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happy74827 · 6 months

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No Ordinary Life

[Sam Riordan x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: The group had almost ran out of options on what to do with Sam, but Andre had decided there was still one more option to explore. And that option, was you. (GIF credits: @heronamedhawks)

WC: 1,179

Category: Slight Fluff, Slight Angst

We don’t know much about Sam as of right now, but I do know I would literally die for this boy. He and Emma really deserve the world, and they fr better have their happy ending (which seems impossible given the universe they live in, but one can hope). This definitely deserves a part 2, depending how well it goes, but for now enjoy the purity that is Sam.

Edit(2023): Hey I finally made the part 2, check it out here

『••✎••』

As Sam walked down the bustling halls of Godolkin, he couldn't help but feel like an outsider. All around him, kids with extraordinary powers, kids like him, were chatting, laughing, and walking to their classes. They were able to use their gifts freely and openly, and they were respected by others for it, but Sam didn't have that luxury. Honestly, he couldn’t remember a time that he did.

All he remembered was the woods, his brother, and the constant pain of being hunted.

His hand unconsciously traveled to top of his head, pulling the hoodie that Emma had lent over to him farther over his face as he tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible. It wasn't easy when the hallway was completely crowded by nosy students, but he did his best. That’s all he could really do.

Emma and Marie (as he found her name to be) were by his side, protecting him for the skewing eyes of others. For the most part it worked, except it drawn more attention to her due to that odd system that Emma had acknowledged him about. A rating, whatever that was.

It was cool to know that his brother had been ranked number one, though.

If Luke was still… No, don’t think about it, Sam.

He shook his head, ridding himself of that train of thought. There was no point in dwelling on the past, and thinking about his brother wouldn’t change anything. He was gone, and Sam was left alone.

His thoughts were interrupted by Jordan, who he was still slightly confused about. He? She? They? They seemed to have been good friends with his brother and they were friendly enough, so Sam didn’t really question the matter too much.

Plus, he kinda enjoyed the subtle sarcasm that Jordan would once in a while use. It made him feel like a kid back in school. So for that, Sam was thankful.

“Dude, this has got to be the stupidest thing we’ve ever done,” Jordan had said, turning to the guy walking besides them… Andre. Sam didn’t know what to make of him, or anyone really. He had always been so closed off from other people, that now it was almost a bit overwhelming.

But at least he had Emma, so he didn't have to worry about the social aspect too much.

Andre gave Jordan a sideways look, a small smirk on his face. He seemed pretty chill too.

“Listen, I don’t like this anymore than you do, Jordan,” Andre stated, shoving his hands in his pockets. “But with everything happening, and with Cate… this is our best option.”

“Yes, let’s bring the kid with a bounty over his head into the place where they’re all going to be looking for him. Great idea, Andre. Seriously, how did I not think of it first. Soooo smart of you, dude. Good job. I'm so glad we're friends, really I am.”

Jordan rolled their eyes, and Andre just looked away in annoyance. Then, to Sam’s dismay, an awkward silence fell over the group. Once again, Sam was struck by just how different his life was now. It was like he was suddenly thrown into another world, and he had no idea how to function in it. He was so far out of his comfort zone that he couldn’t even see the zone.

Sam glanced over to Emma, and saw her smiling encouragingly at him. He tried his best to return the gesture, but he felt like his face muscles were going to fall off if he forced them any longer.

After what seemed like hours, but really only a couple minutes, Andre halted in front of a random dorm room door, and turned to face the group. He sighed, his face set into a look of grim determination. Then, he knocked.

Three times, Sam counted. Three knocks.

The door opened almost immediately after, and the man who answered had to be the most handsome human being Sam had ever seen. He had short black hair, a sharp jaw, and a dazzling smile. It was actually kind of intimidating.

“Whadda’ want?” the man asked, his voice a rich baritone. Sam didn't know why, but it felt like the man was judging him. His eyes scanned over the group, lingering on Sam for just a second, before returning back to Andre.

Andre cleared his throat, a bit nervously, but he didn’t get a chance to speak as Jordan scoffed, shoving past the man and into the room. Emma followed, giving the man an apologetic look as she did. And thus, everyone followed, leaving the man alone and bewildered in the doorway.

Once everyone was settled inside, the man shut the door and leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest. He glared at Andre, his eyes burning holes through his head, but Sam didn’t pay any attention towards him anymore. All his eyes were on the strange girl in front of him, you.

You were sitting on the floor, legs crossed and a bored expression on your face. Your eyes were half lidded, and you seemed to be lost in your own little world. Andre had mentioned you, a little. Said that you were the person he had called earlier, that you would help them figure out what to do with Sam, and that you knew and could a lot of stuff. But he had never told them how gorgeous you were.

Your hair was down, and looked so soft that Sam just wanted to touch it, run his fingers through it, and feel the texture. You had a cute little button nose, and a round, chubby face that was just too adorable. And your eyes were so expressive, a mixture of colors that swirled and shone and sparkled in the light.

Andre had called your attention and you snapped out of it, blinking a few times before glancing up at him. It was then that you noticed the others, and you stared at them all, wide eyed and open mouthed, but that was quickly replaced with a smile.

“Hi, Andre! Wow, you must be Jordan… Marie… and Emma? Right? Oh, and you must be the kid Andre talked about, oh my gosh. It's so nice to finally meet you all. Sorry I didn’t say anything when you came in, I was just finishing up this thing for Kota. Oh, Kota! You're still here… hi. Wait, why are you all here? You weren’t supposed to be here until 2:00, and it's only-”

You looked down at the watch on your wrist, your eyes widening even more when you realized the time. You had been talking so fast that no one had been able to get a word in edgewise, but you had managed to finish what you had to say, and it was all so rushed that it was hard to keep up.

The only thing Sam could focus on was how despite all of that rambling and mumbling, you were still keeping that bright smile that never seemed to falter. A truly happy supe? He never thought it would exist. Even Emma, as sweet and pretty as she was, tended to falsify the smiles she had. Sam only saw her real one about three times. He cherished them, of course. Every single one.

You stood up, brushing yourself off and fixing your clothes, and walked over to them. Your hand was outstretched, and your smile was radiant. Sam could practically feel the happiness radiating off of you.

You looked so innocent, so sweet and pure. He could hardly believe that you were a supe, but the fact that they were all standing here said otherwise. You had power, and you knew how to use it.

Jordan and Marie seemed to have recovered from their daze, and the two shook your hand after Andre. Marie had even introduced herself, and it ended with you in giggles, telling her that you already had known her name.

Emma was next, and she had taken your hand immediately and shook it.

Then it was just him that was left.

He stood frozen, staring down at your outstretched hand. He could feel all the eyes in the room on him, and he just knew that his hood was starting to slip.

His instincts were yelling at him, screaming at him to run. To get out of there and stay far, far away from you. From everyone.

But he couldn’t.

So, instead of fleeing, he slowly, cautiously took your hand in his. It was small, warm, and fit perfectly.

You smiled again but this time it was strictly for him, because of him, and it made his heart beat just a bit faster.

He didn’t even realize it until your smile has widened, but he had pulled down his hood, letting you see his face. He didn't understand why he did, and a part of him wanted to pull the fabric right back over his face, but it was too late now.

The damage had been done.

Sam didn’t have a chance to scrape off the dried blood off his cheeks, another result of an accidental outburst, and he could feel your eyes rake over his face, taking in every single detail.

But it wasn’t judgmental, or critical.

No, there was something else in those swirling eyes of yours, and it was then that he noticed the little flecks of gold hidden in the sea of color.

Sam was a bit embarrassed, to say the least, and he tried to pull his hand away but your grip only tightened, and he didn't have the strength to resist. He felt your hand go up his arm, unraveling the hoodie that clung to him like a second skin.

The others didn’t seem to do anything as you pulled the material above his elbow.

Your eyes roamed over the scar that stretched across his forearm, and he knew what was coming before the words even left your mouth.

Sam couldn’t bring himself to look at you as you asked the dreaded question, and his eyes were glued to the floor.

It was Emma who answered, her voice barely a whisper.

Sam despised the pity in your tone. The last thing he wanted was to be pitied. He didn't need or want anyone's pity. He was fine. Everything was fine.

The silence shattered as you took a sharp breath, but Sam couldn't bring himself to look at you. Not when he knew the look of pity in your eyes.

You released his arm, the hoodie dropping to the ground, but Sam didn't even register it. He stood there, frozen, as you slowly reached out your hand towards his face.

"Before I do anything, I want to warn you so it doesn't scare you. Is that okay with you? I just... I want to make sure you're alright. But if you don't want me to touch you, I won't. I'll respect your boundaries. Just tell me, okay?"

Sam blinked, his head tilting upwards, his eyes wide with surprise. There was no pity in your eyes. No negativity or degradation. Only a gentle concern and kindness that he had only experienced in these past few days.

Your touch was tender, and he felt a warmth spread across his face. He couldn't bring himself to deny you. So he nodded, and a small smile appeared on your face. It was still a smile, but a different kind. One he had never seen from you before. And once again, that smile was meant just for him.

Suddenly, the lights in the room dimmed, capturing Sam's attention. He hadn't noticed before, but the entire room was filled with interconnected lights, forming a grid-like pattern. They began to glow, pulsating and shifting with each passing moment. The light danced across the walls, creating mesmerizing shapes.

Sam was captivated by the whole process. And then, the lights suddenly stopped, freezing in place. Sam expected them to return to their normal brightness, but they grew brighter and brighter. It was then that he noticed your hands. They were no longer touching him, but rather, they hovered above him, palms facing his face. A peculiar expression settled on your face.

Sam didn't know what it meant, but he didn't have time to wonder because, in an instant, your hands transformed into light. It wasn't like beams shooting out of your palms, but rather, golden particles that flowed around your body and traveled along the lights, intensifying their brightness. Patterns began to form and move.

