispered as struggled, “please, you can stop him--”

“Who said I wanted to?” Steve snarled, “he’s right, this thing between us has gotten a bit dull so why not try something new?”

You sniffed as tears pricked and you pushed your head up as far as you could. You looked over your shoulder and wriggled as you tried to free your wrists.

“Please, Bucky, please, I know that there’s someone still in there,” you begged, “I know it. You saved me. Maybe you hurt me but you helped me too. If you’d left me, I would’ve died--”

“Yes, you would’ve,” Steve snickered, “and you should be wishing you had. Soldat, I wanna hear her scream.”

You gasped in fear as the captain’s icy eyes bore into yours. There was not a mortal in there, only some unloving monster. Bucky tore your shirt up and it split along the middle to the neck. You reached to the end of the mattress and tried to drag yourself away. Steve hit your hands with his heels so that you retracted them with a whimper.

“Please, no,” you sobbed as Bucky gripped your hips and hauled you back against him, “don’t… this isn’t you, I know it, I know it. You don’t want to hurt me, I saw it--”

Your voice turned to a wisp as he shoved two metal fingers deep in your cunt. You whined and quivered around him as he curled them against the rough patch along the front of your walls. He wiggled his hand until the pressure swelled at his fingertips and you muffled your pathetic mewls in the blankets.

“Y- y- you…” you looked up at Steve and wiped your face as Bucky tore his fingers out of you, “you’re evil.”

“Yeah,” he smirked and ran his fingers along his lips, “I think that’s obvious.”

You turned your face down and bent your arms around your head. You felt Bucky shift behind you and the fabric brush against your thighs as he pushed his pants down. He leaned against you and led his tip between your cheeks. You sucked in air and braced yourself as he lined himself up with your entrance.

He slid his tip into you and you exhaled. You clawed the blanket as he slowly impaled you, your lungs empty and painful as he came to his limit. Your walls stretched around him in agony and you bit down on a wrinkle in the duvet and groaned.

“Oh, aren’t you being so sweet, Buck?” Steve sneered, “hmmm, she’s drooling, huh?”

You lifted your head and blinked at him with a scowl. You flicked your lashes through your tears and your nostrils flared in disgust.

“She’s so quiet,” Steve held your glare and cupped his ear, “I’m waiting.”

Bucky pulled back and snapped his hips against your ass. You hissed through your teeth as a wave of pain rolled up your back and scoured your hips. You lifted yourself on your arms as your eyes clung to the captain’s and you clenched your jaw as the soldier thrust again. You huffed through your nose as your arms quaked with each cruel tilt.

“Harder,” Steve ordered as his grin fell.

Bucky obeyed and slammed into you so hard, your legs tingled and your pelvis felt as if it would crack. You moaned and gritted your teeth. He held you steady as he pounded into you, flesh clapping loudly as stifled grunts escaped him. You grimaced as your eyes wetted and the tears trickled down your nose.

“More,” Steve stood and walked along the bottom of the bed as he looked you over, “faster.

Again, his demand was met fervently. You keened and grasped the blankets as the whole bed shook with the frantic fucking. You hung your head as your voice droned from you in a barely muffled whine. You shook your head as you were blinded by your tears and you sniffed as the pain overflowed and drowned out any hint of pleasure.

You gulped as Bucky bent over you, his sweaty torso to your back and snaked his arm around you. He pulled you with him as he sat back on his heels and moved you in his lap, lifting you only to crash your body back down so that your ribs throbbed with each descent. You latched onto his wrist and touched his stomach as you tried to slow him.

“Let it out,” Steve said as he put a knee on the bed, “almost there… this can be over, all you have to do is scream. I know you want to.”

“Why?” you rasped thinly as your nails dug into Bucky’s arm.

“Ask him, I’m sure you’ll get an answer,” Steve got closer and framed your hips with his hand, pushing you down hard with his hands around Bucky’s, “that’s it.”

You exclaimed as the sheer agony rippled through you and you flung a hand out to slap Steve. You missed and hit his shoulder instead. He grabbed your wrists and pulled them above you, holding your arms up as his eyes trailed down and he watched Bucky guide your motion.

“Not inside her,” Steve warned as the grunts grew louder, “we don’t need that shit.”

Steve yanked you up and dropped you onto the mattress. You folded and wrapped an arm around your leg as you daintily touched your tortured cunt. Steve pushed on Bucky’s shoulder until he fell onto his back and leaned in to kiss him as he grabbed his dick. He stroked him firmly until the muscle flexed beneath his skin.

Bucky tossed his head back and came as the captain led him through his climax. Steve didn’t stop until the soldier winced and stopped him with a gasp. He drew his hand away as the other man reclined and turned to you. He grabbed the back of your head and made you sit up as he faced you.

Steve held up his slimy hand and pressed a finger to your lips and poked inside, “you can clean it up…” he growled, “like his good little pet.”

[thorne93]

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 27)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 1963

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy​​​​​​, @carryonmyswansong​​​​​​, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​ - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong​​​​​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and the team had gotten nothing else done the next morning, thankfully. They tried. Garcia hadn’t found any new information for anyone. Once they let everyone go at noon, you and Dex headed to the marina with the equipment. You got loaded on the boat with fishing gear, cleaning gear, and a picnic lunch. 

“So get this,” Dexter started as you began to open the cleaning supplies kit. 

“Hmm?”

“Harry was seeing my mom,” he blurted out. 

You stopped grabbing stuff to look up at him. “Your adoptive father was dating your biological mother?” 

“It appears that way.” 

“How did you find this out?” you asked, going back to working after handing him a rag. 

“I was listening to some old recordings of my mom. It turns out she was a confidential informant.” 

“So that’s how your father knew her,” you gathered.

“Right. But now I’m starting to question everything. Harry’s teachings. Was he using her? Was he using me? Was I just a means to an end? Did he know I’d ultimately wind up killing my mother’s killers? I had emotional problems as a kid because of what happened to my mom.

Harry said he was trying to help me, but we only talked about his rules. I spent so much time trying to live up to his expectations because I thought he had my best interests in mind.”

“Dex, I’m gonna say this, and I don’t want you to take it the wrong way but…” You sat down, so that he was facing you. “I care a lot about you, and I know you put Harry on a pedestal because you think he saved you from prison, but the truth of the matter is… Harry didn’t do what was best for you. There was no guarantee you’d end up a killer. From what you’ve told me, you were a curious little boy who had an incredibly traumatic past, and instead of dealing with it, getting you help, Harry made you into what you are today.” 

“So you think he was wrong,” he said, no accusation or malice in his voice. 

“I do,” you firmly but softly stated. “Regardless of why he did it, too, the result is the same. You have your Dark Passenger.” 

He began to look lost, erratic, even. “But I've built everything in my life on what Harry said I was supposed to be. My job, my girlfriend. It's all what Harry told me I needed.”

“Maybe he was wrong though. You can’t go back and undo his teachings, but maybe you could start living by your own.”

“What? You’re saying just give up the code? Just live life to some other standard?” 

You shrugged indifferently. “Maybe it’s time to start looking at what you need, rather than what Harry groomed you for.”

“But this is all I know,” he said hopelessly with a trickle of sadness. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin. What would I do with my...urges?” 

“Quiet them. We’ve already discussed how more than anything else, they’re an addiction. Something you can control. Maybe start with that first, and see where life leads you.”

