#not a single one of them fear him (except maybe if they thought they’d have to fight him but that’s different)

[poppadom0912]

Together (VII)

Warnings: Mentions of violence, blood, injuries, abuse, kidnappings, shootings, swearing and scary men.

Summary: When Jay least expected it, he suddenly starts hearing things. And maybe, he's starting to hallucinate too.

A/N: Am I suddenly full of inspiration and writing in school when i should be doing my lab write up? Yes I am. This chapter has been changed many times but I finally finished editing. A little spoiler- maybe I’m being nicer to my babies 🙃

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Over the course of eating their very poorly put together ‘meal’, Will came to the conclusion that the food hadn’t been tampered with and so he was happy to continue feeding you.   

You had to admit that you felt like a baby, your older adult brother feeding adult you. You tried insisting you could feed yourself but with the state of your shaking fingers, hands sore from the countless times they’d been tied back, Will denied you your request.

The man that had given the tray of food returned and this time, there was something rectangle like sticking out in one of his trouser pockets while what clearly sounded like keys was sticking out in the other.   

Your heart skipped a beat, and you could feel Will’s heart rate increase from where his hand was positioned over yours. He must’ve noticed it too.   

The Ezra's were so meticulous in their plans and their behaviour was always erratic and on another level of violence that it was impossible to believe one of their henchmen could even, for a second, have the thought of being nice to their victims.   

But you were continuously surprised by them because as he took the empty tray, leaving behind the two waters and single juice, he ‘accidentally’ dropped the plastic rectangle and as he was walking away, his back turned to you both, a key fell and clanged against the ground, but he never looked back.   

And just like that, the door slammed behind him, massively contrasting the immense kindness he showed mere seconds ago.   

Holy friggin shit balls.  

*****  

Was Trudy worried? Yes, indeed she is. Was she going to show any concern? No, not unless she was left alone with her detective.   

Ever since dispatch had forwarded her Jay’s call, she’d been on her feet and alert. And ever since she found out that Jackson and Ezra Murray were the culprits to blame, she was determined that they weren’t going to get away again.

Trudy knew all the Halstead siblings, but she knew Jay the best. Over the many years, not only herself but many, many others were forced to get used to not one but three Halstead's being in existence and working within less than fifteen minutes from each other.   

Currently, Trudy and Jay were alone in the bullpen since the younger detective was barred from any field work unless they found Will and Y/N’s location but that was the only exception. Right now, her job was to keep Jay company, keep an eye on him and continue looking for any more clues or evidence that could be of any help.   

Jay was very clearly still losing his mind and his mental and physical state deteriorated as time passed. At this point, Trudy couldn’t help but think the worst and fear for how her detective was going to fare as a result.

Currently, she was sat opposite him at Hailey's desk, doing her own bit by going through security footage that had too many hours of video on it. Usually, she would get bored doing this, but it was a little different this time because whenever she glanced up, she was faced with the struggling sight of your brother who never asked for too much.   

All he wanted was to get his older brother and younger sister back.   

Suddenly, the phone on Jay’s desk was ringing. Luckily for him, he had a second phone whenever he went undercover and since the first one had been taken and was likely smashed in an evidence bag somewhere, this was all he was relying on.  

The sound was slightly jarring as it interrupted the pin drop silence they’d been in but neither of them showed any sign of discomfort. Instead, Jay went to answer the call, but his solemn mood didn’t change. It was evident that he wasn’t expecting much since it was his undercover phone that they’d been using two days ago on a case.  

Just as the desk sergeant was about to go back to her CCTV footage, she felt the entire bullpen still. The tension so thick it was suffocating her veins restricting any blood flow, and as she looked up, it became dizzying.   

His already pale face had nothing on Snow White and from where she sat, she could his heartbeat thundering out his chest, practically vibrating. All this could only mean one thing.   

“Will?”

What the fuck

For a hot second, Trudy thought that Jay was in so much pain that he was transferring some of his hallucinations onto her to alleviate his symptoms but then he continued talking into the phone and reality sunk into her bones. 

"Shit, Will wait slow down I can't- what?!"

Without prior warning, Jay shot out of his seat, wavering slightly on his feet causing the older woman to follow and stand by his side in any case he fell from the whiplash she's sure he gave himself. 

"Knives- you've got keys?- Y/N's not unconscious- she's lost her voice- your bleeding?! When- Why are you talking about grape juice?!" Jay paused several times, his words repeatedly getting cut off by Will on the other side of the phone. The longer the call went on, the more confused Trudy became. Jay must've been thinking the same as her from the height his brows rose every time he spoke. They went from talking about knives and blood to grape juice. 

The duality of the Halstead brothers. 

"Wait so he gave you a knife and somehow you found a gun just casually lying around? Will, I swear to God if you-"

And when Jay screw his eyes shut, something in her mind told her the doctor was doing something stupid and very questionable, very in character even when in a life or death situation. It was nice to know people would never change. 

Despite the anxiety growing in her chest, the call lasted longer than she expected. Will was being very efficient and careful for managing whatever he was doing and that put her at somewhat ease. Eventually, nothing physically tore them apart but it was poor internet or a lack of a connection that abruptly ended the call. 

"Tell me you got a location?" Jay asked, hope drowning out any other emotion in his ever so expressive eyes. If it wasn't for lives being on the line then she would've scoffed and scolded him but a sarcastic remark would do for now. 

"What do you take me for?" She asked incredulously as she glanced at the computer screen, almost immediately committing the address to her memory. 

"I'll call Voight but get in the car first."

But Jay didn't need her permission, he was already moving. 

*****

So much had unravelled in the last twenty minutes, you were still struggling to understand it all.

With all the uncertainty and determination in the world, you and Will had no other plan but to take they keys and the pocketknife and basically run as fast as you could. Well, run as much as Will could since he was carrying you on his back, very reminiscent of your childhood while he navigated the halls as best he could. You made a very pathetic argument that you could walk on your own but when you tried standing up, your legs gave in on themselves and Will gave you his motherly disappointed look that was very spot on; you and Jay had been on the receiving end of this look for way too long now that you should’ve been immune to it but here you were.

Opening the basement door, you both cringed at the loud sound it made. You guys hadn’t even left the basement yet and it was already going off to a great start.

As gently as he could, Will readjusted your position on his back, his arms moving to hold under your thighs more securely so that in a rush, you wouldn’t move. As he did so, you kept your arms around his neck, barely gripping him due to both a lack of strength and cautious to not strangle him.

Before leaving the room, you and Will sat and contemplated very long and hard about your escape plan. You were provided with very little by the mysterious man you were now deeming your saviour and maybe guardian angel depending on how successful the escape was.

Staring at the burner phone, you swore. You couldn’t remember anyone’s phone number for the life of you. Easily, you could’ve called 999 but the response much longer than calling someone either of you knew. It shocked you only a little when you couldn’t recollect a single person’s phone number, not even Kelly’s or Jay’s.

But like always, Will was there and knew exactly what to do. Maybe it was his doctor nature, but he had several numbers memorised and for some odd reason, he remembered Jay’s undercover phone number. You called him stupid, but he only laughed it off while he punched in the numbers.

You waited in anticipation, your nerves imitating Will’s as he held the phone to his ear, biting on the inside of his cheek as he waited for the phone to stop ringing. And when it did, Will audibly let out a sigh of relief, you felt like crying.

Will explained in half detail, leaving out a lot. It was obvious that Will was trying to relay the necessary details Jay needed to know about their current situation but then he decided to add in the random unnecessary fact that you drank grape juice. That totally threw you off, but Will kept talking as if nothing were wrong.

When Will eventually finished talking, he went silent and listened to what Jay was saying. For a minute, you couldn’t hear a voice on the other side of the phone but then you heard his muffled voice, and it brought you immediate ease knowing he was safe.

And before you knew it, the call ended, and you were out the dreaded basement.

Back to the present, Will was carefully cruising the empty corridors of the very nicely furnished warehouse. It made you question the desolate and dirty state the basement was in. At one point, you pointed out a gun lying on an ottoman; it was very suspiciously placed but when Will checked, it was very much real and very much loaded.

So here you were: a burner phone, pocketknife, gun, and sheer drive. You didn’t want to jinx it but… yes you weren’t going to jinx it.

The warehouse was ginormous. Every corridor was identical to the next and the furnishing was as though a professional interior designer had been inside. Luckily for you and Will, Jackson and Ezra’s lacky’s hadn’t been plastered all over the place, making your escape just a little more easier.

To remain as incognito as possible, Will only whispered to you when absolutely necessary, narrating to you what he was doing and what was going to happen. So far, so good. Will was slinking around, movements smooth and looking like a hair on his body had never been touched since being here. If you didn’t already know he was a doctor, then you would question his physical abilities and profession.

Each corner you turned, you felt your heart drop, your body anticipating disaster. The more time passed, the more you could feel Will sweat and struggle. He had begrudgingly admitted that he was hurt, going into slight detail that Ezra stabbed him, and he’d been hurt more throughout the several times you were passed out. You knew he was hurt and if you were to go in order of the most hurt to the least, the list would be: You, Will and then Jay. And considering the blood you saw covering Jay’s body the last time you saw him; God knows what went down between your oldest brother and your kidnappers.

“Will, if you’re tired, we can stop for a second.” You whispered into his ear but the only reply you got was him shaking his head. You knew his answer made sense, you needed to get out as soon as possible before you got caught but if Will took just one minute or two to recollect himself then maybe he’d feel better.

However, he decided that he was going to put himself last and everything else first because according to him, apparently you and getting out of this damned place took priority to his light-headedness and the blood that was only now slowly beginning to stop running like a river.

And so, without another word, he readjusted you one more time, his grip tightening around your thighs but not too much so it would hurt, and he continued walking.

Going downstairs was the hardest thing Will had to do by far. Yes, carrying you and maintaining your weight on his back was difficult but he could manage, and you felt much more lighter than what you should’ve been being a firefighter but that was a concern for later.

Staring down from the top of the staircase, Will calculated the descent. Yes, it would hurt a lot considering how much his legs shook as he merely stood but he was now starting to get worried but how little you were moving. Initially, you would move every now and then when your body felt stiff or to whisper under your breath so only he could hear you.

Now though, Will didn’t want to say it, you were deathly silent.

He shoved all his negative thoughts aside, deciding to deal with them later because the biggest problem he had was staring at him mockingly. How did his life come to such a point point that stairs scared him?

Luck must’ve decided to be nice to him all of a sudden because under five minutes, he safely delivered the two of you on the ground floor. Now, all that was left to do was find a back or front door and get the heck out of this place.

But obviously, fate was laughing down on the Halstead’s because luck ran as fast as she could, after only three minutes of doing her job because Will was facing down two familiar looking men decked out in all black.

Series Masterlist:

@mads-weasley @sowrongitslottie @elite4cekalyma @senjoritanana @hufflepuff-blackwidow @mrspeacem1nusone @kmc1989 @goth-cowgirl-03 @daggersquadphantom @photographerkaiya0306 @jamie0515 @samanthavitale @iamasimpingh0e

#one chicago x reader #one chicago imagine #jay halstead x reader #onechicago #chicago fire #chicago med #chicago pd #will halstead x reader #halstead sister #halstead brothers #kelly severide x reader #jay halstead x sister!reader #will halstead x sister!reader

[luxaryllis]

Oohhh the twisted wonderland older sibling riddle gave me an idea. How would the situation be if the younger sibling grew to be afraid of their sibling and mother.

Like, they wouldn’t show it in front of them, but they’d avoid them as much as they could but at the same time try to follow their rules purely out of fear of gaining negative attention.

Basically like a sibling who wishes to disappear as much as possible by not gaining their attention or ire. How would it be with Riddle Pre- and Post- Overblot? Especially post-overblot where the sibling is like ‘its okay’ but like they still flinch or avoid him out of fear.

TWISTED WONDERLAND RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS WITH A SCARED!YOUNGER SIBLING! READER

Note: Anon... OHMYGOSH!! THAT WAS EXACTLY WHAT I HAD IN MIND WHEN I WAS WRITING THE TWST WITH SIBLING READER!! AKSHAJBDHW

Ahem... anyway! I put the title as Scared!Younger Sibling!Reader, but I really do mean, "absolutely traumatized sibling reader who possibly has anxiety".

But also! This has been giving me SO MUCH BRAINROT! I received this ask while I was finalizing the Aph!Italy!MC with TWST ahaha.

Also, as I'm typing this, it's like 7:50 PM-

I might post this the next day, or maybe before I sleep- Idk lmao-

And in this, the reader is 2 years younger (or 1 and a half, up to you) than Riddle. They attend NRC as a first year (they skipped grades, let's say; or they were a special exception). Also, I wrote this with one of my OCs in mind, but it is also pretty inclusive, I hope.

Also, this will be in headcanon form (with little interaction bits), so if you wanted something else, feel free to request again, and I'll change it! And this doesn't have ANY comfort at all; I left it pretty sadly-

Anyway, let's get to it!

This has a Part 2, here. Part 2.5 is here. Part 3 is here. Part 4 is here.

Warning: Angst (tho there is a few comedic points here and there), Trauma, Mentions of Violence (they weren't specifically described), Possible Traumatic Triggers, No comfort, Domestic violence, Child abuse, tell me if I missed some

Pre-Overblot!Riddle

🥀 Growing up with a horrible mother like Mrs. Rosehearts (I seriously need to know her actual name; it's gettig tiring typing 'Mrs. Rosehearts' all the time-) is absolutely horrible and traumatizing.

🥀 Like, look what she did to Riddle! Her stupid "diet" on him made him short and probably underweight!

🥀 Anyway!

🥀 In all seriousness, because of your mother's influence, your older brother is practically like your mother.

🥀 And as Riddle's younger sibling, your mother would constantly compare you to Riddle.

🥀 As if, in her eyes, Riddle would always be better than you.

🥀 And if you failed to meet her expectations, let's just say that it gets a bit messy.

🥀 I headcanon that Mrs. Rosehearts can be pretty violent if things really don't go her way; like, a slap or a hit to whoever makes her angry.

🥀 But Mrs. Rosehearts is a doctor, so she would heal you right after.

🥀 It doesn't mean it wouldn't hurt, though.

🥀 Riddle's no better either.

🥀 Like I said, Riddle becomes just like his mother.

🥀 And so he also gets a little physical sometimes.

🥀 But nothing too much.

🥀 Also, Riddle's a huge tattletale.

🥀 If he sees you doing something against the rules, he's telling mother.

🥀 If your mother isn't there, he'll punish you himself.

🥀 His punishments aren't as bad as your mother's.

🥀 Because he's a kid, and isn't as experinced as your mother.

🥀 So he doesn't go overboard.

🥀 And when your mother gets home, he's telling her.

🥀 And the cycle goes on.

🥀 Riddle, while growing up, has had this view that you, his younger sibling, are in his shadow.

🥀 Or that, you are something that he and his mother should discipline.

🥀 He doesn't have much feelings of 'love' because he didn't know exactly what it was like.

🥀 Also because he thought that his mother's way of doing things for him was 'love'.

🥀 Tough love, except I really don't think it is love.

🥀 Riddle would be a very stern and strict older brother.

🥀 No matter how old he is, he would always nitpick at every single thing you do, and lecture you if you get even the slightest thing wrong.

🥀 You've always wanted to stand up to him; maybe tell him to go away; or tell him that what he's doing is wrong.

🥀 But you've always been too afraid of the possible punishment and lecture you'd get afterwards.

---

"That's wrong! You should do it like this! Always! Like! This!!" Riddle shouts at you, each word like poison filtering out of his mouth.

Your mother had left the house to go to work, so it was just you... and your older brother.

Your mother had tasked you to answer this workbook about College-level Mathematics; you were only 5. Riddle was 7.

Riddle had seen you use a method that your tutors, or your mother had taught you. It wasn't in the book either.

One of your mother's rules: "If it wasn't taught, then it's wrong."

You had broken a rule.

So, Riddle took it upon himself to personally teach you the "correct" method to solving.

You felt otherwise. You've done this method before, you've always got the same answer as the one using the "correct" method. In fact, you made this method yourself and feel pretty proud of doing so.

As Riddle lectured you, you thought to yourself, 'Why are you so mean? Why is mother so mean? Do you guys even love me? Will I ever be good enough? Please... stop it... stop shouting... stop hurting me... stop being mean... I don't like it...'

You suddenly felt your nose starting to feel like its burning; its getting 'irritated', you reminded yourself. You also feel like your eyes also feel weird. Your eyesight is getting a bit blurry, so you look down. Suddenly, the floor seems very interesting.

'Oh no... am I crying- no, lacrimating?? No... no, no, no! Not in front of him...'

"Hey!" You jump at the sudden shout.

"When someone is talking to you, stand up straight, and look the person in the eye!! Did mother and I not drill that into you!?" Riddle exclaims.

You take a shaky breath and looks up to Riddle.

Riddle nods in acknowledgement, not approval, it never was approval, and promptly leaves.

Once they are sure that the door is closed, [Name] slowly allows their tears to fall. They move to their bed, and cry into their pillow.

'Why... why... why, just why?! Why is it always like this?!'

---

🥀 So when you see Riddle playing outside with Trey and Chen'ya, you feel overly envious.

🥀 To any deity or gods up there! To the Great Seven! Why would you bless HIM of all people with a friend?!

🥀 Why would they let Riddle be able to do what he wants, without punishment?!

🥀 Why, why, why, why, WHY?!?!

🥀 You've never glared at Riddle behind his back so badly before.

🥀 Is there something you did wrong?! Is it because Riddle was better than you!? Is it because of that, he was able to play, and learn a lot new things; without punishment?!

🥀 It's not fair.

---

A few days after Riddle's 8th Birthday, you've noticed that he would always leave the house during his self-study time.

One day in particular, you heard a couple of noise just outside the window of your room.

Your mother rarely let you open the blinds or curtains of your room, in fear that you might get 'influenced by those lowly un-disciplined children'.

While you would usually never do so, for fear of getting punished, curiosity got the better of you. And you opened the curtain a bit. Not too much that it's noticeable, but enough for you to see.

And man, do you wish you never did.

What you see is Riddle, and two other people; one a purple-haired cat beastman, and the other a normal human with green hair, playing with each other. The boy with green hair were running around with his hands out, as if he were trying to hit someone. Riddle and the cat beastman were running away from him, though.

What game is that? Then again, you've never seen or played a single game in your life. So of course you wouldn't know a thing.

But why does your chest hurt? Why does your heart feel like its being squeezed? Why are your fists clenching themselves? They're going to bunch up the curtain and make it wrinkle...

Why can't you seem to move away from the sight? Why does it feel like something is pulling your mind towards it, but at the same time pulling away?

Why are bad thoughts going on in your head? Why are you tearing up? Why are you crying?

You forcefully let go of the curtain and cover your window immediately.

Your dominant hand moves up and clenches your heart, as you sit down on your bed.

Tears are flowing from your eyes, your nose is starting to get runny, little whimpers and hiccups are coming out of your mouth. No matter how much you try to stop them, no matter how hard you cover your mouth, bite your lip, they still come out...

Over a gazillion thoughts running around your head. But a few that constantly come back and hit really hard are:

'Why?'

'Why him?'

'Why Riddle?'

'He's mean, and just like mother...'

'Why does HE get to play?'

'It's not fair'

'It's not fair'

'IT'S NOT FAIR!'

---

🥀 When you become a student in NRC, you've always dreaded your turn for your dorm assignment.

🥀 While you knew that it was highly unlikely, you prayed to every being, deity, god, power, to the Great Seven, even, that you wouldn't get into Heartslabyul.

🥀 Not with him, please...

🥀 But the world is just SO obsessed with saying, 'Nope! Not today' to you, huh?

🥀 When you heard the words, "Heartslabyul", you wanted to smash something, anything, you wanted to disappear, or that a blackhole would open up right under you and suck you in!

🥀 But no! You've always had to get the shorter end of the stick...

🥀 The first few weeks in Heartslabyul were like even worse than the Underworld!

🥀 It was HORRIBLE!

🥀 You've done EVERYTHING you could do not bring attention to yourself.

🥀 But it's just always been your last name that gets everyone's attention.

🥀 You've always hated your last name.

🥀 You've never wanted to have your last name.

🥀 Because while most would believe that the Dorm Leader would be lenient to you, being your older sibling and all, he's not.

🥀 In fact, you can go so far to say that he probably does not care about your well-being, unless it affects him or your mother.

🥀 Because Mother Knows Best...

🥀 You've heard of the Tart Stealer, the Magicless Prefect, the Monster Student.

🥀 While you admire them for their bravery (and possibly idiocy), you want nothing to do with them.

🥀 You weren't present when Riddle was challenged for the Dorm Leader position; you heard that he was challenged, though.

🥀 But you purposefully went to miss it, and stayed in the library the whole time.

🥀 When you get back to the dorm, it's a mess and a half.

🥀 And when you reach the place where you know the fight took place, you see an unbelievable sight.

---

You look around Heartslabyul.

What happened?

The rose bushes are all uprooted from the ground, there's a bunch of leftover paint splattered around.

Most of all, it's... quiet...

Heartslabyul, while a very strict dorm, is pretty noisy and eventful most of the time.

There's a weird static feeling in the air.

As you reach the place where the duel for the Dorm Leader position was held, you hear certain words coming out of someone with Riddle's voice,

"The roses are fine being white... the flamingos are fine being pink..."

No...

"I like putting honey in my tea more than sugar cubes..."

No..

"And... I like milk tea more than lemon tea.."

No.

"I want to chat with everyone while we eat..."

No.

No.

No, you didn't say those before!!

"I wanted to spend more time with Trey, and everyone else..."

No.

No.

No.

No, no, no, no, no!

NO!

You then hear wailing. It must be from Riddle.

You then slowly leave.

You don't want to get attention on you.

Riddle never mentioned you.

He doesn't care about you...

Right?

---

Post-Overblot!Riddle

🌹 Riddle has tried multiple times to approach you after he's calmed down from his overblot.

🌹 However, no matter how much he tries, you just keep getting away.

🌹 You've always given some excuse, and he doesn't want to get mad at you at all.

🌹 He's done that enough already...

🌹 He truly wants to apologize.

🌹 He realizes that what he has been doing is wrong and wants to make it up to everyone.

🌹 During the "Make-up Unbirthday Party", Riddle notices that you were alone, and wanted to confront you.

---

As you were silently enjoying your food, you hear footsteps, and look at the direction.

To your despair, it was Riddle.

By instinct and second nature, you immediately straighten up and make sure you weren't doing anything against the rules.

"Ah! Dorm leader... how can I help you?" You ask, heart pounding in your chest, afraid of what his punishment may be for whatever you've done.

When Riddle stiffens and hesitates, you take it the wrong way.

'He must be really angry...'

"W-what rule have I broken, dorm leader?" You meekly ask, cursing yourself for stuttering.

You stiffen and close your eyes, waiting for Riddle to start shouting and screaming, but it never came.

"[Name]..." the way Riddle says your name was as if he were holding a hedgehog that may run away should his voice raise loudly.

You flinch as you see his hand move up, and suddenly start mumbling "I'm so sorry"'s as you stand up and quickly excuse yourself from the party.

Riddle quickly tries to get to you, "Wait!", he calls out. Suddenly, Trey his behind him and places a hand on Riddle's shoulder.

Riddle looks up at Trey and Trey slowly shakes his head at Riddle somberly.

Riddle feels his heart breaking, knowing that his relationship with his precious younger sibling might be impossible to mend back together...

Unbeknownst to him, his dear sibling has retreated back to their dorm room, and are crying into their pillow, as they have always done before.

---

END!

That was the end of that! So, how was it? My first take on full angst-

I hope it satisfies everyone! Feedback and comments are always welcome too!

By the way, this was posted on aroun 9:50 PM, I'm going to bed soon hahaha-

It took 2 hours, oh wow-

Anyway, I might edit any typos tomorrow morning-

Again, this already has a Part 2, here is the link.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst angst #twst platonic #twisted wonderland angst #twisted wonderland platonic #riddle rosehearts

[theshippirate22]

okay here’s a concept we need to look into here-

I’m thinking 1910’s, 1920’s Fem!Crowley. Mostly because the thought of David Tennant in a flapper dress and eyeliner makes me absurdly happy.

Regardless, Flapper Crowley with her little bob and her cigarette holder thing and those weird headbands like she could so so so so rock it

And her and Aziraphale go out some sundays for brunch at the Ritz if there’s “business” to talk about but really they just gossip over quiche and she parties as much as she possibly can. She was busy, last decade, after all (you know, it was her who gave the Zimmerman Telegram to America and got all caught up in the drama with Belgium) and sometimes when she’s had enough, she finds herself in the bookshop, thrown particularly unladylike and particularly snakelike in whatever armchair is closest to what Aziraphale’s doing and she goes on about petty human drama and whatever other nonsense she can think of.

And really, it’s quite nice. been the best decade she’s had in a good long while and everything is great.

Everything except Harold.

Harold Kensington is the heir to… something. Maybe railroads? Maybe banks? Maybe ladders? Crowley has no fucking idea because she’s never listened to a word he’s said.

Which is easier said than done, given the fact that he won’t seem to shut up around her. Usually she goes out to have a drink or ten at some billionaire’s house and then she comes back to the bookshop so Aziraphale can scold her for it but make her coffee so her head doesn’t hurt after she miracles the alcohol away.

But she can’t even do that anymore because it doesn’t matter where she’s at, Harold will find her. And then no matter what happens, he’ll follow after her like a lovesick puppy for the rest of the night and she can’t have any fun because everything thinks he’s her husband. Which is. Just insulting.

“He’s really not so bad,” Aziraphale told her after his first encounter with him. “I’m afraid I feel bad for him.”

Crowley shifts uncomfortably in her arm chair, pulling out a book wedged into her lower back and tossing it carelessly to the side, which earned her a dirty look from its owner. “Feel bad for me, Angel. I’m the one that’s being harassed.”

”I suppose you’re right…”

“I’ll be humane about it! The car will come out of nowhere. He won’t know what hit him!”

“Crowley, you will not kill that man!”

“I’ve got to do something!” She whined. “Can’t you… put the fear of God in him or something?”

“How would I even do that?”

“Convince him hes…. he’s got to be a priest! A monk! In… Nepal or someplace!”

“Haven’t you tried telling him you’re not interested?”

“Only every. single. time. he comes to speak to me. I promise there is no interpretation that I’m leading him on! I got a commendation from Beelzebub last month for something I’d said to him! He doesn’t seem to care!”

“You know, why don’t you just tell him you’re already married? He’s a respectable man, he ought to leave you alone if he knows you’re taken.”

“Married to who, Angel? I’m never with any other men ever. I’m just going to pull a husband out of thin air?”

“You’re with me all the time.”

“You’re want me to tell him we’re married.” It should’ve been a question, but it felt more exasperated than anything.

Aziraphale took his glasses off to clean them, or maybe to make his eye roll less noticeable. “I’m quite sure fear of man would do you much better than fear of God.”

She never spoke of Harold again. Aziraphale chose to believe this was because she’d taken his word for it and he’d been right, and she wasn’t overeager to admit that. This was, in fact, confirmed after nearly three Harold-less months.

Aziraphale was out to get breakfast and a newspaper and he’d run into Harold Kensington (figuratively) a few blocks from the shop. They’d passed through some stilted small talk- they had only met a grand total of twice, after all- until suddenly Harold said, “Look after her.”

Aziraphale floundered a moment before answering decidedly, “She doesn’t need me to look after her.”

Harold contemplated this. “I know that. Do it anyway. She deserves it.”

Brunch at the Ritz became a monthly occurrence.

#ineffable husbands #fem crowley #roaring 20s #the harold kensington saga #ficlet #fic ideas #good omens

[writer-in-theory]

Midnight Rendezvous — steddie.