Sam watched in awe as the shapes transformed into pictures and scenes. The colors melted and shifted together. Light filled the room, washing away the world around him, leaving only the vibrant colors, the images, and your face.

Your face, so close to his. The smile still adorned your lips, and your eyes shone like stars, the brightest things in the room. Sam could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Reluctantly, he admitted that the light was beautiful, just like you.

It was the most extraordinary sight he had ever witnessed. It was as if the sun had exploded, its light spreading across the room. The colors danced along the walls, forming vivid images. Sam saw a field, a house, a family. He saw his old friends. He saw him. His brother, Luke.

Sam's face crumpled, and a sob escaped his throat. Tears blurred his vision, but they were absorbed by the light, vanishing as soon as they fell. You remained a silent observer, watching over him as the colors gradually faded, and the world returned.

The room was as bright as before, but everything was the same. Sam could still see the concern and worry etched on your face. You reached up to wipe away his tears, but this time he flinched back, and the contact never happened. Your hands fell to your sides.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and your lips trembled, trying to hold back your emotions. But a tear escaped, rolling down your cheek. Andre cleared his throat, breaking the spell. Both you and Sam turned to face the others.

They were all watching, expressions of shock and confusion on their faces, except for Jordan, who wore a mask of indifference.

Andre and Emma stared at you, mouths agape, while Sam saw the tears in your eyes, the fear evident on your face.

Of what, he couldn’t tell. As of right now, there were so many things you could be scared of. With The Woods, being the thing that contains most of it all, It was hard to pinpoint one specific reason.

Then, just like before, Andre's voice cracked as he decided to interrupt Sam’s thoughts.

"What the hell was that?"

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dee-writes-smut · 8 days

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FALL

FEATURING Azriel x Illyrian!reader

SUMMARY after falling down a flight of stairs, you are forced to realize that you aren't alone and that it's time to start healing.

CONTENT WARNINGS mentions of nightmares, apologies, scared reader, comforting Azriel, nosy Rhys, Amren (she's a warning), and injuries

AUTHORS NOTE I kind of hate this a lot, but here is the third part of the Season's series, Fall. Hope you enjoy! <3

Autumn descends upon the world like a tender-hearted healer, enveloping all in its embrace of warmth and renewal. The air takes on a crisp clarity, carrying with it the subtle scent of earth and fallen leaves, a fragrance that whispers of new beginnings. Trees, once adorned in the lush greens of summer, now don their autumnal attire, each leaf a masterpiece of vibrant hues—amber, crimson, and gold—painting the landscape in a tapestry of healing colors.

As daylight wanes, the sun bathes the world in a soft, golden glow, casting long shadows that dance gracefully upon the earth. The breeze, gentle yet invigorating, rustles through the trees, a comforting melody that speaks of resilience and growth. With each step, fallen leaves crinkle beneath our feet, a soothing reminder of the cycle of life and the beauty found in letting go.

In the fall, nature herself undergoes a profound transformation, shedding the old to make way for the new. Trees release their leaves in a graceful dance of surrender, preparing for a period of rest and rejuvenation. Yet, even in this quietude, there is a vibrant energy that pulses through the air, a reminder that healing is not a passive act, but a journey of growth and renewal.

As I found myself immersing in the healing embrace of autumn, I was invited to shed the burdens of the past and embrace the beauty of transformation. Like the earth itself, I was reminded of my innate capacity to heal, to grow, and to emerge stronger and more vibrant than before. In the gentle caress of the autumn breeze, I found solace, strength, and the promise of new beginnings.

(Early September, House of Wind)

Morning light spilled through the windows of the House of Wind, painting the stairwell in hues of gold and amber. Each step I took down the winding staircase echoed softly, the sound muffled by the quiet of the early hour. Shadows danced along the walls, elongated and wavering, as if unsure of their own existence in the gentle glow of dawn.

As I descended, a flicker of movement caught my eye—a subtle shift in the darkness that should not have been there. My heart skipped a beat as I turned to look, dread coiling in the pit of my stomach. The shadows seemed to solidify, taking shape in the form of a figure I knew all too well. It was Lyris, his smirk cruel and taunting, his blade gleaming with malice in the dim light.

Panic surged through me, my breath catching in my throat. It wasn't real, I told myself, but the terror it invoked was. Before I could react, before I could rationalize, my foot missed the next step. There was no time to regain my balance, no wings to unfurl and catch me. I reached out desperately, fingers grasping for the banister, but it was too late.

The world tilted violently as I fell, the sharp pain of impact shooting up my spine as I collided with the unforgiving stairs. Each jolt sent waves of agony coursing through me, my body bouncing helplessly until I finally came to a crumpled stop at the bottom of the staircase. Dazed and disoriented, I tried to gather my bearings, the pain a sharp, throbbing ache in every limb.

Footsteps echoed through the hall, growing louder with each passing second. Then, Azriel was there, his face a mask of concern as he knelt beside me. "Don't move," he said softly, his hands hovering over me with a hesitant touch. "We need to get you to the healer."

"I'm okay," I lied, attempting to push myself up despite the searing pain that shot through me. The room spun sickeningly, and I winced, sinking back down with a pained gasp.

"No, you're not," Azriel insisted, his voice firm but gentle. He assessed me quickly, his expression grave. "We need to get you off these stairs. Can you stand?"

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, frustration and pain mingling into a bitter concoction. "I don't… I can't…" I faltered, unable to voice the depth of my vulnerability.

"It's okay. I've got you." Azriel's arms enveloped me, lifting me gently from the cold, hard floor. I buried my face against his chest, seeking solace in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat amidst the chaos of my own.

As we moved, the memory of the fall replayed in my mind—the hallucination of Lyris, the terror of losing my footing. I had lost more than just my wings that day; I had lost a piece of myself. How was I supposed to heal when my own mind betrayed me with such vivid, haunting illusions?

Azriel's presence was a silent promise of protection, his concern a soothing balm to my fractured psyche. I clung to it, to him, as we made our way to the healer's chambers, the shadows of the stairwell receding into the background as we stepped into the light of a new day. I would allow myself to let him seep in my darkness for a moment. I would be selfish for just this moment and then it would be back to struggling alone, to protecting them, him.

Madja's room was filled with the subtle scent of lavender and sage, a calming ambiance that did little to ease the knot of anxiety in my stomach. The healer's hands were warm and gentle as she applied salves to the bruises that marbled my skin, her touch careful around the tender areas where my wings once were.

"You're healing well physically," Madja said softly, her voice soothing. "But healing the mind… that takes time, and often more than just my skills." She offered me a small, understanding smile, though her eyes were stern, hinting at the depth of her concern.

Before I could respond, the door creaked open, and Azriel stepped inside. His expression was unreadable, shadows swirling slightly at his feet—a sure sign of his inner turmoil. Madja excused herself with a knowing look, leaving us alone.

I shifted on the cot, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders as I faced him. "Azriel," I began, but my voice cracked, betraying my nervousness.

He moved closer, his movements graceful and deliberate. Stopping at the edge of the cot, he knelt so he was eye level with me, his gaze intense. "I've been patient," he said, his voice low and strained. "I've given you space, but we can't keep avoiding this conversation."

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing down on me. "I don't know if I'm ready," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel reached out, his hand hesitating in the air before gently brushing a stray hair back from my face. "I know you're hurting. And I know I can't understand everything you're going through. But I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. You don't have to go through this alone."

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I blinked them away furiously. "It's not just the pain, Azriel. It's the fear," I confessed, the words tumbling out. "Every shadow, every noise—it takes me back to that moment. And I feel so powerless."

His expression softened, the shadows receding slightly as if in response to my distress. "I wish I could take that fear away," he murmured. "But since I can't, I'll stand with you against it. Every step of the way, until you feel strong again."

"How do you do it?" I asked, searching his face. "How do you live with your own shadows?"

A sad smile tugged at his lips. "By knowing which shadows are mine to control, and which are simply part of the world. And by having people I love to light the way when it gets too dark."

"What if I'm not strong enough?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on me like a heavy shroud. Despite my efforts to steel myself against the pain, I couldn't help but curl into myself, feeling small and vulnerable in the face of my own fears. "What if I never get over this and—" I choked back my tears once more, the fear gnawing at my insides too overwhelming to voice aloud.

Azriel's heart clenched at my words, the rawness of my pain mirroring his own. With aching tenderness, he reached out, his hand hovering over mine, a silent beacon of comfort in the darkness. "You are strong," he said softly, his voice a gentle reassurance. "Stronger than you realize. But even the strongest among us have moments of doubt, moments when the weight of the world feels too heavy to bear."

My eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, sought solace in his unwavering gaze. "And if you never get over this… if the shadows linger longer than you'd like, know that you are not alone. We'll face them together, every step of the way."

The weight of my fear trembled through my shoulders; the depth of my anguish palpable in the air. "But what if I pull you all into it too?" I whispered, my voice barely above a hoarse whisper. "What if my darkness becomes yours?"

Azriel's heart ached at the thought, but he refused to let me drown in my despair. "Your darkness is not a burden," he said, his voice steady, unwavering. "It's a part of you, just as much as your light. And I would walk through the darkest of nights if it meant I could stand beside you."

He reached for my hand, his touch gentle yet firm, anchoring me to the present moment. "Let me help you carry this weight," he urged, his eyes locking with mine. "Let us carry it together."

For a moment, there was only silence—a heavy, pregnant pause that hung between us, charged with unspoken emotions. And then, with a shaky breath, I nodded, my grip tightening around his hand as if anchoring myself to his steadfast presence.