“You’re something, you know that? You come to me, asking me to teach you how to use my urges, just for you turn around and tell me to turn them off.” 

You smirked proudly as you got up and began wiping down the boat again. “What can I say?” 

For the next thirty minutes, you and Dexter meticulously cleaned the boat. You took the right half, he took the left half. Every inch was cleaned and scrubbed. 

“So how are the narcotics anonymous meetings going?” you inquired when you two sat down and started to eat lunch. You stared out over the water, soaking up the sun, relishing the heat and feeling free out here. 

“It’s pointless... I get nothing out of it. But it helps Rita think I’m being normal. Of course, her mother hates me, thinks I’m going to end up like Rita’s ex.” 

“Right,” you agreed, nodding. 

“How are you and Spencer? I can tell he’s not my biggest fan, but what about you two? You making it all work?” he asked, nothing but sincerity in his voice. 

“Actually, uh, I was going to talk to you about that… I’m still worried Spencer might leave me.” 

He seemed a little alarmed so you assuaged that worry. 

“Not that I think he’ll turn either of us in, not like that. He wouldn’t go through all of this just to turn around and sabotage it…” You shook your head. “No, I’m still worried that between his revelation of me, this investigation, and JJ’s confession… I’m just worried he may start to want her again, if he doesn’t still. I know he’s helping us, helping me, and he doesn’t have to, but… I know how hard this has to be for him. I’ve gone from his wife to a serial killer. He’s torn between wanting to protect me from the justice system and turning me in to it. I can understand where he's coming from because when he was in prison, he killed some guys. It was hard for me to hear it, but I sympathized easily. I just think he’s having a harder time…” 

“Why?”

“Well, he killed two guys that were just drug mules. They killed his friend in prison just because they could and they knew it would hurt him. So he retaliated. It was personal. Spence can’t come from a place this cold like you and I can. He can’t come from a place where we spot a stranger and say we want to rid the world of them.” 

“Can’t say I blame him, most people can’t.”

“I know. I mean, our job is to think that way. His entire livelihood has been built around putting people like me away. Now, he has to say he’s married to me. It just makes me feel like maybe he regrets marrying me.”

“I think if he did, he would’ve divorced you by now, or turned you in, or something,” he tried to assure you. 

“Maybe, or he’s just waiting until I’m caught. Then he can pretend like he didn’t know, and he can divorce me easily. Otherwise, we’d have to make something up to our team if we got divorced.” 

“Have you talked to him about this?” 

“No. he’ll just tell me I’m paranoid about JJ...” 

“Well… are you? I mean, are you just being paranoid for no reason?” 

“Maybe. He swears he doesn’t love her, or feel anything, and he probably doesn’t. That doesn’t make me feel any safer or better about Spencer though. Even with JJ not in the picture…” You sighed, realizing you were rambling. 

“What is it?” Dexter gently urged. 

“What if he just leaves because he doesn’t love me any more? Because I am who I am?” 

He pressed his lips together in a thin line. “You were honest with me, so now I’m going to be brutally honest with you.” 

You braced yourself, fearing the worst from your friend. 

“You sought me out, knowing full well what might happen if we took your curiosity all the way. You knew that the moment you killed someone outside of your job, it would change your entire life, everything about it. You knew it, and I told it to you repeatedly.”

You nodded, knowing he was right, listening. 

“So now, you can’t really be upset with him for having normal responses and reactions. This fear you’re having, of him leaving? It’s a side effect of him being involved, of him knowing the truth. That fear is probably always going to be there, unless of course he somehow proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that he won’t leave, but that’s impossible.”

“But that’s what I want,” you retorted. “I just want him to say that he forgives me, that he understands why I did what I did, and he won’t leave me for it. I’m just worried with all this extra stress the investigation has caused, so close to him finding out, it’ll push him away.” 

“If it does… it does. There’s nothing you can do to stop it, unfortunately. It’s better to live your life blissfully ignorant, than to go about every day worrying that today is the day something might go wrong.” 

“That’s poetic, did you read that somewhere?” you sarcastically responded. 

“I’m serious. Would you rather live wondering every morning you wake up, ‘Oh, is today the day he decides to leave me?’ Or would you rather just live it happily? Personally, I’d take the happy memories over ones that would be clouded by fear. Aside from waiting to tell you about JJ, you’ve never mentioned Spencer as someone who is flakey, flighty, or a liar. I’d say, if he’s willing to do all this work to keep you from being put in prison, he’s in it for the long haul.”

His words actually made sense and seemed to warm you up. 

“You think so?” 

“Yeah. Besides, you’d have to be crazy to try and divorce a serial killer right?” 

You shook your head and made a face before throwing a cleaning bottle at him. “You’re such an ass!” 

The two of you laughed before talking about things that had nothing to do with the case or killing or your shaky marriage. It was nice to escape for a bit. You caught up about Debra, she was dating some new guy apparently. Rita and Dexter seemed fine but apparently she was uncomfortable with a woman sponsor. 

As the sun was starting to get much lower in the sky, you and Dexter decided to pack things up and call it a day. The boat should have been completely clear of everything by then. Dexter started the boat and began to make towards the shore, which would probably take about ten minutes. He wanted to be sure that you all wouldn’t be disturbed. 

“It’s been hard, you know?” you suddenly said as you leaned back in the seat behind him, admiring the gorgeous view of the horizon. “Being an agent… I have to still know more than everyone in the room, and yet I can’t know too much or it’s suspicious and leads them back to you or me. Every day is getting harder and harder.” Your voice dropped slightly, hope dwindling out of your tone. 

“You just have to lie, that’s all.” 

“I know, that’s the hardest part for me.” 

Dexter couldn’t help himself but laugh. “I like how the killing is the easy part, but the lying is the hard part.” 

“Well the people I’m lying to are friends, Dex. They’re practically family. I’ve prided myself on being honest and trustworthy and forthright my entire life. Now all that’s a farce.” 

“I know,” he finally said with some sympathy and a low voice. “I bet it’s hard. Lying comes naturally for me because Harry told me to basically say the opposite of what I was thinking or feeling at all times. I was raised to be a liar to protect myself. I can’t imagine switching gears now.” 

You let a soft smile touch your lips. This was the side Spence needed to see, the whole world needed to see. The fun, caring, gentle side of Dexter. 

“I never thought I’d see the day where I am best friends with a Fed, and two of them are keeping my secrets,” Dexter noted with a smirk. “Kind of a crazy world, huh?” 

“Yeah, I never thought I’d befriend an unsub, let alone want to protect him,” you informed, getting up and standing next to him. You nudged his shoulder and he glanced at you, the two of you exchanging a fond smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[paisley-print]

CHAPTER THREE: THE STARVED

CHAPTER ONE: THE HUNTER / CHAPTER TWO: THE HUNTED

Synopsis: Their feelings of resentment only grow after they take lodging in a pub. The two of them struggle to find common ground. 

Note: Ya’ll ain’t gonna like Ino in this....maybe Din too. I think there needs to be friction before they start to come around to one another. 

- 

“You’re bleeding” Din’s voice was full of concern as he reached over to brush the hair from her face.

Ino moved away instinctively….. though she wished she hadn’t. He pulled his hand back immediately; the gears turning in his mind.

-

They spent much of the day walking in silence. As much as she tried, Ino could not keep her thoughts from wandering.