Summary: After Starcourt, Steve can’t sleep for fear of the Russians coming back for them. He finds help in the most unlikely of people. Prompt: A1 - Hunted Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington & Robin Buckley Rating: Teen Word Count: 8.6k Content Warnings: Language, Paranoia, Mentions of past torture (Starcourt), Sleep Deprivation Also Read On AO3: HereA/N: I was stumped on this one for a very long time, but I am so so proud of how it ended up. Huge thanks to @serenity-lattes for plotting some of this out with me and helping work through the writer's block, and huge huge thanks also to Serenity and @lcvingprentjss for beta-ing. This is also another fill for @harringroveson-bingo

SIX HOURS POST-STARCOURT

The man that hugged Joyce Byers in the Starcourt parking lot told Steve he should go to the hospital. He called himself Dr. Sam Owens and said that since the Russians had interrogated Steve they’d have to keep him later than the kids. Robin too. He said it would only take an hour tops, and how could Steve refuse when the US army was moving all around them? So sure, while all the kids climbed into their parents’ cars and drove off for some much-deserved sleep, he and Robin climbed into one of the military vans and let Owens take them wherever he needed. 

Only once they were driving did it occur to Steve that the US government was partially responsible for the lab, for starting all of this. They were the ones that made him, Jonathan, and Nancy sign that NDA in ‘83 when they’d taken down a Demogorgon on their own. They were the ones who kept the lab open even after it killed Barb and nearly took Will from his family twice. Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten in the van after all.

The questioning took five hours, in total. Steve had been guided into a room empty of anything except a table and a chair on either side of it. The scene looked scarily like something out of a cop procedural show, and Steve half-expected to be handcuffed to the table while Owens asked him questions about what had happened, about what he’d told the Russians.

Because that was apparently something he had to worry about now: leaking national secrets to their enemy.

They asked him about every second of that night, from the Russian radio message to how long they spent in the movie theatre, to every single word that Steve told the head Russian. “I just told them the truth. I kept telling them we didn’t know anything, we were just mall workers. They thought...they thought we were spies or something.” 

The Russians weren’t going to stop until Steve told them something useful or he was destroyed, of that he was sure. As Owens kept pressing him—Are you sure? There’s no shame in telling them something—Steve wondered if the same were true of the Americans.

Owens took a blood sample too—said he wanted to run some tests to figure out whatever he and Robin had been injected with. The man said it was in the name of protecting their health, but Steve had a sinking feeling he was more interested in getting a truth serum for their own side.

After five hours, when Steve was nearly passing out at the table, Owens told him he could go. Said he’d called Steve’s parents but they didn’t answer, even tried to look apologetic about it like Steve hadn’t been expecting that exact thing. Robins parentsoffered to take him to the hospital to recover from the injuries he sustained in the “mall fire” as Owens was calling it. It would’ve been smart. His eye still felt like it might pop from his head at any second and he still couldn’t see clearly, his vision blurry and swirling if he tried to focus too much. 

All he wanted to do was sleep. A hospital meant more questions he didn’t have answers to, and it meant the kids visiting the next day and looking at him like he was someone to be pitied. And how could he ever let Henderson look at him like that when he’d given his name up at the first opportunity?

So he asked the Buckleys to drop him off at home, lied and told them his parents would want to take him in the morning. Everyone in town knew by now that Robert and Linda Harrington were hardly home, but with one noise from Robin, the Buckleys were letting Steve out of the car with the promise that Robin would come by tomorrow to check-in. After just over a month of working together, it seemed Robin understood him better than some of the friends he’d had for a lifetime, knowing without even asking that he wouldn’t want the fuss. 

Steve didn’t bother to shower, tend to his injuries, or even peel off his bloodied and stained Scoops uniform before he fell into bed and passed out, the sun just beginning to peek over the horizon.

TWELVE HOURS POST-STARCOURT

Steve woke up to someone banging on his front door.

He always used to struggle to wake up in the mornings, head seemingly tied to the pillow and eyelids weighed down by lead stones. Now, however, he jolted awake, legs kicking out and arms tucking close to his chest as though ready to defend himself immediately. 

Instead, he groaned and let his head smack back against the pillow as he heard a “Dingus! I know you’re in here somewhere! Why don’t you lock your front door?” rise up from the ground floor. 

His head still ached worse than it ever had before, vision blurry from more than grogginess. The words seemed to pierce individually into his skull, adding to the stinging sensation that rose up from around his left eye. 

“Buckley,” he groaned too weakly for her to hear, pressing one palm over his eyes in the hopes that if he didn’t move from the bed, she might leave.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see her. On the contrary, the idea of spending all day alone in the house sent a chill down his spine. No, it was rather he knew what would happen if she saw him now—laying in bed wearing the same clothes they’d been interrogated in last night, topped off with blood and puke-stained Nikes that really should have never been allowed back in the house now tangled up in the comforter. But as minutes passed and Steve could still hear his friend making commentary from downstairs, he knew she wasn’t going to abandon him that quickly. So he pulled himself from bed to ready himself for the day. 

The Scoops uniform got tossed along with the sneakers into a corner of his room to be thrown away later. He climbed into a pair of grey sweatpants and a soft pullover and grabbed an old washcloth to try and scrub some of the blood off of his skin in the sink. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but at least then Robin wouldn’t be as concerned when she saw him.

“You look like shit, Steve,” Robin called out the second he made his way down the stairs, sitting up on the kitchen island instead of at the barstools in front of it.

“Yeah? You don’t look so good yourself,” Steve tossed back, eyes checking for any injuries on her but instead seeing deeper fatigue that seemed more than a lingering hangover from the experimental Russian drugs had given them. She’d been interrogated too—in fact, she’d stayed with him when she could have escaped with the kids, resigning herself to a terrible fate simply so Steve wouldn’t go through it alone. In one night, she’d done more for him than anyone had ever done in his entire life collectively, and now Steve didn’t know how he was ever supposed to make up for the effects of it on her now. “Breaking and entering isn’t a good look on you.”

“It’s not breaking anything if the door was unlocked.” Robin gleefully snatched the box of Cheerios Steve handed to her, instantly diving her hand straight into it for a bunch instead of pouring them into a bowl. 

“I think Hop would disag—” the words clung like glue to the inside of Steve’s throat, choking him off as the rest of their night flashed back in his head. 

Billy fell dead, just like that, sacrificing himself for all of them. Lucas held onto Max while Mike held onto El, and Robin pulled Steve from the scene because he couldn’t stop staring at his classmate. The military stormed in not long later, pulling all of them out of the building before any of them could even begin to process what had happened. Joyce and Murray came out moments later, holding onto each other. Hop never showed. He never showed.

Steve dipped his chin down, letting his lips purse for a moment before re-schooling his features into something that might’ve portrayed that he was okay to someone who hadn’t watched him perfect that expression all summer. 

“To the Chief,” Robin offered around her mouthful of Cheerios, holding up the box in a mimicry of a toast. Steve nodded anyway, lifting the jug of milk he’d grabbed from the fridge up before taking a long swig from it. He knew his mom would yell at him if she ever saw him do it, but luckily he couldn’t remember the last time she’d been home long enough to catch him in the act.

“To Hop,” Steve answered, dropping the milk on the counter with just enough force that a bit of it splattered out of the jug. “How’re you doing with all this? You know, evil Russians and freaky people-mush monsters?” He’d at least had a slow ramp-up into Russian interrogations and the literal death of people their age—though never once did Steve ever think he’d be thankful for the demodogs, he found himself grateful he hadn’t been thrown into this without any kind of warning.

“I’m fine.” Robin shrugged, abandoning her Cheerios and instead studying the chipped black polish on her fingernails. At first, Steve had thought it was strange—all of the girls he’d ever dated preferred soft pinks and neutrals instead of the harsh black that Robin liked to coat her nails with. It stood out and made her stand apart from everyone else. Now he just thought it was fitting for her—Robin Buckley did not deserve to be hidden away in the crowd. “I don’t think I slept at all last night.”

“I couldn’t have stayed awake if I tried,” Steve countered, still feeling that residual bone-deep tiredness he’s sure won’t ever fade away again. 

“I know they’re gone, that Mrs. Byers and that weird journalist guy blew them all up or whatever, but I keep thinking about the fact that the Russians have our names, our faces. I mean, they could find us. If they wanted.”

And, well, Steve hadn’t had time to consider it before but it made sense. The Russians knew nearly everything about them by the end of the night, including the names of their middle school friends. At least Will would be getting out soon, escaping to California where the Russians wouldn’t think to look for him. But Dustin? Robin? Erica? They all still lived in Hawkins like sitting ducks, just waiting for the Soviets to remember that revenge was on the table. 

“Owens figured everything out last time. He told us what to say and do to stay safe. It was shit, but it did work,” Steve told Robin, hoping that she knew better than to tell her parents that it hadn’t been a mall fire they’d been caught in. He was sure they had questions, namely why they were there so late when the mall was closed on the Fourth and why her coworker had looked beaten to hell. Unfortunately, though, Robin was added to the exclusive list of Hawkins residents who had far too many answers for anyone’s good, another protector of a town’s worth of secrets.

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s making sure the Russians stay away from us. We’re not that interesting anyway.”

“Right. I mean, why’d they think we were spies anyway?” Steve returned, feeling the corners of his lips pull upward as Robin laughed. “What spies wear sailor costumes willingly?”

“They just didn’t want to hurt their egos by admitting two teenagers accidentally snuck into their super secret fortress,” Robin laughed, some of that exhaustion easing away with the ability to crack a joke. It reminded him of shifts at Scoops, the days when he thought he’d hate every hour of working but really came to look forward to them simply because she was there. She’d quickly become his best friend, someone who understood him in ways none of his other friends ever had before. 

“Morons,” Steve scoffed, sharing a matching grin with Robin at the call-back to their night fighting Russians together. It had been the first time he thought they’d be okay, sitting there laughing as the drugs had begun to kick in. 

And as he and Robin settled into the day together, Steve thought maybe they actually could be okay again now, too. 

ONE DAY POST-STARCOURT—AWAKE TWELVE HOURS

The darkness that came with nighttime in a small town stopped feeling comforting right around the same time a Demogorgon killed a classmate in Steve’s pool. 

He used to love sitting by his pool—feeling the slight chill of an Indiana summer night mixed with the humidity of the water vapor curling up from the pool’s surface. He’d roll up his pants and dip his feet into the water, leaning back on his palms so he could stare up at the twinkling night sky and think. Even as small as Hawkins was, the noise during the day was often too much for Steve to focus on much of anything except survival. It was why partying had once been his favorite activity—it gave him the chance to numb the feelings and bite off the circuit of racing thoughts. 

Now, all he could imagine was how scared Barb must have felt in her last moments. He thought about how scared he’d felt when he faced down a pack of demodogs, knowing the bus was a hundred yards away and he was armed with nothing but a bat of nails. He’d just begun tackling those fears when Starcourt happened. 

Robin was right. How could they think that this was all over just because they’d killed the Mind Flayer? Sure the immediate threat to Hawkins was gone, but what about the one to him and Robin? The fact of the matter was, they had only captured four Russian soldiers at the end of the night, and none of them had been willing to say anything about what they were up to or how much information they’d gained from the pair. For all they knew, the Russians knew everything about them and would be prepared to come after them for ruining everything. 

After all, Steve had made it particularly clear to the one in charge—Commander Ozerov—that they’d be telling the US military about the Russian base, that they’d be the ones single-handedly taking down the entirety of the Russians’ plan for...well, whatever the fuck they thought they were doing with a Gate to Hell.

They could be in Hawkins already, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Robin had gone home well before the sun began to set, flashing him an apologetic smile and saying her parents were keeping her on a tight schedule now for her safety. Steve couldn’t even be upset about it either, because he understood. In fact, he felt better knowing that she had people looking out for her, a family who would pick up the phone when the military called to say she was involved in a fire so bad it burned the entire mall down. So he’d hugged her goodbye and waited until her parents’ car turned off of his street before he took off sprinting through the house, turning on each and every light on his path. 

Steve sat in the living room for hours before he admitted that sleep wasn’t going to happen that night, not when every time he blinked Ozerov’s cruel expression flashed on his eyelids. He could still feel the way that man grabbed his chin, pulled at his hair, and threatened to add even more bruises to the mottled colors on Steve’s face. He could hear the laugh, the cruel way he’d called Steve Butterscotch before signaling for a doctor to torture him for information he didn’t have.

No, Steve couldn’t sit still in an empty house, waiting for someone to come pick him off. 

So instead he grabbed his keys, immediately beginning to make the loop that he did when taking the kids to the arcade. He stopped by each of their houses, even drove by the turnoff to the Byers house out on the edge of town, to make sure there were no signs of Russians. 

Because they had to be here. It couldn’t be over, not this easily. Not when Steve had given them names. 

And when he’d passed by every house at least twice, Steve went back to the old train tracks where he and Dustin first tried to lure Dart into a trap. It hadn’t even been a year since then and yet it felt like an entire lifetime ago. Steve wanted to grab the old version of him by the Members Only jacket, shake himself and ask why the hell he was so hung up on a girl who never really loved him when he could be worrying about jobs, school, and monsters human and non-human alike who’d threaten to hurt him and his friends.

It was stupid to walk in the woods alone at night. Steve knew that. He knew that even with his trusty nail bat anything from the Upside Down or Russian could take him down easily. His head still hurt and he was sure he was concussed from the way he wobbled when he walked. His eyes could hardly adjust to daytime now, much less the darkness, so he spent his walk guiding himself mostly by the touch of his fingertips on tough tree bark. 

Maybe that was what made him miss it at first. He didn’t know how long someone had been following him, but it must have been awhile. He heard footsteps not far behind him, maybe off to the left a little if his ears could be trusted. Had the Russians found him? Were they laughing at him now, wondering how Agent Butterscotch could be so stupid as to leave himself defenseless in the middle of the woods at night?  The snap of a twig right behind him was his only warning that the man was gaining on him before Steve was lashing out, grabbing at the front of a shirt and slamming the body up against the nearest tree.

“Hey, hey, hey! What are you doing?!” a vaguely familiar voice was calling out, voice higher pitched in fear, shock, or some mix of both.

That was an American accent.

Immediately all tension left Steve's body, running as quickly as it had built up at the sound of footsteps. He let go of the man’s shirt but didn’t step fully back yet, eyes squinting as he fought to make out the features of the face in front of him.

He knew this guy.

Steve saw dark brown eyes first, wide and starkly contrasting the pale skin around them. Black unruly curls stood out next, tied up in a bun now but usually falling down by the man’s shoulders when they went to school together. He could just make out a t-shirt with some band’s logo, likely music that would make Steve wince. 

“Eddie Munson?” Steve balked, fear and adrenaline turning to frustration the second he knew he wasn’t in any real danger—not unless Carol’s rumors that Eddie sacrificed people to the devil were true. “What the hell are you doing out in the middle of the woods, man?”

“Oh sorry, I forgot Steve Harrington owned the woods, too,” Eddie shot back without hesitation. “You crashed my spot, man.”

Eddie had always been a prick.

No, maybe that wasn’t quite right. Steve remembered a few choice words called between them in the cafeteria, could hear the irritating way that Eddie had made fun of every sport that Steve played. But Steve also remembered the things he’d said to Eddie in return, the harsh words about being held back like a fucking dumbass loser, as if he hadn’t been one bad pop quiz from the same exact fate. 

Maybe they’d both been pricks.

“I’m just trying to think, I’m not looking for a fight,” Steve groaned, hoping that would be enough to flatten the hackles that had risen on Eddie’s shoulders. 

“Looks like one already found you. You and Hargrove fight over the right to Nicole’s bed again?”

Hargrove. Billy Hargrove, who spent the last moments of his life not beating Steve to a pulp but saving his life. All of their lives, really. Steve wondered when Owens would release the official list of “fire” casualties. When the funerals for all the flayed would begin. If Max would let him come to the funeral, if only because Billy had protected the kids when Steve couldn’t.

Steve winced, physically trying to shake away the memories of black goo and even darker blood staining bright tiles. “No, it wasn’t a fight.”

Eddie didn’t say anything for a while. Steve tracked him as he slid out from between Steve and the tree, putting just enough space between them that Steve couldn’t throw a punch—that was scarily intentional like Eddie still wasn’t sure Steve wouldn’t fight him.

“I burnt down the mall,” Steve found himself blurting out before he could stop it. He wanted Eddie to trust him; didn’t want to spend the night alone after finding the one person who wouldn’t judge him for this. Because Eddie was the town freak, the guy that everyone avoided unless they wanted some half-decent drugs to take to the latest party. Eddie spent his entire middle and high school careers being laughed at and teased for being odd, surely he’d understand Steve doing the same now. Maybe he was the only one who would understand, not without being too concerned about Steve’s well-being, that is. 

Steve couldn’t go to the kids or Robin, didn’t want to burden them after they’d all suffered just as much as he did that night. He didn’t want to see their worried expressions every time they hung out. But Eddie Munson? Eddie Munson hated Steve Harrington. That was just a fact of life. Eddie could hear whatever it was Steve had to say tonight and would never give him that look, would never hover like he was trying to figure out how to baby Steve.

No, they could just talk. In the woods. Then part ways like it had never happened at all.

“I didn’t, I didn’t actually burn the mall down. But I was in it, when it did. Got beat to hell trying to get out.”

“Shit, Harrington, that’s fucked up.” A pause. “I flunked summer school. Senior year part three coming to theatres this August,” Eddie voiced from somewhere to the left of Steve as Steve leaned his back on the tree he’d once slammed Eddie against.

“Well, you might be the lucky one, I’d go back to high school if I could,” Steve scoffed.

“What? Don’t like working for Harrington & Harrington?”

Steve rolled his neck so he could face Eddie, seeing the way the other guy had sat himself down on a large rock not too far from Steve. “You really don’t know? My dad didn’t want me working at his firm, so I worked in the mall, at Scoops Ahoy,” Steve deadpanned.

“The ice cream place?”

“Yep.”

“The one with the sailor’s outfits? The stupid little hat and those tight shorts? That Scoops Ahoy?” Eddie pressed, an amused smile pulling on his lips.

Steve rolled his eyes, reaching out to shove Eddie’s shoulder lightly. “Fuck off, man. Yes, the one with the sailor outfit.”

“I can’t believe I missed my chance to see Steve Harrington in a sailor costume,” Eddie teased, pulling out a cigarette from a box that had seen better days. “Still have it?”

“Sure,” Steve shrugged, thinking about the pile of clothes he’d tossed in the corner of his room, the same corner he hadn’t quite been able to look at since. “Covered in blood, but yeah I still have it.”

Steve looked ahead, eyes scanning the space between the trees for any signs of an ill-fitting shadow, anything that might give away one of the Russian soldiers who’d found him in such a vulnerable location. When Eddie didn’t say anything though, Steve tore his gaze from the trees to look to his side, finding Eddie just looking at him. It was hard to tell in the dark, the trees lit up only by the light of the full moon above them, but Steve could just make out eyebrows pulled close together and lips tensed around the cigarette, not breathing in but just letting it rest there. “What?” Steve finally pressed when he still didn’t speak.

“You really got messed up in that fire, huh, Harrington?”

It wasn’t expected, though Steve supposed maybe that was Eddie Munson’s whole thing. No one ever knew what to expect from him in school—he was loud, he antagonized all the jocks like if maybe he fought them first he wouldn’t be their target, he wore strange clothes and listened to loud music Steve had never heard of before. He wasn’t what anyone expected, truly, and maybe that was a good thing, now. Eddie’s brown eyes stared right at Steve, a heavy look in them with just enough hints of sadness that made Steve think the guy realized what happened was more than a fire.

So Steve huffed out a laugh, swiping his hand through his hair and only wincing a little when the finger that scary doctor had messed with caught on some of the strands. “Yeah, I did.” Brief thoughts of NDAs and not-so-subtle threats flashed through Steve’s mind before he considered that maybe being in military custody would be a good thing if only to be protected from the people who could be looking for him and Robin. “It sounds like bullshit,” he began, the word souring on his tongue, “I know that, but it wasn’t just a fire.”

“Fires usually don’t beat people up.”

“Yeah,” Steve chuckled, letting his head fall forward to stare at his hands, some of his untamed hair falling into his vision, “guess so.”

“I’m pretty good at keeping secrets, Harrington,” Eddie piped up. “People tend to trust the town freak. Who am I gonna tell?” In the same way Steve had cringed saying bullshit, Eddie’s voice seemed to curl around the word ‘freak’ like it was a fate he was simply resigned to. 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Crazier than Steve “The Hair” Harrington working at a mall ice cream shop?”

“You’re not gonna let that one go are you?” Steve laughed, the sound vibrating in his chest and warming up the piece of him that hadn’t quite thawed from the chilled Russian labs.

“Not likely.”

Steve wanted to tell someone else. The words sat right behind his lips, aching to slip out. It would be so easy to turn to Eddie, this man he had no prior connection to, someone he didn’t have to worry about getting involved in any of this and let it all out. There were Russians in Hawkins. Robin Buckley and I were interrogated because they thought we were American spies. It could’ve been a lot worse if two middle schoolers hadn’t risked their asses to save us.

Yet. No matter how hard Steve tried, despite every time he parted and then closed his lips in an attempt to work out the words, nothing would come out. Eddie didn’t say anything either, sometimes looking over and watching Steve’s profile and other times leaning fully back against the large rock he’d found and tilting his head back to look at the stars. Steve found himself joining him, having to press close to Eddie to fit his back against the rock too. His entire left side was pressed to Eddie’s right, hands dropped loosely in his lap. 

Neither of them spoke again, but Steve didn’t mind. After the heavy questioning from Owens and his team the previous night, from the talks with Robin about what they were going to do and how’d they’d be okay again, it was relieving to be able to turn his brain off for a moment. He could just relax, knowing there was another person beside him while he counted as many stars as he could before his mind lost track. It wasn’t until the dark sky began to brighten to a dim navy blue as the first signs of daylight peeked through that either of them moved.

“See you ‘round, Harrington,” Eddie spoke, both of them wincing and stretching out sore muscles and joints as they climbed to their feet.

“Yeah,” Steve echoed, “see you around, Munson.”

TWO DAYS POST-STARCOURT—AWAKE 36 HOURS

At first, Steve blamed his inability to sleep on his injuries. The entire side of his face burned from the number of punches that had been dealt by the Russians, and both his wrists were still rubbed raw from the restraints. Everything hurt, so Steve found himself avoiding the touch of sheets and pillows no matter the thread count.

It wasn’t the nightmares, no. It wasn’t the fact that Steve felt like he had eyes on him all the time—shoulders curled in and a nail bat clutched tightly in his hand the entire day. It only got worse when the sun finally set, when darkness shrouded the house and the artificial lights created nightmarish shadows that had Steve jumping when he caught them in the corner of his eye. Every sound could have been the click of a gun’s safety or the murmur of soldiers looking to take back their caught American spy. He could hear the commander’s words ringing clearly in his head, lobbing taunts of Well, Butterscotch? after each punch, each threat to his safety.

Steve knew it wasn’t over. Owens had admitted as such, giving him and Robin each a way to contact him if anything happened. If anything happened. Owens wouldn’t say exactly what could happen, but what else was there? When they hadn’t caught many of the soldiers at all, when there was no proof that the people who knew his identity hadn’t been destroyed in the aftermath of the machine’s destruction, how could anything but Steve’s recapture be the end result?

So Steve sat on the couch, leg bouncing rapidly as he looked around the room. He sat guard stiffly, every muscle in his body wound tightly, fingers curled around the nail bat. 

It wasn’t clear how long he sat like that—the minutes and hours slipping together as his vision blurred out, his mind too focused to fall asleep but too exhausted to fully pay attention. When he finally clicked back into place, his eyes refocusing and his mind coming back to the present, Steve found himself standing. He started walking out the door, leaving the bat behind and instead grabbing his car keys.

He went through the same routine as the night before—driving past Robin’s house, Dustin’s, and Erica’s, all making sure that none of them were hurt while they got the rest they needed. Ultimately, though, Steve found himself back in the woods, blinking past the fatigue beginning to set in and carving a familiar path to that large rock he’d watched the stars with Eddie Munson with.

The next day, it almost felt like a dream. Like if he really focused in, there was no way that he could have spent an entire night with Eddie without either of them antagonizing the other. The old him might have laughed it off, might have made fun of him for even considering the idea. But Steve could still hear Dustin’s voice as the kid reminded him he wasn’t in high school anymore, Robin’s as she told him he’d been a dick in school but simultaneously trusted him with a major secret that she hadn’t told anyone else before.

And maybe it did make sense, a little. Because Eddie had been exactly what Steve had needed that night. He’d been patient, he’d laughed and joked and never pushed for more information than Steve was willing to give. It had been nice, not having to worry about how he was acting to not make the person he was with concerned.

Maybe that was why Steve found himself sitting leaning against that rock again, head tilted back to look up at the stars. He half-expected the Russians to jump him at that moment, for them to grab his ankles and pull, to wrench his arms behind his back and wrap heavy restraints around them again. Instead, he heard a familiar voice.

“No sleep tonight, Harrington?”

Steve shrugged, turning his head to see Eddie making his way through the trees to sit beside him. He was wearing a tee this time, imprinted with the logo of that weird club that Chrissy Cunningham said the cheer team thought could be a satanic cult. Hellfire Club. It wasn’t doing Eddie any favors with the town, naming his club that. Though Steve supposed it wasn’t likely the school would have approved anything dangerous. All the rumors, the whispers about rituals and fires and sacrifices, it was all like everything else from Hawkins High had been. 

Bullshit.

“Maybe I’d rather spend tonight with good company,” Steve answered, grinning as Eddie pressed close the same way he had the previous night. 

“Tell me when you find it, big boy,” Eddie laughed, also reclining his head to look up at the stars. “Still the fire?”

Steve turned his head, feeling the coolness of the rock chill his temple. “Why’re you out here?”

“Can’t sleep,” Eddie answered simply, shrugging a little and making one of the excess zippers on his jacket scrape harshly on the rock. “You’re the one crashing the party, Harrington. I’ve been coming out here for months.”

“It’s peaceful,” Steve replied, sneaking one more glimpse at Eddie’s profile lit up by the moonlight before looking back to the sky. “I shouldn’t like the woods. Used to be terrified of them, of what could be out here.”

“Scared of the big bad wolf?” Eddie teased, though the smile slipped slightly when Steve didn’t answer right away. “Let me guess, I wouldn’t believe you if you told me?”

“I should hate the woods,” Steve repeated instead of answering. “It’s better than being at the house, just waiting like a sitting duck. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I just keep waiting for them to come back.”

“Them?”

“The Ru—There were people at the mall. It sounds batshit, but I saw something I shouldn’t’ve. I think...I can’t shake this feeling that...” Steve tried, hands twisting in each other as he fought for the right words to hand Eddie.

Luckily, the man seemed to get it on his own. “Shit, Harrington. You in some kinda trouble?”

“Yeah, yeah I guess I am,” Steve laughed a little manically, running a hand harshly through his hair and trying to calm his heart rate again. “Every corner I turn, every shadow, everything, I think it’s them. I know it’s them. It’s not over.”

“These people, they’re the ones who fucked up your face?” Eddie asked, his head turned to fully watch Steve now. Steve still watched the sky, unable to bear noticing the expression on Eddie’s face now.

He could tell him everything. Eddie was taking it well so far, he could probably handle knowing about Russians and demodogs and secret middle schoolers with freaky mind powers. Except. Except Steve would never forgive himself if anything happened to someone else. He’d already roped Robin into this mess. She hadn’t been friends with him for more than a month before she was getting interrogated and drugged by fucking Soviets, what makes him think that letting Eddie in would end up any better?

So he sighed, shrugged again because that seemed to be all he was capable of anymore, and said, “Yeah, I guess.”