In that moment, as we sat together in the quiet sanctuary of Madja's room, surrounded by the gentle scent of herbs and healing, Azriel felt a flicker of hope ignite within him. No matter how dark the path ahead, no matter how daunting the shadows that loomed on the horizon, we would face them together. And with love as our guiding light, we would find our way back to the warmth of the sun.

(Mid-October, River House)

The air in the room seemed to hold its breath as I gathered the courage to speak, surrounded by the Inner Circle whose presence felt both comforting and daunting. Cassian's warm gaze, Nesta's softened expression, Rhys and Feyre's silent solidarity, Amren's unreadable yet somehow reassuring presence, and Mor's gentle smile—all of them were a testament to the depth of their care.

With Azriel standing at my side, his silent support a steady anchor in the storm of my emotions, I began to speak. My voice, though laced with uncertainty, carried the weight of my sincerity as I addressed them.

"I want to apologize," I began, each word heavy with meaning as I met their eyes, one by one. "For the distance I've kept, for the walls I've built around myself. I've been… cold, and for that, I'm truly sorry.

A hushed tension hung in the air, anticipation mingling with apprehension as they waited for me to continue. But instead of judgment or reproach, I found only understanding in their expressions—compassion and empathy reflected in their unwavering gazes.

"I'm ready to try," I confessed, the admission a revelation in itself. "To try again.. To heal."

Cassian's hand found mine, his touch grounding and reassuring as he squeezed gently. "We're here for you," he declared, his voice a solemn vow. "Whatever you need, whenever you need it."

Nesta's usually sharp gaze softened, her features etched with genuine concern. "We've missed you," she admitted, her voice carrying a rare vulnerability. "But we understand. And we'll stand by you, no matter what."

Rhys and Feyre exchanged a silent glance, their unity a beacon of strength amidst the uncertainty. "You're not alone," Rhys affirmed, his voice steady and resolute. "We'll face this together, as a family."

Amren nodded curtly, her demeanor as inscrutable as ever, yet there was a glimmer of warmth in her eyes that spoke volumes. "Don't make a habit of apologizing," she quipped dryly, a subtle reassurance in her words.

Mor's smile was gentle, a flicker of hope amidst the darkness that threatened to engulf me. "We love you," she said simply, her words a promise of unwavering support.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I absorbed their words, the weight of their acceptance washing over me like a tidal wave. In that moment, surrounded by the love and understanding of my chosen family, I allowed myself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was hope for me yet.

With Azriel's hand firmly clasped in mine, I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the arduous journey ahead. It wouldn't be easy, and the road to recovery would be fraught with challenges. But with the unwavering support of those who loved me, I knew I could face whatever lay ahead.

Night after night, the nightmares clawed their way into my sleep, tearing through the fragile fabric of my dreams with merciless intensity. Each time, I would wake in a cold sweat, heart pounding in my chest, lungs gasping for air as if I'd been drowning in the darkness of my own mind.

Azriel had been there from the beginning, his quiet presence a steadfast anchor in the storm of my nightmares. At first, he would come at the sound of my screams, offering comfort and reassurance until the tremors subsided and sleep reclaimed me once more. But as the nights stretched on and the nightmares showed no signs of abating, his visits became more frequent, his presence a comforting constant in the ever-shifting landscape of my dreams.

I would wake to find him sitting beside my bed, his gaze watchful and protective as he kept vigil over my troubled sleep. His presence was a balm to my fractured mind, a beacon of light in the suffocating darkness that threatened to consume me.

At first, I protested his presence, insisting that he had better things to do than waste his nights sitting by my bedside. But he brushed off my protests with a quiet determination, his eyes holding a depth of understanding that spoke volumes. He didn't need words to convey the truth—that he would stay for as long as I needed him, no matter the cost.

And so, night after night, I would wake to find him there, his presence a silent reassurance that I was not alone in my suffering. With each passing night, his visits became longer, his presence more palpable until it felt as though he had practically moved into my room.

I would wake to the soft sound of his breathing, the warmth of his presence a comforting weight beside me. His steady heartbeat echoed in the silence of the night, a rhythmic cadence that anchored me to the present moment.

In those quiet hours before dawn, with the weight of his presence beside me, I found solace in the knowledge that I was not alone. No matter how dark the night, no matter how terrifying the nightmares that plagued my sleep, Azriel was there, a silent guardian watching over me until the first light of dawn chased the shadows away. And for that, I was endlessly grateful.

(Late October, River House)

As Azriel sat across from Rhysand, the weight of the conversation about you felt even heavier upon his shoulders. His mind flickered back to the recent events—the trauma you had endured, the pain etched into your every expression, and the way you had leaned on him for support during your darkest moments.

"I've noticed the way you look at her, Az," Rhys's voice broke through his thoughts, bringing him back to the present. "And I can't help but wonder… Are you two… a thing?"

Azriel's gaze softened with a mix of fondness and concern as he thought of you. "I… I care about her deeply," he confessed quietly, his voice tinged with emotion. "Especially now, after everything she's been through."

Rhys nodded, his eyes reflecting understanding. "I know you've been by her side through it all, Az. And I'm grateful for that. How is she holding up?"

The concern in Rhys's voice mirrored Azriel's own worries. Your recovery had been slow and arduous, marked by moments of progress followed by setbacks. Azriel had been there every step of the way, offering his support and comfort whenever you needed it most.

"She's… she's trying her best," Azriel replied, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "But the kidnapping still weighs heavily on her. Some days are better than others."

Rhys reached out a hand, placing it reassuringly on Azriel's shoulder. "You're doing everything you can for her, Az. And she knows that. Just keep being there for her, okay?"

Azriel nodded, gratitude swelling within him for Rhys's words of encouragement. Despite the challenges they faced, he was determined to stand by your side, offering you whatever solace and support he could provide.

As they parted ways, Azriel's thoughts remained with you—the strength you had shown in the face of adversity, the resilience that burned bright within you. And though he knew that your path to recovery would be a long and difficult one, he vowed to walk it with you every step of the way, for you had become more than just someone he cared about—you were his guiding light in the darkness, his reason to hope for a brighter tomorrow.

(Late November, Velaris)

Stepping beyond the familiar walls of the House of Wind felt like a liberation, a triumph over the shadows that had threatened to consume me. As I walked alongside Feyre and Mor, the streets of Velaris buzzed with life, each step forward a testament to the strength I had found within myself.

Beside me, Azriel's concern was evident, his worry etched in the furrow of his brow and the gentle pressure of his hand in mine. But this time, I was determined to show him—and myself—that I was stronger than the nightmares that haunted me.

"Don't worry, Az," I said with a reassuring smile, giving his hand a squeeze. "I'm ready for this. Feyre and Mor are with me."

Feyre and Mor nodded in agreement; their expressions filled with confidence. "We've got your back," Feyre said with a reassuring smile. "We won't let anything happen to you."

Their words filled me with a sense of reassurance, a reminder that I wasn't alone in this journey. With their support, I felt invincible, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

As we walked through the bustling streets of Velaris, I couldn't help but feel a sense of exhilaration coursing through me. The sun warmed my skin, the wind tousled my hair, and for the first time in what felt like ages, I felt truly alive.

But amidst the excitement, a part of me couldn't shake the worry that lingered in Azriel's eyes. I knew he cared about me deeply, and the thought of causing him any more pain weighed heavily on my heart.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" he asked quietly, his concern palpable. "We can turn back if you're not feeling well."

I met his gaze with determination, my resolve unwavering. "I'm more than ready, Az," I replied, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "I've spent too long hiding away. It's time for me to start living again."

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teacupcollector · 1 year

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The Art of Misdirection - Part 2 (Task Force 141 x Reader)

Main Masterlist Modern Warfare II Masterlist

A/N: I wanted to go into how each character feels about Misdi so there is a POV swap. I don’t know if it will make sense but I hope it does! A/N: I made my own divider because I couldn’t find one. I hope it looks decent.

A/N: I also want to thank you for all the love and support! I didn’t expect the first part to take off the way it did. I hope you enjoy this part! A/N: Also I forgot who, but someone kind of guessed what happened which I found funny because it was like they read my mind lol.

Summary: Joining the 141 was a wild roller-coaster. Everyone had been apprehensive to you joining due to your age, but you are here to prove them wrong. Now as of this mission and maybe your last they are going to figure out what your nickname means.

Johnny was insistent that we go down and look at the person we just shot. I decided that we wait a minute or so to see if there was any more movement before I allowed Gaz and I to go. I have no idea what compelled them to look, but I found myself being compelled as well. Johnny stayed above and kept an eye out for us just in case. If it weren’t for his injured leg I would be the one keeping watch since I am the better shot, but in any case I wouldn’t let Gaz go by himself in case there were more enemies out there. You can easily become overwhelmed with: A. The lack of cover. And B. The brightness of night vision. Not saying that night vision is bad. That is what helped us spot the movement of this rat in the first place, but if an enemy were to shine a light it could be blinding.

“Why would there only be one person out here LT? It is odd.” I hear Gaz say. “Could be a scout...” I grunt back. “Yeah... Maybe... But wouldn’t it be best to have a duo or a trio of scouts? It’s suicide to be out here on your own. Especially with you here.” I hear Gaz chuckle. I stay quiet as we continue to approach. I suddenly feel my hands twitch in discomfort and my brow suddenly break into a sweat. As we approach the body... The body I shot down. We see an American flag velcroed on their chest. “No... No, no, no!” I hear Gaz exclaim as he immediately rushes to the only person this could possibly be.

I follow in step with him as we approach her. I feel my breath hitch as I see the dark pool of liquid through my night vision. Some coming from her head and some coming from other various injures. Gaz kneels down next to her head on her left side. Her head is currently turned to the side to the right, which is where the blood is coming from. “Y-You fucking shot her! She’-” “Hush it Garrick! We need to be quiet... Sound travels fast here.” I say in a hurried and hushed tone as I kneel next to her on her other side. I lift her head to see if the bullet penetrated any part of her head. While doing this I place two fingers on the pulse point of her neck. Blood is still spewing from her head, but she is alive.