She replayed the encounter repeatedly in her mind. Each time getting high off of the adrenaline, the memory still provided. She could still feel the way his hand took hold of hers. Strong, warm, probably smooth from being protected by leather all day. She shivered at the thought of his arm wrapped around her too. What she wouldn’t give to be held by him again. To have his unexposed hands roaming her bare skin. Warm, curious fingers feeling every inch of her-

“How’s your head?” The Mandalorian asked after what seemed to be an eternity of silence.

She needed to stop this- she needed to focus. Her lust for him was not based out of reason, but rather out of need. They had denied her touch for so long she was unaware that she was starving. Now, with even the smallest taste, her body would not stop demanding more. Perhaps she could make him do it one more time, provoke him to- no. It was thoughts like these that we’re going to lead to her demise. She was too smart to fall victim to such base desires when more pressing matters were at play. 

“Yes” she responded, then suddenly realized what he had asked her. “It’s fine, thank you. A scratch.”

He stopped in front of her and tilted his head a little. Ino knitted her brows at him, then glanced to the side awkwardly. God, that silence made her uncomfortable…. “So are we just going to stand here?-”

“I wasn’t supposed to touch you,” he said.

“Hmm?”

“I wasn’t supposed to touch you” he repeated.

He almost sounded…. upset? With who? Himself? Perhaps he likened that order to whatever custom bound him to his suit.

Ino gave a polite half smile. She was terrible at navigating situations of high emotion; any display of it just embarrassed her. “Yes, well, I won’t tell.”

He paused for a moment, “I’m sorry if-” 

She started walking away from him before he had even finished speaking. The light of the village acted as her guide. “Hurry along” she spoke to him as if he had been one of her droid servants back home. After a moment, it was clear that he was not about to follow her. She halted her step. “Unless you rather me stand here until the sun rises while you snivel about your feelings?” 

His silence was enough of a response for her. “Right. That’s what I thought.”

Din trailed a little ways behind as she pushed forward.

-

The village was a common waypoint for many traveling between the two largest cities of Atlas. Although it was small, it was bustling with people. Strings of lanterns hung from buildings and cast the street in a warm amber glow. The villagers didn’t notice them at first, but soon enough there were dozens of people staring slack jawed at the pair. Atlas’s lost princess escorted by a Mandalorian. It was a story not soon believed by anyone unable to bear witness to it. Ino held her head high and stepped lightly on her feet as she passed by; all the while her stomach was tied in a tight knot. 

Acquiring lodging was not hard. The owner of the inn was happy to give them the largest suite they had……. Ino was starting to realize how the Mandalorian found her so easily. She would definitely need to change her appearance next time she fled. As soon as Ino was inside, she walked into the bedroom and locked the door behind her.

A plan needed to be made… the wind blew the smell of the pub next door into the window. Suddenly the room was filled with the comforting aroma of vegetables swimming in butter and meat roasting over charcoal. Holy hell, she was hungry.

Ino cringed as the door creaked open. Carefully, she peaked out into the little sitting area they had. The Mandalorian was sitting on the couch, arms folded, seemingly staring straight ahead….. although it was more likely he was just resting his eyes beneath the helmet. Ugh, so unnerving, she thought bitterly.

She slipped through the cracked door and was about to leave when a voice came from behind her.

“Where are you going?”

“To the pub- to get food. Would you like me to pick up some oil for you to drink?”

“I’m not a droid. ”

Ino suppressed a smile. “Pardon me- easy mistake.”

He stood from the couch. “Have the innkeeper send someone for you.”

She kept her hand on the handle of the door. “They are not my servants, therefore I will not bother them with such silly tasks.” She pulled the door forward at the same time Din’s hand shot out and stopped it.

Ino whipped around to face him, features twisted in anger. “And what? You’re going to zap me with that little stick of yours? You forget that I have power over you now. Balthar will kill you if he finds out you put your hands on his bride.”

The Mandalorian was as unwavering as stone. This made her even more irate. She looked him square in the face, her voice dripping with venom as she spoke. “I have spent all day taking orders from you. And I am sick of it. You do not deserve to be near me. Most do not get within a hundred yards of me without dropping to their knees and worshiping the very ground I walk on. Yet you come along, a dirty drifter from some backwater planet, and have the audacity to force me into submission. You don’t have any power here- so start showing me some respect. You can start by taking this off while you're in my presence-” she lunged forward and attempted to lift his helmet. 

Two hands found their way to her arms and yanked them down. He swiped at her legs with his foot and brought up against the wall. His one hand kept both wrists pinned behind her back.

“I’ll take my chances” he said smugly 

She struggled against his hold on her and screamed as loud as she could. She was yanked backwards from the wall while his free hand came up to cover her mouth. She used this to her advantage, taking one of his fingers in her mouth and biting down as hard as she could. As soon as she felt his grip loosen, she darted towards the door. She had not made it ten feet before feeling a sharp tug on her hair. Fingers curled in a fist around the base of her scalp and locked on to a sizable chunk of her gold locks. She screamed again and flailed her arms in an awkward attempt to land a punch. It did not work. He made her follow alongside him- her feet doing a weird side step over one another while she struggled to match his long strides.

The door to their suite was slammed closed with such a force it knocked the painting from its nail on the wall. Glass shattered and dispersed along the hardwood. A part of her reveled in the fact that he was angry - it had meant that she had hit her mark. This was short-lived, however, when she realized where he was taking her. He had pulled her into the bedroom and swung open the closet door. In one swift motion, he had let go of her hair and used one hand to push her forward- sending her stumbling into the tiny dark space. The door was shut before she could even make it to her feet.

Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!

She pulled herself up and banged on the door as hard as she could. It didn’t move at all. He must have used something to prop it closed from the outside. She let out a frustrated cry and continued to throw blows at the door until she was out of breath. Not a single sound could be heard from the bedroom. Was he even there?

Ino decided to plead with him anyway, he was capable of feeling. He had just proved that to her. If only she could gain his sympathy…. there might be hope for her yet.

“I’m-” she sighed “If the stories that they told me as a child are true, then I believe you are a good man. Balthar is a tyrant who raped and murdered my sister for not giving him an heir. I will endure the same fate if you deliver me to him. You are the one who forced me out of hiding. You are the one who caused me to fight.”

She took a seat on the floor.

“This planet had been under the rule of my ancestors for generations. Balthar’s father and a group of noblemen took arms against us. Their army of mercenaries used our people as their weapon. Entire villages were leveled overnight- reduced to smoldering piles of scorched soil. Thousands of innocent lives taken in his unceasing pursuit of control. The king, my grandfather, yielded to him in order to save lives.  Upon abdication my family was forced into servitude where we remained as slaves….. spoils of a war we never attempted to fight.”

 She let her head fall back against the wall and shut her eyes. Their long day’s journey had hit her all at once. “We would have stayed that way if it wasn’t for Balthar. As soon as he came to power, he was pressured to produce an heir. He tried many a time but could not - cursed, some say. The people of Atlas believe that only royal blood can produce heirs, so he took my sister. He used her - beat her, the letters she wrote to my mother……”

Ino felt as though she could cry, but the tears would not form. 