They didn’t talk for several more minutes, simply coexisting in this little clearing that seemed cut out from the rest of the world. Here, there were no demogorgons stalking his pool, no Russian soldiers who were out looking for him. Here, it was just Steve and Eddie, watching the moon cross the sky and ignoring the slight chill that rose goosebumps over their skin.

“You ever think of getting out of here?” Steve broke the silence, taking the offered cigarette from Eddie’s hand, fingers brushing over his in a way that definitely didn’t make Steve’s cheeks heat up. “Just packing up a car, driving without any real destination in mind? I mean, there’s gotta be some good stuff to see outside of Hawkins. This can’t be it.”

“Every day of my goddamn life, Harrington, look who you’re talking to,” Eddie laughed. “There’s nothing here for me, never has been. Except my Uncle Wayne, but I know he’d leave in a second too.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed a little mindlessly, voice softer as he considered it. It would be too easy to leave, packing only the necessities and taking off in the Beemer before anyone who would care was even awake. He’d call Robin and Dustin from a payphone, and let them know he wasn’t dead in some Soviet lab before taking off to...well, anywhere, he supposed. “Where would you go, if you could?”

“Seattle,” Eddie answered immediately. “Get far away from Indiana, find the music scene. You?”

“I dunno. Everywhere, I guess. Start here and just drive to the west coast. Hit all the silly tourist attractions along the way and end up at the ocean.” Steve turned to look at Eddie then, only to find brown eyes already looking at him. Their faces against the rock were so close to each other that Steve’s eyes went a little crossed, having to blink to refocus on Eddie’s features. “You could come with me, you know. Seattle could be fun.”

“You asking me to run away with you, big boy?”

“Only for practical reasons, of course,” Steve teased, unable to help licking his lips as Eddie’s eyes flashed down to them. “But we’re listening to my music.”

“Like hell,” Eddie protested, eyes lighting up like they had their own fire source within. “I’m not listening to Wham! and Tears for Fears on repeat.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know George Michael is a gift to this Earth.”

“Sure, you say that now until I show you real music,” Eddie pressed.

“Yeah? You gonna make me listen to Blacktallica and Metal Sabbath?” Steve asked, smirking as Eddie gasped and spluttered.

“What? It’s Black Sabbath and Met—you were joking,” he corrected himself as Steve burst out laughing. Steve sat up, hands wrapped around his middle as the laughs quaked through him. It had been since before he’d heard the Russian message Dustin had intercepted that he’d laughed this hard, the sounds jerking his body and tearing the breath right out of him. “C’mon, you could’ve been serious! I wouldn’t put anything past you, Harrington.”

“I’m not that out of touch,” Steve wheezed as the laughs began to finally die off, “I just wanted to see your face.”

“You’re an ass,” Eddie laughed, sitting up too and shoving Steve’s arm without any real force behind it.

“So I’ve been told.”

Eddie looked at him for a moment, eyes flicking down to Steve’s lips again—why does he keep doing that?—before looking back up to meet his gaze. “You’re better, like this. Man, if this is how you were in school we could’ve, I don’t know, been friends or something crazy.”

Steve huffed out a breath, forcing himself to not take his eyes off Eddie’s. “Hey, it wasn’t all me. You wouldn’t have befriended the varsity all-star, Munson. Admit it.”

“You don’t know that. Maybe I would’ve. Maybe I would’ve worn your varsity jacket to all your games,” Eddie teased, and Steve was sure he wasn’t imagining their faces getting closer, like some kind of force was pulling them together.

“Yeah? We can still make that happen, I still have it somewhere,” Steve answered softly, biting his lip once Eddie’s face grew so close he could feel the other man’s breath against his skin.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Harrington?” Eddie made the final move, pressing his lips to Steve’s. It was soft at first, barely there like Eddie was testing the waters, like he was waiting for Steve to return the gesture. And oh did Steve return it, surging forward to hold onto the side of Eddie’s face, where his jaw met his neck to press him even closer. It seemed to give Eddie all the permission he needed, because then Steve could feel ringed hands on his back, pulling him forward until he was practically in Eddie’s lap, legs straddling Eddie’s. 

The kiss probably only lasted a few moments, but to Steve, it felt like a lifetime. This was Eddie Munson after all, this was a guy. This was the kind of kiss Steve had thought about for years, the kind of kiss he never thought he’d get but one he hoped for, someday. This was everything he could ever want and more, and Steve would sooner asphyxiate than end it.

Eddie pulled away first, looking as shocked and breathless as Steve felt. “Steve Harrington,” he mouthed silently like he couldn’t quite believe it either.

“Eddie Munson,” Steve whispered, dropping his head once the eye contact grew to be too much all at once.

“I should get back. Wayne’ll be wondering where I’m at,” Eddie finally spoke up once their breaths evened out. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’ll be fine,” Steve answered quickly, automatically. He rose to his feet, spending his time worrying over a pull in his shirt rather than on Eddie also gathering himself just steps away. It was better that way than to consider what had just happened—than considering that Steve really wanted to ask Eddie to stay. “You should go. Yeah.”

“This doesn’t have to be—” Eddie paused, seemingly gathering his words before he finished. “You know where I am. You can always come by, if you need someone.”

“Yeah, of course,” Steve nodded, “You too. I mean, you know, if you happen to need someone too. Have a goodnight, Eddie.”

“Get some sleep, Steve, pretty boys like you need their beauty rest.”

As Eddie walked away, Steve couldn’t help but feel like he was on the verge of something big, something important.

3 DAYS POST-STARCOURT—AWAKE 60 HOURS

Steve Harrington was sure he was losing his mind.

Everything began to look like the Russians, shadows morphing into men with violent hands and cold stares. He’d hardly moved from the couch, hands gripping the nail bat like it was a lifeline. Robin had tried to come by during the day, knocking and asking about how he was healing. Steve hadn’t the heart to open the door lest she sees him as he was now—deep dark circles under his eyes, unruly hair he hadn’t tried to tame in days, wrinkled clothing he hadn’t changed since the last night he’d spent with Eddie.

Eddie.

Steve hoped the other man wasn’t mad at him for missing last night. He couldn’t bring himself to leave the house anymore, not when every step outside meant one step closer to the men who could grab him and take him across the world where no one would ever find him. People would eventually forget about Steve Harrington while he suffered, all because that commander wouldn’t believe he was just a mall worker. 

It was too much for one person to handle, much less to burden anyone else with. Eddie had been looking for more, Steve could see it in those brown eyes after they’d kissed. He would’ve seen this eventually, would have to be told everything. And Steve, Steve couldn’t do that to him. Not when he looked so kind, not when his kiss lit something up in Steve that had laid dormant all his life. Not when he suddenly became important, special. 

It was better this way. Eddie off making music with his friends, and Steve here, waiting for a fight he knew was bound to come.

The knock on the door signaled the end Steve knew was coming, the end he’d been waiting three days for.

His head whipped to the side, hands beginning to shake as his body pumped itself full of more adrenaline than it knew what to do with. He’d heard Hopper and Joyce’s brief recap of their fight with the Russians before everything went wrong, how Hopper had to fight some Russian assassin because he’d gotten too close. How he seemed normal at first, how he’d been stealthy and unassuming before it all turned horribly bad. 

What if they sent another one?

Steve rose to his feet slowly, bringing the bat up ready to swing at a moment’s notice as he crept toward the front door. What would everyone say, when they came looking for him? Would it be Robin who found the scene first, looking for her coworker but instead only finding evidence of a fight? Would they know what happened or where to even begin looking for him?

The second he reached out to unlock the door, it was beginning to open. The person hardly waited, already moving to enter the house. 

Steve made his move.

He screamed wildly, swinging the bat at the opening in the door with as much strength as he could muster from his exhausted and sore body. This was not how he would go out, not after everything they’d all survived through. It would not be Russians with some strange vendetta, some commander who thought he had more information than he did.

It would not end in this house, where Steve had already felt like he’d died several times over from the loneliness, emptiness.

No, here he would fight. He would make it hurt, and he would win.

Except, Steve was pretty sure Russian assassins don’t shriek like that—high-pitched and a little wild, shouting ‘Jesus H. Christ, Harrington!’ loud enough to alert the neighbors.

The shout tore Steve out of it, all adrenaline rushing out of his bones the second his eyes focused on who was standing in his house, beside a door with the nail bat lodged firmly in it. 

He’d nearly killed Eddie Munson.

“Oh shit,” Steve gasped, heart rate picking up again as what he’d done finally seeped in. He’d nearly killed someone, nearly killed Eddie, simply because he’d been so fearful of the Russians hunting him down. “I’m sorry, I thought you, I, it’s, I’m sorry.”

“Why do you have that?” Eddie shouted, voice still raised up a pitch in his fear and shock. “What are you doing?”

“It’s—” Steve sighed, knowing there was no explanation worthy of what had just happened. “—a long story.”

“No shit, Steve!” Eddie paced the entryway then, looking up at Steve each time he passed. Steve let it happen, standing still and hardly daring to breathe as he gave Eddie the time to process his near-death.

Finally, Eddie stopped right in front of him, looking serious as he asked, “When was the last time you slept?”

And that, well, that was a good question, wasn’t it? Steve shrugged, looking up to the ceiling only long enough for him to find the answer. “Friday morning.”

“What?” Eddie shrieked, his nervous energy appearing again. “Steve, it’s Monday.”

“Huh,” Steve answered a little breathlessly, eyebrows lifting in surprise. Honestly, he hadn’t thought to keep track of the days, simply existing in the space of daytime and nighttime, the danger running constantly through each of them. 

“You need sleep. Right now,” Eddie demanded.

“I’d love to, but it’s not that easy. I can’t.” Everything was happening all at once. He’d nearly hurt Eddie, and fuck what if that had been one of the kids? What if it had been Dustin or Robin? What if it was someone who wasn’t as fast, who couldn’t move out of the way before Steve’s strike found its way home?

God, he needed to sleep.

“I can’t stop thinking about it, Eddie,” Steve forced out. “They’re gonna, they’re bad, okay? Those people. They think I know shit and I don’t, I don’t know anything, and I can’t sleep because what if that’s when they come back?” Everything rushed out in one breath, Steve panting after the admission like it had sapped all energy out of him.

Eddie just looked at him for a long moment, considering. Then, quicker than lightning, he was grabbing Steve’s wrist and tugging him toward the stairs after kicking the front door closed. “C’mon.”

“Um.” Steve tried, not sure what was happening or why Eddie was seemingly ignoring his admission. He was sure Eddie’d never been in the house before, but the other man moved comfortably like he’d been here many times. “What are. What are you doing?”

“Which one’s your room?” Eddie asked instead, glancing back at Steve for the answer.

“Uh, second door on the right. Are you gonna tell me wha—”

“Bed. Now.” Eddie demanded once he threw open the right door, gesturing with one hand toward the unmade bed.

“What?” Steve asked, not moving from the doorway like he wasn’t meant to be in the house, like it wasn’t his own damn bedroom. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

“You’re sleeping,” Eddie answered simply. “You’ll go crazy if you keep this up. Get some sleep, I’ll watch out for you. Nothing’ll happen, I promise, just rest.”

It was sincere in a way not many people had been with him as of late. Steve found his eyes began watering at the sentiment, wondering when Eddie had grown to care about him so much that he was willing to sit in an empty boring house just so Steve could sleep.

“I—thanks,” Steve answered softly, dutifully slipping off his shoes and climbing slowly into bed. “Can you...Can you stay?” He asked as Eddie began to slip out of the room. “Just until I fall asleep?”

Eddie’s expression softened then, cracking into something that almost looked like affection. “Sure, Steve. I’ll stay,” he answered just as softly, slipping off his shoes and walking over to the other side of the bed. His movements were hesitant as he got into bed beside Steve, resting his back on the headboard and looking to Steve as if waiting for some kind of permission.

And well, Steve might have been more subtle if he’d had more sleep and if his mind was able to think about anything except how exhausted it was and how comfortable Eddie’s stomach looked. But he didn’t, so Steve found himself snuggling further into the bed so he could rest his head on Eddie’s middle, feeling his head rise and fall with the even breaths Eddie took. He wrapped one arm and one leg over him too, like he was trying to keep Eddie in place. 

“This okay?” he murmured into the other man’s shirt, already feeling his eyes drifting closed.

Eddie’s hand found Steve’s hair. It was gentle, careful at first before he gained more confidence, brushing through Steve’s hair in a soothing pattern. It was the safest Steve had felt in days. And sure, Eddie wasn’t anymore a match for a Russian assassin than Steve was, but knowing that someone was there looking out for him had Steve’s body finally giving in to the exhaustion it felt. He could trust Eddie to watch over him, to make sure he’d be okay eventually.

As Steve finally began to drift off, he thought he heard Eddie whisper, “It’s more than okay, Harrington.”

And then Steve slept.

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[librosamarillos]

passed down like folk songs

chapter 23: sad beautiful tragic

Maegor Targaryen x OC

Also on Ao3

chapter index

Tags: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, angst, mature themes, targaryen incest, violence, Maegor is a red flag himself, characters are ooc probably, MINORS DNI

Aenys was in a weird mood with so many emotions happening in him. He was over the moon with the new pregnancy. Alyssa was convinced they were to have a boy and they even made a bet on it. He didn’t care if they got a daughter or a son, he already had a secure line of succession with Aegon and Viserys, so he felt completely relaxed with any babe that came their way. It was still too soon to announce it, so they kept it within the family, except the children, who had little filter in their young ages. 

But then he felt completely crushed by the revelation of his brother the other day. He said so much with such few words. His little brother was practically a stranger, a person with a deep private life that Aenys never really got to be a part of. He knew that many things bothered Maegor, their father especially. Aenys knew that Maegor’s marriage, much like his own, was arranged in such a way as to strengthen their house and the crown. Aenys met Alyssa when they were both young, as it was their grandparents’ wish to unite their houses again, as their own grandmother was also a Velaryon, so they had time to bond and grow closer. He thought that Maegor was simply having some trouble understanding his bride, since she wasn’t of Valyrian descent, he never imagined that there was someone else. Upon the mere mention of Lady Rowan’s name, his whole demeanour changed, his eyes filling with sorrow, the kind that can only come to be from love. 

Could that be it? Could there be some secret affair happening between him and his mother’s lady in waiting? No, that surely couldn’t be- from what he saw and remembered, Rowan was a pious and proper young lady, not to mention a dear friend of his goodsister. And surely Ceryse had no idea, maybe suspicions? What a mess this all was. He felt bad for everyone. When Rowan spoke to him of Maegor, her eyes held such a softness and fondness for him, in a way that Aenys was ashamed to admit that he never imagined anyone having for his brother. He tried his best to remember any glimpses he could’ve caught of them in their youth, but they were always on Dragonstone, whereas he was in King’s Landing. But the few times he remembered them, his little brother seemed to only be close to her, and in turn, she seemed to be the only one who didn’t flinch away or fear him. He sighed. There were definitely feelings involved.

His mother- oh, his dear mother, she had always warned him to be wary of Maegor, to keep him away from his council, to be suspicious of him. His father was also keen on advising him against bringing Maegor to the table, though neither specified much. He missed them so dearly, but he had to admit, they’d be disappointed in him if they saw how he ran his council, leaving the planning to his aunt Visenya, sending Maegor off to face the battle, making him his hand. His mother would be furious with him. She never was, Aenys couldn’t recall a single time where his mother was angry at him, but he knew if she were here, she’d be enraged. It was like he could hear her voice reminding him how violent his brother was, how truly dangerous he could be, but Aenys shook his head. His brother was doing what needed to be done. He was the one that was saving the crown, and Aenys was never too proud to admit that. He missed out on having a brother, but he felt that perhaps, after the slight crack he saw the other day, that they might finally be close. 

He wondered why they grew up so separated, he understood, of course, the importance of holding both the capital as well as their ancestral seat, but it felt like they were raised apart on purpose. Now, the more he thought about it, the more it felt like there was a lot that was kept from him. From his eyes, his parents were happy and in love and were dedicated to raising him. He remembered his mother struggling a lot with the fact that she couldn’t seem to fall pregnant again, which resulted in her putting all of her energy and love onto him. He felt bad that he wouldn’t get to have more siblings, so he naturally asked about his younger brother. He remembered how both of their faces changed. He recalled being dismissed, any question or suggestion being shut down when it related to Maegor. He didn’t remember much of his aunt Visenya when he was a child. He used to think it was because Maegor was still a baby then, that he’d eventually get to meet him, but thinking back as an adult, it seemed that she avoided his parents much like they avoided her.

It was a tough thing to do, to put yourself in your parents’ shoes, but that’s what he was trying to do. He tried to imagine what it was like for his mother, to have to share the man she loved. Perhaps that was why his father kept both Visenya and Maegor at bay, out of love for his mother, to protect her feelings. It made him smile, the warmth between his parents, how much his father adored his mother. But the smile soon faded when his thoughts went to his aunt. She scared him, even as a child he had no fond memories of her. She was cold, humourless, strict and scary, and Maegor grew to be much of the same. Despite his longing to be closer to them, he blamed it on his aunt mostly, which thinking back on it now, wasn’t fair. He never thought what she must’ve felt like, to be cast aside by her siblings, her own husband, raising her son alone… He felt so much guilt at that moment. He never spared a thought about all of this before. His aunt was all he had, but he never thought of her as a human before. It scared him, how easily he had dismissed her as a person, all because his parents seemed to do that with no care in the world.

His parents were perfect in his eyes, but this… this felt so wrong. After his mother’s tragic death, he remembered the moment his aunt returned to stay. They had a few nasty fights with his father, but things seemed to be alright, even warm between them. It felt so wrong and strange to see his father holding a woman that was not his mother, but that wasn’t fair for him to feel, was it? He then remembered something that made his eyes go wide. 

He overheard the servants whispering that his brother had a nasty argument with their father. If his memory served him right, not even a day later, his engagement to Ceryse was announced. Aenys stood silently in his solar for what felt like forever. It was true then. Maegor fought their father about the union- he didn’t just have feelings for Rowan, he planned to marry her. Gods, how blind had he been this whole time? It was all right there in front of him for so long. His brother was miserable because of their father, and now that Rowan was back, they both had to be around each other and pretend that it was all normal. He sat down on his chair, his hands on his face, his eyes still wide with surprise. It all made sense now, why his brother refused any offer Aenys had put out, because he couldn’t annul his marriage to Ceryse, he couldn’t give him what he truly wanted. 

He felt awful for all three of them. Ceryse was such a lovely person, he loved having her as his goodsister. Despite not spending that much time together, she truly felt like a friend to him, despite any hesitations she might’ve had at first. Alyssa also grew to like her very much. He never got any inclination that she had any feelings for his brother, which in a way now relieved him despite it being strange to him at first. He supposed it was because she was older than him, she was much closer to Aenys’ age than Maegor’s and he thought that maybe she found it hard to bond with him, but now he understood that it was his little brother that was so completely closed off. The two seemed to just be cordial with each other, if he didn’t know them, he would’ve never guessed the two knew each other, let alone be married. He wondered if Ceryse knew. 

She was so close to Rowan, she had mentioned her friendship with her many times, and it made Aenys worry. He wasn’t even in the middle of the mess, yet he was stressed for them. Was there something happening between Maegor and Rowan? If Ceryse knew, did she simply not care? Aenys shook his head silently. No, if there was something more… intimate between them, surely his brother would be in a much better mood. No, it must be a line they refuse to cross. Rowan wouldn’t do that to her friend, and Maegor… well, Maegor wouldn't do that, would he?

Aenys sighed and got up. He would somehow talk with his brother about this all. But not now. Now there was the feast in his honour, for all he had done for the crown and by extension, the realm. He didn’t want to admit it, especially not after the years and years of preparations his father gave him, but he found the most joy in planning the feast. The council, the throne, the crown, they exhausted him, they worried and stressed him and it took a toll. He supposed the transition between two Kings was difficult and soon things would become easier, but this break was so needed. He loved to pick out all the fabrics, all the details, the foods, which singers to invite, it all brought him so much joy. 

A knock on the door and a servant entering interrupted his stream of thought. The young man was here to announce that two special guests had arrived, Ceryse’s two brothers, Martyn and Morgan. She was so excited to have them here, he made it a point to greet them himself. He pushed back all his worries and smoothed his robes, straightening the golden, ornate crown on his head and made way to greet them both. 

The day of the feast came by quickly and Aenys was buzzing with excitement. He was eager to do something for people to celebrate, to take their minds off the hardships. He smiled at imagining his family happy, Alyssa was most fond of feasts and he was sure that Rhaena, Aegon and Viserys would have an absolute blast with all the musicians and singers Aenys invited. He was worried that his wife would be too ill to attend, the early days of pregnancy being difficult for her, but it was perfect luck that she was just fine. Alyssa was glowing. They hadn’t told their children yet, as they would be eager to share the news. 

It didn’t escape his eyes that Rowan was quite fast at work, helping arrange everything. She wasn’t directly in his own circle of work, but he could tell his aunt was making sure the feast in her son’s name was perfect. He knew what she was doing. She was throwing herself into her work as a distraction from everything. He couldn’t blame her. It couldn’t be an easy task to be his aunt’s lady in waiting. He still remembered the previous ones leaving in tears within a few days. But Rowan didn’t crack, if anything, she seemed to flourish in the role.

There was a lot on his mind, but Aenys chose to focus on the evening. The great hall was decorated beautifully, giant tables stretching across, filled with lords and ladies from houses great and small, all in good moods, the music pleasant and upbeat. Maegor was seated next to him, to his right, then to his left Alyssa who was lightly scolding Aegon for nearly spilling the wine everywhere. He hadn’t had much chance to speak to his brother before now, as he said he was busy talking over important matters with many of the attending lords. How diligent he was, to still be working on a day dedicated to him. He seemed to be glowing too, a slight smile on his usually scowling lips. Aenys smiled and rose from his seat, urging everyone to be silent as he spoke.

“Thank you everyone for joining me today, in celebrating my brother. Prince Maegor bravely and diligently fought to keep our realm safe from danger, fighting with honour and prestige, not resting until all danger was gone. Let us all raise our cups to my dear brother!” he spoke loudly, raising his cup, smiling as everyone followed suit. “To Prince Maegor!” they all chanted. He could see his brother smiling, a kind of smile one would have to look closely to make sure it was there, but Aenys could tell he was satisfied. Maegor too got up to speak.

“It is an honour to be celebrated in such a matter, your grace. Let it be known to all, that I shall continue to serve the dragon’s legacy restlessly, and I will not stop until each and every last one of the traitors have paid in fire and blood.” he spoke with his deep and harsh voice. Aenys thought at that moment that it was his little brother who looked and sounded like a King. The crowd of people cheered at his words and Aenys smiled.

“Let the music play on!” he clapped his hands after placing his cup on the table. He could see from the corner of his eyes that his aunt was smiling at her son so proudly. Despite how much she frightened him, she was still, at her core, a mother who loved her son and was glowing with pride at his achievements. 

Everyone chatted lightly as they ate, mostly keeping to ‘their side’ of the family. Maegor and his mother often only spoke in High Valyrian, something that he avoided doing in the presence of the people. He wanted to show them all that he was accepting and adapting to their language and customs, something his aunt and brother were clearly not interested in. He’d talk to him about it perhaps, but now was a night just for him. He didn’t let that bother him. Soon the meals finished and the music picked up and as the wines kept flowing, people naturally began to dance. Alyssa was too tired to do so, so Aenys indulged his little Rhaena to dance around.

After tiring himself quite a lot, he returned to the head table to find Ceryse laughing with her brother, Martyn, the heir to the Hightower. She only seemed to be at ease when around her two lady friends and her family. He now knew why. Maegor was back to his usual frown. Aenys noticed how hard his brother was gripping his goblet of wine. The look in Maegor’s eyes sent a shiver down his spine. His eyes discreetly went to find the source of such wroth, and of course they landed on two familiar faces. Ceryse’s youngest brother, Morgan, had asked the Lady Rowan to dance, and it seemed that the two were getting along, as they were both laughing at something- much to Maegor’s dismay.

Aenys frowned. His heart truly ached for him, and for Ceryse and for Rowan. Truly, he never pictured that his brother would ever be in love, but now, knowing what he knew, it all pointed to this being love. He caught the look of longing he was giving to Rowan, while she danced with Morgan. It was all so obvious to him now, how could it not be. He patted Maegor on the shoulder, giving him an understanding smile. Maegor seemed almost alarmed, but soon just sighed silently. 

“It’s a lovely feast, brother. Thank you.” he said, sipping his wine, trying to keep his eyes from the lady with the long auburn curls. It warmed his heart a bit, to hear that he felt so at ease with calling him his brother now. Before, he used to address him strictly as ‘your grace’ or ‘half-brother’ but now, it was like proof they were becoming closer. For once, after their father’s passing, the future seemed bright.

Ceryse finally felt relaxed, at ease. Having Martyn and Morgan back had lifted a huge weight she didn’t know she was carrying on her shoulders. She just felt so happy to be around them again. The feast was pleasant, she enjoyed it mainly because she wasn’t awkwardly sitting between Maegor and Visenya while they spoke in another language and ignoring her. This time around, she had her brothers. Eventually, she went to retire to her rooms, as there was only so much socialising she could handle in one evening.

Martyn joined her, and they sat on her couch in front of the furnace with a glass of wine each. Ceryse felt like she was both exhausted and energised, a strange, contradictory combination. 

“I know father didn’t want the entire family away from home all at once, but why couldn't Anne come with Norman? I miss my goodsister and nephew way too much! I shall complain to father with a strongly worded letter at once!” she laughed, taking a sip of her wine. Martyn laughed as well, his normal serious personality relaxing a bit after a few cups of wine. She missed Anne dearly. Norman was a toddler now, probably speaking in full sentences too, and here she was in the capital, so far from them. 

“She wanted to come more than ever, but it’s not like she can travel in her condition.” he replied with a small smile. Immediately her mind went to the worst. What sickness could prevent her goodsister from making the trip, was it contagious, was little Norman sick too, was it all serious? Ceryse straightened her back and fully faced her oldest brother, her face full of worry for them all.

“Oh no! Is she alright? I hope it’s not a fever, you know how serious a fever can get-”

“She’s with child, Ceryse!” Martyn laughed, patting her on the shoulder as if to calm her down. A wave of relief washed over her, and she let out a sigh, her hand on her chest to calm her racing heart, before she smacked her brother on the shoulder.

“Gods, Martyn! Why did you say it like that? I thought something horrible had happened!” she scolded him with a wide smile on her face, before she placed her goblet on the table and gave him a hug. “Congratulations! How does she fare? I hope it’s not as hard as the first one with Norman.” she said, feeling guilty she wasn’t there to help Anne out, both with her pregnancy as well as Norman. 

“Thank you. She fares well, much better than before. She’s only two moons along, so it’s early.” he smiled. For all his seriousness, her brother really grew to love his lady wife. Anne wrote to her often, the news of her nephew’s wellbeing being her favourite to receive, she was sure he would be delighted to have a sibling. Perhaps a bit jealous at first, but was that not normal for children?

“I hope it continues to be easier for Anne. Promise me you’ll give her all my kisses!” she grinned, wishing she could congratulate her in person. Distance was truly awful. “Are you hoping for another son, or a daughter? I’d love to have a niece too!” she said, picking up her goblet again, relaxing into the couch. 

“Another son is always a good thing, but of course I’d be delighted with a daughter.” Martyn said, smiling into his own goblet. He seemed both excited and worried at the same time, all hidden behind the face of diplomacy that was so important to their family. The earliest stage of pregnancy was the most dangerous one, that’s all she heard the midwives and maesters say, as it was not uncommon for women to miscarry early on. Anne wasn’t that early into her second pregnancy, but still, it could be nerve wracking to be away from her for a whole fortnight. She understood her brother’s worry, because it was now hers as well. She’d make it a priority to make an offering to the mother for her goodsister, to protect her and her babe.