“She’s alive sergeant... But just barely. We ne-” “Yeah because you fucking shot her ya’ prat!” Gaz exclaims again but I give him a harsh tap on the head. “Hush it or we’ll all be dead.” I say sternly before passing my rifle over to him. “Hold it.” I say as I take her pack from underneath her legs, put the night vision goggles inside, and put it over my own to carry.

After that I gather her in my arms bridal style before picking her up. Her head falls black as she feels like dead weight in my arms. I slowly and gently as I can reposition her so her head is tucked safely in my chest.

“We need to hurry back and call for a med evac. This mission will have to be put on pause for now.” I say as I begin a swift trek back to base camp. Gaz follows behind, my rifle in hand. I can feel his glare piercing the back of my head. I can’t say I blame him though. I am the one who said she was dead...

The sound of music was cascading and echoing through out the town, as well as through our earpiece. While we were talking to Misdi I was busy putting a tourniquet on Soaps leg. The ambush came to us as a surprise, but we were trying to handle it as best we can. Throughout all the chaos that was unfolding we were separated from Gaz. Now there is even more Chaos. Barbie Girl was playing non-stop in our ears as we hear the sound of a vehicle tearing ass down the street.

“Get ready!” I hear her scream over the music.

I see one of our get away vehicles tear through the road. It begins to take oncoming fire and it swerves before hitting a building. The music still plays from the car outside, but the radio went dead silent. “Corporal! Corporal! Do you copy?” I say into the radio, but all I get is static. I hear both Garrick and Mactavish both try there own radios. That is when I hear Soap say to me: “We have to get down there! We have t-” There is suddenly an explosion which causes the whole building to shake. “We need to get out of here.” I say sternly. “LT we ca-” “We can and we will! She is fucking dead Mactavish!” I say taking his arm and wrapping it around my neck and helping him up.

Due to my height he is kind of elevated slightly. We start heading toward the back of the building and away from the commotion. “I can g-” I again interrupt the members of my squad. “She is fucking dead Gaz, and we need to get going before even more shit hits the fan!” I shout as I kick the back door open and drag Soap out of it. We start making our way Northward out of the city.

“Meet us at the North face of the bell tower” I say to Gaz before continuing to drag Johnny, but he continues to squirm. “Johnny we need to get you out of here stop squirming!” I growl. “She could still be alive back there! She could have gotten away in time and we just left her!” The more Soap panics the more his accent thickens to the point I almost can’t understand him. “Soap she got shot and crashed the vehicle then it exploded, No way she got out of there.” I grunt. “You need to be quiet before we draw attention!” I hiss.

I know I sound harsh, but I need to think of the rest of my team. Soap is injured and I have no idea what Gaz would be doing or what his condition is. Misdi did this for us. I need to make sure we make it out alive, heal up, and maybe go back if there is a body.

‘Jesus... I hope they are dead... for their sake...’

They were very bubbly. All bright eyed and bushy tailed. Ready to work and ready to prove themselves. The complete opposite of me. Completely different then all of us. ‘Fuck... I am already thinking of obituaries.’

Meeting up with Gaz at that moment was hard. His face was twisted in sorrow. Now I am jogging as gently as I can back to camp with a half dead Misdi in my arms. Approaching the camp there is a small fire, a few tents with cots inside, and finally Soap is sitting on a cot next to the fire. We meet eyes and he immediately tries to stand up. “Holy sweet jesus fuck!” Soap exclaims. He begins to limp toward us in a hurry, but I rush past him and place Misdi on a cot. When I look down I can see where her head was placed on my chest there is a big blood pool there. “Get me fucking sheers and Johnny get on comms and call for emergency med evac!” I spout. Gaz hands me some sheers and I begin to cut off her shirt and a portion her pants leg were I see more bleeding. I make sure to keep my eyes on the injured shoulder. The shoulder is dislocated so I turn her on her side to see a bullet wound and not exit hole. “Fuck...” I decide to leave it where it is and move to assess her head.

I take my flashlight from my belt and open her eyes and move the light back and forth. “Her pupils are dilated. She might have a concussion or severe head trauma.” I say as I take my water canteen and remove my gloves.

I pour the water on my hands and get out a first aid kit before squirting the cheap hand sanitizer on my hands. I take some gauze and some wrapping and place it against her head. “The bleed-” “Yeah it is because you fucking shot her!” Gaz spits. “The Fuck?!” He hears Soap shout before entering the tent. “You fucking shot her! What the fu-” “Jo-” “What the fuck is wrong with you!” “WE NEED TO FOCUS ON HER” Gaz cuts in as he finishes wrapping her head. “She needs stitches, but the bleeding is to severe. She is bleeding out right now and you both are being utter twats!” Gaz says as he begins to roll her on your side. Both Gaz and Soap cringe at how limp her left shoulder is. Soap immediately grabs another tourniquet to wrap around her leg that has the injury, though it isn’t to severe they need to look at the elephant in the room, which is her shoulder.

“Did you call for medical?” I ask and Soap begins to speak. “They won’t be here for another hour. They suggested that we take the cars, but I told them that she might be to fragile to move.” All of us sigh. “I don’t know if she has enough time... We are going to have to get the bullet out ourselves. That is the only way we can stitch her up and stop the bleeding...” I say as I roll her fully on her stomach. I slide her bra strap down her crooked shoulder to see the gun shot wound. I take out a flashlight and hand it to Gaz. “Hold it here so I can see.” I say. He does just that and I take out one of my clean knives and a pair of tweezers from the first-aid kit. I hear Soap say a small ‘Oh fuck’ before I begin to dig around as gently as I can in the wound. “It’s fragmented and it’s deep... Gaz it is important that you keep your eyes on it, so the flash light doesn’t move...” I can feel my voice beginning to shake.

‘I never wanted this to happen. This happened under my watch. I need to make sure she survives.’ I think to myself The first two fragments have been removed, my hands are now covered with her blood. I can stitch up anyone else. I can cut and slice down anyone on the field, but feeling her blood on my hands makes me uneasy. I am not suppose to feel this way. I need to be calm, collected, stoic, and precise. What I am doing could possibly quicken her death. I need to get through this. Fragment after fragment and I am finally done. Now we need to relocate her shoulder. “Grab a sheet from one of the cots” I say to Gaz as he sets the flashlight down. He looks as pale as a ghost.

He does just that as I gently roll Misdi on her back. After that I go over to my water canteen and pour it on my hands before wiping it on some cloth near by to get rid of the majority of the blood. Afterwards I take the sheet from Gaz and wrap it underneath her affected shoulder in her armpit. I pull both ends across her body. One underneath her and one over her chest.

“I don’t know if you have done this before Gaz, but I need you to slowly pull on the sheet so I can put her shoulder back into place.” I say as I take her arm by the wrist in my hand.

Gaz only nods before grabbing both ends of the sheet. “I will count to three and we gently pull. Got i’?” I say and Gaz nods. “1... 2... 3.”

Both Ghost and Gaz begin to pull and we suddenly hear a pop as it goes back into place. Suddenly there is a groan coming from Misdi. More groaning turns into panic screaming. She attempts to get up and tries to roll off the cot. “She’s Hypoxic! Hold her down!” Ghost commands as I hold her legs down. “No! No, no, no!” Her speech is slurred and her eyes are full of fear. “D-Don’t touch me! Let go!” “It’s us Lass! it’s okay!” I say and limp over and sits on the ground near the head of the cot.

I place a soothing palm on her cheek and turns her head to look at me. “ m'eudail (My dear) It’s me...” my voice turns soft in an attempt to sooth her. I use my thumb caresses the apple of her cheek. “J-Johnny?” Tears were collecting in her eyes. “Mhm. I’m here. I am right here. Now you are bleeding okay? We need to stitch ya up. Can we do that?” I ask.

Her eyes are glazed over with tears and confusion, but she nods. “Can ya roll over for me Lass?” He asks as he gently rolls her on her side that has the uninjured shoulder.

Her uninjured hand reaches for me and I take it in my hand. I press it against my cheek before moving my head down so her hand is in my hair. She begins to card her fingers through my hair. She has only does this a handful of times. I always found it funny because she thinks my nickname should be ‘Conditioner’ instead of ‘Soap’ because in her words not mine. “You have the softest hair that any women would want to grab.” She was immediately flustered after I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively. She tried to back track, and explain that she wasn’t trying to be inappropriate in fear that she would have to file SHARP paperwork. I chuckle at the memory and I wish I could go into more detail, but I just sigh as she scratches my scalp. She begins to whimper as Gaz begins to clean the wound and stitch it up.

“That’s a good girl... You are doin’ such a good job...” I whisper to her as I reach my hand behind her head and massage her neck at the base of her skull.

While doing this her eyes slide close and her breathing evens out. I continue to whisper praises and soothing words, but I turn my gaze to Ghost and I glare. After Gaz was done he wrapped her shoulder before moving toward her injured leg. The leg went quickly and she didn’t move. Then he moved to her head in which I moved out of the way. She was alarmingly still so I pressed my fingers to her pulse point under her thumb. Her pulse is weak and my heart seems to sink from my stomach to my ass. I am angered when I see Ghost exit the tent. I decide to follow so I stumble to my feet and follow after. I don’t care if he is my superior he is getting a piece of my mind.

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soubi122 · 5 months

Text

Afterglow

First timeline Hanma Shuji.

Warnings: smut, cherry popping, unprotected sex, fingering, prostitution, mentions of blood, slight dubcon, breeding kink if you squint, slight obsession, abuse/violence, slight angst, fluff at the end. MDNI - respectfully, GO AWAY!