“After a few years of trying, it was decided that the reason my sister was unable to have a child was because of her ‘impurity’. Another man had touched her before her marriage and because of that the gods branded her infertile. I was born out of desperation - both from my father’s hope of regaining his land and Balthar’s need to have a son. Balthar feared his next bride would also end up corrupted, so he took extreme measures to guard my purity. They ripped me from my mother’s womb and placed me in chambers where I stayed locked and guarded my entire life. Save for festivals when they paraded me around and displayed me like a trophy for the capital. All my life I have been raised by droids - they fed me, washed me, clothed me. I-”

No, she couldn’t say that, she couldn’t make herself that vulnerable to him. She assumed he must know that he had been the first person to touch her in many years. To say it would seem distasteful. 

“I will be wed to Balthar upon my return to the palace…… Please, I am not looking for anything more than for you to release me.” 

She paused. The open window in the bedroom allowed the noise from outside to drift in. Somebody was singing in the street.

“I am not sure what he is holding over your head but I can promise you whatever it is I can do my best to help.”

Why was she even trying, nobody was listening? 

Slowly, she surrendered herself to sleep. Lulled there by the melody floating up from the street below.

[saelwen]

Sauron x Modern!Reader

Sauron x Modern!Reader

Request: Anon

Summary: The reader finds herself begin taking into Mordor, and grabbed  the Dark Lord attentions. What will happen to her?

Warnings: mention of rape 

Words: 1k

Something sharp poking my side, woke me up from my lovely sleep “Hmm...just more five minutes....” I groan to my roommate, waving my hand. But a strong hand grabbed my wrist, it felt rough and masculine, not seeming like my roommate's hand. I try to pull away, only to be pull to the person who was grabbing me.

Opening my eyes slowly “What heck, r/m/n?! I’m awak...” my words start fading as I look to the disgusting monster that was holding my hand “WHAT THE FUCK??!” I scream on top of my lungs as I try to push the monster away from me. The monster hiss with my scream “Bloody hell, woman! Just shut the fuck up!” he groans, wrapping his arms around my waist and take me to whatever he lives. What the fuck is going on??! Where am I?? I begin hitting with my fist on the monster backs, screaming and sobbing for him to let me go. A sharp slap in my ass made shut, freezing in disgust and fear “If you don’t shut your pretty mouth, I will sew your lips together!”  he growls to me. Tears were running down my face as I look around me, there a bunch of the same monsters, fighting each other's or sharping they weapons, I even saw one of them raping a beautiful woman with long gorgeous blond hair. Her screams and cries made me shiver and shut my eyes close, hopping that I wouldn't finish like that.

The sound of Gates opening made me look back to see where the monster was taking me. We enter on a huge black castle “W..Wh..Where are you t..taking me?” I ask him quietly, shuttering on my words as fear took over my body, “To the Dark Lord! You seem different from all Edain that I've see.” Dark Lord? Edain? What the fuck is he talking about?  

The monster stopped in front of two huge black doors “Open the doors! I’ve got something for the Dark Lord!” he orders to some guards that were beside the doors, we enter in the Throne room and he threw me to the middle of the room. A cry falls from my lips as I hit the cold floor, I push myself up with my hands, that were all dirty and bloody. The monster bend down on his knee “My Lord! I’ve found this Edain in our borders.” he said a while looking down, I lift my head and my eyes met a pair of beautiful golden eyes. Sitting on a huge black iron throne was a man with long silver hair, his features were sharp and soft at the same time. He was wearing a black armor that look very uncomfortable, “And why you didn’t kill it?” he says with a bored voice, a shiver runs down my spines with his words. Inside my head I was praying to all the Gods to safe from this nightmare, hopping that I will wake up and hear my roommate nagging about how I sleep too much.  

My thoughts were interrupted by the monster grabbing my arms roughly and show my pajama clothes to the beautiful man “Look my Lord! Her clothes are something that I've never seen before and her skin his to soft and delicate for an Edain!” I look down to the floor as I feel the strong gaze from the man, making me nerves “Hmm...You’re right. Take her to the dungeons! I will talk to her alone.” and with that, the monster took me to a cold dark cell. Leaving me crying alone and begging for mercy.

After, what it seems months, the blond man enters the cell with a servant, that had a bucket with water inside. The man stood there for a while, only staring at me with an observing look. My body begin to shake from the fear and as I try to move away from his deep gaze, he took a step forward, crouching down so he was at my eyes level “What’s your name, Little Human?” he asks with a deep voice, that made the hairs in the back of my neck stand up. Taking a deep breath “Y..Y/n...” my voice came out weak, he nods “Well, Y/n...Where are you from?” his voice now sounded soft, almost like he care “I..I’m from y/h/t...” as I finish, he looks at me with a confused look “y/h/t?...” he whispers under his breath “And where is that?” he asks. Now was my turn to become confused. How he didn’t know where was it? Maybe he didn’t know geography very well. I look down to my hands and begin to explain him the last things that I remember and about my homeland.  

When I finished, I lift my gaze and look to his beautiful golden eyes, that now shinned with curiosity “impressive...You are very lucky you know, that right?” he says a while standing up and grabbing the bucket, I look to him confused from what am I lucky in middle the shit had happen to me until now “If that orc wasn’t so loyal to me, you would be a perfect toy for them...Drink! It will do you good.” my body start shaking with his comment about the orcs, I could finish like that poor woman that I saw.  

I grab the bucket from his warm hands and I start drinking wildly, like there's no tomorrow. A little smirk forms on his lips as I finish drinking the water, he grabs my chin and with his thumb, he cleans some water from my lips. We stay like this for a while, looking to each other.  

Suddenly he stood up and looks down to me “This will be your personal servant from now on. She will take you to your chambers on my halls.” he says a while walking to the cell door, he looks back again, looking at me with a smirk “I hope you will like your stay here because you will be here for a very long time....and by the way...my name is Sauron, Lord of the Black Land.” with that he leave us alone in the cold cell “Sauron...” his name leaves my lips like a prayer. The servant girl helps me standing up “Follow me, My Lady.” she said shyly, leading up the stairs into the dark castle.

What the hell is going on with my life?! Where the hell am I? Those thoughts begin fill my head, I sigh and close my eyes, hopping that I will get out of here alive.

Hey Guys!! This was a request from Anon but I think I will be doing more. What do you think? Feel free to comment and tell me what do you think!! And hope you like it!

XOXO

Taglist: @crazyonesarethebest​

[superpuppies]

Hobbit High

Chapter 5: The Plan Fandom- The Hobbit

Characters- Ori X Dwalin, Bilbo X Thorin, Fili, Kili, Dori, Nori, Gandalf, Thlandral, Legolas

Rating- PG13

Word count-2534

Archive Link- https://archiveofourown.org/works/10027448/chapters/57583291#workskin

Summary- Nori, Dwalin and Thorin come up with a plan of attack for the next day at school.

Hey all, here’s the newest from my mind, please keep in mind that I do have dyslexia and I really do try to fix all spelling mistakes but some will always slip through. If you spot some please let me know and I will do my best to correct it. Thank you.

Nori walked back into the kitchen as Thorin hung up with his father. “I found Dwalin.” He announced dropping into a seat.

“Oh? Where was the pansy hiding?” Thorin chuckled. He had been a bit surprised when his friend had run off but looking back over the day as he had talked to his dad, he was also a bit surprised by a few things he had done.

“He was upstairs assaulting my brother.” Nori sighed.

“What?” Thorin half laughed half yelped.