Ceryse couldn’t help but feel a small twinge of hurt in her heart. She had hoped she would be announcing her own pregnancy at some point. She knew it was necessary to solidify the union between the two families, their ties to the crown. She was the first outsider to marry into the new royal family, and she still had no heir to show for it. She knew Maegor was getting more and more frustrated with her, but for all they knew it could be his own fault. Still, the world would not hesitate to blame her for the lack of children in their marriage. She didn’t care if Maegor was angry, not at all. Yes, he was a terrifying man when he was angry, and people rightfully feared him for it, but she genuinely did not care if she had somehow invoked his wrath. She knew that she had done nothing wrong. What did worry her was letting her family down by not having kids. She’d be putting her house in a very complicated position and the last thing she wanted was to make things harder for them.

She wondered what her uncle thought of her now. The High Septon of Oldtown had placed her into a role that was difficult, but he believed in her. It warmed her heart the more she thought about him, but she felt guilty that she had yet to fall pregnant. The horrible thought that perhaps something was wrong with her came again. Was it because of her age? But she knew many women, much older than her, that had plenty of children later in life. Perhaps the gods wanted her to be more patient. She’d pray to the mother in the morning. 

“Morgan seemed to be enjoying himself, did he not?” Martyn asked, looking at her with raised brows, as if to tell her that she knew what he was implying. Ceryse cracked a smile. Oh, their little brother. Morgan, despite being a formidable young knight, was easy going, but hated everything the Targaryens seemed to stand for. According to Martyn, he was complaining the whole time about having to visit the capital, how it was an ugly city, that they had to put up with the Targaryens for two weeks. And yet he seemed to relax quite a lot at the feast. She laughed lightly.

“I’m glad. I was worried that he’d be a grump for the entirety of your stay here.” she chuckled, sipping her wine once more. He seemed to be in a great mood the more the evening progressed. He began the feast rather frustrated, annoyed at how dismissive both Maegor and Visenya were, but after some wine, he took to socialising with the rest of the crowd, as well as someone else.

“He seemed quite taken with that friend of yours. Did you see how long they were dancing together? I’m betting you he’s still dancing with her right now.” Martyn laughed. Ceryse nodded, still smiling. She did take note about how well Morgan got along with Rowan. She had never seen her younger brother have any crush, not that she knew of, but the way he was acting tonight, she knew Martyn was right. He was quite charmed.

“Rowan? Yes, I’d say they make quite the handsome pair, do they not? But alas, I must warn our baby brother that there’s another man chasing her at the moment.” she sighed dramatically, humour in her voice. 

“Oh? Someone I know?” he asked, turning to her. It was hilarious how keen Martyn was of court gossip once he drank a few cups of wine. She wanted to tease him for it, but decided against it in the end. Normally he would argue that it was bordering a sin to indulge in gossip, but even their uncle, the High Septon, would chuckle.

“Tybolt Lannister.” replied Ceryse. The Lannisters were the former Kings of Casterly Rock, and despite bending the knee to Aegon the Conqueror, they didn’t lack any lion’s pride. Tybolt was a cheerful and kind man, albeit cocky to the point it got annoying. The lions were a smart family to marry into, for sure.

“Oh, him? He was at the feast was he not?” he asked, furrowing his brow while trying to remember for certain. Ceryse was certainly paying attention. While her goodmother and husband were chatting next to her in their own language, her eyes searched around the room. You could see so much from the high table, with the imposing iron throne behind it. She was just looking for Tybolt, as the current talks she had with Lana and Rowan revolved around teasing the latter about the man with the golden hair and his obvious flirting. 

“Yes, he was at the feast, sulking, if I may add, because I believe he couldn’t be the one dancing with her. He’s still too injured to walk for too long, he carries a golden cane with the shape of a lion’s head on the handle.” she chuckled. The Lannisters spared no expense when it came to theatrics, that was certain. Lana had a field day laughing about it and warning Rowan that she’d probably have to wear lion inspired dresses and jewels for the rest of her life if she married him. The three had a good laugh about it.

“Why so injured?” Martyn raised a brow. Ceryse remembered the moment she saw the man after the battle, in the gardens. Gods, he looked quite beaten up, but then again, he could’ve been dead. A few bruises and a limp that would heal, those were nothing in comparison.

“He was one of the knights Maegor chose to go with him. To tell you the truth, I don’t think he likes him that much.” she said, her voice thoughtful. In truth, she didn’t understand her husband’s choice in taking Tybolt with him at all. He was a very young knight, barely a year since he was knighted, certainly there was no need for him to be dragged into battle and cost the Lannisters a son. But then again, she didn’t understand Maegor at all. Who knew what his reasons were? Mayhaps the young Lannister had angered him and he thought to scare him and his family by dragging him in battle.

“I cannot imagine why not!” her brother replied with humour. Martyn was a man who did not like the careless excess of the Lannisters, he made it no secret. He enjoyed more subtle and tasteful symbols of power, rather than the loud and in your face approach they took. She didn’t disagree at all. If they were any less confident, it would all be so tacky. She often found what Aenys wore to be quite tacky, but somehow, he would make it work. Her goodbrother held no superiority complex like the lions did, but perhaps that was because of how drilled into him it had been since he was a child. He dressed just like his mother did. The late Queen Rhaenys, the few times Ceryse happened to see her, was always dressed in such a fashion that gave away lack of knowledge of the histories and fashions of the Westerosi. She always dressed as if she had just encountered money and went on a shopping spree and couldn’t decide on what to wear, so she wore it all at once. To the untrained eye, she’d look good. But those in the know, they dared say nothing, for fear of their lives.

“Oh, hush! Lord Tybolt is a fine man.” She kicked his leg lightly. It was true, he was just fine. Not great or amazing, just fine. 

“Are you implying he’d make a finer match than our very own dear brother?” her brother asked with a gasp. Ceryse couldn’t help but laugh, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“Oh, do not put words in my mouth!” she laughed, throwing a pillow at him, but not hard enough to actually knock his goblet out of his hands. Martyn was certainly quite funny when tipsy. She’d make sure to write that to Anne to make fun of him. 

“How very cold of you, Ceryse! It would break Morgan’s heart to hear that you’re rooting for his competition!” her brother shook his head in disappointment, hardly containing the chuckles. It was rather amusing. 

“I’m not rooting for anyone! Tybolt is not officially courting her, and if Morgan wishes to, that is more than fine with me. Although I will be very mad that he’ll take one of my dearest friends away from me in the capital.” she replied. It would delight her to have Rowan join her family, but it would pain her to have her leave for Oldtown, leaving Ceryse alone once again, seeing as Lana would soon find someone to marry too. She thought about her friend. Ever since Tybolt began showing interest, she seemed very conflicted, even guilty at times. Ceryse thought nothing of it at first, Rowan was naturally quite shy, it wasn’t that crazy to think she was too nervous to respond to him. But now she saw things a bit more clearly. Rowan just didn’t like him that much. Maybe she felt like she had to accept because he was a Lannister, but that was far from the truth. She was lucky enough to have a choice in her groom, and perhaps she was trying to let him down gently. “To tell you the truth, I don’t think there is any competition at all. I don’t think Rowan will marry the Lannister.”

“Jokes aside, she’d be throwing away a stellar match.” he said, taking another sip of his wine. He was correct, of course. She would have a good life if she married him. Sure, Tybolt was the second son, but as a Lannister he enjoyed a wealth many in the realm could only dream of. But the Evergreens were also wealthy, sure, not to the same extent, but enough to never have to worry about money. So, in reality, she didn’t have to care about money. Very few women had such a luxury. And Rowan had different priorities.

“I think Casterly Rock is too far away from her home. She mentioned she wished to marry close to her family, so she could visit them often.” she recalled some of their earlier conversations, when the topic of marriage would come up. Rowan truly didn’t seem to want for much. A calm life with a kind man she could raise a family with, somewhere close to her home. It was what Ceryse had wished for too, to some extent. But she was shipped off to the capital to marry Maegor instead. She prayed her friend would get the life she dreamed of, or at least one that would make her happy.

“Oldtown is rather close to Starfall, is it not?” Martyn said, his voice suggestive as he looked at her, clearly vouching for their younger brother to ask for her hand. 

“And much prettier than Lannisport. How interesting, a few cups of wine and you’ve become a matchmaker? You’re entertaining.” she chuckled, raising her brows in surprise. 

“I’m only thinking ahead for our brother’s sake. The Evergreens have always been a close ally to us, we’ve united our houses through history. I don’t see why not.” Martyn responded, beginning to sober up. He placed his goblet on the table, reaching for water instead, to avoid a huge headache in the morning. It was another plain truth. Their great grandmother was an Evergreen, and quite a few times their houses did unite. They shared their values, they shared their views, it would be a good match.

“Let’s see how this plays out, mister matchmaker.” she laughed. The idea of them together wasn’t something she would’ve pictured before, but they’d be a fine match. Certainly finer than Tybolt. She did find him far too cocky for Rowan, she’d tire of him. Morgan could be better suited to be her husband. She’d wait and see how the two interacted through the two week stay they’d be here, to see how well they got along. Perhaps sparks could fly soon. She’d love to call Rowan her sister some day, although she wished she could remain by her side here in the capital. Maybe Morgan could find a position here, so that they’d both be close to her.

“Are you happy here, truly?” Martyn’s question caught her off guard. He sobered up too quickly, becoming quite serious as he asked. She was silent for a moment. She never disclosed their more… intimate routine, not when there was no reason to. It was a strange thing they had. A strange understanding and yet her husband felt like a complete stranger, even after a whole year. They barely spoke, sometimes fighting, but to put it into words, she just didn’t care about him much as a person.

“Happy… I suppose it’s not so bad. I’ve gotten used to things here.” she placed her cup on the table as well, abandoning the wine. She remembered her life before King’s Landing. She was the happiest then. Now… now she was just okay. She never did break the ice with the Dowager Queen, who was always cold and short with her, only bothering to address her in public. But Ceryse found her happiness in her friends. She couldn’t claim any happiness without Lana and Rowan, truly. Despite both Alyssa and Aenys welcoming her with open arms, they still felt like strangers to her, foreigners despite being born here. Perhaps the Valyrians were truly not human, as she sometimes felt like she was talking to people so strange that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. The KIng and Queen were nice, but they’d never understand and see her the way her friends did.

“And the Prince? Does he treat you well?” Martyn asked, his eyes asking her much more. He worried for her, she could tell. He wanted to discuss much more, but didn’t want to push her too much. She chose to not bring up any infertility worries that she had, as it had only been a year. For all she knew, they’d have a child by the next. A niece or nephew for little Norman.

“He’s annoying, a bit immature, but we tolerate each other well enough.” she admitted. He really was annoying to her, his constant brooding. He clearly had so much on his mind, yet refused to communicate. She never pushed him, nor tried to ask him to, assuming that he had his mother to speak with for whatever bothered him. When he was named hand, she was happy that he wasn’t around as much. Whenever he was seen around the castle, it was like he was carrying with him this huge dark cloud of rain. He was such a mystery still, but Ceryse knew better than to be curious.

“Ah, I see…” Martyn nodded, his eyes apologetic. She knew he had hoped she’d marry into a family that was more welcoming and more, well… normal, but such was the way of the gods. She never pretended to understand their reasons.

“Worry not. I have my friends here. Lana and Rowan keep me company, though you scheme to take Rowan away to Oldtown. The King and Queen are lovely company too, even though now they’re busier than ever.” she smiled, trying to lighten the mood once more. The hour was growing late and she didn’t want to go to bed on a sad note. Martyn didn’t seem that much impressed, still dwelling into his worries.

“The King seems like a good man.” he spoke up after a while. It was a loaded sentence, full of meaning. Aenys was a good man, not a good King. Martyn worried for the stability of the crown, and its legitimacy now that the Conqueror was gone. Their house was now bound to theirs, so of course as the heir to the Hightower, Martyn had to consider the fact that they had to call their bannermen to defend the Targaryens. He worried this would come soon. Ceryse was afraid of that outcome. Wars and uprisings were ugly things that would devastate the smallfolk most of all. She only hoped that the rebellions were a small hiccup in Aenys’ reign, and that things would fall into place for him soon, but something in her was telling her to run. Something in her was warning her.

“He is.” But that was not enough.

taglist:@heartstalked@stupidocupido@discowizard88@slytherisstuff

#maegor targaryen #maegor targaryen x oc #maegor the cruel #aenys targaryen #ceryse hightower #hotd fanfic

[eunchancorner]

OK SO

First things first!

THIS is my wonderful little baby Rara!

Her name is just the first syllable of racoon repeated. She has wereracoonism that she CAN’T SEEM TO TRANSMIT TO ANYONE NO MATTER HOW HARD SHE TRIES. It affects her in more ways than just transformation, though. It has permanently altered her brain chemistry to the point where she acts like an actual feral animal, complete with digging through the trash, being absolutely mesmerized by shiny trinkets and being scarily good at stealth.

She will absolutely maim anyone she comes into contact with…

Except for Dexter.

And for some reason, no matter how much he tries, he can’t seem to bring himself to harm her. Almost like some part of him knows that without him, she’d likely bite someone, end up in jail, start a prison riot and get killed.

He’s also found out the hard way that she doesn’t do vaccines.

The second thing (Candy Kevin backstory fic) is under the cut :3

Screaming.

Pain.

Fear.

All of these things were what Kevin was accustomed to.

Ever since he’d signed himself into this experiment in a desperate attempt to make rent, ever since he was brought to this weird fucking lab, it was all he knew.

He’d wanted to escape, but the scientists would tell him what would happen if he was in the public. Something he’d been forced to forget for ‘his own good’.

”They’ll eat you, Kevin. It’ll feel ten times worse than this…”

“They’ll lock you up, they’ll use your blood as syrup. After all, that’s what it is now, isn’t it?”

“They’ll brand you a monster. Lock you up, treat you like livestock.”

“You’re not human anymore, Kevin. What makes you think they’ll treat you as such?”

He’d listen to them. He’d believe them. If he couldn’t depend on the people who literally handled his body on a daily basis, who could he depend on? It wasn’t like he had a choice. He’d signed the contract. He’d gotten himself into this mess, besides, they wouldn’t just abandon him on the side of the road, right?

Well, funny story, that’s essentially what they did. More accurately, they sedated him before dumping him behind the facility, only having used him to prove a point, never for any scientific value. Dumping him, and all of the memories. All of the trauma.

All of the screaming.

All of the pain.

All of the fear.

And all of the rage.

And he knew he wasn’t the only one in that facility. Late at night, when they thought he was asleep, he’d hear the screams of fellow test subjects. Of others tortured for the scientists’ own egos. He’d never been able to count how many, he just knew he wasn’t alone, not by a long shot.

He should have suspected it would come to this. To the facility burning down around him. To the other test subjects rebelling. To the destruction of every single damn experiment in this lab.

But it wasn’t like he expected. He hadn’t seen anyone come rushing out, before or after the initial explosion. He hadn’t seen any living person in the burning wreckage, and he was sure he’d notice if someone escaped.

Maybe the explosion was too big. Maybe they were too close. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe they’d acted as suicide bombers.

Whatever they’d done, it worked. The facility crumbled around him like a hollow cake, everything that was flammable was flaming, everything that was meltable was melting. It hurt to be so close to it, but at the same time, he was unable to draw himself away.

So what was he supposed to feel? Happy it was over? Satisfied they were gone? Jealous that he wasn’t the one to do it? Upset that it seemed few of them suffered?

Some part of him felt everything at once… but another part of him, a part of him that he would gladly cut away if he could, felt grief at the loss of the people who’d basically taken care of him for all of this time. Was it all of these contradicting feelings, or was it the alterations to his brain…?

What made him feel so numb above all else? What made every feeling so small in this moment?

Maybe it was just shock that it was all over… Maybe it was his brain trying to cope with all of this. Maybe he shouldn’t question it, lest he find a different, more horrifying answer…

He let his gaze wander around the facility as he snapped out of the daze he’d found himself in. Burning wood, burning bodies, burning dreams of scientists who never got to plead for redemption, of test subjects who’d forgotten the outside world. Smoke thicker than his candied blood filled the air. His lungs would be burning if he still had proper use of them. He felt hot, sticky, pained. He couldn’t tell if he was sweating or if his skin was just melting. He would’ve taken a deep breath if he had use for one, but all he could smell was his own sugary scent. 

Slowly, he sat down in the center of the wreckage, staring up at the fire in the center of the facility, behind thick walls and broken windows. He had half a mind to just stay here. Let it swallow him up. Become one with everything he used to feel part of. But he knew he’d leave. He knew he’d run. He knew he’d try to find a place to stay, or someone to help. But for now he’d stay here. With the fire. With the memories. And with everything he knew from before.

All of the screaming.

All of the pain.

And all of the fear.

#eun rants #sm #spooky month #kevin #candy kevin #sm au #spooky month au #eun writes #that qualifies right? #I think it does #sm oc #spooky month oc #rara

[featherfur]

No okay I’m thinking about the 13/16 year gap between Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng again and how far away they are and not because of the siege. No instead it’s because Jiang Cheng grew up and Wei Wuxian wasn’t there.

Wei Wuxian is 13/16 years behind the man who Jiang Cheng has become. There’s some things that haven’t changed, Jiang Cheng still names his pets the fluffiest names, he still chows down like a maniac whenever he sees anything citrus, he won’t touch water chestnuts, he likes using two swords for training both hands equally, all things that Wei Wuxian remembers.

But there’s so much he never had the chance to learn.

He doesn’t know that Jiang Cheng now takes sweet tea with lemon cakes under a pavilion at exactly noon every day. He doesn’t know Jiang Cheng thinks the word “cork” is the funniest thing because of one joke Chao Bolin said. He doesn’t know that Jiang Cheng now guards his right more heavily and forgets to guard his left because he’s so used to moving in a three man team of him and his senior disciples. He doesn’t know that Jiang Cheng let’s himself be bullied by the disciples into having parties. He doesn’t know that Jiang Cheng is willing to wield two swords and trust another disciple with Zidian. He doesn’t know that Jiang Cheng tried and failed to learn how to paint fans and Jin Ling definitely has them hidden away for laughs.

Wei Wuxian wasn’t there to learn those things. He has so much catching up to do but first he needs to learn that his shidi isn’t his shidi anymore. Wei Wuxian knows his little brother who grew up beside him but now that spot he stood in has been taken by Jiang disciples who guard it jealously.

Wei Wuxian gets struck by surprise when he sees Jiang Cheng actually smile at a joke that a junior makes. He chokes on tea when Jiang Cheng very carefully lifts up a bottle of wine that almost fell off the table and passes it to another disciple to pour on someone’s head and smirks at the fake outrage. He nearly has a heart attack when some merchant storms in and starts screaming and Jiang Cheng doesn’t panic, doesn’t yell back, doesn’t look to him for support like the Jiang Cheng Wei Wuxian remembers would. He simply blinks and calms the merchant down in seconds and starts working on the problem.

The anxious new leader, the socially awkward baby brother, the angry shidi, the lonesome man that Wei Wuxian once knew inside and out… Now stands before him completely different, in a second life that Wei Wuxian only now gets a chance to be a part of and he doesn’t know if there’s room.

#mdzs #the untamed #Jiang Cheng #Jiang sect #okay look #LOOK #there’s so much bull about how JC never changed and yet so much of the story is #only possible because he did change #JC in cloud recess was an awkward baby who just wanted to make his family proud and be a good sect leader and keep his #brother out of trouble even if he has to bow his head for him #post war hes finicky and snappy but he goes out of his way to try and help his brother even when he’s shoved aside and lied too #he still tries to convince Wei Wuxian to come back even with all the Wen shit going on #and then Wei Wuxian leads to the death of his sister and Jiang Cheng goes buck wild with rage and hate and #proceeds to have a perfectly well built sect that has the respect of every single sect leader #no not fear Lan Xichen Sect Leader Yao Nie Huaisang etc #not a single one of them fear him (except maybe if they thought they’d have to fight him but that’s different) #no they /Respect/ him and his sect #and Jiang Cheng sits back and lets Lan Wangji be fucking majorly disrespectful to both him and Jin Ling to avoid starting a fight with #Lan Xichen (WHICH IS LITERALLY HOW THE PART OF THE STORY SAYS IT) #because he’s a damn good fucking sect leader and he can be respectful #Wei Wuxian was just *always* a different story because JC never had to turn his cheek towards him and #WWX never held back on him either it was mutual until WWX couldn’t and JC didn’t know that #and then in the narrative the only time we see JC in novel is when shit is going down and YET by background and narrative of #shit NOT happening we know JC was just doing his job as sect leader because otherwise #there would have been a full on man hunt for WWX at Gusu Lan because JC knows it’s WWX and knows LWJ has him #and yet! #not even mentioning CQL that literally just has JC being a normal dude in the background even at times when his #necromancer homicidal brother is waltzing around in a mask or losing his gourd #my point is #JC did a lot of growing WWX wasn’t there for and it’s time for WWX to start learning his baby older brother and we gonna angst to get there

[transmascskywalker]

dinluke fic recs!!

a few ppl said they’d be interested in a dinluke rec list from me so here we are! i was inspired to make my own from @browneyesbrighteyes and i’m gonna organize it similarly since theirs was organized so well. there might be some overlap; i read a LOT of fanfiction lmao.

similar to their list, there will NOT be any d*bcon or n*ncon, or any toxic portrayal of dinluke. i don’t vibe w that.

this is just a little collection of some of the fics i’ve enjoyed over the last year! most will be oneshots but there’s a few multichapters mixed in lol. multi=multi-chapter, o=oneshot.

!! note that just because i categorize a fic as nsfw doesn’t mean it’s necessarily pwp. some are, but if they have sex at all, then i marked it as nsfw, so a lot of longer fics will be under nsfw.

in-universe SFW:

the storm by shirozora [multi]

Din Djarin needs a new ship.

Greef Karga makes him a deal - do some work for the guild and he'll get a brand new gunship. One such job takes him to a planet with a volatile storm system to track down a double-crossing bounty hunter. What he doesn't know is that the bounty hunter is there to loot an ancient Jedi temple. What neither of them know is that someone else is also on the planet searching for the temple. And then the storm rolls in.

more than his armor by twoseas [o]

Din visits Grogu at Luke’s academy more than any other parent. Luke isn’t complaining.

christ in repose by spqr [o]

More on this story as it develops. Subscribe to HNN’s JEDI WATCH newsletter for instant updates on Jedi sightings throughout the galaxy.

aureole by mandaloria593 [multi]

A few months after Grogu left Moff Gideon’s cruiser with the Jedi, the Jedi comes searching for Din and finds him on Mandalore’s moon of Concordia. Din is roped into an adventure that brings him closer to the Jedi than he could have ever imagined.

[Or, the one where every Coruscant tabloid assumes the Jedi and Mando are dating...and the headlines might be onto something]

unfold by silverscriptings [o]

Han can’t help but be suspicious of a certain Mandalorian who’s been spending an awful lot of time at the Jedi Temple...

the ways of which we live by subtlehysteria [multi]

What if things went slightly differently following episode 6 of The Book of Boba Fett and Luke and Din agreed to dual guardianship of Grogu? And what if, as they get to know one another, the two slowly start to realise that perhaps they aren't so different as they initially thought?

your tapestry of scars by subtlehysteria [o]

Now, Din’s never been one who puts much weight on looks, but even he has to admit he’s curious as to who this stranger actually is.

So imagine his and the rest of the room’s surprise when the mysterious Jedi lowers his hood only to reveal that his face is completely covered all except for the waves of golden hair that falls perfectly about his face and his eyes—piercing blue and impossibly magnetic, even with the tint of Din’s visor obscuring their colour.

icarus point to the sun by luminouskywhiner aka ME [multi]

The Mandalorian was born to be a king, and the Jedi was born to be alone.

Luke Skywalker reflects on loneliness and isolation, on fear and family.

*yes i’m plugging my own fanfic. gotta get that free promo lol*

someone i have always known by snapdragonpop007 [o]

Din Djarin’s soulmate is a Jedi—the beginnings of the Force Bond they share pull him across the galaxy, searching for the other end and leaving his heart bloody and raw and aching for someone he’s never known.

Luke Skywalker knows he had a soulmate. He has no idea who they are, but his chest and heart ache so much from the pain of loss and loneliness that he’s determined to find them--if only to ease his suffering.

thaw by spqr [o]

That’s what hope does to you, Luke remembers now. It lingers at the back of your mind, whispering maybe, maybe, so that knowing a plan is stupid isn’t enough to keep you from trying it.

one single thread of gold tied me to you by casuallysavingtheworld [o]

Luke just sits and stares, as it’s all he can do, hoping one day, he’ll be able to follow his string, all the way to whoever is on the opposite end of it. He bets they’re beautiful, no matter what they look like. At night, in Luke’s dreams, he catches glimpses of deep brown eyes, a pre-empire ship, armor and a silver helmet.

(Luke Skywalker has a golden string attached to his finger, that floats into the sky, leading him somewhere, to someone. He's the only one who can see them. During the adventure of a lifetime, he searches for answers, eventually leading him exactly where he needs to be)

what must it be like to grow up so beautiful? by casuallysavingtheworld [o]

Grinding his teeth down, Din was once again, grateful for his famed helmet to hide how he was really feeling. Leaning against a wall, away from the rest of the party guests, the party Leia had crafted, Din couldn’t help but think about the moments he realized he had feelings for the Jedi.

(Din thinks about all the moments he realized he had feelings for a certain Jedi)

a warrior dance by twoseas [multi]

Luke reacts strangely to Din’s bared face and an overheard conversation leads the Mandalorian to believe the Jedi thinks he’s ugly.

Things spiral out of control from there.

Featuring Mandalorian combat without armor, Han and Leia being a little into Din, and Luke being so much into Din he accidentally makes him think he’s unattractive.

the holy palmer’s kiss by showmeahero [o]

“If you might want to keep it,” Luke tells him, bathed in shining emerald light, “then you better learn how to use it.”

Din’s blood races with energy and want. He presses his thumb into the release on the Darksaber. The energy practically rushes out, the space empty one moment and full the next, overflowing with a black void of power. It hums as he moves it experimentally. He sees it shimmering, but the blade in the center never wavers, perfectly concentrated. Already, it feels almost like an extension of his arm.

“I think you’re right,” Din says to Luke.

in-universe NSFW:

separate ways by pepperprints [multi]

With Moff Gideon defeated and the Darksaber reclaimed, the rumours of newly named Mand'alor Din Djarin spread through the galaxy... along with the stories of the Child he carries with him. Determined to meet him, Luke Skywalker arrives on Mandalore -- but before he can get any closer, he has to prove himself worthy of Mandalorian standards.

his beacon, his harbor by annathaema [o]

The Mandalorian becomes Din Djarin.

Din Djarin becomes.

(Luke helps.)

the warmest bed i’ve ever known by ceedawkes [multi]

pre-original series, din djarin is injured on a remote planet and found by an incessantly chatty farm boy named luke skywalker || i won't ask you to wait, if you don't ask me to stay || aka "making out with hot farm boys doesn't count as breaking the creed if he's blindfolded during it".

we two scorched the earth by annathaema [o]

That left Luke with a much bigger problem: The Sand People knew he was here, they’d likely sabotaged or stolen the speeder by now, and he was stranded in a cave with nothing but a rifle with three rounds left, a survival pack good for only a couple of days, and no transport home. Great. Luke leaned against the wall of the cave and tipped his head back, thumping the back of it against the stone over and over. He closed his eyes and wished for rescue.

Someone groaned.

never leaving well enough alone by darkisrising [multi]

or Five Times Din and Luke Met (and one time they never parted)

He’s drunk, and he isn’t quite sure how that happened. That’s not true, Luke does remember vaguely how it happened, more or less, and it all started with Han.

hold me, love (so i can keep from hiding) by yellowyuriko [o]

He knows he could stay like that forever, cradled in Din’s arms, and the urgency of that thought outright scares him. It’s overwhelming, really, the way the Force vibrates and moves whenever he’s around. Din’s touch is borderline suffocating and Luke has to remind himself to just breath so as not to lose himself completely.