Sitting in a large private room with a round table at a restaurant, Hanma Shuji could only smirk as the man in front of him begged him for forgiveness. “Please…I can pay it back. I will give all my earnings, just don't take my sister.” The man cried. His pleas fell on deaf ears. “You shouldn't bet what you don’t have.” Hanma laughed. The rest of the men laughed as well at the man’s pathetic attempt to keep the reaper from taking what he’s owed. “Toman will be collecting shortly…” He pauses and looks past the man and at the doorway behind him. His golden iris glowed with excitement at what or should we say who walked through the door. The innocent little dove that had no clue what was happening just so happened to be you. “(B/N), I got your text…what’s going on?” You question softly with a bit of worry on your tongue. Hanma’s mischievous giggle made you look up in his direction, it sent a small chill down his spine - you were radiating in pure innocence. The look of horror on your brother’s face when he noticed the reaper’s eyes land on your figure became noticeable.

Apparently, your brother put you down as collateral for a bet he couldn’t afford to lose. Did he win? Of course not. “Ohh…That’s quite fucked up. Putting your little sister up.❤️” The tall lanky male said with a wicked chuckle and smile, he began to walk towards you both. You thought you heard wrong, did he just say that your brother put you up, up for what?! “W-what is he talking about?” You ask as your body begins to tremble. “Are they forcing you to do something? If so, we can figure it out - I’ll get another job and pay-'' The tall male’s hand covered your mouth, muffling your words. Your brother couldn’t even look you in the eye. “(Y/N), I’m so sorry.” He said and was too ashamed of what he just did. He wanted to protest but he had no right, he put you in this position and single handley sold you off to Toman.

Looking down at the hand that kept you from speaking, you noticed the large tattoo on it. It read punishment (罰), the irony in seeing this only made your heart drop. You were going to be punished for someone else’s mistake. “Now, wave goodbye to your dear brother.” The man said and grabbed your wrist with his left hand and made you wave. Reading the tattoo on his left hand, you see that it reads sin (罪). The gears began to turn slowly inside your head. It made you nauseous - Hanma Shuji was the one taking you. He was known as the most ruthless and heartless person ever. You’ve heard the stories about Toman. Murder, extortion, fraud, gambling and expanding their territory into prostitution - he was all part of it.

After kicking your brother out and registering you as Toman’s property - he leads you towards the back of the building and lets you know you are getting escorted to your new ‘home’. Before the car arrived, your eyes were shifting every now and then between the doorway and Hanma. Despite the way people described him, it did him no justice - yes he was a monster but he was very handsome too. Golden eyes, black and gold tresses with rounded specs. You were staring a little too long at him that he got the wrong idea. Before you could even think about asking him a question, he spoke curtly. “Don’t even try it, a pretty thing like you needs to be in one piece for your assessment.” That twisted smile on his face had your knees shaking. He thought you were going to beg him to release you or that you were going to try and make a run for it.

Once the car arrived, he threw you in the back seat rather forcefully. You gasped and landed almost face first into the leather seats, with your ass hanging in the air - he got quite the view. When you managed to adjust yourself and the car began to pull away from the building, you spotted your older brother slouching on the street. He looked broken yet glad… The sight of him like this made your chest hurt. You began to cry when the anger bubbled over. You were angry at him and felt sorry for him. Did you not make enough to keep a roof over your heads? Why didn’t he come to you sooner instead of going to Toman? The thoughts were racing inside your head and your hands were trembling. Hanma startled you when he spoke. “Don’t you dare feel bad for him. He’s the reason you’re in this position. And the reason you will be raped over and over by men who don’t give a shit about you and your brother’s debt.” That maniacal tone made your blood run cold. He was right. You were sold off and will have to use your body to pay back every cent with interest.

The rest of the car ride remained quiet until you arrived at an office building. “Come on sweetheart…time to assess your worth.” His words only made the pain in your chest worse. Based on the building, it looked like a private practice office but there were a lot of Toman’s underlings with other women. Some of the women had bruises on their faces or gauze wrapped around what you could only assume were wounds. Faint sounds of coughing and sneezing made you almost forget that you were at an irregular doctor’s office…ohhhh. This is what he meant by assessment, you were going to be given a complete physical. Walking down the hall, The comments along the way amongst the other men were sickening. ‘You think we'll be able to fuck her?’ ‘Fuck, I want to eat her out.’ ‘Look at the tits on her…she’ll sell very nicely.’ ‘I wonder what pricing Kisaki will have on her.’ More and more these cruel comments made your body tremble. Hanma remained behind you with a firm hand on your shoulder to keep you from running. It would be foolish to even try. Your vision began to get blurry as tears welled in your eyes, the life you knew was over.

Hanma pulled you into one of the examination rooms and you were met with a doctor, he looked…well, normal except he had a cast on his arm. Soon his normal appearance became distorted when he smiled - the disturbing smile on his face made you pause. Hanma nudged you. “Come on now sweetheart….it’s just protocol. We need to assess our new merchandise.❤️” That fucked up playful tone made a chill run down your spine. He made you step forward and he closed the door behind him. “Ah, you’re the new girl, welcome.” His tone was heavy and you could also feel him looking through your clothes. You turned to look at Hanma and he only smirked at you, he was going to be here the entire time this man put his hands on you.

You were instructed to take your clothes off, you figured you were going to get a gown but the doctor said no. They needed to assess all of you. In nothing but your undergarments, you tried to cover yourself as best as possible but Hanma flashed you a look of disapproval. “What are you going to do to me?” You ask the doctor and stand in place. The doctor took out his clipboard and began taking notes, shifting his gaze between you and the clipboard, he didn’t answer your question. “Stand up straight and let your hands fall to your sides.” He said almost sweetly. When you hesitated, you saw Hanma walk towards your direction, his eyebrows were furrowed and his golden eyes were burning into you. His hands reached to grip yours and forcefully set them in place. It hurt, your wrists were turning red from the amount of force he was using. “Sorry dollface, Kisaki hates wasting time.” That faux apologetic tone made you sick.

“He’ll need to take your measurements - you see, he broke my arm last week.” The doctor says smiling and hands Hanma the fabric measuring tape. His cold hands made your breath hitch. It made him chuckle and he continued brushing your skin teasingly just to get you to react. When he got to measuring your bust, he first palmed your breasts and made you gasp. Oh that sound of innocence, could you be…? “I’m guessing you’re a(n) [X] cup.” He says smirking and rubs his thumbs over the cups of your bra. The blush on your face only widened his smirk. He was right, how the hell could he have guessed by just touching them like that? He was making butterflies in your stomach, the first man to touch you was your executioner. “We need exact measurements, Shuji.” The doctor said and cleared his throat. Huffing, Hanma continued and his guess was correct. Hanma leans in and whispers in your ear. “He’s going to ask you some…intimate questions, better answer truthfully if you know what’s good for you.” That poison honied tone made your legs quiver.

Stepping back, Hanma leans against the wall across from you with a smirk on his face. It felt like you were a teenager with a parent at a clinic and the doctor asks the question. “Now then, let us continue. Please discard the rest of your clothing and take a seat on the exam table.” The doctors says, for a moment you felt your brain short-circuit and froze. He wanted you to do what? "M-my underwear too?" You stutter but Hanma was quick to click his tongue. Looking over at him, you noticed his expression was rather annoyed. Not wanting to test his patience, you begin to unclasp your bra and keep your eyes glued to the floor. The cool air made you shiver and of course, your nipples hardened - causing Hanma to hum and bite his lip. You were so exposed. Once you were completely nude and sat on the exam table, the doctor asks the following questions:

Does your family have a history of cancer or any other fatal diseases?

Do you exercise?

What is your diet like?

Do you smoke or drink?

Do you suffer from any back or joint pain?

Are you sexually active?

Have you ever been pregnant?

Have you ever had any sexually transmitted diseases?

Have you ever taken two or more partners at once?

Do you partake in oral sex?

He kind of threw all these questions at you all at once. You were struggling to keep up with everything and were turning red from the last questions. “Umm…no.” You say quietly and keep your eyes glued to the floor. Hanma’s face lit up a bit, this couldn’t possibly be true - you a virgin? All the women who have walked through these doors have been deflowered and some even pollinated before. “Ohh?” His coy tone made you squirm on the table. To have the chance at breaking in a virgin, he’s wanted to do this for years but all previous women had their cherries popped already. The doctor walks over with his stethoscope and places the cold medal on your chest to listen to your heartbeat - he was careful not to inappropriately touch your breasts. Of course your heart rate was abnormal. He then told you to sit up straight and placed the diaphragm on your back to listen to your lungs. “Deep breaths in and out please.” The way your chest would slowly rise and fall was making Hanma eager to get to the next part. The doctor continued his physical, he waved the ophthalmoscope over each eye and used the otoscope to check your ears. "All right, open your mouth." Following his instructions, you opened your mouth and he shoved a flat wooden stick down your throat. It made you gag almost instantly. "Hmm, we can work on your gag reflex." Gag reflex? Is this why he asked you if you partake in oral sex? They were planning on making you a prostitute?