“I hardly think that counts as assault.” Dwalin said as he walked in pulling off his wet shirt.

“If it’s not assault, then why are you stripping?” Thorin asked.

“What does one have to do with the other? And my shirt got wet from the shower you weirdo.” Dwalin flung his wet shirt in Thorin’s face as he sat down beside Nori. “So, what are you telling Dori?”

“No idea.” Nori leaned back in his chair. “Leave me in charge, because that’s a great plan Dori. In just under three days Ori can get the crap beat out of him and possibly raped by my best friend. Great plan Dori, great plan!” Dwalin punched Nori hard in the shoulder.

“Asshole, you could tell him the truth.” Dwalin grumbled playfully.

“Are you insane, he would be back here within the hour!” Thorin cut across the table. Nori just raised his eyebrows and pointed at Thorin in a ‘that’ gesture. Dwalin waved them off and continued.

“No, when does the conference end?”

“Tomorrow at like five.” Nori eyed Dwalin suspiciously.

“Right, so Bilbo and Ori aren’t seriously injured no broken bones or anything. Black and blue, sure and a little shaken but that’s it, they’re fine.” Thorin and Nori nodded. “Besides you come home beat to shit all the damn time. So we patch them up, they go to school tomorrow, they come home and he’ll be back at what seven, he can look at them then.”

“hmm, that could work.” Nori started.

“Wait, what about school tomorrow?” Thorin added. “They have classes with Fili and Kili.”

“Shit!” Nori growled.

“Are they actually stupid enough to start something in class?” Dwalin asked.

“I can certainly hope not, but there are times when they aren’t actually in class.” Thorin countered.

“We will walk them around. Ori and Bilbo won’t enter or exit a classroom without at least one of us.” Dwalin smirked triumphant.

“What about lunch?” Thorin asked with a deadpan stare.

“It’s a free period anyway and we always go pester them why would tomorrow be any different.” Nori smirked he was very much liking this plan any reason to stalk his little brother was a good thing.

“Since when is Biology a free period?” Thorin asked while Dwalin cocked an eyebrow at Nori.

“Since tomorrow.” Nori huffed. “Alright so that’s the plan. We all in agreement on this?”

“Yeah,” Thorin nodded. So Nori looked to Dwalin who just looked right back at him.

“No, I am not going to agree to my own plan.” Dwalin said flatly.

“Well that is just ridiculous; you need to have more faith in yourself man.” Nori shook his head and the three friends laughed.

 Bilbo found Ori sitting on his bed in a loose sleep shirt and flannel pants. “Are you all right?” Bilbo asked sitting next to Ori.

“Yeah… he asked me to be his boyfriend.”

“See and you were too scared to say anything all this time.” Bilbo smirked.

Ori’s lips twitched into a quick nervous smile. “I didn’t agree to or anything.”

“What!? Why not?”

“Nori came in and kind of kill the conversation just as it was starting, then Dwalin followed after him laughing. And now I don’t know. I mean what if he was just joking or something or he wanted to get a little revenge of his own and Nori just kind of got in the way.”

“No,” Bilbo put a hand on Ori’s arm. “I think it was sincere. After you stormed away from Nori,” Ori’s shoulders sank. “which was fine don’t worry about it. Even Thorin told him off about it a little and it came out that Dwalin had liked you for over a year,” Bilbo leaned closer to Ori conspiratorially, “and Nori knew about it.” Ori shot a quick glance at Bilbo. “then Nori and Thorin where poking fun at Dwalin for not saying anything to you. Finally, I asked him if he had said anything to you yet, you know just to be sure, because if he had and you had been acting this way, I was going to have to punch you.”

“Good to know who my friends are.” Ori drawled.

“I am your friend; I want you to be happy. So yes, I think when he asked you to be his boyfriend, he was sincere, and you should definitely do it.” The two boys chuckled, Ori nodding that he would.

Ori looked over at Bilbo and was hit with a sudden wave of guilt. “AAh, I’m sorry Bilbo.”

“What? You’re confusing me now.”

“I’m sorry” Ori turned to Bilbo. “I’m sorry I ran out of the room before, for leaving you there alone. I shouldn’t have, panic just kind of set in and I bolted without thinking. I’m sorry.”

Bilbo smiled and looked down at the rug. “I can’t say I really blame you or that I’m really all that upset by it. I mean I probably would have done that same thing if I had thought of it and it turned out alright.” Bilbo glanced up at Ori. “I mean sure physically I feel like crap, but now you’re dating Dwalin and Thorin kissed me, so all in all the day was a pretty good one.”

“Thorin kissed you!” Ori’s eyes lit up with excitement as he smiled at his friend.

“Yeah.” Bilbo smiled at the thought of it. “Just after you left. I think the first time was just to get me to shut up, but after that…”

“The first time? How many times did he kiss you?”

“I don’t know, at least three or four.” Bilbo blushed as Ori fell back onto his bed with a sigh. “What? Don’t tell me he hasn’t.”

“No, he has but you know just the once.”

“Oh.” Bilbo fell back next to his friend. “Well you’re dating now so that’ll change.” Bilbo shrugged. “Do you have a better shirt I can wear?” Bilbo plucked at the way too large one he currently had on with a dejected sigh. Ori glanced at Bilbo sideways and realized he had one of Dori’s sleep shirts on, so he rolled off his bed groaning as he applied pressure to his bruise.

“Yeah I think so.”

 “Oh it’s got to be close to two fifty by now.” Nori said as he pushed the stir-fry around the pan.

“Really? How long have they been writing them?” Thorin asked stretching himself across the table top.

“Well, I found them maybe a year ago and he already had a good stash. And I caught Bilbo bringing more over six or seven months ago.”

“They know you know about them? And they still hide them?” Dwalin chuckled.

“No, just Bilbo knows, well as far as I know.” Nori shrugged splashing some soy sauce into the stir-fry.

“Two fifty, what can they possibly write about two hundred and fifty times.” Thorin shook his head.

“Well they have all sorts of sub categories.” Nori tossed some of the vegetables into the pan. “There’s just you and Bilbo, just Ori and Dwalin, There are master slave scenarios.” Dwalin stood and walked over to the fridge to grab a soda. “Fantasy stuff, Syfy stuff, me and Ori, there’s Dori, me and Ori and Dori, Bilbo, Me and Ori,”

“Alright, stop, stop.” Dwalin put a hand over Nori’s mouth. Nori pulled away smirking.

“That’s not even the weirdest stuff but I’ll admit I have a hard time reading those.”

“You actually read them?” Thorin looked up at Nori confused.

“Oh, yeah. They’re pretty good, your boy’s got talent.”

“My boy?” Thorin rolled the words around in his mouth.

“Yeah, I only read what Bilbo has written, Bilbo’s got everything Ori writes.” Nori sprinkled some seasoning over the stir-fry.

“So where are they?” Dwalin asked sitting back down at the table. “Beside this one” Dwalin reached into his back pocket and dropped the story onto the table.

Nori raised an eye brow at the offending story of the day and smirked. “Why do you want to know?”

“Just curious as to what’s expected of me.” Dwalin rebuked.

“He’s afraid he’ll be a disappointment.” Thorin laughed, Dwalin smacked him across the back of the head. “See, I’m right.”

“I think you’ll be a slight change to what he was thinking.”

“Why?”