“I missed you,” Din whispers against the shell of his ear, and it carries a sadness Luke does not expect.

“You did?” he asks, genuinely surprised that someone would long for his presence.

the word is help by spqr [o]

In a flash, Fett has his blaster out and pointed at Luke’s head.

“You’re right,” he says. “Turnabout’s fair play. So maybe I oughta shoot you.”

Din’s voice comes from somewhere behind them. “Try it, Fett.”

oh the things we left behind by furiosophie [multi]

As much as Din likes to tell himself that he’s just been taking a well-deserved break, the truth is that for the six months following their daring rescue he’s been nothing but truly and utterly lost. That is until Luke Skywalker gives him a ship and hires him to help figure out what the hell the Empire needed the Child’s blood for.

As they drift through the empty void of hyperspace, they slowly find unexpected companions in each other and realize their respective paths might not be as set as they once thought.

all the pretty places that feel like home by sunshineandalittleflour [o]

“Would you be more comfortable if I called you something else?” Luke asked, and it should have been teasing, but it was genuine, the soft freedom to be who he wanted in this place.

And that careful gift, that offer of being who he wanted, uncontrolled and unfettered, filled Din with a lot of hope and a little bit of terror. Who was he without the creed? His people? Who was Din Djarin, standing in the halls of someone who had once been his people’s greatest enemy?

Din shook his head, hearing his own breathing echo inside his helmet. “No. You can,” he faltered briefly, then took a deep breath. “You can call me by my name.”

beroya and jetti by purplesauris [multi]

Din has been gone from Luke, and from his family for two months, three days, and six hours. He isn't counting, if anyone were to ask.

stick with me (from galaxy to galaxy) by purplesauris [o]

The five times that Din is sensitive to touch (and the one time that Luke is sensitive too)

alternate-universe SFW:

mystery man by snapdragonpop007 [multi]

Luke is seeing someone, apparently.

And really, it’s none of Anakin’s business.

Really.

yoda’s academy for li’l padawans by missdinahdarling [multi]

Being a new student is hard.

Being a new student whilst your socially awkward father avoids the school at all costs and your new teacher pines uselessly over a man he’s never met before is even worse.

But by god, Grogu is gonna get through this.

the secret life of daydreams by subtlehysteria [multi]

Din Djarin is not your quintessential gentleman, nor is his family considered "normal" by high society - or by any society that is not Mandalorian for that matter. Not that he cares for such people's opinions. In his eyes, it is they who are the uncivilized ones, not his family. So when the dour Mr. Skywalker and his colourful friend Mr. Vanth arrive in Nevarro for the winter, Din assumes the same of them and vows not to give them a second thought.

Fate, however, has other plans in store as it continues to relentlessly thrust Mr. Skywalker in Din's path.

Is there more to the man behind the cool mask of indifference, or is Din correct in thinking him a prideful, arrogant aristocrat?

*^ this may be my favorite fanfics of all time across any fandom. if i had to rec just ONE on this list it is secret life of daydreams. honestly anything by subtlehysteria slaps this whole post could just be me singing their praises*

to build a home by subtlehysteria [multi]

No more relationships. Din had vowed this to himself after what happened with Xi'an.

And while Luke seems nice, really he does, he was also his son’s teacher. Besides, Din wasn’t comfortable with opening himself up to someone new again. All of his time either went towards Grogu or running his new security business. Besides, he was happy with their routine, happy with just the two of them in their house and his too-loud family barging in every Sunday for dinner. He was happy, really he was.

So why was there a small part of him that wished Luke could be here with him for this?

alone with you by subtlehysteria [o]

Luke does, eyes immediately catching on the rich auburn hair and beard of their usual ballet master and head of the company, Obi-Wan Kenobi. They quickly dart to the extremely handsome man standing beside him, Luke having to withhold a whistle. He’s somewhere in his mid-thirties, all broad shoulders and dark, mesmerizing eyes, hair tousled in careless curls and scruff littering his cheeks. A well-trimmed moustache frames plump pink lips and honestly, it’s very distracting. Luke has to blink past the hearts in his eyes to realise that the man is surveying the room with a look he is all too familiar with.

They have a new choreographer who’s scouting dancers.

And Luke just waltzed in late.

love me in the dark by gluten_full [o]

No one - not his sister, his friends, or his dad - knew that Luke was gay. No one, except, now, Din Djarin. He never should have come here tonight. He had seen the flyer for a “Queer Poetry Slam” in the bathroom of a coffee shop a block away, and he’d pocketed it. It had taken him all week to build up the courage to come. And now he was in a basement listening to gay poets read gay poetry. And Din Djarin was watching him.

alternate-universe NSFW:

my big fat mandalorian wedding by oystering [multi]

“Din’ka... you better get married soon. You’re starting to look... old.”

His ba’vodu had been saying that since he was fifteen years old. All the family wanted was for him to be a good Mandalorian. And all good Mandalorians do three things with their lives; marry other Mandalorians, make Mandalorian babies, and feed everyone, until the day they die.

*oops it’s me again. ^ this is another one of my favorites i’ve reread it so many times*

go and get your hands dirty by furiosophie [multi]

There is an agonizing moment where Din feels Luke’s body tense beneath him, his muscles flexing in a way that makes him sure Luke is about to punch or at least push him away, but then something shifts behind Luke’s eyes, as if he recognized the fear in Din's, and before Din can form another coherent thought Luke crushes their lips together and kisses him as if his life depends on it.

(Din meets Luke twice a day, five days a week, in a way that’s casual, predictable, impersonal - Until that one day where he meets him by accident, in the middle of the night in a way that's neither.)

a little farther down the line by chromat1cs [multi]

Austin, Texas, 1973. Din Djarin plays the guitar, worries about his kid, and runs aimlessly from a past that pulled the roof down around his ears. When a stunningly-talented duo of up-and-coming performers turns Din’s plans of being a simple session musician clear on their head, Din must decide between the safety of mundanity or the unlooked-at thrill of following his heart lest the tape run out on this track of his life before he’s through recording it.

fever dream by purplesauris [multi]

When Din's van breaks down on the side of the road, he doesn't think his day can get any worse. The farm he stumbles upon while trying to get to town for help might just be his saving grace.

and the world spins madly on by subtlehysteria [o]

Digging his spoon into the coffee ice cream, Luke brings the sugary caffeine-injected sweet treat to his lips and closes his eyes as he lets the over-the-top sweetness flood his tastebuds.

That is of course until he feels someone sitting down beside him.

“How do you like this stuff?”

the armor you wear by subtlehysteria [multi]

Stuntman-turned-actor Din Djarin thinks he's prepared for whatever The Mandalorian Season 3 has to offer. So when he's informed he's going to be performing his first on-screen romance with award-winning actor Luke Skywalker, he may start to panic just a little. Especially because his character, who, until now, has worn his helmet 24/7, is going to be coming out of his beskar-shell so to speak and go helmetless for multiple scenes. Worried he doesn't have what it takes to give the performance required of him, Din turns to his new co-star for advice. Luke is sweet, an excellent teacher and turns out to be an even more amazing friend.

So what happens when on-screen romance starts bleeding into their real-life relationship?

this definitely is not all, and i might edit this post to add more, but as of right now these are all of the fics that i either have bookmarked somewhere or are currently open on my chrome app lol. go give these a read for some good dinluke content! godspeed dinlukes

-casper

#dinluke #ao3 #fanfiction #dinluke fic #din djarin #luke skywalker #fic recs

[oh-katsuki]

Golden Boy (Izuku x Reader)

Masterlist 

Pairing: Izuku x Reader

Summary: Izuku was a nice boy, except when it came to you. Yup, UA’s golden boy really knew how to treat a slut like you. 

Content Warnings: Dubcon, slight noncon, dacryphilia, size kink, face fucking, overstimulation, creampie, degradation, humiliation, spit kink, choking, finger choking, pet names, ooc izuku

Word Count: 5.6k 

A/N: I got SCARY h-word over this man and decided that I literally wanted him to hurt me and spit in my mouth. He’s too nice to not be a fucking freak, goodbye. 

Anyway, thank you to @eremiie , @mikaberries , and @veroyktv for beta-reading this!! I appreciate y’all !

Izuku tormented you all through high school. It was almost shameful to admit the way that his gentle teases melted into something far more sinister as the weeks bled into months and years. What started as subtle comments turned into  outright taunts and then the contactless threats no longer remained empty. 

No one believed you. And who would? 

Izuku was a model student and a good friend, someone with a kind disposition who wanted nothing more than to become the greatest hero. What reason could he possibly have to bully you? You’d never done anything to him. 

But he did. For three years he mercilessly taunted you and it only got worse your final year. 

Izuku would pinch at your thighs, sneering at you in the hallways when no one was looking. He’d snake his hand up your skirt and squeeze the supple flesh hard enough to leave bruises that eventually littered the entire inside of your thigh. They looked incredibly vulgar and Izuku would torment you about it endlessly, despite knowing that he’s the one who left them. 

He’d crowd you against the lockers after most people had gone home, knowing you’d be there late after your tutoring sessions. 

“Tsk. Quite some marks you’ve got there.” He’d say, stepping up to you, his broad shoulders squared, a half smile creeping onto his face as his eyes studied the inside of your thighs. The marks littered the otherwise smooth skin, visible when looking at you from the front. 

“You get them from slutting yourself out?” Izuku would ask, stepping toward you again. “Y’look like a bit of a whore, don’t you?” 

He’d lean in close to your ear, venom seeping into each of his words as he cornered you. His hand crept up your skirt, eyes trained on yours which widened with fear as he pinched down, relishing in the yelp of pain that escaped you.

You wondered how someone like Izuku could make you feel so small and so insignificant.You couldn’t even bat his hand away as he made a fool of you, pinching at the inside of your leg with thick, calloused, and scarred fingers. It didn’t matter how tall or strong you were because it always seemed that Izuku was bigger, domineering in attitude and words. He really did know how to reduce you to a helpless thing. 

It seemed Izuku was growing more desperate by the day as graduation gradually crept closer. It was like he made less of an effort to hide it, blowing into your ear and whispering vile shit to you while in class, things that would make anyone squirm in their seat. He’d start bumping into you, singling you out, making an effort to get you noticed by his friends so he could have you as a little plaything whenever they hung out. 

And you let him. You let him make a toy out of you, tagging along with Iida, Uraraka, and Asui on Saturday outings, letting Izuku pinch and prod at you from across a restaurant table.

The truth was, Izuku Midoriya fucking terrified you. 

So you couldn’t say no to him. To everyone else you looked like nothing more or less than one of his many admirable friends. Promising quirk and a promising future, what a match for UA’s golden boy. 

You were at your wits end and by the time graduation rolled around. No one listened to you. Hell, people often brushed off Izuku’s very genuine threats as classic childhood teasing. “You’re such a good sport!” they’d say as Izuku patted your back, laughing an all too cheery “just kidding!”

How were you supposed to focus on graduation day, all dolled up in your cap and gown, unwilling to admit to yourself that maybe it was for him? Still, you found yourself automatically flinching whenever Izuku came around, eyes following him across the lawn as he ignored you in favor of photos. Izuku had a promising job offer waiting for him, and his many awards won during the ceremony earned him several congratulatory handshakes as well as pictures for the school’s newsletter. 

Still, he’d catch your eye when smiling for the camera, an all to familiar glint in them. His smile made you sick to your stomach, made it churn in the worst of ways. It was doing back flips as he stalked across the lawn towards you until his sturdy frame was against yours. He leaned down, lips brushing beside your ear to whisper one final taunt. 

“It’s a shame you’re not wearing that little skirt of yours,” Izuku breathed, eyes flitting over the cap and gown. “Would have liked to pinch those skank thighs of yours one last time. S’what you deserve.”  

And then he stood there, watching the way tears began to crowd your waterline, threatening to spill over as three years of tormentation came to what felt like an underwhelming head. Izuku tilted his head, watching the way water stained your made-up cheeks, before taking his thumb and wiping the tears from your eyes. 

“Don’t cry, doll.” He taunted, voice far too sweet for the words that fell from his lips. “I’m not near done with you yet.” 

Why was his tone so comforting? So confusing that you weren’t sure if it was dread or relief that filled your senses, ears suddenly feeling clogged with water. Your eyes darted from his to anyone on the lawn who could see you, who might be watching as Izuku pushed you to tears with only a few words, until you caught Bakugou’s gaze. 

Ah, Bakugou Katsuki, someone who’s done to Izuku what he does to you. It’s a bit of a fucked up little triangle because while Izuku was bullied by him and you are bullied by Izuku, you couldn’t help but hope that Bakugou would be the one taunting you, the one pinching your thighs. At least that’s what you told yourself. Maybe he’d help you, after all, he was probably the only person who’d believe you in the first place. 

So once Izuku had wiped your tears with a condescending thumb and left to go partake of other party activities, you pulled Katsuki aside by the shoulder, fingers digging into the meat of his bicep. 

“What in th- you?! The fuck are you doing?” Bakugou asked, eyebrows furrowed in the permanent scowl that he wore so frequently. 

“Sh, look please just, hear me out.” You spoke, voice hushed as your eyes shifted around. You had the feeling that if Izu saw you with him, you’d be in for it. “I just- I really need help.” 

Bakugou was about to scoff, was about to roll his eyes and walk away until he saw the redness under your eyes that the makeup couldn’t hide. The way you sniffled slightly as you asked and the way you looked to the floor. He’d never seen you like this, almost broken. It was something he’d seen often in Izuku, but something about seeing you like this made him ache. 

“What?” He responded, trying not to seem too invested. 

“It’s Midoriya.” Your voice grew quiet, almost in shame as you spoke the formal version of his name. 

“And?” Bakugou was impatient. He cared about you but not enough to sit here for five minutes while you stuttered. “Spit it out.” 

“He- he won’t leave me alone.” The words tumble from your lips so fast and before you know it, your hands are balled into fists on his chest, the material of his gown scrunched inside them in a plea. “He’s a nightmare, he pinches me and says the most awful shit to me. I- I mean, the inside of my legs and thighs are littered with bruises and n-no one believes me.” 

“Midoriya? As in, ‘shitty deku’ Midoriya?” Bakugou takes a step back in slight shock. 

“Yes!” You shout, far louder than you intended, pulling him closer slightly as you hush your tone in a whisper. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?” 

He nudged you off of him, brushing off his gown. Bakugou would be lying if he said it didn’t make his blood boil. Sure, him and Midoriya had buried the hatchet a long time ago but he still wanted dirt on the guy, plus he thought it was a coward move for him to bully someone as pretty as you. Though after seeing the way your eyes get wide in fear, he can’t say that it wasn’t incredibly tempting. There was something enticing about how you looked when you begged, no doubt Izuku saw it too. 

“You’re too sensitive.” He scoffed, meeting you gaze and watching the way your expression fell. “What you do is graduate and forget about that shitty extra. There’s really nothing else to it.”

You reached for him again out of habit this time, like if he turned around now you’d really be thrown to the wolves. 

“N-no, Bakugou, please.” You plead again, tears once again gathering in the corners of your eyes. “I-I can’t. I just need help.” 

Oh, he gets it now. 

He sees what makes you so appealing, what makes it so easy to walk all over you. You looked pretty when you cried. So he leaned in, his scowl turning into a smirk before speaking again. 

“No.” Bakugou’s smirk turned into an outright grin, eyes crinkling at the corners before he stood back up. “I graduated. Shitty Deku is your problem, not mine. Deal with it yourself. Just stop talking to him or whatever.” 

And with a wave of his hand he was off, walking towards his group of friends. Well, there goes your life line, the one person who actually believed that Izuku was tormenting you wouldn’t even lend you a helping hand. You supposed it was too much to hope though, and he was right, you could forget… stop talking to him. Why did the idea of that suck almost as much as staying under this thumb? 

“____!” Bunette locks bounced as your friend came towards you, hand outstretched in a wave before she pulled you into a hug. “We’re all going to Midoriya’s place to celebrate graduating, come with?” 

You liked Uraraka. Well, you actually liked all of Izuku’s friends. They were sweet and honestly none-the-wiser to Izuku’s torments and taunts. She wore the kindest smile, eyes bright with the excitement of finally starting her adult life. 

You glanced at the rest of them, eyes flitting around friendly faces until your gaze met Izuku’s. He looked upset, eyebrows furrowed slightly and eyes cold as he stood there. They all agreed, urging you to go before Izuku spoke up, smiling gently at you over the top of Uraraka’s head. 

“You should come. We’ll miss you if you don’t.” The rest of the group nods their agreement, but it wasn’t them that pulled the small okay from your lips. It was Izuku, the way his eyes had a threatening glint to them as he spoke, a smile creeping into them in the most unsettling of ways. Your stomach was turning again, twisting over and over because something about the way Izuku looked at you made you squirm. 

“Yay! Okay, we’re all gonna meet there after!” She smiled, taking your hands in hers and giving a small squeal. “It’s gonna be so fun!” 

And with that she was bouncing off with Asui in the direction of Kaminari and Kirishima. 

Izuku stayed behind, walking slower than his friends so he could bend down to speak to you. You could feel his breath against your neck as he spoke, words sending shivers down your spine. Despite the way your heart hammered against your rib cage, you tilted your head to hear him better. 

“You better be there, doll.” He muttered. “It’ll be worse for you if you’re not. Be a good girl for once, yeah?” 

He sounded more upset than usual, hand coming up to squeeze your shoulder hard enough to make you flinch, and when you looked up to meet his eyes, he didn’t wear his standard grin. Izuku looked angry, furious even. It made your skin crawl, made heat creep up your neck and onto your cheeks so furiously that you found it hard to see through. 

All you could do was nod, fighting the pout that tried so hard to paint your face. You squeezed your thighs together instinctively at the phrase. He never praised you, not even once. Hearing the words “good girl” drip from his lips so angrily made them fly shamefully south. He gave a small laugh before walking off. It was almost like he knew, leaving you to rub at your sore shoulder. 

---

Why were you here? You could have just not come and then you never would have had to see Izuku again, never would have had to deal with him until one day in the future when you’re too successful a hero to pinch. Still, you wouldn’t admit it to yourself or anyone else, but you might miss him. The teasing was a nightmare but it was attention, something that reminded you that at least Izuku still saw you. 

He couldn’t be ignoring you if he was calling you a slut. 

You arrived after everyone and Izuku opened the door for you with a jeering grin before stepping aside to let you in, pinching at your thigh again. He noticed immediately that you wore a skirt and he didn’t have to wonder why. It was an invitation for him, of course. 

You’d actually never been to Izuku’s house, so sitting in his living room eating snacks and drinking was unusual to say the least. It was surprising because beyond pinching you in the doorway, Izuku was being oddly kind. 

He sat next to you, his thigh pressed against yours, but he didn’t try anything. Didn’t whisper in your ear or grab at the fat on your side. You couldn’t help but ask yourself why. Even as the latter half of the day droned on, you were on edge despite being treated, finally, like one of the group. What did you do wrong? Was he no longer interested in you? Most importantly though, why were you upset that he wasn’t pushing your buttons? 

The end of the day came quickly, dark settling over the house while everyone gathered their things to leave. You’d all walk home together, leaving Izuku alone in his house. He smiled as everyone waved goodbye, bittersweet tears in his eyes as his final high school hang out came to a close. He cried at the ceremony while delivering his speech and then again at his house while Uraraka babbled on about her appreciation of UA. You can’t say you felt the same. 

“Not ____.” He said as you slipped on your shoes, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I’ll walk her home since she lives in the opposite direction. Plus, I gotta give her something.” 

Izuku smiles at his friends, who all nod their understanding. They wouldn’t suspect that he’d do anything wrong, that he’d be keeping you behind to maybe, finally, torment you. What a fucked up way of thinking. The door to his house clicked shut and your blood ran far colder than you thought it would as he approached you. 

“What’s wrong, doll?” He taunted, a fake pout adorning his features. “Thought I’d let you off easy? After today?” 

Izuku raised an eyebrow before rolling his eyes at the realization that you don’t know what he’s talking about. 

“Wow, you really are a slut aren’t you? Clinging to Bakugou so shamelessly today?” He scowled looked over you. 

Your eyes widened, lips parting as you remembered grabbing at Bakugou’s shirt, pulling him towards you earlier that day in a plea for help. 

“Did you think he would help you?” He sneered. “Bakugou’s just like me. He doesn’t care about a whore like you. Did you think that if you pushed against him like that he’d cave? Fold because your perfect body was flush on him?”

Izuku took your face between his pointer and thumb, spitting venom at you, waiting for you to respond. His compliment flew over your head. 

“N-no.” Yes. “I swear Izuku… I- I didn’t-” 

“You- you- you didn’t what?” Izuku responded, mocking your miserable stutter. “You’re my toy. Pisses me off when you let other people play with you.” 

And then he’s dragging you towards his room, pulling you into the cramped space and closing the door behind him. He’s muttering like he usually does, pushing you onto his bed so you’re sitting on the edge. 

Why were you so relieved right now? Why was your cunt already sticky with arousal? Why did every single word he was saying to you go straight south? You take your bottom lip between your teeth trying to find a way to shake your head in protest— to get up and leave— but the movement just wouldn’t come. Instead, you hang your head, eyebrows pulled up and cheeks flushed with heat as he stares you down. 

“Why are you doing this?” Your voice is barely a whisper, hardly audible over the sound of his frustrated breathing and your own rampant heart beat. “I’ve never done anything to you.” 

Izuku scoffed this time, stepping forward and taking your face in his hands again. 

“Haven’t done anything?” His words are venomous and his face is inches from yours, hot breath fanning across your cheeks. Were his hands always this big? “Dressing like that and saying you ‘haven’t done anything’?” 

His eyes flit down to the fat of your thighs, free hand groping the flesh hungrily, hard enough that it had you sucking in a sharp breath. Izuku couldn’t take it anymore, squeezing your cheeks and pressing his lips to yours in an aggressive kiss. 

Truth was, you drove Izuku batshit crazy. Right from the moment he saw you he could hardly contain himself, prancing around in that tiny fucking skirt with an ass like that. Daring to act so innocent when he was gripping the edge of his desk to keep from pouncing on you as you introduced yourself to him, as you hung all over his middle school bully, or as you flashed your hot pink panties while in class. 

To him, you were asking for it and the way you played dumb only made his blood boil further. Izuku was a nice boy, always had been, but the day that he made you cry, telling you that you kind of looked like a slut in your skirt, was the day he knew that he’d have way too much fun with you. 

Your eyes got so big, welled up so quickly with tears that he knew were caused by him. It made him proud, made his chest swell at how quickly he could completely ruin your day. This must be how Bakugou felt, to some degree, except chances are that he wasn’t thinking about what your puffy, swollen lips might look like when you’re choking on his cock. 

He’d been thinking about it since he met you. Pushing you further and further because you were just so fucking cute when you cried and if he couldn’t consume your thoughts because you like him, then he’d have to settle for consuming them because you’re afraid of him. 

You grunted against him, eyes going wide as his lips crashed into yours. You were spinning, heart pounding as his tongue dipped into your mouth hungrily. He pulled away from you quickly. 

“Drive me fuckin’ crazy, looking like that.” Izuku seethed. “If you’re gonna play clueless, y’might as well make use of yourself. S’what you deserve.” 

And without asking he pushed you from the bed and onto your knees in front of him. You knew where it was going, knew that Izuku wasn’t going to let up because this boundary was being crossed. Still, you shamefully rubbed your thighs together, blinking up at him in confusion and arousal. 

“Such a whore.” He said, freeing his cock from his pants and letting it slap against his stomach. Izuku relished in the way your eyes widened, in the way you unconsciously licked your lips. And then he’s tapping the side of your mouth with his cock, head tilted back in a taunt as he watches the way your eyes brim with premature tears. He’d show you real crying. 

“Suck it.” A simple command, but one that had you shivering. He kept his hand on your shoulder while his fingers dug into it with a force that was all too familiar. is cock throbbed in his hands as you sniffled and parted those pretty, glossed lips. 

Izuku didn’t wait, no, he couldn’t wait, pushing his full length to the back of your throat and beyond, groaning when it entered the tight, wet space beyond your mouth. His head fell back and his mouth fell open at the way you choked on him. Tears forced their way out of your eyes and down your cheeks as he began fucking your mouth. 

“Y-you’re a real crybaby, huh?” He cooed, a lazy half-smirk gracing his face. “You did this to yourself. Such– a fucking– tease.” 

He accentuated his words with harsh thrusts into your throat, drool pooling in your mouth and dribbling down his cock to his balls. It ran down your chin, mingling with tears as he continued to fuck your throat. 

Izuku was big, far bigger than you expected him to be. He completely filled your throat, stretching your unprepared mouth open. You could feel the sides of your mouth pulling at his size, lips cracking as you struggled to take all of him with each of his thrusts. Still, when you looked up at him through big teary eyes, knees growing sore from the way his fist held you to the floor, other hand pulling you against his cock, your cunt grew wet with arousal. 

He pulled you off him by your hair, watching the way you gasped and sputtered and sobbed. He loved the scratch in your throat as you coughed and he picked you up by the arm and crawled between your legs. 

“Wearing such a tiny skirt to my house.” He spit. “You knew what you were doing, lookin’ like that with your ass out and shit.” 

Izuku’s eyes scanned over you hungrily, like he’s been waiting to get you here for so long. Fuck, he still looked big, hovering over you and supporting his entire weight on one of his arms as his other hand wandered down. He flipped up the fabric of your skirt, admiring the way you flinched as his hand ran up your inner thigh. 

His hands ran over your figure, squeezing at the fat of your stomach, thighs, and chest. Izuku has been dying to get a piece of you since you met, since he first laid eyes on that frustratingly sexy figure of yours that led him to spiral to this moment. His hands dipped back to your inner thigh, ensuring that your skirt was out of the way, though it was so small already that it proved no obstacle at all. 

His breathing grew heavy, hand gently gliding along the supple flesh that he’s pinched so many times, marks from your final day of classes still fading. Izuku’s eyebrows were furrowed together as his hands found your panties, touching you over the fabric that was now soaked through. His eyes snapped to you so fast as he pulled the fabric aside with calloused fingers, wasting no time dipping his fingers into your soaking folds. 

“You fucking pervert.” He sneered, glancing down to show you just how wet you’d gotten, all for him. “You like it when I’m mean to you? So fucking dirty.” 

Izuku rubbed a swift circle around your clit and you brought your arm up to hide your face, biting into your forearm to muffle the sounds. You shook your head, squeaking out a no as his fingers curled up into you. 

“You sure about that? You’re dripping.” Izuku grunted, curling his fingers with his entire forearm and hearing a moan from you. “See? Fucking slut, giving me those eyes, like a lost puppy.” 

It was undeniable how you clenched around him and he let out a curt laugh of disbelief. 

“Oh… you like that name, don’t you, puppy?” He dipped down to bite at your neck, humming into the skin. 

You squirm beneath him but he has you caged in under, your legs unable to move around. Your stomach still turned in fear of him, but that fear was mixing with the intense pleasure building in your core. Even his fingers were a stretch and you could feel his thick cock hitting your abdomen with each aggressive curl, your mind consumed with just how good it would feel for him to break you open. After all, he’s chipped away at almost every ounce of self respect you had. In fact, he practically already owned you mentally, now he was just claiming what he should rightfully own physically. 

“I hate girls like you.” He spat, fingers picking up their pace as you were sent barrelling towards your high. “Acting like you don’t know what you’re doing to me. So fucking stupid. But look at you now— Your cunt is practically drooling on me— pathetic.” 

You were close, hot with arousal as he lifted your arm from your face. 