He was carefully checking the surface of your skin for any flaws or abnormalities and then stepped away to take notes. Charting every detail about you and your body - they really graded women like they grade meat. "Now lay back and Shuji will finish the examination. Again, with my arm being broken, I wouldn't be able to complete it." The doctor says and smiles at you before taking a seat by the edge of the table. Before you knew it, Hanma was already next to you and he gently pushed you back. The doctor explained what he needed to do and what to feel for, they needed to give you a rather crude breast exam. The delight in Hanma's face had your legs trembling. "Arm over your head, dollface." He said in a low tone, you complied with the right arm first and he proceeded to slowly but firmly touch you. His cold hands made your breath hitch and the way your legs kept squirming - it made him smirk and keep eye contact with you. Starting from the center, he was making his way around and cleared you of any lumps. He could see the way your lips parted and could hear those shaky moans. Were you perhaps enjoying this? Now the left breast, same routine and he cleared you. The doctor took notes and told him to check your abdomen. Just when you thought he was done with the breast exam, next thing you know his fingers were rubbing your nipples. "Gotta check your sensitivity." He says and gives them a light pinch. The sweetest moan escaped your lips and oh he enjoyed it.

"You see… We do a very thorough assessment…" He said and kept rolling them between his fingers. The sick pleasure that was being injected into your veins had you biting your lip and refusing to give him more reasons to tease you. Try as you might, you were falling apart - failing to hold back your whimpers. "The higher quality you are, the more expensive you'll be." The glossy look in your eyes had his member twitching. Your blushing and innocent face stirred something in him, he wanted nothing more than to corrupt you. He's had a taste of some merchandise before, but they were just that - nothing more. They didn't captivate him, they flaunted their experience and skills in bed. It didn't make him come back for more but you… you got him all sorts of fucked up from the moment you walked through that door.

Hanma was just about to lean in to bite your chest until the doctor cleared his throat. "Like you said, Kisaki hates wasting time, please allow me to finish up the assessment and I'll-" His words were cut off by a loud moan. When the doctor peered over to see what was going on, he noticed that the reaper had a mouth full and was enjoying himself to the merchandise. The doctor sighs and begins to walk away before pausing at the doorway and looking back. “Try not to break her, Kisaki wants to make the money back as quickly as possible - the higher her grade, the more we can sell her for.” With that the doctor exited the room and left you at the hands of the reaper.

“Now then sweetheart… you can be honest with me.” He says playfully and nibbles on your skin - leaving pink marks behind. “You’ve had a cock between your legs before, yeah?” He coos in your ear and trails his hand south to your honey pot. Your hand was trying to hold on to something, anything, to suppress the lustful sensations. Refusing to answer his question, you bite your lip and screw your eyes shut. Bad idea, this only made Hanma want to break you even more. Without warning, he slapped your pussy and it made you quickly snap your legs closed, catching his hand in between. “Ohh… your thighs have quite the muscles.❤️” He giggled like a mad man and tried prying them open with one hand but failed. “...please, don’t.” It’s the first time you’ve addressed him at all. Leaning in to gently glide his tongue on your bottom lip, he whispered - “Your body doesn’t belong to you anymore, dollface. Now be a good girl and open your legs for me.” His words were cold and yet they made you melt on the spot. Who could resist those beautiful golden eyes, and those black and gold strands of hair? There was something stirring up inside of you, something dark.

With your legs quivering, you slowly spread your legs open for him. “Good girl…” Lithe fingers slid down to your core and he just about moaned when he felt your slick. Whimpering, you barely manage to speak as his finger prods your entrance. “S-stop, please! I’ve never done this before!” Hanma couldn’t help but mock you and shove his finger inside you without warning, making you squeal and grip his bicep. The sensation was so foreign you didn’t know what to do. Just one finger and she’s practically crying? He thinks to himself and slowly explores your cavern. “You really are a virgin, huh?” He whispers into your lips and forces you into a kiss. Panting and moaning, you returned his kiss - it felt like you were in a daze. He was poisoning you and you were giving into him, might as well enjoy it before you get thrown to sharks.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you tried your hardest to at least make this as pleasurable as possible - for both of you. Caught off guard by the return of affection, he grinned and slid another digit inside your warmth. He could feel your walls clamping down on and pulsing at his sudden actions. Moaning into his kisses, you felt the way his long fingers stretched you out and your hips slightly grind into them. The sinful motions only continued as his thumb traced circles on your bundle of nerves. “...ngh…ah-it feels…” You say and try to adjust to the sensation of something being inside you. “This is nothing compared to what’s next, dollface.” Hanma chuckled and quickened his pace. Your sweet voice had him high in the clouds, so inexperienced and so sweet, he needed to sink into you. To feel your warmth, your tight walls and your release.

"Fuck…you're so wet, practically dripping - tell me pretty girl, have you ever touched yourself?" He asks and nuzzles his face into your neck. "You've never played with this pretty pussy before? Hmm?" For a moment, you thought his voice alone was going to send you into overdrive. Shaking your head no, you confess that you've never been touched before. Poor thing, you've never experienced a hand, a finger, a tongue or a cock between your legs. The reaper couldn't have that now could he? Without warning he stopped and stood up straight, gazing down at you with his amber eyes. The way he towered over you, you thought he got turned off by your confession but it did quite the opposite. You set him on fire.

He walked away and you closed your eyes thinking he was done with you. That is until you felt him on the other edge of the examination table, he gripped your ankles and yanked you closer to the edge of the table. Your surprised squeak made him smile. He removed his glasses and tossed them aside. The sound of his zipper made your heart skip a beat. Was he going to pop your cherry? The heavy contact from his length hitting your core made you flinch. “I want you to see the moment I deflower you…now sit up.” Hanma demanded, those gold irises reflected nothing but malice and desire. Looking down, you see how flushed his tip was, it was oozing precum and you swore you were going to die if he put it in you. “W-will it fit?” You ask innocently. For a moment the world stopped, Hanma felt infatuated with your innocence and couldn’t bear the thought of another man taking your first time. “I’ll make it fit, sweetheart.” He replies sweetly and rubs his tip against your clit as he unbuttons his shirt. His warmth and the slick was making your head fuzzy - you knew this was wrong but you wanted it.

Sitting up, you wrap your arms loosely around his neck and brace yourself. Looking up at him, Hanma noticed the tears that lined your eyes, you were worried and scared. Such a sweet expression. “I said I want you to see it…look down (Y/N).” Oh he said your name and a chill ran down your spine. Following his orders, you look down and see his cock throbbing, it makes your mouth salivate - this was really happening. Hanma reeled his hips back and lined himself up with your slit. His breath hitched when his tip prodded your entrance, your breath caught in your throat as you felt a burning stretch - you were too tight. Tears began to stream down your face as you watched him peirce you. He only had the tip in and you were already crying. “Ngh…it’s too big…it hurts.” You whimper and pant as his cock bullies its way inside you. Your words fell on deaf ears, Hanma was too busy drinking in your expression of distress and looking at how his length slowly disappeared inside you. “Keep watching, dollface. You’ll see how I make it fit.” He says and continues forcing his way in. He noticed how your legs trembled and how your tears streamed down your face. For you not to fight back…you might be able to take more of the things he wants to do to you.

As much as it burned, you couldn’t help but feel arousal in seeing how his fat cock split you open. You were becoming a lewd mess. This man, the devil’s incarnate, had you losing more than your innocence, he was making you lose your sanity. Could you ever look at yourself the same ever again? When he managed to bottom out, you felt a throbbing sensation inside you - you thought you were going to pass out. Hanma was panting and snickering like a mad man at how fucking good you felt. “See baby? I told you I’d fit.” He coos and presses his forehead against yours. Looking up at him, you see how the look in his eyes softened just a bit, could this be a sign of kindness?

When your walls finally settled on his shape, Hanma slowly reeled his hips back and leaned back ever so slightly to take in the view. To his delight, there were light traces of blood on his shaft - you were a virgin and an obedient one at that. Doe eyes, pouty lips, flushed cheeks, all features that made him want to ruin you until you can no longer function without him. Grabbing you by the back of your neck with one hand and gipping your hip with the other, he pulled you in close and seared you with his gaze. Your eyes reflected nothing but obedience and reverence. He loved it. God or the Devil put you on his path for a reason, that reason was for him to get a taste of heaven - knowing that he will never actually get there after he departs this world, it was a rather kind gesture from the gods. When he thrusted into you, he felt your walls spasm around his length. Your core was pulling him in and refusing to let go of his cock, he struggled to pull away - he didn’t want to leave your warmth even for a second.

Your soft moans had him in a daze and he kept his slow pace. The pain was beginning to subsite and pleasure started to creep up on you. With how close he was, your clit was getting some friction and you wanted more of this foreign sensation. “Sh-Shuji…I want more.” You whimper and pout at him. Saying his name like that, oh you have no idea what you just did to him. Crashing his lips into you, he devoured you and picked up his pace. Hanma couldn’t care less about your now ruined state - all he wanted was to fill you up and make you cry around his cock. Everything was getting hazy, you felt as if your body was going numb with each thrust of his hips. The air was being snatched from your lungs when he kept hitting that golden spot inside you that you didn’t even know existed. For it being your first time, you were taking him so well he thought that you were made for him.

Leaning back on your elbows, you took in the view before you - when you should have felt fear and disgust, you felt bliss. Your mind was muddled in sin and you couldn’t help it, something about him just made you trust him and give in to him. His husky moans and breaths kept you in the clouds. He could have killed you on the spot and you would have died happy. Why on earth do you feel this happy when your life is over after this? Sensing your conflict, Hanma presses your legs further back, making his tip kiss your cervix with each thrust. “Ahn…I feel something coming, I-” Your moan cuts your sentence short. Your purity was being tainted and he was the cause of it all.

Hanma was rather kind for breaking you in, had it been left to a client - they would have scarred you in a way where you would never feel pleasure again. “Get used to this position, sweetheart. You’ll be on your back to make back the money that is owed.” He pants between words and digs his fingernails into your plush thighs. Even though his words were cruel, you didn’t care at all - you were glad it was him. Maybe a little too glad as the soft smile on your lips and glossy look in your eyes sent him into overdrive. He expected you to cry at any moment or freeze in fear but you looked divine and accepted your fate without question. Perhaps he was fucking you stupid but loved the look on your face. It was now etched in his mind.