“He gives Bilbo back the stories he doesn’t like.” Nori huffed. “Apparently the most common complaint is that they don’t seem like they could really happen. But of the few that Bilbo has given me to read they seem pretty spot, on to me.”

“So you’ve also read the impossible ones?” Dwalin raised his eyebrows skeptically.

“Yep. The regular ones are kept in Binders marked ‘Algebra’ and ‘Argumentative Writing’. Well those are the best categories anyway, in his room.”

“Algebra?” Thorin laughed.

“Would you look there?” Dwalin smirked.

“It’s not a bad hiding spot but if anyone ever did just pick it up, it’s clearly not algebra.” Nori shrugged.

“No, but still.” Thorin answered Dwalin.

“Has Dori called yet?” Ori asked walking into the room with Bilbo. Thorin sat up as Dwalin dropped his feet off the tables edge.

“No not yet.” Nori answered. Ori’s cheeks tinted pink as he noticed Dwalin wasn’t wearing a shirt anymore; Dwalin saw the slight color change and smiled at Ori who then quickly turned back to his brother.

“So what are we going to tell him?”

“Don’t worry about it, I got it figured out.” Ori gave Nori an exasperated ‘Really’ look. “What? Sorry I ruined your and Dwalin’s little moment.” Nori flipped the contents of the pan.

“Whatever, just as long as it doesn’t have me being attacked by ravenous wolves again.” Ori grumbled turning toward the living room. “I’m going to watch some T.V.”

“Yeah, fine, you ass.” Ori ignored Nori’s remark as he walked into the living room and clicked on the T.V.

“Ravenous wolves?” Bilbo said cocking his head to the left.

“It was funny.” Nori shrugged, pulling down some plates.

“Somehow I doubt that.” Bilbo turned and walked into the living room.

“Explain.” Dwalin said coolly with a matching glare.

“Last time Dori was at one of these things, he called to say he was heading back and I told him that Ori had been attacked by wolves.” Nori shrugged with a smirk. “I swear he teleported back here, frantic.” The phone begins to ring, so Nori turns down the stove heat. “Only to find a perfectly fine Ori sitting in his room doing homework.” Nori flips the stir-fry and walks toward the handset. “Dori wouldn’t let go of him the entire time he was yelling at me.” Nori smirked answering the phone. “Hey Dori.”

Thorin smirked at the tale but stopped as he turned to Dwalin and watched him roll his eyes. “It’s kinda funny.” Thorin said standing.

“It’s stupid.” Dwalin grumbles walking into the living room.

“It’s what he does best.” Thorin chuckles, walking over to Bilbo, who is laying on the loveseat. “Scoot.” Thorin waves his hand at Bilbo who reluctantly shuffles to one side of the loveseat. Thorin drops down and pulls Bilbo over to rest against his shoulder.  Dwalin lifts Ori’s legs and drops down onto the sofa before replacing them across his lap. Ori shifted slightly to curl his legs under himself but Dwalin held them where they were. The four sat in a nervous, companionable silence flipping through the channels until they settled on the horror movie channel. Some made for TV movie was playing and they all laughed at the terrible acting and effects.

 Nori finally joined them and hour later with two cups of water in hand and a pill bottle under his arm. He handed Ori and Bilbo each a glass and then shook out two pills for each of them.  “Doctor’s orders.” Nori said walking back into the kitchen, Ori and Bilbo downed the pills without protest. Nori reappeared with plates of stir-fry for everyone and stretched himself out on the floor to catch the end of the movie while he ate.

Half way through the next movie Ori and Bilbo where nodding off. “Dwalin, think you can get him to bed?” Nori asked getting up. Dwalin just nodded ignoring the innuendo. “Good, I’ll take Bilbo and handsy over there for the night.”

Thorin stopped his hand from sliding any farther up Bilbo’s thigh. “For the night?”

“Yep, Dori says we got to watch them through the night, now let’s go handsy.”

“What? Why doesn’t Dwalin need a chaperon? He’s got your baby brother.”

“Cause Dwalin hasn’t been stupid enough to grope Ori for the past half hour in front of me. And I highly doubt he’ll do anything when he knows I could burst through the door at any moment.”

Dwalin looked over at Thorin smugly. “Idiot.” He then gently tugged on Ori’s arms to try and get him off the sofa.  Nori cleared the plates while Dwalin and Thorin began moving Ori and Bilbo about.

“Come on Ori, up ya get.” Dwalin managed to get Ori sitting but just barely.

“No, let me sleep here.” Ori mumbled falling back toward the cushions. Dwalin carefully wrapped his arms around Ori’s torso and began to lift.

“Nope, you’ll be sore enough in the morning already.” Dwalin said soothing but firm.

Ori grumbled but let himself be manhandled, offering absolutely no assistance in the endeavor. Dwalin sighed and glanced over at Nori and Thorin, they weren’t faring any better than he was and there were two of them. Dwalin almost wished he had Bilbo, Bilbo’s small stature and body build made him someone Dwalin could easily throw over his shoulder. Whereas Ori was only a head taller than Bilbo but with a slightly sturdier body build it didn’t seem like much but was just enough to make it difficult and uncomfortable. What with the difficulty Thorin and Nori where having just with Bilbo, Dwalin didn’t think they would ever get Ori up the stairs. Turning back to Ori he tugged the younger boy up to standing and this time Ori just fell against his chest instead of back onto the sofa. With careful, slow steps Dwalin began leading Ori to the stairs.

Thorin was grumbling at Nori who had finally just settled Bilbo on to his back piggy back style. “Well you could have but you didn’t, you just stood there bitching about it.” Nori half whispered over his shoulder at Thorin as he passed Dwalin.

“It was my idea.” Thorin growled quietly.

“Well good for you.” Nori spat out sarcastically.

Dwalin just rolled his eyes as he decided that they had all been friends for too long. They were starting to sound like an old married couple.

[wolfiefics]

To all the fans of Steve Rogers who persist that Steve was in the right during Civil War, consider this:

Your argument that after the events of Winter Soldier he lost faith in the US government, why did he stay? Why did he not renounce his US citizenship and try elsewhere? He likely had enough ties with another country, either of familial origin or one he helped liberate during WWII, to do so. Why did he stay? Why did he continue being an Avenger? Living by US society rules put in place and maintained by the government he no longer believed in? If you can answer that in a logical way that isn't knee-jerk high-mindedness, I'll concede it.

If he was right to go against the Accords because "they stifled his freedom" then you are advocating the same mindset of the people taking guns into government buildings in an attempt to terrorize officials into not wearing protective gear designed to save the lives of themselves, their family and their fellow citizens AS IS IN THE US CONSTITUTION CHARTER. Or you are the one calling the police on someone for doing something you don't like, lying about it to make it wrong when that person was doing nothing wrong to begin with? You just didn't like them for some reason, they have to go away. FREEDOM is not a gift. It's not a thing that everyone has. EVER. Not even in the US at the time of the American Revolution. Freedom is a CONCEPT, an ideal to reach for. A utopian dream. The very nature of human civilization NEGATES freedom by its very existence. You want "freedom"? I can rob, rape, murder, enslave, and destroy everything I want to because I'm FREE to do so! No one can tell me what to do! You're the victim? Not my problem! Maybe you should be bigger, meaner, carry a bigger weapon or have more people in your side. FREEDOM is ANARCHY, lawlessness, and disrespecting others wants and needs for whatever you want to have withoutrestrictionsof moral conscience instilled by society (i.e. laws and government).