“Getting close huh? I can feel your whore cunt clenching. Y’wanna cum?” He grinned widely through furrowed brows. 

Your eyes were glossed over, tears spilling onto your cheeks and for a moment Izuku almost felt bad for you. Still though, you were just too fun to fuck with, too fun to absolutely ruin. You looked prettier than he could have imagined right now; face sticky with tears of arousal, embarrassment, and fear. Izuku was a nice boy, he really was, except when it came to you because now he just couldn’t stop himself from ruining your cunt. 

You were close, impossibly close as you bit your lip in an attempt to muffle the whiney yes that breached your lips. It was involuntarily, almost a survival response as his fingers continued making that delicious squelching sound. Those years of torment were beginning to twist. You were beginning to convince yourself that no, it wasn’t so bad, it’s okay to want to cream on his fingers and be his good girl. 

So you nodded, dew-filled eyes stricken with fear meeting his predatory ones in a confirmation. He was building you up so well, your stomach turning over and over, the knot tightening and set to break. And then he pulled his fingers from you as you clenched around nothing, a blinding orgasm ripped from you all by his fingers. Your back arched up off the bed and pathetic whines left your lips. 

“You’ll have to beg for it.” He smirked, sitting back on his knees, discarding your panties with a hard tug and running the head of his cock through your slick while you whimper. “Tell me you like it. C’mon. I’ll let you cum on my cock if you do.” 

Right now you were certain you’d do anything if it meant you were allowed to cream over him, so you parted your lips, hiccuping through broken sobs. 

“P-please Izu, need to cum.” Your voice was low and quiet. 

Izuku pushed the head of his cock against your entrance, glowering down at you as he pushed the fabric of your shirt up over those perfect tits that he couldn’t get enough of. He sucked in a sharp breath, facade falling for a moment until he brought his eyes back to yours. 

“You like it when I’m mean, huh? Lemme hear you say it.” Izuku gave a cruel smile, eyes darkened with lust. 

“Yes! Yes, I like it.” You shout, hand coming up to grab his arm, speaking through desperate tears. “Please fuck me, please Izu.” 

Izuku bottomed out in one fell swoop, hearing all he needed as he throws his head back, a groan of fucking pathetic falling lazily from his lips. He rolled his head across his shoulders, starting to move in and out of you, stretching your cunt open with each push and pull. 

“So fucking tight. You a virgin?” His tongue swiped at his teeth as he relished in the stretch and the way pain wet your cheeks. 

God, he fucking hated you. Hated every part of you. He hated the way your lips looked so good around him, the way your thighs squeezed so nicely around his waist, the way your tears only egged him on. It all made him want to hurt you. You brought out the worst in him. You were too fucking tempting, too easy. 

You weren’t a virgin but the stretch of his cock made you feel like one. God, you could feel him in your throat as you gripped pathetically at his biceps, a plea to get him to slow down. Izuku wouldn’t listen though, pounding into your gummy walls mercilessly. 

“Not gonna answer?” He laughed, low and threatening before folding your knees to your chest. “Tells me all I need to know. How many men have fucked this cunt of yours, huh? Bet it’s more than I can count on one hand.” 

Izuku brought his hand up to your face once more, squeezing your plump cheeks together. 

“Don’t worry, puppy. Gonna make it so you can’t take anyone else.” He spits in your mouth, forcing it closed. “Fuckin’ mine now, yeah? My little whore, always have been, right?”

You screw your eyes shut, swallowing sloppily as spit drips down your chin and tears streak from your eyes. Where did he learn to speak like this? 

“Say it.” 

You’re close again, so full of him, so desperate for him to give you what you want. You can’t resist him, so you might as well submit. Maybe it will make everything easier because you were finding it harder to pretend that you didn’t like it now. 

“Yours, m’yours.” You choke out, hand flying to his large one to move it over your throat. “Belong only to you.” 

Izuku squeezed the sides of your neck with startling force. It’s almost hateful in how strong it was but it made you whine out against him, voice raking against vocal chords that he forced closed. 

“Slut. S-such a slut.” He stuttered as you clenched around him, hitting your high with a roll of your hips and a pathetic whimper. “C’mon, gimme it, puppy.” 

Oh god, the pay off was unbelievable. The way you whined his name was better than any sob he pulled from you to date.You were so helpless,your body wracking with waves of pleasure and your pussy clamping down around him. This is what he saw in you the first time he made you cry— this expression. He knew you could make it, eyes big and wide, filled with tears and your mouth open in a deep moan. Fuck, he loved it. 

“God, so tight. Good puppy, good fucking puppy.” He fucked into you faster, chasing his own high now as he assaulted your overstimulated cunt. 

Your head spun, no longer preoccupied with the taunting or the tormenting. You were stupid on his cock, his good little puppy, like you were meant to be. You should have given in earlier, should have let him shove his dick down your throat sooner because even though you were struggling to get off his fat cock, you couldn’t, and you loved every single second of it. Izuku was only mean to you, only mean to his puppy. 

You’re so overstimulated, barreling towards another orgasm and now all you can think about is how bad you want him to fill you up. 

“C-cum inside.” You managed to choke out between pathetic sobs and whimpers. You’re crying for it, begging. “Please cum inside of me.” 

Izuku let out a low chuckle before bottoming out one final time, shoving his thick fingers down your throat and filling you up. When Izuku came, he came a lot. It flooded your cunt before leaking out the sides where he had you split open. Izuku couldn’t hide his true nature for long, his thighs beginning to quiver and a low groan becoming a high pitched whine as he emptied his balls inside of you like he’d been wanting to for so long. 

He stayed there for a moment before pulling out of you and crouching down to watch the way he spilled out of you, admiring your ruined pussy and body. You’re stretched out from him, tears staining your cheeks and cunt gaping from his cock.

And then he’s biting at your thighs, marking up the inside of your leg as you can barely manage to push out a squeal. He’s leaving the marks he’s always wanted to. Those pinches on the inside of your leg were a stand in for the ones he’d create with his teeth. He nipped at the sensitive skin before dipping his tongue into your folds to collect the mixture of him and you in his mouth. 

Izuku watched the way you twitched as he cleaned you up, admiring the way your legs flinched whenever he ran his tongue over your sensitive clit. He’s much gentler now but his eyes still frightened you when he came up from between your legs to spit the mixture of cum and arousal back into your slightly parted mouth, ordering you to swallow puppy. 

When you finally do— too tired and fucked out to think about protesting, he smiles— standing up off the bed and buttoning his pants with a heaving sigh.

Izuku turned back to your form on the bed, watching the way your chest heaved and the way your pleated skirt crowded at your hips, ruined cunt on display and shirt pushed up over your bitten up breasts. He made a mental note to remember to take your clothes off next time.

tags: @namrekcaivel , @mikaberries , @cleardamage , @veroyktv , @honeyzawa , @erenstellar , @female-titan , @kiyoobi , @pancakesv , @jean-prettyboy-kirschtein , @lazyezstudy , @jeanbabygirl , @peachysimp , @kirsteiiins , @babybottlepop96 , @ayannamika , @fiaficsxo , @chittaphon96​ 

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#izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #deku x reader #izuku x reader smut #deku x reader smut #midoriya x reader smut #izuku smut #izuku midoriya smut #izuku midoriya #deku smut #deku #mha #bnha #mha smut #bnha smut #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #my hero academia smut #bully!izuku x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #tw: dubcon #tw: noncon #tw: dacryphilia #tw: size kink #tw: degradation #tw: choking #tw: humiliation #tw: cre*mpie

[storiesforallfandoms]

vulnerable ~ captain jack sparrow;pirates of the caribbean

word count: 1845

request?: yes!

“♥️Hi, I wanted to request something for Jack Sparrow if that's okay? So, I was watching potc dead man's chest, and noticed how at the end where Elizabeth kisses him, Jack is so soft and gentle with her, he barely moves, he looks so vulnerable and small, it touched my heart. So I wanted to ask something like that, where when the reader first kisses him he's surprised and vulnerable, maybe never thought she would like him back. something with angst, an emotional Jack, but a happy ending, thanks <3″

description: in which he becomes vulnerable when she kisses him and admits her feelings for him

pairing: jack sparrow x female!reader

warnings: swearing, an attack that leads to a sinking ship

masterlist (one, two)

If there’s one side of Captain Jack Sparrow that was never shown, it was his vulnerable side.

Being vulnerable only got you one thing when you were a pirate, and that was killed. You had to be tough as a pirate, especially as an infamous captain. Sure, Jack had his less than serious moments, but no one saw that softer side of him. He wouldn’t let anyone see it as long as he lived.

Until (Y/N) joined the crew.

She had stowed away on the Black Pearl the last time they were docked. Pintel and Ragetti had found her hidden among the barrels of rum below deck. They brought her to Jack, expecting their captain to throw the stowaway into the water and leave her for dead.

“I’m not trying to steal!” she insisted. “I was just trying to get away. Please, I can be of some use. If you don’t want me here, I’ll depart when you find land next. You’ll never see me again.”

Jack studied their stowaway. She was small and he could see in her eyes that she had definitely had a hard life wherever she had come from. She wasn’t a threat, and he felt like he wanted to protect her.

“She’s not a threat,” he decided. “She can stay.”

Captain Jack Sparrow had a way with the ladies, everyone knew this. He could get under the skirt of almost any woman he wanted just with a few sweet nothings whispered in their ear. But what he felt for (Y/N) was different. He found his chest would warm whenever she was around, and he’d easily get tongue tied.

He wanted to vocalize these feelings to her, but every time he tried he would chicken out. Instead he would find some way to open himself to (Y/N) more, to show her the side no one else ever saw. In return, (Y/N) told Jack all about herself, and they became the only two people on the Black Pearl to know so much about one another.

Then came the day of the attack.

They were sailing on a beautiful day. Not a single cloud in the sky, nor anything in their sights. (Y/N) was stood at the bow, watching as the Black Pearl peacefully move through the calm water.

“Peaceful days scare me,” she said, startling Jack who had been approaching her.

“How did you know I was here?” he asked.

She looked at him over her shoulder and smiled. “I just knew.”

He stepped up onto the bow next to her. “Why do peaceful days scare you?”

“They are so few and far between that I always expect the worst to happen,” she explained. “Either the weather is bad, or something bad is happening. We have yet to have such a calm and peaceful day.”

“Maybe we’re just lucky today.”

(Y/N) looked up at him with a skeptical look. “Maybe.”

They were silent then, but it was a comfortable silence. Jack looked over at (Y/N), who was now gazing out over the water. The breeze blew her hair slightly, giving Jack a better look at her face. Despite her feelings on peaceful days, her face looked relaxed and at peace in that moment.

Jack’s mouth moved before his brain could comprehend what he was doing. “(Y/N).”

She looked up at him. “Yes Jack?”

He opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut off by Gibbs shouting. “Captain! Enemies along the horizon!”

Jack and (Y/N) shared a look before racing for the wheel where Gibbs had been standing. Jack took the telescope from his first made and looked through it at the oncoming ship.

“Not necessarily an enemy ship, Gibbs,” Jack said, trying to zero on the flag the ship was flying but was unable to get a good look at it. “Might just be someone else sailing today.”

But then the sound of a cannon rang out and the water beside the Black Pearl shook violently.

“Shit,” Jack hissed. “Get to the cannons! Return fire!”

“Is that a good idea, Jack?” (Y/N) asked. “They’re so far away, we’ll be wasting ammo.”

“We have to show them we aren’t going down without a fight,” Jack declared.

His men loaded the cannons and fired back at the ship. The giant masses landed just inches from the enemy ship, causing the water around it to build up in massive waves and disrupt the ship’s course.

“Again!” Jack called. “Just one more this time!”

As they fired another shot at the ship, another cannonball landed in the water next to them as well. Anyone above deck was thrown to the ground as the ship tilted due to the waves.

“Jack, we have to retreat!” (Y/N) insisted as she tried to get to her feet.

“There’s no retreat,” Jack said. “They’re advancing on us fast. By the time we even turn to get away, they’d be on us.”

“Well what do we do then?”

The next cannonball hit the ship directly, putting a massive hole in the side of it. The Black Pearl began to sink into the water began to fill the deck.

“Abandon ship!” Jack called. “Go to everyone below deck and make sure anyone who can be saved is saved! Abandon ship and swim to the nearest land or boat you can find!”

He turned to (Y/N). There was so much fear in her eyes and she looked close to tears. Jack cupped her face in his hands, trying to remain calm himself.

“Find land, get help,” he told her. “For yourself, don’t look back for us.”

“No!” she exclaimed. “If I get anywhere, I’ll be sending the first boat back looking for you and the others.”

“We’re pirates, (Y/N). No one will care about us. No one will want to save us.”

“I will want to, and I will save you.”

Before Jack could argue further, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Every ounce of fear or worry slowly dissolved then and Jack relaxed into the kiss. He put one hand on the back of her head while holding her body close to his with the other. They were so lost in one another that they didn’t realize the entire front of the ship was submerged in water until Gibbs called out for them again.

(Y/N) pulled away first. Jack gently caressed her face, his face mirroring the fear in her own. Except he wasn’t afraid of the enemy ship or the attack; he was afraid of never seeing her again.

“I will find you,” he promised.

(Y/N) nodded. “I will find you, too.”

The two of them jumped ship as another cannonball landed next to the sinking ship. (Y/N) reached for Jack, who had been next to her moments before, but found herself thrown around in the chaos of the sinking ship and the still attacking enemies. She tried to open her eyes to look for Jack, but the water stung so bad she was unable to see.

She broke through the water a few times, but continued to be shoved back down by the crewmates or by the force of the sinking ship. Finally, she began to swim away as fast as her body could take her. She wasn’t sure where she was going, but she knew she had to get away before the Black Pearl took her down with it.

(Y/N) swam and swam until her arms and legs grew too tired to swim anymore. When she was finally far enough away from the chaos, she broke through the water and inhaled the fresh air into her lungs. She could no longer see either ship, or her crewmates. She wasn’t sure if she had swam away that far that she couldn’t see them, or if they had all gone down with their beloved ship as well.

Her body ached, but she did everything she could to stay above water. There were no signs of land or another boat anywhere. Not even any debris for her to float on. Just water as far as the eye could see. (Y/N) felt a lump grow in her throat and all she wanted to do was cry. She had lost the people she cared most about, she had lost the place she considered home. She had lost Jack.

(Y/N) was floating for some time when another boat sailing through the water spotted her. They got close enough that one of their members could reach into the water and pull her out. She nearly sobbed with relief when her tired body was able to relax against the ship’s floor.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” one of the crew members asked, kneeling down to peer into (Y/N)’s face. “Have you been hurt?”

She shook her head sheepishly, still regaining her energy. “I...I was on a-on a ship. We were...we were attacked.”

“Another from the shipwreck!” the crewmate called. He turned back to (Y/N) to add, “We’ve rescued a number of your crewmates, they’re all below deck receiving any medical attention they may need.”

It took a moment for his words to get through her head. When they did, she jumped up as fast as she could and made her way below deck. Many familiar faces were sat together or laying in the beds provided, but not the familiar face she was looking for. (Y/N)’s heart squeezed with sadness as she desperately looked for Jack among her saved crewmates.

She tried not to let her disappointment show as a call was heard from above ship. “We’ve got another! Says he’s the captain!”

(Y/N) turned to watch as the crewmates brought Jack down below ship, his hair and clothes clinging to him from the water. She contained herself for just a moment, waiting to see if Jack needed any medical attention. When his eyes locked on her, however, he broke free from the grasp of the crewmates and ran to her, taking her in his arms and kissing her deeply, there in front of all of his men.

“I thought I lost you,” he breathed between kisses.

“I thought I had lost you as well,” she responded. “When I came down and didn’t see your face. I was so sure - ”

“Shh, love,” Jack said, placing a finger against her lips. “No need to worry now. We’re both alright.”

“Oh Jack, the Black Pearl,” (Y/N) said. “I’m so sorry about your ship.”

Jack chuckled. “My ship? Don’t apologize for that. My only worry was you, and you’re okay now.”

“Well,” came Gibbs’ voice, tearing the two away from their moment. “I never thought I would heard the great Captain Jack Sparrow say he cared more for a lady than his own ship.”

“What can I say, Gibbs?” Jack said, putting an arm around (Y/N)’s waist and pulling her close to him. “She brings out the softer side in me, and maybe I’m much better for it.”

#Jack Sparrow #jack sparrow imagine #jack sparrow x reader #Captain Jack Sparrow #Johnny Depp #johnny depp imagine #johnny depp x imagine #pirates of the caribbean #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

[jarofstyles]

neighbourry part two please!!! pretty please!! 🍒🍒🍒

Hehehe… here we go.

It’s pretty👀 even without true smut.

If you like this, check out our Patreon!

—-

“Kiss?”

Y/N looked at Harry with slightly wider eyes, confusion in them. He wanted to kiss her? Spend time kissing her? In general? What rhe fuck was this dream mixed with nightmare rain?

He couldn’t back down now. He swallowed, nodding and keeping his face calm. “I- yeah. Kissing. Can be fun… and not let ya focus on the rain. Y’know?” He trailed his fingers over her jawline, watching her face carefully. He wasn’t going to push. If she didn’t want to, he would take the rejection and feel embarrassed about it later. But he had to make some sort of move.

He had been a little bitch about it for years and he knew that it was a bit fucked up of him for wanting it this badly and not being fully transparent but he hoped he wasn’t alone in that.

“It wouldn’t be weird?” She felt her heart pounding in her chest at the idea. It wasn’t like she didn’t want to- of course she fucking wanted to. Have you seen his mouth? She had been aching to do that for years. But it spooked her. It really did.

They’d been close since they were younger. Being close wasn’t exactly a new or unusual thing at all. In fact, the pair seemed to gravitate towards one another every time they got the chance. Their parents saw it, their friends saw it, and it was often teased that they’d end up together. But it dawned on her that Harry never really denied it. Simply rolled his eyes or smirked when Y/N would huff.

Harry’s eyes didn’t leave her face as he carefully examined her expression. He knew her so very well, and her emotions were always very much evident on her face when she did have a thought. Simply from the shock alone, he didn’t pull back and let her work through the thoughts. She didn’t hate the idea, she didn’t truly recoil, but it obviously made her blink a few times as it settled in.

“No. Why would it be?” He whispered, grazing his fingertips back over her chin. Keeping himself calm was the best thing he could do despite the thundering in his chest. This was something that could change them but… he didn’t want to think about it right now. He wanted to kiss her.

“I don’t want to make things weird, H.” She whispered, fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. Her eyes avoided his for a moment before looking back up at him with a soft little pout. “It’s not that I don’t want to but what about-“ she was cut off with his thumb pressed to her lip, eyes widening as they crossed to see his finger and then back to his.

“So you do?” He confirmed. His own breathing was a tiny bit heavier as he watched her nod, a tiny smile rising the corners of his mouth. She didn’t make an attempt to move his finger, staying still with the exception of her fingers toying with the worn collar of his shirt.

So she wanted this.

“It doesn’t have to be weird, angel.” His thumb gently pulled her bottom lip, dragging it down just a little bit. It was so warm and soft, beautiful fucking mouth that he spent time thinking about. Much too long thinking of for a best friend. He knew that much.

“We can just… have fun. Y’know? We don’t have to make it a huge deal…” it was. It was a huge deal and he knew it but they both wanted it and she found herself nodding again.

Another rumble of thunder made her tense, pushing herself further to him. She fucking hated storms, but loved that she got an excuse to be all over him like this. Got to have his hands on her… and now he was offering kisses.

“Okay. Okay- yeah. I want to.” Her voice was tender with the tiniest bit of fear but true desire. Their faces had gotten closer as Harry decided not to rush into it. With the thunder rumbling, he hushed her and gently nudged her nose with his own as his hand finally finished its tracing work and held the side of her face.

“Shh. S’alright. Just focus on me.” He cooed. “S’gonna be good. Yeah? Kissing is fun, isn’t it?” He didn’t wait for her to reply before pressing his lips to the very corner of her own. His body was buzzing as he pulled back just enough to speak. “Just relax for me. M’always gonna take care of you. Always have, always will.” He pressed a slower kiss to the same spot, smiling lightly when he felt her exhale slowly.

“Yeah… I know.” She sighed, body burning with an unusual warmth. The spot he had kissed felt like a new mark. Surely she shouldn’t be reacting to such chaste kisses with the heat she felt swelling deep in her belly? Then again, the lingering tension the two had was always going to come to a boil. It was inevitable.

“How’s that?” He asked, moving to kiss the girls cheek. “Can I fully kiss you yet, angel?” Waiting for permission was a bit more nerve wracking than he thought, but he was pleasantly surprised with how quickly she nodded, their noses bumping again.

“Good. Jus… do what you want. I’ll distract you.”

Their breaths mingled as they paused, his face closer to hers than it had ever been. The anticipation was killing her. It seemed like hours as he descended his lips, pressing them fully to her own.

It was like everything else melted away. Y/N feeling his soft, slightly chapped lips pressed against hers for a few moments before pulling back for a single moment, going right back to her. It was gentle. Tender. Sweet. His kisses smoothing over her lips as his fingers held her cheek as if she was the most precious thing to him.

They stayed like this, repeating the actions over and over. Y/N let him be in control but puckered her lips to meet his. Her fingers tugged lightly on his shirt, feeling like she wanted to be closer to him. As if this wasn’t good enough.

He did the opposite, pulling back from their embrace for a moment, smiling lightly when a tiny little whimper from their loss of his lips came from her own. Y/N opened her eyes, a little dazed as she looked at his green eyes. They were different. Darker, maybe.

“Still good, sweetheart?” His words were whispered, barely there. Her fingers tugged him closer again as she nodded, this time gaining a little confidence and pulling him back towards her.

Harry was a little shocked but eagerly went back at it. His mouth connecting with hers again, soft sounds of their lips embracing over and over again filling the room. Whatever show was on in the background and the rain was hitting the windows and roof, but the most perfect noises came from their kisses. They got a little deeper, spit slicking their swollen lips as Harry gently lifted himself up a bit and gave a better angle for them to continue.

The taste of sweet mint and his sugary soda he had sipped on the way here coated his lips. She could only barely taste it but Y/N found herself itching for more. His hands were so respectful, laying under her cheek and the other over her arm, roaming up and down. She didn’t have a ton of experience with kissing or making out- that was more Harry’s area of expertise, so she felt a little embarrassed- but he was a very good teacher.

Feeling her frustrations, Harry shuffled a little bit closer and moved the hair from her face, taking the hand from her arm and laid it on the side of her neck. His thumb was sneaky, rolling over the pulse point to find out what she liked. None of his past kisses or ventures ever made him feel this… odd. In a good way.

“Can y’open up a little for me, angel? S’that something you’re alright with?” Her eyes didn’t open at his words, merely nodding again quickly as she surged forward and kissed him again. It spooked him for a second but ultimately? turned him on a little. Obviously, she was enjoying this just as much as he was.

Her hands decided to be brave, hesitantly moving to his hair and pushing it back. Her fingers carded through it, ever so gently tugging by accident. It went straight to his cock.

Harry grunted, the action making his half stiffy pulse. How she managed to get him to be so… needy during just the beginning of some kisses was unreal. That was y/N though. She managed to exceed all his expectations he ever had for women. It’s just the first time he had gotten to be around her the way he wanted.

“Sorry!” She squeaked, pulling back from their kiss. Their lips were slightly sticky with whatever leftover gloss she had- watermelon, he knew- and their spit, eyes widening af the throaty noise her best friend had let out. Harry didn’t let her get too far though, tugging her right back into a harder kiss. Fuller. His teeth grabbed her bottom lip, nibbling on it a little bit as his hand pulled her closer to his face while he tugged lightly on it.

“Don’t apologize.” He panted. “Felt a bit too good.” Harry was always affectionate with her. He made dirty jokes and they would joke around about sex, but actually… hearing one of those noises? Knowing what he liked? It felt so odd. “But maybe… don’t do tha’ today. Cause m’Gonna get all worked up, and we jus’ Wanna kiss a little.” He nosed at her like a puppy, pecking her swollen lips. “Right?”

If she wanted more… he would ever, ever say no. That would change a lot, but he wasn’t going to say no to it. He wanted her, damn it.

“Jus’ kissing, H.” She promised, returning to her position close to him. Their kissing was paused, his necklace chain taken in her hand as she played with it. It was a comfortable silence, Y/N tucking her head into the crook of her neck. Her panties were wrecked. Absolutely obliterated. If he even spread her legs, he could probably taste it in the air. It was a little embarrassing but more so frustrating. Her poor cunt was aching for some touch that wouldn’t come until Harry was sound asleep and she could get to the bathroom.

“Okay.” He settled back in, taking this as a break in their activity. His mind was fucking reeling though. Did she like it? Did she ever want more? Did she feel the same as him, hungry to touches and just as needy? He thinks he didn’t read it wrong. Surely she wouldn’t be laying like this and cuddle him if she didn’t. “Did you….” He paused to swallowed, looking up at the ceiling. “Did you like it? Was good, right?” His nerves were getting the best of him though. He so desperately wanted to do it again. To have permission fo do it whenever.

“Mhm.” She nodded against his warm chest, stretching her leg over his thigh. “I did. I… I want to do more of it, maybe. Just need a breathing break.” Her voice was delicate and a little raspy, making him melt. She didn’t seem upset or hesitant. Just a little… effected.

“Can do as much as you want. Got the whole night… but I did get you some food. Need to eat.” He tucked some hair behind her ear, allowing himself to kiss the side of her temple. It was allowed. Right? He thinks so.

“M’kay. Will eat but… this stuff… kissing…” she brought it up again. “Is it just for tonight?”

Boom. The question that was on her mind. Harry froze for a second, hoping he hadn’t read it wrong. Her tone didn’t indicate either way, and he took a breath before replying honestly.

“No. If you want to like…‘do it more than today? We can. We can do as much as you’d like… as often as you’d like.” He tried to calm himself so she didn’t feel his heart go harder. “I liked it a lot. Would be a little sad if we only did it once.”

Despite how unclear it was for their feelings, he thinks this may be a good gateway. Getting them closer to the spot he hopes to get to. Her smile could be felt growing against his thin shirt before she pulled up, initiating another longer kiss that had his fucking head spinning.

She was so good at that.

“Okay. Youre Gonna have to be patient with me though.” Her gaze through her lashes made him want to groan again. “Haven’t had nearly as much experience as you do.”

Selfishly? He was glad. His kisses didn’t mean Jack shit compared fo what this was. This? This was a dream.

“Good. I’ll give you whatever you want… teach you whatever you want to know. You’re always callin’ me your ‘simp’ or whatever. Guess I am.”

Her giggle lifted his heart, making his own dimples break out of a smile as he leaned back over and pecked her cheek. “Enough of that.” The thunder wasn’t done yet, but he noticed she hadn’t even flinched. Was that him?

“Alright. Then why don’t you show me how to kiss better?” As if she needed the help.

#writing #harry styles one shot #jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry one shot #neighborry #neighbor Harry #neighbor!Harry #neighbor!H #fluff #fluff blurbs #blurb #blurbs #Harry styles blurbs

[theonewiththefanfics]

Paranoid (one-shot)

Synopsis: Loki wasn’t paranoid. I mean, that was before he met the Reader. Ever since then, all day every day he can only think of her, what she’s doing, where she’s going and what’s happening to her. All because she’s a grade A dumb ass.

Pairing: Loki x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, maybe toiny bit of angst

Warnings: Reader has one brain cell and even that is not used, swearing, a lil bit of sad thoughts and general idiocy.

Word count: 3430

He was paranoid about her. Always. With every step he took. No exceptions. And it wasn’t how you might think. He’s not paranoid she might find someone better even though he thinks she deserves it. He’s not paranoid to have his heart broken and smashed into pieces because she carries it on velvet palms wherever she goes. No. It’s just that Y/N has quite the knack of getting hurt. And she’s been out on a mission for a month. Without any contact. So it was safe to say Loki was more than worried.