“Shit…I’m close, gonna fill you up pretty girl.” He pants and places both hands on your hips to steady himself. Sitting up, wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him in - resting your chin on his shoulder. Those siren-like moans were now in his ear and he couldn’t help but feel a shiver run down his spine. Your cries of his name and god’s name kept echoing in his ear along with incoherent babbles that sounded like you were going to come undone at any second. Your thighs were beginning to shake and you bit down on his collarbone, making him wince and pound into you harder. The moment you felt your first orgasm, your body trembled and your release was pure bliss. You didn’t think it was possible to feel this good for your first time, especially after it being taken by the reaper himself. Feeling your cunt clench around him and feeling your juices drip down his thighs, Hanma reached his high and spilled his seed deep in your womb. It wouldn’t stop, he kept feeling his cum splurt inside you and he wanted to just keep you filled up until your belly was swollen.

Both of you stayed still, panting and trying to regain some sort of consciousness, the afterglow was too good. “...Shuji.” You whisper and his ears perk up at the sound of your voice. “Hmm?” He hums in response and rests his forehead on your shoulder. “Will you still visit me when I’m taken away?” You ask him innocently and pray that he says yes. I know they say that you will never forget your first time but this was on a whole other level. It felt like you fell for him, even though you knew this would probably be a one time thing, perhaps even the last time you’d ever see him again. He fucked up your mental state, you got a taste of ecstacy and now you wanted to keep staying high in clouds and dancing with the devil. The low chuckle made your chest ache, he didn’t answer your question and told you to clean yourself up, he only wanted to pop your cherry - nothing more and nothing less.

He left the room after cleaning himself up, not even looking back at you - he didn’t even give you the chance to savor his handsome face before he left. The soreness between your legs was beginning to creep up on you. After cleaning yourself up, the doctor walked back in and gave you a pill to swallow, of course - Hanma fucked you raw and you didn’t even think about the consequences that would bring. “If your period is late, please let us know immediately.” The doctor says and tells you to follow him. Slowly walking, you felt Hanma’s seed drip little by little, he really did fill you up.

The doctor informed you of the rest of the procedure and how you will be staying at a…well for lack of a better word, whore house for now on but you were not to render services until the assessment was completed. When that is done, they will be changing your name and you will be given a complete breakdown of all the pricing that will be placed on your body. It kind of was a blur to you.

After they dropped you off at your new home, you were welcomed by the staff and not so welcomed by the other women there. They were not happy about competing with another pretty face. Especially when they overheard that Hanma Shuji took a liking to you and popped your cherry. It meant that you were going to be worth more than they are and your ‘workspace’ would be much nicer than theirs.

The first few days were hard. The days were short but the nights were long, you could hear the women servicing other men and it only made you nervous. Yet there was warmth that built up inside your chest just thinking about the reaper. Remaining in that room at night didn’t make it any better. Anyone could have walked through that door and you would have no choice but to surrender yourself to them. You were stuck doing laundry and cleanup duty for other rooms, you needed to be useful for something after all. To be fair, you preferred this but it wasn’t going to pay off the debit any sooner.

Finally after a month, the house mother walked in and threw you some lingerie to wear, “Your services are needed at 22:00, get cleaned up and get ready, babydoll.” She said and reminded you to put on a performance for your guest in order to get extra tips. She also gave you a warning, if the client left unsatisfied - you’d be doing some ‘unsavory’ services in the feature. You knew she didn’t mean clean up duty.

Feeling anxious, you quickly did as you were told - cleaning up the room, cleansing yourself and getting ready. The whole time you felt like you were going to pass out. You could feel your teeth chatter when everything was done and you looked at the clock, it was almost time…it read 21:57. The sound of the doorknob turning made your heart almost jump out of your chest. Your eyes darted to the figure at the door and it was your house mother. Oh thank goodness, you were praying that she’d tell you that they canceled. “Babydoll, your guest is downstairs - they have a rather peculiar request. Here…” She says and tosses you a blindfold. Oh no, was the person some kind of old pervert? Or perhaps some guy with a fetish? Maybe this was for the best - you didn’t want to see his face, it would most likely haunt you.

A knock on the door made your squeak and the house mother quickly fixed you up while telling the guest to come in. “I hope she is to your liking, enjoy.” She says coyly and you could her walk away, followed by the sound of the door closing. The room remained silent and you sat there with your heart in your throat. It was too quiet so you decided to break the ice, “W-welcome, I will be taking care of you tonight, sir.” Your voice is soft and has a tinge of skittishness to it. The man said nothing. The room still remained quiet and you felt as if you were going to vomit. Standing there in silence while unable to see what’s in front of you was overwhelming. A few more seconds of silence and finally you hear him move. His footsteps came closer, you could feel his presence - he was right in front of you.

The sudden hard slap to your face made you yelp and he threw you off balance, making you stumble back onto the bed. You froze in place, what the hell was this? He started to pant. The stinging sensation on your cheek intensified when another harsh slap landed on your face. However, you couldn’t retaliate - for your sake, there was no way. You were warned about this. As long as he doesn’t punch you or cause your skin to break, you were to take it. Many of the girls shared stories with you about how sometimes they would get terrifying men and would often have to take a beating from them. They were all done within the limits of the rules - even though the women protested, nothing was ever done as they were high paying clients. If the money rolled in, they had to pretty much roll with the punches. Tears were beginning to soak through the blindfold, it hurt so much.

You could hear the sound of his belt buckle and zipper, was he going to fuck you now? But your ears picked up on the slight skin slapping sounds, he was getting off to his abuse. A third slap in the same spot made you scream in pain, the taste of blood was now in your mouth. He busted your lip. When you heard a whipping sound, you instinctively scream again in fear of your life - this was going beyond the service of a prostitute. A loud crash and the sound of charging footsteps could be heard, followed by a heavy thud. Freezing in place, you dared not to move, you could have gotten in trouble by not being cooperative with your guest. You felt the bed dip as if someone was kneeling on it and climbing over you. Every fiber in you was screaming for you to run or fight back.

When the person lifted your blindfold, your vision was blurry and trying to adjust to the light. A maniacal chuckle echoes in your ears. “Rough first day, sweetheart?” That voice… You wipe your eyes and your vision focuses on him. Golden eyes, black and gold tresses with round specs, it was him. “Shuji?” The soft tone in your voice made a shiver run down his spine, you still sounded innocent. Looking down you see the asshole who slapped you was face down on the ground with his pants around his ankles. Apparently, Hanma walked in unannounced and was going to request your services. However, when the house mother said you just started servicing your first client, he pretty much didn’t give a flying fuck and made a beeline to your room and kicked the door open at the exact moment he heard your scream.

The house mother gasped when she saw the client on the floor. “What the hell happened?” She questioned the reaper and glared at him. It wasn’t like Hanma to interrupt the girls during service. “Nothing, he broke the rules so I broke his nose.” He retorts. “By the way, she is no longer of service to this house.” Wait, what? “Oh dear…we had a queue lined up for her.” The house mother sighs and doesn’t question her boss any further.

Wiping the blood off your lip, Hanma explains to you that your debt has been paid by an anonymous donor. You were set free from this shitty life. The sound of another man’s voice by the doorway made you both turn around. “So…this is the little bird you’ve been surly about?” A man with blond, neat cut hair says while examining you. You recognized him as Toman’s top brass, Kisaki Tetta. The girls would talk about him, he would rarely come by but only for VIP clients - he’d never indulge in the land of milk and honey. Kisaki was personally here to see who caught the eye of the reaper. You immediately stood up and bowed. “Thank you sir.” You say not wanting to seem rude. “Thank Hanma…he’s the one who paid your debt.” He scoffed and began to walk away with a smirk on his face. There was a tinge of regret of letting Hanma release you from your debt, you would have pulled in quite a lot of money. The plan is always to give the girls a list of fees different from their actual market pricing. That way Toman keeps them around a little longer while profiting off their suffering.

“Oi, asshole! You weren’t supposed to tell her!” Hanma laughed and pulled you in from your waist. The reaper couldn’t get you out of his head, the moment he felt the afterglow - he had to backaway, there was something there and refused to accept it. It made sense as to why he refused to look at you one last time before he left that day. Even while working and blooding up faces, stacking bodies and sleeping with other women - he couldn’t get your innocent face out of his head. It was maddening. When he realized that you etched yourself into his mind - he cut a deal with Kisaki. You were going to be Hanma’s…personal assistant. He was refusing to let you go again and refused to have another man touch you. Hence the delay in your services at the whore house.

In tears you thanked him, for once in his life he felt like he did something good - something that wasn’t for benefit. Right? Actually no, scratch that, it was all for his benefit. That night he took you home and made you cry more tears, only they were of pleasure and bliss. You were his and only his.

END

tags: @anxious-chick

#tokyorevengers #tokyo revengers #tr fanfic #tr fanfiction #tr smut #tokyo revengers smut #hanma #hanma shuji #toman hanma #first timeline hanma #smut #slight an #slight fluff #oneshot #mini fic #hanma smut #hanma shuji smut #this was a little sweet at the end

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autisticjoys · 1 month

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“You know, I envy your job sometimes.” Villain grumbled in the middle of an epic fight.

“Excuse me?!” Hero looked visibly offended “YOU envy MY job?!”

“Yeah. I mean, you’re not the one who’s being hunted 24/7, never knowing when your place is going to get raided.” Villain’s usual smug tone was seemingly getting irritated.

“Your face isn’t plastered on every poster with Wanted Dead being emphasized . You’re not being used as a tale to scare children into not misbehaving ” Villain’s voice seemed to tremble.

“You don’t have to worry about whether or not you’ll be able to get food on the table at the end of the day or if you’d even still have your freedom”. Hero could swear he saw tears in Villain’s eyes.