Society, civilization, has rules for a reason. So that shit DOESN'T happen. You don't follow the rules? You're a criminal. Since the Law Codes of Hammurabi its been this way (before that, those are just the first known written laws). Rules can be amended, recodified, or completely rewritten as your society and culture expands intellectually, technologically or in accordance of getting along with another culture different from yours. They aren't concrete (I was going to say "written in stone but some actually were...aforementioned Hammurabi law codes for example).

But to argue that Steve Rogers was right to IGNORE the rules and laws and do whatever he wanted because he was "betrayed" by the government is ignorant, elitist bullshit. He had NO RIGHT to do that. Attempt to dissuade, argue down or compromise, yes, definitely. But give it the middle finger and stomp off in a snit and do whatever HE thinks is right? He's no longer a law-abiding citizen who has EARNED the rights of his society. He has turned his back on them. I'm not saying the Accords were right (though they had a strong argument for it) but everyone tried to tell him "do this now, we'll wiggle it around til it's more acceptable. If not, they are going to ram it down our throats or throw us in a dark dank corner and forget we're there". But noooo! Steve was too good for that! The petty concerns of almost the entire world is not his problem! HE knows better than ANYONE what's right and what's wrong! Fuck them! He was not interested in compromise, trying to work a deal, nothing. He saw it as oppression and done! And that's how all of you who say he's in the right feel too. 112 out of 128 countries have no RIGHT to feel threatened! What's their problem anyway? It’s not like the Avengers destroyed an entire country! Oh wait.. well it's just some backwater Eastern bloc country, no big loss. And part of South Africa. And an entire floor of visiting humanitarian and diplomat workers. No big deal. The UN should just suck it up. Steve knows what he's doing.

All governments have laws a person doesn't like. Nature of the beast. You might get away with bending it on occasion, depending what it is. But if your actions breaking it means ending the lives of others or compromising/destroying their property or culture because "I'm right, you're wrong"? Bigotry. Elitism. Holier than thou. Entire civilizations have vanished for that and we know little to nothing about them because that attitude meant no one cared to note it. Those civilizations could have cures for, I don't know, CANCER!!? (Medicine Man with Sean Connery is awesome. You should watch it).

The first rule EVERY writer learns when writing about sentient beings is there are good things and there are FLAWS. There is no such thing as perfect. If you have a perfect person who can do no wrong, makes no mistakes, just rolls through life getting everything they want without effort...why would you want that? It's boring. It's unrealistic. Why is this persistent idea that everything Steve does is right and just and morally incorruptible? Sounds like some asshole that needs a bullet in the brain before he decides to kill ME for getting in his way. Most of you don't write him in your own fics that way. Why on EARTH do you think he's perfect in the movie verse? Is he not fictional? Is he not a character in a story? Is he somehow exempt in the movies of all writing conventions?

Civil War is easily the worst of the MCU movies. The potholes are so large you can hyper drive the Deathstar through them. Too many to go into here. That's a whole nother rant. But this movie is the basis of this fan idea that Steve can do no wrong and anyone who opposed or argued with him are immoral, arrogant and oppressive...or government doormats. REALLY?! It's obvious Steve trusts NO ONE. Not Sam, whose life he continually puts in danger with very little remorse. Nat, who has been at his side since two weeks after he woke in the 21st century, fought aliens, was on an elite task force with (two in fact), etc ad nauseum but since she DARED to disagree with him, she's obviously not to be trusted. And he was hyper focused on two things:Bucky and Peggy. Peggy, he moped and brooded over, punishing himself for a trick of Fate. FOR YEARS. And Bucky, who was such an obvious distraction that Hydra knew it was a HUGE weak spot and CONTINUALLY used it against him at the expense of other people's lives that Steve apparently didn't give two shits about or even attempted to modify that weakness. How many legitimate, under cover S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were exposed world-wide when Nat laid bare every record of S.H.I.E.L.D.? Not even a flicker of remorse from Steve. Made this big patriotic speech to the Triskellian but not one single mention at all in the planning of those people. None. Cannon fodder. So sad, too bad, ah well! Gotta save Bucky!! Same in Civil War. Steve headed that op in Africa. He ordered and helped gather the Intel on Crossbones and his gang. He made the plan, placed an unstable high-powered individual ALONE in the field with Nat telling her what to do over an ear piece (and Wanda blew her off), as soon as Crossbones blew Steve's strategy, he went gung-ho through a major, heavily populated marketplace, confronted the enemy, IMMEDIATELY got compromised by the word "Bucky" and allowed Crossbones to set off a suicide vest. If Wanda hadn't been there, Steve and that entire block would have been decimated. Wanda did her best, but she was not up to snuff and lives were lost anyway. Did Steve show remorse? No. He brooded that Rumlow said "Bucky and I was 16 again". He told Wanda essentially that it's regrettable but not to worry about it. Those dead people due to his hard-on to get Rumlow? All those lives of diplomats and humanitarian workers gone? No big whoop. Sad but you know, Steve's perfect so they just had to die. He willingly and uncaringly put people in harm's way that got them killed that with a cool head and better planning (or compromise with others ideas) could have been avoided. That's the making of a sociopath. A monster. NOT someone who should be in charge of an elite team that defeated an ALIEN INVASION HEADED BY A GOD.

Think about this. I loved the Winter Soldier. I think it's in my top 5 MCU movies. Other than the exposure of who knows how many legitimate S.HI.E.L.D agents who may have been in the middle of stopping child slavery rings or something, it's an excellent film. Civil War? Garbage. Utter garbage. Trash. They had a good plot, the Hydra super soldiers, that could have been action packed, exposed Bucky's whereabouts, had a big fight scene, had Tony learning Steve had been omitting how his parents died and still had Zemo taken down and the Avengers break up. Set it up even. Those soldiers were shot off screen as this confusing red herring. Why even mention them if you're just going to shoot them off-screen like an afterthought? Hmm. I should write that. I may have too, if someone hasn't done it already. If so, DM me the link?

But get away from this "Steve Rogers can't be wrong cuz he's Captain America" schtick. Bad enough Civil War turned him into a callous, selfish tool. Don't make the situation worse for him.

I love my Stucky, don't get me wrong. I'll die on this ship. But Civil War is NOT the Steve Rogers characterization you need to be advocating as the ideal. In that movie, he's an asshole and if Peggy or 1930s Bucky knew what he'd done, they'd have BOTH punched him. Maybe more than once. And withheld his dessert at dinner.

I'm just saying.

[chuffyfan87]

Hiding. Part 79d

The sound of Paul letting out a little sneeze in his sleep broke the romantic moment and caused Duffy to giggle.

Duffy's giggling caused Charlie to laugh.

"We should get some more sleep before they all wake up for the day."

“Sounds perfect to me.”

They slept peacefully for about an hour before the usual morning chaos began. But Peter still didn’t wake up at his usual time. Duffy nervously popped her head around his door to check on him.

He was fast asleep.

She sighed and went back to helping Charlie get the other children ready for school.

It was after the other children had gone to school and Charlie, Duffy and the younger boys arrived home that Peter woke up.

Duffy was curled up on the sofa whilst Charlie settled Paul and attempted to entertain Oliver. Though she'd only walked the short distance to the girls' school around the corner she was rather tired and achy. She couldn't settle though as her mind kept replaying Charlie's words from earlier about Peter having something he needed to tell her.