You could say he’s overreacting, but when it comes to his girl, it’s pretty much in the range. In fact, this is the calmest and collected Loki had been during the thirty-two days she was away, all because Y/N was finally coming home, and he could lay his green eyes upon her body to assess the damage.

When they had first met, Loki had had no idea what kind of a tornado he’d let in his life. Even the Black Widow had warned him about the woman before there had been any inclination something more than a friendship could bloom.

“She’s an absolute dumb-ass without a survival instinct,” Nat had said through a laugh, a beer bottle pressed against her rouged lips. “Honestly, I can only hope you two get put together on a mission just so you could see how big of an idiot she is. Bigger than Scott, and that’s saying something.”

In the meantime, Y/N was laughing away, head thrown back and eyes closed. “No,” she’d pointed at the redhead after nearly choking on her coffee as she pressed a tissue against the liquid that had dribbled down her chin. “I do have a survival instinct. I just don’t have a self-preservation instinct.” 

“And what’s the difference?” the Asgardian prince’s black eyebrow rose in question.

“When shit goes down, I do try to, you know, get out in somewhat of a single piece. It’s the before it happens that I don’t do.”

“You mean thinking?”

Y/N clapped her hands in excitement. “Exactly! I don’t do the thinking bit!”

That should’ve been his warning for what kind of chaos she’d bring to his life. 

It started off small with her inability to walk into the adjoined kitchen area without stubbing a toe or bruising the side of her hip against the countertop. Then it evolved into him noticing how Y/N didn’t press the button to release her toast when she thought it was in at prime toastiness level, instead, she grabbed a fork and full-on jammed it down there (DON’T DO THAT), not caring whether she’d get electrocuted or blow out the fuses in the facility. It escalated all the way to her getting trapped in an ex-Hydra base, and her first thought being not to use the window as an escape route, but rather line the sides of the room with explosives and bring the whole floor down while she hid underneath a table. He was genuinely surprised Y/N was still alive. 

But with the chaos also came serenity. She’d sneak into his room with glimmering eyes and a new book in hand, slipping under Loki’s cold sheets to lay against him and explain why the new piece of literature was ‘the actual shit’ and ‘if he didn’t read it right at that moment, she’d gouge his eyes out cause he didn’t deserve them.’

Obviously, they were empty threats, and as Loki rolled the before mentioned green eyes, he’d gently take the book out of her hands while Y/N quickly scurried out of the room to come back five minutes later with two teacups in hand.

Y/N would snuggle up against him and listen to how his voice expertly wove the words into the story, but one time it was different. The day on which the nature of their relationship had flipped upside down, had followed the same routine they’d been having for around three months since they’d become friends, but then not even ten minutes later he felt her wet tongue completely press against his bare shoulder. By that point, after everything she’d done, he didn’t even question it, simply turned the page.

“Did you burn your tongue on the tea, darling?”

“Noube,” she muffled out not letting her tongue off of his chilled skin.

“You know there’s another way I could cool it down.”

“Eah? Ike aht?”

“I could kiss it better.”

Instantly Y/N had peeled herself off from him and stared at the god, the pink muscle hanging out of her mouth like a dog’s on a hot summer day. Loki just stared at the wall. 

He hadn’t meant for those words to escape him; he’d actually always meant to suppress his feelings for the girl until the day the world stopped spinning. In fact, that’s what he’d been doing ever since she’d returned from a mission in East India seven months prior, battered and bruised and his heart had lifted to the heavens at the sight of her simply smiling and breathing.

Loki could hear her swallow harshly, and then she whispered, “don’t offer something you won’t go through with.”

His head snapped to look at her because the tone wasn’t the teasing lilt he’d gotten used to. This woman sitting half-covered by his black bedsheets was no longer the self-assured, confident and no-shit’s-given person he’d grown to love. This woman was looking at him with fear of rejection and yet unmistakable hope in her eyes. 

Slowly he closed the book, not even caring to mark the page he was left on and put it on the side of the bed before leaning over and without hesitation cupping Y/N’s cheeks and pressing their lips together and they sagged against one another at the euphoric feeling. 

Her hands in his hair felt like paradise as she cradled his head in an attempt to pull him closer, and she gasped when he did slip his tongue in her mouth, eagerly accepting the intrusion. But then she just had to ruin the moment by snorting in his face, though Loki couldn’t hide the smile that appeared on his own.

“What? What’s so funny?”

Y/N scrunched her nose. “Your tongue’s really cold.”

“It did the trick though, right?”

She looked like she was pondering it for a bit, and in the meantime slid her legs up so they were now wrapped around his waist. “Dunno. Might need another treatment. You know, so we’re sure it’s cured.”

He didn’t argue for even a second because Loki couldn’t believe his life at that moment. It was filled with giggles, and short breaths as they stole kisses from one another as much as possible, and soft caresses that sometimes turned into biting fingers that dug in the other’s sides whenever a teasing remark slipped past their swollen lips.

His heart flipped in his chest when Y/N threw her head back in a cackle, exposing her neck to him where he laid loving kisses. 

He’d never been more scared of a feeling.

He was terrified of how easily she’d gotten ahold of his heart.

But fuck him, if Loki didn’t love it and wouldn’t dive headfirst into it again.

Though now, when she’d finally returned home after the mission, he was kind of regretting it as Y/N was being wheeled off the Quin-jet on a gurney, one of the hands that had so tenderly braided his hair just a month ago now limp over the side of the stretcher as the other covered a hole in her side that was oozing blood.

White-hot fury blazed through his veins, as he saw the Captain step down the track and onto the landing pad, though fortunately for the blond super-soldier, the god didn’t get to him as he decided to follow Bruce and Tony who were taking Y/N to the med bay. But even knowing the love of his life was being treated by the best of the best, didn’t pacify him especially when they refused him entry into her room. 

“Loki, Loki, calm down,” Nat, who’d been on the mission with Y/N and Steve, pushed against his chest to keep the god away from busting through the door. “They won’t let anyone in until she’s been stitched up, but it’s nothing big… I mean on her scale. She just decided to be dramatic and passed out on her way back.”

He wanted to fight, he wanted to make each person that stood between them crumble underneath him, but he knew it wouldn’t do him or Y/N any good. Loki huffed, letting his shoulders drop and then pressing his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose. “How bad?”

“Umm, Marrakesh level, so, nothing too lethal.”

“By Valhalla,” Loki dragged a hand across his face. “That woman will kill me one day. Not directly, no, but I’ll have a heart attack just because of her recklessness.”

Nat snorted and crossed her arms. “I did warn you.”

“Not enough.”

“Hey, don’t blame me! You were the one that fell in love with her.”

That Loki didn’t have a comeback for, so instead, he just huffed and plopped down into one of the chairs that lined the wall outside of the med bay.

“Our lives would be quite dull without her though,” Nat said, joining the god on the chairs and releasing a restrained groan, as she shuffled into the seat. She most likely had a dislocated hip but had practically bitten Steve’s head off when he told her to go and get checked. She, just as much as Y/N’s boyfriend, needed to know their firecracker was alright.

“Yeah,” Loki sighed. “If only she had one more brain cell in that head of hers, maybe we could live in somewhat of a peace.”

Not even two minutes later, Tony threw open the doors and allowed them to enter, but by that point, everyone had heard the arrival of their teammates, and they wanted to check on them. For example, Thor wanted to see if Loki had murdered anyone yet, but as it turned out, he didn’t need to worry about that. Instead, he needed to worry about his brother’s girlfriend.

“Loki!” Y/N squealed seeing the raven-haired god come into her hospital room. “That’s ma man!” she said to Bruce, who only rolled his eyes already used to the way the woman was while coming out of it. “It’s ma Loki Loki, bo-boki, Banana-fana fo-foki, Fee-fi-mo-moki, Loki!”

She dramatically pointed at the other god standing beside him.

“Oh, and that’s his brother Thor, Thor, bo-bhor, Banana-fana fo-fohr, Fee-fi-mo-mohr, Thor!” Her hands slapped against her cheeks as she squeezed them and wiggled them up and down making her words shake. “My-y-y-y-y fa-a-a-a-a-a-ce fee-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ls li-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ke cotto-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-n.”

“That’s 'cause you’re high,” Tony said.

Y/N was instantly on it. It was like she was on crack and on steroids and a sugar rush while at the same time doing a hundred miles an hour. “Hello, High. I’m dad.”

Tony looked at the ceiling in despair. “That’s not how that even works.”

“Why’s she like that?” Loki asked sitting down next to Y/N on the bed, who suddenly busied herself with the reflections of the sun the golden cufflinks of his shirt sleeves threw. Especially as his face went to caress her cheek, but she grabbed his wrist in a white-knuckling grip and moved it in certain angles to create reflections on the walls. 

        The billionaire sighed. “We gave her a sedative cause when we started to stitch her up, she woke up and almost kicked Bruce in the nuts, but after a little breakdown of the situation by Steve, it turns out there was some gas involved in the mission, and I guess the combination of the two chemicals have flung her in the stratosphere.”

        That wasn’t a good word, as it turned out it was almost like Bucky’s trigger words, given how Y/N immediately screeched out, “Walking on air, living in the Stratospheeeeeeeeeeeeere!”.

        “Wow,” Nat sighed. “Mutemath would hate her.”

        Y/N stuck her tongue out at the redhead. “You’re mute math, how ‘bout that? No one likes to be name called, you bully.”

        “Yeah, okay,” the redhead chuckled as she patted Y/N’s foot. “You’ll survive. I’m gonna have a nap.” And with that she left limping on her way, Steve following so he could scold her into getting her hip put into place by a professional, not by him or Clint. 

        One by one the rest of the team did as well, knowing that they could rest with easy hearts as Y/N was safe, stitched up and sound. Well, as sound as being completely drugged up could be.

Tony checked her vitals one more time before turning to Loki, who’d refused to leave her on her own, one, because he loved her and wanted to know she was alright, two, because he didn’t trust normal Y/N to not do stupid things, let alone this version. 

“Speaking of naps,” Tony said, “if she doesn’t pass out in the next ten minutes please do your mumbo jumbo and make her. She needs rest. I’ve put in some pain meds with a sleepy side effect, so hopefully, she’ll be out like a light in no time.”

Loki sighed, as he felt Y/N rub her cheek against the silken material of his shirt. “Of course.”

With that, the billionaire left, muttering something about how her generation would be the last generation if they didn’t stop being so stupid. Not that Loki would disagree, his girlfriend being a prime example of that.

Y/N hummed Loki’s name quietly, which made him look down at the love-sick puppy dog eyes she was giving him. A gentle smile appeared on his face.

“Yeah, darling?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, snuggling against his side. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he muttered, kissing the top of her head. “Do you wanna lay down?”

She scoffed looking up at him and tried to shove him off the bed, confusion riddling his face until Y/N said, “I have a boyfriend who I love very much. I’ll cut you before I sleep with you.”

“Yeah.” Loki groaned standing up. “Alright.” Green seidr appeared to weave around his arms, and with a flick of his fingers, her eyes started to drop closed as she slid down the sheets and snuggled up in the place where Loki had been sitting.

He dragged a hand down his face and huffed, plopping his body in the armchair which was in the room deciding to sleep for a bit until Y/N woke up. Although he was a god and didn’t need as much rest as mortal people did, he’d sure as Hel need all the energy he could gather because once his girlfriend was awake it’d be chaos all over. 

Loki didn’t get much rest though when a light touch on his shoulder disturbed him from his sleep.

Slowly his eyes fluttered open, mouth stretching in a smile as Y/N’s face looked down on him with a happy expression. 

        “Hey there, sleepyhead.”

        “Hello, dove,” he muttered, kissing the inside of her palm. “You up?”

        She nodded, whispering, “Yeah. But do you think you could help me with all these wires? I wanna go to our room.”

        Her words were what hit him, making Loki jump up, realising Y/N was out of the bed when she was supposed to be resting.

        Gingerly, despite all the protests from her mouth, he took her under the legs and put her back in the hospital bed. 

        “But – “

        “I will tie you down here if you try to step out again.” His voice was deep and filled with a threat he fully intended to fulfil, but Y/N in her Y/N fashion just wiggled her eyebrows and Loki handed a carton of juice and stabbed the top with a straw.

        “Kinky. I like it. But let’s leave it for our own private time.”

        Pinching the bridge of his nose had become a motion Loki was now all too familiar with. Not even after all the time, he’d put up Thor’s bullshit had he had to do that. He was quite certain his fingers had left indents on his skin. 

“What happened on the mission?” he asked, placing a pudding cup and a spoon on the nightstand.

“Dude came out of nowhere,” Y/N said sipping on her apple juice. “Like he just appeared behind me and stabbed me in the side. Talk about rude, right.”

“You need to be more careful.”

Y/N raised her eyebrow. “I am careful. ‘S not like I go out to get stabbed on purpose.”

But Loki’s tone had lost all lightness, as she exasperated. “No, I need you to be more careful.”

“I am. I –“ but she didn’t get a chance to finish as Loki racked a frustrated hand through his hair, snapping at her. “No, you’re the most reckless person I’ve ever met and you think getting stabbed and inhaling chemicals is not a big deal, but it is, and I can’t do this anymore… I can’t lose you.”

And although it was said with anger and frustration, Y/N could see the underlying pain and fear. His family had all but abandoned him, and we’re not talking about his biological one. All he had left was Thor, and Loki would never admit it out loud, he dreaded the day his brother would disappear from his life.

“Loki.” She took one of his hands and pressed a kiss to his cold knuckles. “You could never lose me.”

A bitter chuckle settled between them as he looked up at her. “But I could. You’re so carefree and fluttery while doing things that could kill you, it scares me half to death.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But I have to.”

Loki’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“Because if I don’t all the darkness will just settle on me, and I’ll never be able to get out of it.”

Loki squeezed her hand in encouragement, and after taking a deep breath Y/N elaborated. “I try to ease myself with the thought that I’m saving people, and helping humanity, but at the end of the day, I’m still taking lives. It’s not like they, you know, the bad guys’ think they’re the bad guys. They’re not doing it because they think they’re evil. They’re fighting for what they think is right. That doesn’t mean it is, but we’re all villains in someone else’s stories, and if I start thinking of it, I don’t know if I’ll ever stop.” A shuddery exhale left her lips, and this time it was Loki taking a hold of her hand. “I need to let myself be a bit crazy. Because if I don’t, I don’t know how I’ll go on. I promise I don’t do it because of some wish to get killed in the process. It’s just that… it makes it easier to look at the world, to not think for a moment about the bad.”

“Can you just promise me something?” Loki’s tone was soft as a feather’s touch as he sighed, understanding where she was coming from. More than once his own dark thoughts tended to overcome him, but in his world, it was Y/N who brought in the light to dissipate them. He hadn’t gotten to the point where he could do it himself, so he supposed he had to at least be happy she’d found a way to fight them off herself, even if it made him fear for her.

Y/N nodded. “Anything.”

“Just – just try to think before you do anything.”

That set both of them off into a fit of giggles as she raised their clasped hands and pressed a kiss to his cold one. “I can try.”

“Promise.”

“I promise to try. Though, I’d say don’t get disillusioned. I’m still the same crazy person you met before.”

A soft smile graced Loki’s, face and he brought Y/N’s hand to his lips where he pressed a kiss to her warm skin. “Wouldn’t want it any other way. Though, as much as I doubt, you’ll heed my request, you could do one thing for me?”

“And what’s that?”

 “Stop jamming forks in the toaster.”

“Absolutely not!” she scoffed. “How else am I supposed to get the bread out?”

“You wait for it to be done!”

“It takes too fucking long!”

Although Loki would fight tooth and nail to somehow keep Y/N safe and would use everything in his arsenal to make sure she took care of herself, he’d never change her even if it made him paranoid.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

Marvel tags: @nerissa98​ @happyseagrill​ @asguardiansoftheavengers​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @wishingforahome​ @pizzarollpatrol​ @desir-ae​

Hiddles/Loki tags: @marvels-queen-bee @julierousing98 @maggiesimps @horrorx570ximagines​ @luluthegreatandterrible​ @bambamwolf87​ @drakesfiance​ @artbysteph87 @beets1bears1battlestargalactica

A/N: I hope everyone’s staying home and is alright during these crazy times.

I’m back writing for ma boy Loki (I had a dream about that Loki - Tom Hiddles look-alike that is on TikTok that we were cuddling, so I’m on a Loki and Tom lovin’ wave)

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. what did ya think?

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddlestone smut #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddlestone angst #tom hiddlestone imagine #tom hiddlestone x reader #tom hiddleston x y/n #tom hiddleston imagine #loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki odinson #loki smut #loki x reader #loki imagine #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki angst #loki fluff #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston fulff #imagine marvel #marvel imagine #marvel #Marvel Studios #marvel endgame #thor: ragnarok

[the-marshals-wife]

Not Alone (Captain Rex x Reader)

A/N: A birthday present for my best friend @consultingwalkerslayer! You’ll always be Rex’s Girl to me! 💙

I’m usually very dialogue-focused for my opening sections, so I really dove deep into some juicy backstory for this one. 

Description: Rex x Jedi Fem!Reader, met formerly, developing relationship, hurt+comfort & slow burn fluff | Warnings: grief and loss, Order 66 related trauma | Setting: Bad Batch era + Season 7 flashback | Word count: 1,486

Gif credit: user unknown (if you are or know the maker, please lmk)

Imagine being a Jedi, who after being saved from execution by Captain Rex, is on the run after the fall of The Republic

The stars had never looked so cold. What used to be distant light full of hope and wonder had faded away. They seemed as lost and afraid as you were.

You pulled you knees up to your face, disappearing into the seat of the cockpit. A single word surfaced in your mind over and over: gone.

It was all gone, in one way or another. Everything and everyone you loved. Your home. Your former master. Your squad. Your friends.

All you had left was the clothes on your back, your ship, your lightsaber, and Rex.

Captain Rex. You knew, that without him, you would be gone too. How he’d managed to survive all of this, you had no idea. From the day you met him all those years ago, you sensed there was something special about him. The 501st had been called in to assist with the siege that gone sideways on you and your squad. Fighting alongside him and his troops had been an honor. They really were as spectacular as their reputation had implied. The battle was won the very next day, and you even saved the captain from a stray bolt or two, for which he was most grateful. The Grand Army of the Republic had no shortage of exceptional, stalwart soldiers, and the clones had never been anything less than your brothers in arms, but Rex stood out to you from then on. Maybe it was the Force, maybe it was a gut feeling; you were a firm believer in the power of both. Whichever it was, your connection with the clone captain was the only reason you were still alive.

It was nearly two months ago, although it felt like a lifetime. You’d just returned from your council-mandated meditative retreat. The war had started to take a toll on your mind, and losing two of your best clones hit you harder than you had expected it would. Master Yoda thought it best that you step away for a while, saying ‘heal your connection with the living Force, you must.’ That one last piece of wisdom from the Jedi Master would ultimately save you; your squad wasn’t with you when the order was given. Order 66. That one command that turned the greatest men you’d ever known into cold, impervious machines, executing every Jedi in their path without remorse. Of course, you didn’t know that at the time, returning to the temple on Coruscant after being unable to make contact with the Council or any member of your squad. You’d sensed the growing shadows of evil on your return journey, but nothing could have prepared you for staring down the barrel of your clone commander’s blaster. They’d been waiting for you, setting up an ambush in the barracks knowing you’d come looking for them.

Your commander said you were to be executed for treason. All the life in his eyes was gone. There was nothing left of your friend. You’ll never forget his only reply to your pleas: “Good soldiers follow orders.”

The chant still haunted you to the core.

You had closed your eyes, preparing to become one with the Force. Blasters fired, but it wasn’t laser bolts. The Empire hadn’t been the only ones setting a trap. The clones around you had dropped to the floor, having been stunned by none other than General Skywalker’s most trusted captain.

“Rex, what are you doing here? What’s going on?” you’d asked, feeling more fear than you ever had in your life.

“There’s no time to explain, Y/N. The clones have been ordered to hunt down all the Jedi. You have to come with me. We have you get you out of here,” he’d replied quickly, holding out your confiscated lightsaber.

With one tearful gaze into his eyes, you knew this was the only path to take. You reclaimed your weapon and followed him, narrowly evading the onslaught of troopers sent after you, all of them shooting to kill. Even when a blaster bolt grazed your leg and you started to limp, Rex clasped your arm tight and kept you going, continuing to covering you as you stumbled into the shuttle. When you escaped the planet with him that night, you left the only life you knew behind.

Rex was true to his word. Once you were safely away near some desolate moon in the Outer Rim, he explained it all. How the clones had chips that forced them to turn on the Jedi and act against their will. How the war had ended, and how the Republic was the final casualty. How Chancellor Palpatine was now Emperor, and he was forcing every world to join his Galactic Empire. How some were complying, and how some were rebelling. How you would have to hide the rest of your life as long as The Empire was the ruling power in the galaxy. Many tears were shed that night.

Now, huddled in your ship day after day, you waited for news. Good or bad, anything was better than the unknown. Rebellion had already begun, and you wanted to join the fight, but Rex was adamant that it wasn’t safe to do much just yet. After the night of the Purge, you and he had stayed together. You’d gone on a few supply runs with him, and assisted with the rescue of some “prisoners” of the Empire, but things were getting worse. He barely left the shadows himself, both of you moving from camp to camp, and only moving when it was as under the radar as possible.

Of all the people in the galaxy, he remembered you. He risked his life to rescue you, and that was a debt you could never repay. Rex didn’t give up on anyone. Yet, one question had plagued you ever since that day: why you?

An alert rang out, awakening you from your somber daze. Incoming transmission. You rub your stinging eyes and sit up, pressing the button to answer.

“Y/N,” Rex greets.

“Rex. I’m glad to hear from you. Where are you?”

“I had an unexpected run-in with some old friends,” he answers, a bit vague for your liking, “How are you holding up?”

“As well as I can be, I suppose. Rations are running a bit low,”  you shrug, hoping you don’t sound ungrateful.

“I was intending to have returned by now. I have our resupply, I just have to get it to you,” he sighed, “I’m sorry, I know orbiting a moon is not ideal, but after what happened on Dantooine, I don’t think we should be taking any chances until I can find somewhere better to lie low. The Empire is still on your trail.”

“I know, you’re right,” you nod, “I’m thankful for all that you’re doing for me, Rex. I truly am. I just-”

“What?” he questions, raising an eyebrow.

“Why are you still helping me?” That wasn’t what you really wanted to ask.

Confusion immediately took over his expression, “What do you mean?”

What else did you have to lose? You needed the answer. “Why did you come back for me? Out of all the surviving Jedi, out of all the victims of The Empire...why me?”  

The question clearly caught him off guard.

“I don’t leave anyone behind,” he states firmly.

“But you risked your life to save me. Why would you do that?”

His gaze drifts downward a moment before he speaks, “I’ve lost so many people. When I intercepted the transmission that you were still alive, I couldn’t...”

You stare at him, almost disbelieving what he was saying.

“I couldn’t stand to lose someone else,” he says, meeting your gaze.

“Rex,” you breathe, your heart swelling as you being to understand his meaning.

“I know it feels like it’s never going to end. We’ve both lost so much, and we carry that pain with us, for the ones that are gone. But I am with you,” he promises, his voice softening, “You’re not alone.”

You smile, tears blurring your vision, “Neither are you.”

“And you don’t have to worry. I won’t leave you,” he smiles back, “We’ll fight this fight as we did before. Together.”

“Together,” you repeat.

The look you shared was unlike one you’d ever exchanged before. Your heart skipped.

“I’m almost done here. I’ll return as quickly as I can, and we’ll find a new place to set up camp for a while. No more floating in space," he assures, his resolve restored.

“Be safe,” you say, giving him a little salute.

He returns the gesture with a chuckle, “Always.”

The transmission ends, but the smile remains on your face. For the first time since your whole world shattered, you could see it. You could see that hope that the stars had once given you. It was Rex. He was your hope. As long as you had each other, you would be able to find the light once more.

#captain rex x reader #captain rex imagine #captain rex #star wars imagine #captain rex x you #bad batch rex #captain rex x y/n #star wars fanfic #bad batch fanfic #the clone wars fanfic #my writing

[likeahorribledream]

ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴍᴏᴏɴ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ: ʟɪꜰᴇ ᴄʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ᴅᴇᴄɪꜱɪᴏɴꜱ

Summary: Finally embracing the darkness, Ransom cuts ties with his family as he joins another. One that truly appreciates him for who he is, that's when he met you; the sweetest woman he had ever met in his life.

Pairing: Mob!Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Everything that applies to Knives Out, before Harlan's death.

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ 𝚂𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙴𝚂 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

This is the hairstyle and beard I have in mind for Mob!Ransom

Anyone who knew, or knew of, him would tell you the same thing: Ransom Drysdale is attracted to the darkness. Always has been. He’d say that it’s in his genes and there’s nothing he can do about it. As he grew up and finally started to really understand things, he learned something valuable; that darkness is made, not born.

He wasn’t born with darkness, they forced it upon him. His parents.

Ransom’s parents are very despicable human beings who justify everything they do by saying it’s for the greater good. He doesn’t have a single memory of them being nice to him, no I love yous, no I’m proud of yous. When he was younger, he didn’t really think anything of it but when he turned into an adult, he couldn’t help but wonder how different his life would have been now if he’d had parents that loved him.

He blames them for making him into the man that he is today. He blames them for every insult thrown his way, any dirty look he’s gotten just by simply being there, he blames them for making him think he would never achieve anything and that he had peaked at being a ‘’trust fund asshole’’. He wished he hadn’t listened to them.

Ransom’s a beautiful man, no one can deny that; whether you like him or not, but he’s also smart. Very smart. Not that anyone cared. He just wasn’t the type of guy to sit in class for 8 hours and listen to someone explain things they didn’t even seem to understand themselves. After graduating high school, he went to college because that was what was expected of him and he liked it; but again the sitting for hours part got the better of him and he quit college.

People, including his family; especially his family, thought that he was useless. The only thing he could do right was being an asshole and spending his parents’ money. Ransom was smart, he just didn’t have any diplomas or certificates to show for it.

His reputation precedes him anywhere he goes and by now he’s learned to just stick to the persona that was forced upon him. He tried to sleep with any woman that would smile at him, never going further than a one night stand, scared to be rejected if he tried something more meaningful. If his own family couldn’t care for him or about him, why would a stranger?

He keeps everyone at arm’s length and what better way to do that than by being feared and hated?

It was after a particularly painful Christmas family party that Ransom decided to fully embrace the darkness.

It wasn’t a secret that the Thrombeys/Drysdales liked their alcohol. Alcohol was always flowing, no matter the reason that brought them all together in the first place.

Ransom drinks for the taste and not for the buzz, he’s never drunk or even tipsy. He also didn’t want to let his guard down around his family. Like sharks smelling blood in the ocean, they’d smell the weakness on him and attack, he’d never let himself be vulnerable around any of them; except maybe Nana or Harlan.

He doesn’t remember the exact reason why that particular Christmas had been more difficult than others, he just remembers that that’s when the shit hit the fan for him and he made changes in his life. Big ones.

When he first got to Harlan’s mansion that night everything seemed normal. As normal as his family could be, anyway. His uncle was being a little bit more of a dick than usual, he noticed. He probably had a few drinks before coming over.

Ransom navigated through his family members, hearing insults coming from them but not really listening to what they were saying. Asshole and prick were usually their favorite words to use when talking to him. He sat in the living room, as further away from them all as possible. He’d stay for dinner to celebrate with Harlan and Nana and then he would leave, hopefully before things get ugly.

He wasn’t that lucky, unfortunately. Dinner was running late which gave everyone more time to drink more and Ransom felt the disaster coming before it even happened. He was on edge, ready to make a run for it and get the hell out of there.

Oddly enough, everyone was sitting together having normal family discussions. Sometimes they’d scream at each other but quickly moved on and went back to the conversation, which only made Ransom more nervous. It was never a good sign when his family acted ‘’normally’’.

Then, the conversation shifted to him and he regretted not getting out when his gut had told him to. His gut was the only thing he could trust, it had never failed him and it had been right once again.

What was said that night was a little fuzzy, he’d been so angry that the only thing he remembered hearing was the blood thumping and rushing through his body as his heart beat faster and faster with every minute that passed.

It started with the usual ‘’You’re no good’’, then the ‘’little trust fund prick’’ started flowing; he was so used to hearing all of this that he knew exactly where the conversation was headed. Except they changed the ending on him and he hadn’t been able to prepare for it.

‘’You’re so worthless Ransom, a total waste of space. You’re never going to bring anything good to this world, I don’t even know why you bother being here.’’

He didn’t know who had said that, because soon after everyone started chiming in and talking over one another making it impossible to understand a word that was being said.

He knew that when they had said ‘’being here’’, they hadn’t meant in the house. They meant here, breathing, a part of this world. That’s when a little switch flipped in his mind and he stormed out. He was going to show them how rotten to the core he truly was. They hadn’t seen anything yet.

He had found out a few weeks later that his uncle Walt had been the one who said those things about him. He made a mental note of it, plotting a way to get back at him.

By the time Christmas rolled around again, Ransom was officially part of the mob. If he was so good at being an asshole, why not try to find a job where this particular skill would make him shine amongst others.

It had been a very long and slow process. When he first reached out to them through some contacts he had, they literally laughed in his face. Ransom was going to have to work for it to prove he was serious, and he was serious. Serious as a heart attack.

When they finally started to let him in, they gave him all the grunt work. They tried to break him and to show him that he wasn’t cut out for this life. They didn’t expect him to do everything, while keeping his mouth shut and not talking back when they insulted him or degraded him. He had tasted blood in his mouth quite often during the first month. He found that biting the inside of his cheeks was a great way to keep himself from saying things that would definitely get him in trouble.

To everyone’s surprise, except Ransom’s because he knew this about himself, he was a hard worker and a damn good one at that. Adding on top of that that he was smart, he was a real asset to them and he moved up the chain quite rapidly.

What he loved the most about being a part of their group is that he was respected. He had shown what he was capable of, he had shown that he could bring a lot to the table and once he had proved his worth to them; they had shown him respect, and when the word spread that Ransom Drysdale was now a part of the mob, everyone else also treated him with respect. Though it was more out of fear than anything else, it still felt good to see people being terrified just at the idea of being on his bad side.

This Christmas, he chose to spend it with his new family. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with the other one. They celebrated at a restaurant that Ransom had never been to before. It looked nice, there was a warmth to it that he couldn’t really describe and it was big enough that every table was far from another, allowing them as much privacy as one could get while being out in public. So far, Ransom liked everything he saw. Including you.

Especially you.

Ransom looked at you, walking around to greet customers and bring them whatever it is they needed. He smirked to himself, ready to add a notch to his bedpost. Problem is, you weren’t giving him the time of day, so he’d have to work a little harder to get your attention. That’s fine. He liked to work hard.

There was one way that Ransom had always gotten the attention he wanted, never failing him once, and that was by being a loud, obnoxious asshole.

He raised his hand in the air, as if he wanted to ask a question and started snapping his fingers. ‘’Waitress.’’ He called out loudly.

He snapped his fingers as loud as he could, he had everyone’s attention focused on him; except for yours. The one he craved.

He kept snapping his fingers until you finally looked at him. He grinned at you but there was nothing friendly about it.

You, on the other hand, genuinely smiled at him. You held up a finger, motioning to give you one more minute.

‘’I’ll be right over there, sweetheart.’’ You said before turning your attention back to the couple that were giving you their order.

Once you were done, you walked over to the table where Ransom was sitting and you looked at all the men, smiling. You opened your mouth to ask them what they wanted but were rudely cut off by Ransom.

‘’Is the owner around? I have a complaint to make.’’

‘’Yes, the owner’s here. What is the complaint about?’’ You frowned as you looked around the table. They seemed to have been enjoying their meals, there was plenty of wine and water for them all.

‘’There’s a really rude waitress that takes forever to come over when she’s called on, she made me wait. I hate waiting.’’ He sounded smug, cocky even.

‘’I’m really sorry to hear that Mister…’’ You trailed off to let him fill in the blank.

‘’Drysdale.’’

‘’I’m really sorry to hear that, Mister Drysdale.’’

‘’Sorry won’t cut it, angel. Now, be a good girl and go get the owner.’’ He scoffed.

Everyone else around the table was silent. It wasn’t their first time here and they knew very well who the owner was.

You quirked an eyebrow, putting your hands on your hips. ‘’Like I said, the owner’s right here.’’

He looked behind you, his eyes scanning the room trying to find him.

‘’I don’t see him.’’

‘’That’s because you’re not looking at the right place.’’ You put your index under his chin and gently turned his face until he was facing you again. ‘’Hi. I’m the owner.’’

Colors drained from his face a little bit, just enough for you to notice as you let go of him. His plan wasn’t going the way he had wanted it to go but he still had a few tricks up his sleeve.

‘’I’m very sorry to hear you’ve been having a bad experience. Is there anything I can do to change that?’’ You regretted phrasing your question this way the moment you saw the smirk appear on his face.

‘’Oh, I’m sure there are a lot of things you could do to make me feel better.’’ He looked at you, his eyes roaming over your entire body; the smirk still plastered on his face.

In your line of work, it wasn’t uncommon to have both men and women making suggestive comments, treating you like a piece of meat from the menu. You had, sadly, gotten used to it. Whether you played along or turned them down, it always ended badly for you so you had tried a new tactic that had seemed to work every time, so far. You didn’t do or say anything. You just kept looking at him, not a single emotion visible on your face or in your eyes.

‘’How about it, angel?’’ He was trying to get a reaction out of you. Something he’d soon regret.

You walked slowly to him, reaching your hand around and behind him to grab the back of his chair. You leaned forward and lowered yourself until you were at the same eye level and you smiled at him.

‘’Listen, sweetheart.’’ Your voice was soft, gentle even. There was no venom, no anger, nothing. ‘’I don’t know if this little trick usually works on other women but it’s not gonna work with me. Not now, not ever. So, how about you save us both the embarrassment and started to use the manners that I know you have, otherwise you wouldn’t be hanging out with these gentlemen.’’ You moved your eyes towards his men and looked back. ‘’It takes a little more than just a handsome face to get with me.’’ You winked at him and stood back up, straightening your back.

‘’Anything else I can do for you, gentlemen? A reservation in another, more suitable for your needs, restaurant perhaps?’’ You offered.

They all shook their heads no and you smiled at them.

‘’I’m glad you’re staying.’’ You said, sincerely.

You knew who they were and what they did. Everyone knew, but you didn’t really care. They were good business and aside from tonight’s little incident with their newcomer, they had always been the perfect customers. They were sweet, polite and gave great tips to your staff. You always had a good time when they were around because on top of everything else, their presence was enough to keep every other customer in check. There was a customer once who had been rude to you, screaming at you; an inch from your face. The boys took care of him and you never saw him again.

Your staff members liked to gossip about the incident, saying they probably killed him and threw him in the river but you knew that wasn’t what happened. They probably roughed him up a little, a threat here and there but they wouldn’t kill someone. Not for that. Not for you.

‘’If you don’t mind, it’s a very busy night and I need to get back on the floor to help my staff. Don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything. Mr. Drysdale knows just how to get my attention.’’ You teased him. ‘’Merry Christmas, gentlemen.’’

As you walked back to your previous task, Ransom looked at you completely speechless. Not because you had turned him down, it happened often and it was just part of putting yourself out there. It’s the way you did it. You were so calm and collected, you hadn’t seemed angry in the slightest even if you had every reason to be, and though you knew about who they were you hadn’t been scared to call him out and gently put him back in his place.

He kept his eyes on you for most of the night, pretending he wasn’t feeling giddy every time he saw you laugh or smile. Your smile was so bright, so genuine that more often than not, Ransom found himself smiling with you.

When it was time for them to leave, he told the others to go on without him, that he’d catch up to them in a few minutes and waited until all of them had left before standing up. He waited until you were done talking with one of your employees before walking over to you.

‘’Hi again.’’ You said, smiling at him. ‘’Something I can help you with?’’ You offered again, this time knowing his answer would be a lot more appropriate.

There he was, smiling again. He wasn’t used to smiling that much, his cheeks were hurting.

‘’No, thank you. Everything was delicious.’’ He started. ‘’I just wanted to come over and… well apologize for the way I acted earlier. You didn’t deserve to be talked at the way I did and I’m really sorry.’’ Ransom was usually always so sure of himself, so confident and now he was almost shy. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

You chuckled, and squeezed his shoulder gently. ‘’It’s already forgotten. Don’t worry about it.’’

He nodded before taking a few steps backwards, starting to make his way towards the exit without taking his eyes off of you. ‘’I probably don’t deserve it; but thank you.’’

You smiled. ‘’Guess you’re gonna have to make it up to me then, to make sure you really deserve it. You’re welcomed back any time.’’

He grinned, but this time there was no malice. It was genuine. As he walked out into the cold air, he knew he would be back. Next time, he won’t be bringing his friends, that’s for sure. He wanted you for himself.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you. You were completely his opposite. You were nice and kind, even to people who didn’t deserve either. You made him feel warm inside, soothing him by just being in the same room. Where he was all darkness, you were all light. He was the devil and you were the angel. His little angel.

Yes, everyone could say that Ransom Drysdale was attracted to the darkness. That was all before he met you.

This is my first time writing a story that isn't about Bucky Barnes. I hope you liked it.

[Next Chapter]

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #mob!ransom drysdale #mob!ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdalexreader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x y/n #knives out #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale fanfic #knives out fanfiction

[johneroserotica]

The Haunted House Visits

The Trapped Man:

When you walk through the Erotic Halloween Haunted House you'll see him, though you'll have heard all of his begging and moaning even from the entrance. It certainly looks erotic, seeing him being teased to the edge constantly while pleading with all of his heart for someone to let him come. It feels as if he's calling out to every single person walking through. You'll think to yourself about how good the acting is, you'll perhaps wonder if they keep him in that state for the duration of the night or let him rest now and again. You might even wonder if or when they let him come at the end of the night, but once you move along, the thought will pass and the rest of the venue will gain your attention.

If only you knew though, that this was not an act, that there was no relief in sight for this tormented man. Nobody recalls quite how long this display has been one of the focal attractions of the venue, whether it was years or decades. Yet every year it is the same, seeing his anguish at being stroked and teased relentlessly to the brink yet never allowed to come. Those hands caressing every inch of his shaft, massaging those balls so tight with the anticipation of orgasmic release. For you it is merely a sight to behold for a few hours of a single night. For him, it is a torture endured endlessly. Those deep groans and cries for mercy have all been pent up for these brief moments in the year, hoping that somebody may have the power to release him from this hell of denial. Trapped on the cusp indefinitely. Never aging, never needing anything other than the heavenly climax that has been withheld for years without a minute of respite. Maybe if you knew, you'd help. Or maybe you'd still walk on by, in fear that if you tried to end his suffering, you'd take his place and suffer the same fate.

Jessica:

Jessica and her friends had ventured to the PleasureTorture Haunted House having heard so much about it, how exciting and surreal the experience was. Apart from the praise, they had received little other information about what actually happened within, with each personal encounter being very unforthcoming with details, except merely stating that everyone has an entirely different experience. Once they all finally arrived and signed the waivers, it was time to begin. The strangest question within the paperwork was being asked what their deepest fantasies were, though they had already expected this to be unlike anything before.

The first portion of the haunted house was similar to most others, though with a lot more physical contact and a lot more intense scares. Their hearts were pumping from all of the extremely realistic and shocking jump scares lurking around the many corners and hiding places. Occasionally the girls found themselves being touched a little more intimately than they had expected, though the next abrupt scare left them forgetting about it fast. All they had known beforehand was that there would be a distinctly erotic element to the maze of horrors, yet aside from the occasional lingering touch from hands embedded within the walls and from the performers, they found themselves being scared a lot more frequently than expected.

It was when one of the girls found herself picked off and dragged silently from the others that things changed. While the others left behind would soon call out Jessica's name to no avail and huddle together closer, they also would soon find themselves taken one by one. Jessica was the first to feel the real delight of the haunted house. She had given just a little insight on the waiver forms about how she'd always wanted to be manhandled by a couple of strangers; now she'd experience exactly what she had fantasised about. The figures held her down and tormented her as silently as they'd captured her. Completely overpowered by the two figures, she was helpless against those penetrative fingers, exploring her so deeply without letting her rest. It took no time at all for her body to catch up with the desires of her mind as within minutes Jessica came harder than she ever had in her life, as if they'd tapped into her most primal desire. Held down so tightly however, there was nothing she could do to stop them from giving her what she had always craved time and time again. She could play along and scream for them to stop, but they knew exactly what she inwardly yearned for.

Jessica was the first to experience what the Haunted House held within, yet the others would also succumb very soon...

Olivia:

As Olivia ventured deeper into the haunted house, she noticed that it seemed to start brimming with plant-life, gorgeous flowers that seemed to breathe a new lease of life into what had been such a dark, claustrophobic setting. It was only when she entered a large, garden-like open space that she realised that she had unknowingly been separated from her friends. Before she had time to call back out to them, a group dressed as zombies sprang forth from the surrounding foliage and apprehended her. She had no time to react or even cry out for help as she was stripped naked and thrust onto a table at the centre of the thriving garden. The moment she was held down on it, she realised that the garden itself wasn't simply a prop, it was pulsating with life; the greenery seemed to undulate as if breathing in and out. The movement above, with the rhythmic churning of branches and petals, almost hypnotised the naked girl for a moment, though the realisation that the hands were no longer what kept her held down brought her back to reality.

Olivia had not even noticed that the figures around her had disappeared, instead it was the vines themselves which closed in around her, making her feel trapped, while vines coiled around her body to keep her held in place.

Somehow she didn't feel anxious or afraid, merely relaxed and, to her surprise, astonishingly aroused. While she had merely disclosed 'other' as her fantasy scenario on the waiver form, she had never pictured this as what they'd have in store for her. It wouldn't be until much later that she'd realise that the plants themselves had taken away all sense of fear and trepidation, filling the air with an extremely potent aphrodisiac. Simply, she was at the mercy of the living plant-life's wicked intentions the moment she entered.

The plants met no resistance as they probed and teased her, relishing at the arousal that was so evident. Even the slightest touch which fluttered along her chest and between her inner thighs caused her to moan in joy, though the moment the petals crept across towards her own flower, her fate was sealed. The substance that caused the flowers to flourish was what started to trail from her the more aroused she grew. The aphrodisiac she was constantly breathing in caused for her to be extremely wet even before the manipulations of her body, yet the delicate touches caused her sweet nectar to gush forth rapidly. The vines felt so soft, unlike any plant life she could imagine, though the flowers themselves are what devastated her body. The petals felt like the softest, most luxurious silk. Every time they brushed across her breasts and along her mound, it was as if a thousand of the softest bristles covered in the slickest of oils caressed every fibre of skin; pure electric pleasure coursed along every morsel it touched. Once it wrapped around her stiffened nipples, she screamed out in pleasure. The feeling of that alone nearly sent her over the edge. Though with how good it felt already, she salivated at the thought of how it was going to feel when it focused on her clitoris. It seemed to sense this and opted to merely tease that little jewel. It crept and slithered those tormenting petals around her sex, exposing that erect little button and circling all around it without touching directly. It kept her on this knife edge of perfect pleasure while she rocked her hips in unbearable need.

Once she began begging, wondering whether it could understand her, it brushed occasionally along her clit directly, causing her to jolt as if zapped by a current. An electric shock of pure pleasure that made her feel as if she'd die if it dared suffocate her with such a sensation for any longer than the millisecond it gave her. On and on this torment continued as her sex dripped, letting the flowers slip along her entrance, daring to push inside and explore, but always just teasing and stopping. She still could not fathom whether it could understand her, as she kept screaming out and begging for more to no response or change. Little did she know that the flowers wanted to keep their most desired source dripping constantly from her, and the way to make that last, from years and years of experience, was to keep its prey from coming for as long as possible. Olivia's tears and pleas for mercy would go unheeded as her clitoris pulsed and her entrance convulsed in torturous need.

It would take hours before the girl would experience her first orgasm, once she stopped pulling against the vines and screaming for release. She'd be shocked by the petals suddenly cradling her tender clitoris, causing her to squeal in what felt to be an unending fit of ecstasy. The substance she breathed in, which kept her aroused beyond comprehension, would also prevent her from passing out, keeping her trapped in this agonising hell of an orgasm which would not yield. Her body writhed and strained in all manner of ways to escape the pleasure, yet nothing would protect her or cease the flower holding her clitoris hostage. As it sank around that stiff bud like a predator sinking it's teeth into it's meal, the tiny cilia within the flower would wreak havoc upon it. Each minuscule cilium brushed and vibrated against her clitoris as if each were designed to torture every little nerve ending within that sensitivity. Once her body finally came down, she would wonder how she was still alive, feeling as if she had been unable to breath since the moment she'd come.

"Oh God! Please, not again, " she would sob once the flowers began to explore her depths, starting the whole process all over again.

It would only stop, however, once the flowers could not feed any longer on their desired substance. This poor, gorgeous figure of sexuality would be tortured this way for the whole night, while all the other friends searched fruitlessly, ready to face what lay ahead for them. Perhaps they'd have turned back if they could hear her screams.

Stephanie:

Toys Multiple-Orgasms Bondage. Stephanie couldn't decide what fantasy turned her on the most, the waiver form showing clearly that she had many desires on her mind. The Haunted House did not want to deny her any satisfaction.

When Stephanie and the remaining companions entered a room full of smoke, they all started to become drowsy.

"We need to get out of here," yelled one of her friends.

As they all began to sprint through the room, a case of the blind following the blind as they aimlessly pressed onward, Stephanie became sluggish and fell behind, succumbing the most to the effects of the smoke which seemed to possess the quality of sleeping gas. Once the rest of the group exited the room, only just about making it out before giving in to unconsciousness, they realised Stephanie was gone. They did not dare venture back, leaving the sleeping girl to whatever fate the haunted house had in store for her.

She woke up alone in a small room, surrounded by toys that made her shiver at the thought of how they'd be used on her. Only the screams of ecstasy and erotic torture could be heard in the other rooms, making her anticipate what was to come even more, not knowing what to expect but imagining that she was in for hours of constant pleasure. Finally the tormentor came, sealing her fate in the room of orgasmic hell. Her deepest fantasy of being restrained and forced to orgasm until she was begging for it to stop, and beyond, were finally being lived out. Her pussy juices continued to drip along the plastic sheeting while she squirmed and screamed; wordlessly he kept making her orgasm without remorse, without rest.

He did not say a word to her, no matter how much she begged for him to give her a moment of rest. Even when it became too much to handle, when her clitoris agonisingly throbbed from over-stimulation as the vibrators nestled against it, she hoped she would be given no mercy. Nobody had ever even tried to push her this far, always stopping when she said she couldn't come any more, even though she truly wanted her partners to try and force her to orgasm even more. Her silent captor seemed to know of the erotic cruelty she secretly yearned for.

Now and again, the tormentor would give Stephanie a ruined orgasm, just to make her whimper and ask for more, to be allowed to feel the relief of a full orgasm. It was as if to torture her further, making her soon wish that she hadn't asked for more once she was forced to endure even more cruel convulsions of overbearing pleasure. The restraints made it so much more intense, to be so helplessly confined, to be so completely at another's mercy.

Once over-sensitivity started to take over, with the vibrators not able to draw as much out of her, the tormentor changed tact. Stephanie could not close her legs or move away as that tongue wreaked havoc with her swollen clitoris. Such soft, delicate, calculated movements intended to elicit every moan and squeal of rapture. After all of this, after being trapped in this whirlwind of ecstasy, Stephanie was certain that her dreams would feature this exact situation for many years to come... as would her nightmares.

David:

Laying him down on the table was easy once the zombie nurses whispered to him that he was soon to experience the delights he had written down on the haunted house waiver. The thought of having his cock teased without him being able to stop it aroused him greatly. Once they laid him face down, his cock slipping through a hole in the table, he sensed what was to come, particularly when they strapped the cuffs around his waist, wrists and ankles to hold him helplessly in place.

David still had no idea where his friends were even after spending the last ten minutes searching for them through the maze of pitch black corridors. He had welcomed the clutches of the performers once they found him, particularly once they started to strip him, though they never told him where the others were no matter how much he quizzed them. Just as he felt something touch his exposed manhood, speakers began to play the moans and screams of the friends who had vanished. Those sounds alone aided the slight touches in stiffening his sensitive length.

It was a dream come true as what were unmistakably tongues teased and toyed with his shaft. With every inch of it exposed for them, the ladies were able to explore it to their desires, wanting him soon overcome. Once he was fully erect and throbbing, they began to takes turns sucking on the tip lightly while the other trailed her tongue along the underside. All he could do was try to thrust downwards, tensing every muscle in a bid to have them engage him more; instead they merely smirked to one another, knowing that he'd soon be begging, just like those before.

Amongst the moans of pleasure, he could hear one of his companions begging desperately to be allowed to come. He could not fathom what must have been going on, but her pleas were more desperate than anything he'd ever heard in his life. It turned him on unbearably, which in turn eased the work for the ladies below in bringing him so desperately close. Though their attention upon his member never was quite enough to set him right where he needed to be. Somehow they knew just when to suck on that engorged tip and just when to stop.

Every twitch was a sign of just how far to take him, every little dance of frustration a little glimpse of how much to push him. Being unable to see them or interact with them in any way made it more torturous than David could have comprehended. There was no way to bargain or plea with them, he was merely their object: they were like cats toying with their prey. Every minuscule lick to his shaft caused his length to tense as if it were fit to explode.

Once his cock began to continuously drip with precum, he begged them to let him climax, much in the same way the girl's pleas pierced through the speakers before her screams returned. Only when he couldn't last would they let him come, once even the gentle flickers of their tongues would send him gushing forth. Though even then, while he came from such light stimulation, they'd keep that motion continuing, those delicate, teasing licks. How he'd wish they'd give him just a little more.

Carly:

Carly had been so turned on by hearing the stories of "the trapped man" and how people were able to walk by and watch this man being tormented relentlessly. She had pictured him, being restrained and stroked to the edge of orgasm repeatedly, while she wrote down 'exhibitionism' on the waiver form under what she fantasised about most.

Having been separated from her group, she was relieved to be approached by one of the performers. Carly felt a surge of arousal course through her as the woman wordlessly attached restraints to her wrists and ankles. When she soon felt hands jut out from the wall behind her and begin caressing her, she realised that this was just how the story she had heard played out; the thought of taking his place, to be teased to the brink of climax while others simply walked by and watched, set her body alight. The woman stayed and aided the hands in fondling her, the touches becoming more and more intimate. As she became more aroused, Carly noticed that a lot more people were walking by than she had seen previously in the Haunted House. At first she looked out to see if any of her friends were among these people, then she assumed that these extra people may all be part of the scenario, designed to indulge her voyeuristic fantasies even more. Even if her friends had appeared however, by the time the hands started to masturbate her, she wouldn't have even noticed. The culmination of being so openly on display and at the mercy of these dedicated touches were enough to quickly bring Carly to the brink of orgasm: just as quickly however it was snatched away.

Being too impatient to frustrate herself during masturbation, Carly had never teased herself much during her private moments. Being brought to the edge like this was such a new sensation and it took its toll immediately. After merely the first time those fingers all pulled away, she begged them to finish her off. She wanted to come in front of all the people walking by, yet when the hands continued this sequence a couple more times, denying her the release she craved, she understood that the story she had heard of "the trapped man" was something which they wanted her to fully experience. She was too focused on her need to orgasm to ponder how they could have possibly known that she had heard of the story before.

The woman overseeing her torment did not utter a word in response to her pleas for them to stop and just let her come. Those cruel fingers simply worked her slick, sensitive pussy to a frenzy time and time again. Somehow the hands knew just how to touch her, working her body in exactly the same way she would when playing with herself. Having always let herself come as soon as possible, being made to endure this constant stop start method of stimulation was too much to handle. After 20 minutes of having her orgasm withheld, she began screaming out for the passers-by to help her come. They ignored her pleas, many simply stopping for a while to watch her sweet suffering. Never had Carly ever thought that her own pleasure could be used to torment her in this way.

Once she would finally be given her moment of release, she'd have to endure the same wicked stimulation all over again from the start.

"Let's try that again shall we?" said the woman at last.

Knowing how long they had kept her in that state of need, and how merciless they were at teasing her to the brink time and time again, the thought of enduring it further was unbearable.

Lily:

"Forced orgasms" was all she had written, and it was what she'd receive. Once the haunted house had stolen Lily's companions from her, she welcomed the presence of the strangers around her, all cloaked in black and leading her to the room. It was foreboding to see the mattress at the centre of the sinister looking room, though she was thankful that it was warm and rather comfortable once they laid her down on it. She had resigned herself to the fate ahead as they restrained her to it and placed the ball gag in her mouth.

"You will scream," whispered one of the figures as the other left. At that, he removed the cloak and looked upon her body with a hunger in his eyes. She shied away from his gaze before he knelt beside her and began his exploration of her pleasure.

Already turned on from the manipulations and caresses from the others before, it took little time for his fingers to work her to a frothing mess of arousal. Though it was when that vibrator pressed to her sex that her world was set alight. Having never owned her own vibrator before, it was an experience unlike any other. To feel that buzzing coursing through her most precious sensitivities was like a dream. Having never felt anything that powerful before, like little electric jolts of concentrated pleasure zapping at her very nerves, she came fast. Her orgasm tore through her rapidly, yet even throughout the spasms of pleasure the rolling vibrations continued gnawing at her, dragging it out. It wasn't like using her fingers at all, where it was a steady build and a deep release. Instead it was like having the orgasm pulled from her instantly, for it only to then be trapped against her.

Once Lily came down, she twisted in a desperate bid to escape the unbearable sensations. Having the whole of her tenderness vibrated seemed to mesh everything she was feeling together: the sharp ecstasy of her vibrating clitoris and the churning, deep bliss brought upon by his fingers within her all rolled into one inescapable balloon of pleasure that was fit to pop. The next orgasm made her see stars for just a moment before her eyes clamped shut, every muscle in her body tensing as if trying to protect herself. She wanted... needed... to curl up into a ball and make it stop as he kept abusing her sensitivity. Her vision swam in the dark red and black, punctured with flashes of brilliant white as she kept her eyes tightly shut. She tried her hardest to beg him to stop. All her muffles did was urge him to press the vibrator just a little harder and sink his fingers in a little deeper. Once his fingertips pressed to her g-spot, she thought she'd faint from the onslaught of orgasms that he then forced from her.

If only she could scream out, for the others to find her and stop this, but they were all gone. The others had their own predicaments to suffer through. Lily was at his mercy, and he was going to make it last...

"Oh you thought that was it, that it was going to stop just because you passed out?"

Forced orgasms were all she'd written, all she'd requested. She'd come to wish that she'd added a stipulation for it to stop. Yet there would be no escape. Even her own screams and pleas were not granted the freedom to escape her lips. The only thing that would escape her were the hopes of any mercy. She would simply come, and come, and come again.

Just remember, as you walk through the Haunted House, that even though the screams may fade out as you gain some distance, for them it does not stop. Their screams linger throughout the night, the convulsions of ecstasy and orgasmic squeals will not end until the appetite of this wicked place have been sated. Go ahead and walk along... run if you must; just know that it may be you crying out in tortured bliss soon enough.

#story #johneros #pleasuretorture