Peter came downstairs and hovered in the doorway. He didn’t want to tell her, he knew she’d get upset and blame herself and he didn’t want that. He began to play with his hands nervously.

"Peter you're lingering..." Duffy remarked with a sad smile.

“I...” He felt sick, “Need to tell you something.”

"I know." She paused. "I called the college and told them you weren't feeling well so wouldn't be in today."

“Thanks.” Peter smiled sadly.

Charlie was playing with the boys in the garden trying to give him space.

Duffy shuffled up on the sofa and patting the vacated spot beside her.

Peter sat down beside her.

"Your dad said you wanted to tell me something but wouldn't say what it was."

“It’s about Andrew...”

She narrowed her eyes slightly. That was a name she wasn't expecting to hear out of her eldest son's mouth.

“I saw him....”

"Recently?" She asked. "He's not supposed to be near any of us unless it's a prearranged supervised visit with Jake."

“Rape you.” Peter blurted out suddenly over his mother's words. “I saw him.”

Duffy gasped. "W-when?" She tried not to shake. "You were never home when that happened..."

“Once.” Peter swallowed, “You were in the kitchen, He... was on top of you. You didn’t even know... and I didn’t even try and stop him.”

"What do you mean I didn't know?"

“You were... unconscious. I didn’t stop him!” Peter was beginning to get agitated.

"I..." She swallowed. "He did that whilst you were in the room?!"

“He didn’t know I was there.” Peter's hands curled into fists, “I’m a coward.”

"What? No!" She replied firmly.

“Yes!! I should’ve stopped him but I didn’t! I couldn’t. I just froze! I don’t know why I keep thinking about it.”

"You were just a little boy. You should never have had to see that."

“I’m sorry I never told you.”

"I'm sorry you suffered through all of that."

“It wasn’t your fault mum.”

"My poor decisions led us to where we ended up."

“No. Andrew manipulated you. Made you scared and afraid of everything.” Peter reached for this mum’s hand, “You did your best!”

"He revelled in the control and power he had over all of us." She sighed, squeezing Peter's hand.

“But he’s not a man. Just weak and pathetic. A bully.”

"I'm glad you can see that."

“Dad’s a man. I want to be more like him.”

"I know I've told you this before but I really do see so much of your dad in you. Always have."

He smiled, “I love you mum.”

"I love you too." She cupped his cheek with her free hand. "My battles aren't yours to fight Peter."

“No. I know.”

"Is there anything else you want to talk to me about?"

“I think Sarah wants to split up with me.”

"Really? What makes you think that?"

“She’s gone all distant.”

"She seemed OK when I saw her a couple of weeks ago." Duffy mused.

“What if she’s pregnant and she’s keeping it from me?”

"What?! How many times.?!" She ran her hand through her hair in frustration.

“No. Mum, I... we were careful. The scare. What if she lied and said it was negative and it isn’t?”

"Surely she would tell you..?"

“I thought she would too. We tell each other everything.”

"Do you want me to talk to her?" She suggested.

He nodded. “She might be more willing to talk to you, female to female.”

"I'll text her and see if she fancies meeting for a coffee. We'll get to the bottom of this I promise."

“Thank you.” He lent over and kissed her cheek.

"It'll be OK."

He rested his head against his mum’s shoulder.

She stroked her fingers through his hair trying to soothe him.

He was just quiet for a while, “You don’t hate me do you? For not saying anything about what happened? I was trying to protect you.”

"I could never hate you. I love you too much for that."

He nodded. “I didn’t have a nightmare last night after talking to dad.”

"That's good. Maybe you've made progress?"

He nodded. “I think so.”

"So what's your plan now I've gotten you the day off college?" She asked, smiling softly.

“Dunno. I was going to do some studying but...” He shrugged.

"That's a good idea. What you working on at the moment?"

“My chemistry work.”

"You'll have to explain it to me sometime. It's not really my area of expertise but I'd be interested to learn."

“Why didn’t you let me chose biology?” He laughed.

"I think you know more then enough about that already!" She chuckled.

He laughed gently, “I’ve been thinking about uni.”

"Oh?"

“I’m not sure what I want to do but I’ve been interested in going to a few open days.”

"We can look into arranging that. I must admit I'm curious to see what university is like."

He nodded, “Me too.”

"I imagine it's a million miles away from what nursing college was like back when I was your age."

"I've been looking at some courses."

"What are they?"

“Mostly chemical engineering.” He replied, “But I don’t know if that’s where my passion lies.”

Duffy's face lit up. "Wow! I'd love to know where your brains come from."

“You and dad obviously.” He laughed gently, “You and dad are really smart.”

"I barely scraped through my O Levels. Luckily back then nursing didn't require a bunch of GCSEs and A Levels just to get through the door."

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.” Peter told her, “You’re a nurse and a midwife! Takes someone special to do that.”

"Took me over twenty years to get to this point though."

“How long did it take you to become Sister?” He asked.

"Seven years. But I did have a slight advantage..!"

“Dad?”

She nodded.

“My therapist says I talk about you and dad a lot.”

"In a 'parents - they fuck you up' kinda way?"

He frowned and shook his head.

"Well hopefully that means I'm doing something half right at least!"

“You and dad, you’re both really amazing people.”

Duffy blushed. "Aren't most teenagers supposed to think their parents totally suck?"

“I’m not most teenagers though.”

"So I'm discovering." She smiled.

He smiled, “You and dad, you’re not very good when you’re apart from each other.”

"Your gran once described it as being like we've suddenly lost a limb."

“Gran’s right. Dad gets you, doesn’t he?”

"More than I like to admit at times."

“Is it just because you’ve known each other for a very long time? That’s why you and dad just... connect?”

"I guess in a way. But there was always something special there. We just clicked. I don't know why."

“I had that with Sarah.” He sighed.

"Don't give up just yet. The path of true love doesn't always run smoothly."

Peter sighed again. “She’s been distant for a few weeks. I asked dad what I should do but, I don’t want to annoy her or upset her.”

"What did he suggest?"

“To talk to her but to listen to what she has to say.” He paused, “But if that fails, annoy her and then use her weak spots to my advantage.” He laughed.

"What til I get my hands on your father..!"

“Why what’ve I done now?” Charlie asked from the hallway.

“You’re about to get your arse kicked, dad.” Peter replied, laughing softly.

"Suggesting our son use Sarah's 'weak points' against her ring any bells?"

“Sounds a little familiar.” He replied as Oli dived into the living room, squealing to himself. Paul was asleep in Charlie’s arms.

"Now why would you suggest something like that..? Hmm?"

“I was merely suggesting that it’s an option.” Charlie caught Duffy’s gaze.

"An option that's worked for you in the past?"

“Do I have to answer the question?” A smile tugged at the corner of Charlie’s lips as Oli clambered up to sit in Peter’s lap.

"Depends... Do you fancy seeing how comfy the sofa is this evening?" She smirked.

“Ok.” He shook his head, “Using a woman’s weak spots has worked for me in the past.”

"I see... And what weak spots would those be..?" She was enjoying watching her husband squirm.

He continued to hold Duffy’s gaze. “Well it all depends on the woman. Every woman has different weak spots though some may cross over.”

"Is that so?" Duffy smirked.