“You don’t have to constantly look over your shoulders in fear or worry about whether you can trust anyone.”

“Wow.” Hero seemed to be in utter disbelief. “You really have no idea what it means to be a Hero right?” Hero made a scoff and Villain started feeling a bit uneasy by how condescending he sounded.

“You think I have it easy?!” Hero was practically shouting at this point and for the first time during their rivalry, Villain felt genuinely terrified of their adversary. “That my life is some perfect fairytale? Well news flash: it’s fucking not! Between the government monitoring, the regular debriefs, the press conferences, the theatric public appearances, the fans swarming me at every possible place, including my home, I have zero privacy or a life outside of running after you and other low life scums!”

Villain took offense to the last part of the statement, but seeing that Hero was clearly not in the right mindset, they elected to stay quiet about it. “Do you have the slightest sliver of idea of the pressure of my job? No sick days, no days off, no room for mistakes or human error, because lives depend on me! If I’m anything less than the perfect and powerful symbol for peace and hope, I’m done for!” Hero was breaking down more and more with each sentence.

“I can’t confide in anyone, I can’t show weakness or fear or anything other than my life being a happy and perfect wonder and I’m sick and tired of it all!” Hero was out of breath, panting, tears streaming down his face. His vision was too blurred to see Villain’s expression of genuine concern and pain. Villain silently moved closer, and Hero hung his head in defeat. Once they were only about an arm’s length from each other, Hero mumbled…

“Just make it quick, will you?” Villain seemed to hesitate, before taking the final step, pulling Hero into a really tight hug.

“I’m so sorry.”

#writing ideas #writing inspiration #writing prompt #writers #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing #dialogue prompt #hero x villain #hero x supervillain #angst #slight fluff

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tzuuuuuu-u · 2 months

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Without me?

G!p Tzuyu x fem!reader

MDNI!

Warnings: G!p, grinding, smut, rough sex, unprotected sex, slight fluff

You and Tzuyu recently got into an argument about hanging out with a friend. You stayed in your room, scrolling on your phone, while Tzuyu was just in the living room watching tv. You got bored and decided to touch yourself for a while, which made you very horny. You didn’t have anything nearby to help you but a plushie. You took off your pants, and sat on top of the plushie, slowly grinding on it. You tried staying quiet as possible, but then let out a slightly loud moan, you paused for a bit.

Footsteps could be heard walking upstairs, until the door opened, it was Tzuyu. Her eyes widened and mouth slightly agape, but it slowly turned into a smirk. “Without me? You could’ve asked me to help you.” She said teasingly. “I was scared you were still mad…” You looked away from her, and slowly got off the plushie. “Not anymore, let me help you. Bend over.” You bent over on the bed. revealing your wet pussy to her, which dripped down slowly. Tzuyu giggled at the sight and quickly took off her pants, along with her boxers.

She slapped her dick on your ass, making you feel how long it was, before putting it in. You moan at how long and thick her cock was, as she thrusted rapidly into you. “Such a needy girl for me…” Tzuyu gripped your hips, and went even faster. “S-Slow down!” You whined and grabbed her arm, trying to slow her down. She did slow down slightly, before letting out a big load. You both breathed heavily before laying down to cuddle with each other. “Sorry about earlier.” She kissed you on the forehead. “It’s okay. Let’s sleep though, I’m tired.” You responded back before laying on her chest and dozed off.

#tzuyu smut #g!p tzuyu #twice #twice smut #g!p #slight fluff #fem!reader

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miss-celestia13 · 1 month

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The Ending You Deserve

Jake x MC - Duskwood One Shot

I wanted to practice angst and creating suspense. This happened. It has a touch of humor, a hint of fluff, and other things! Sassy MC. No smut for a change. It feels weird 🤭

Can Jake run from death and make it to MC?

Or will his demons win the race?

MC isn't named or described as it was more for the emotions. It's all from Jake’s POV.

Pain.

Aching. Cold. Hot. Burning, burning, burning. It rolled through him in waves.

He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t see.

Dread wove through his internal organs and strangled him from the inside like an invasive vine had taken root in the core of himself.

Smoke and ash choked his airways as he stumbled and tripped through the mine.

His heart rattled savagely against his ribs.

It felt like a creature in its death throes, trying to break out of his chest.

His foot collided with a jagged, jutting rock and he went down like a house of cards. Crumpled and folded as he rolled and rolled.

Hissing as tiny sharp stones cut into his face and hands.

Ash ridden sweat trickled down his face and stung the many small slices leaking blood as he lay on his back panting and cursing himself as the ominous orange glow of raging flame inched along the underground tunnel.

The air grew thinner and thinner.

The smoke grew thicker and thicker.

The gasoline fueled fire was a monster bearing down on him and he scrambled to his trembling feet. Taking off at a staggering jog, one hand braced on the rough, dirty wall.

A pinprick of light opened up far ahead and a jolt of adrenaline surged through his bloodstream. He hurried, panting and terrified, breathing too shallowly as the rising heat nipped at his neck.

He knew he had a choice to make.

It was death by fire or FBI.

Neither option appealed to him, but as he looked back and saw the swirling, furious flames licking nearer and nearer. He knew he had to decide.

It wasn’t fair.

He wasn’t innocent or free from any wrongdoing. But he didn’t deserve to die like an animal, run over and left bleeding out and twitching on the side of the road until he grew cold and stiff.

No one would miss him.

No one would look for him.

He was all alone. It was a surety. He was always, always alone.

That’s not true though, is it, Jake?

It hasn’t been for a while now.

The voice in his head made his breath catch, and his heart pounded painfully in his throat.

It felt as though someone had reached inside his chest, broken through his flesh, muscle and grasped his bones to pry them apart, an invisible fist that gripped his pulsing heart and shoved it in his mouth. Forcing him to swallow it.

It beat there like a Wardrum. Marching him to his death.

It throbbed and choked and filled his mouth with copper. He couldn’t stand it. The pain was corrosive as it ate through his nerves and left them exposed to the heat and acrid taint of smoke.

She is waiting for you. Don’t let her down.

You PROMISED.

A soul deep sigh huffed through his nose as his feet sped up, pebbles and broken glass crunched under his boots as he raced toward the gradually growing dot of light.

The roaring fire and echo of his escape bounced off the stone and haunted him as he ran for his life.

Four years of running.

Four years of searching and shame and seclusion. Running had been his gift. His lifeline.

Yet he felt wholly unprepared for this last sprint.

He was tiring.

Steps shortening faster than his scalding breath as black smoke slithered overhead and wrapped its insidious tentacles around his body.

He would not make it.

He would not see her after all.

The thought felt like a poisoned blade sinking into his chest. He could feel the barbs of it twisting and cutting through sinew.

He would soon bleed out without a sound.

The fight left him as the intangible knife punctured his hope and foolish dream of having a love he didn’t deserve.

They’d been writing their own story, filling the pages with dreams and fragile, flourishing love.

He felt like coming here was akin to him tearing out those pages and ripping them up.

It broke him so completely he almost stopped and let the flames embrace him.

He could already smell the sickly sweet and pungent scent of his blistering flesh. Like tanning leather over a flame.

He was going to burn.

It would hurt more than he already did.

It would roast through his flesh, flay it from his bones and incinerate muscle and blood to dust.

He could already feel it.

Creeping closer, singing the hair on his nape, and filling his nose with the cloying scent of dangerous smoke.

No one would know it was him.

Nothing would remain for her except blackened bones and the memory that he had gone to the mine instead of her.

She would blame herself for this.

It would destroy her.

And it was all his doing.

No.

Never.

He wouldn’t be a cause of her pain anymore than he already had.

A burst of fresh speed and determination glittered through him as the fire drew so near he could feel the flames whispering in his ear.

Too slow, Jake. It’s too late.

You can’t run away from this.

Your luck has faded.

He forced it aside and sobbed through his clenched teeth as the dot of light swelled and came toward him.

His legs were heavy. Growing weightier with every leap over fallen support beams and shattered rock.

His rabbit heart raced faster and faster. It deafened him to the groaning, popping wood as the fire devoured it.

Tears streaked through the soot and blood on his face. Leaving pale tracks through the grime and coating his chapped lips with brine.

His vision blurred as his emotions broke free of the locked and coded vault he’d stuffed in the back of his hive mind to come here.

He attempted to shove them back in.

It didn’t work.

They spilled out and utterly overwhelmed him.

He’d spent years locking them down. Beating them into submission, so they listened to him and not him to them. The steel and stone fortress he erected around himself had already crumbled for her and there was nowhere left to hide.

He’d given her everything he had, and it wouldn’t be enough.

You always knew you weren’t enough. Let’s not think too highly of ourselves.

She deserves better than this.

Better than you.

That is a truth you will never escape.

His heart fractured as his mind fought against him and his flagging spirit frayed further.

She deserved better than this.

He was failing her. Had failed her since he let her in.

He’d always known he’d cause her future hurt.

He just hadn’t expected it would come so soon. That he wouldn’t get to watch from afar as she healed from his vanishing.

They had always lived on borrowed time.

And now, the fire was so close sweat slid like rivers down his back and legs, eating away at his nerves as they flared wildly under his soaking skin.

Jake knew it was futile. The ball of light in his vision seemed to run away from him as his eyes blurred and cleared repeatedly. His hands curled into two tight fists and he fought the urge to punch the wall in fury.

He bit down on the inside of his cheek instead. Biting down hard until the skin gave and blood welled over the tattered edge, glazing his tongue with the buttery, metallic taste of it.

It acted like a stimulant.

His eyes focused and his heart pounded fiercely as he ran and ran and ran.

Feet pounded stone as fire blazed through the mine. He had to outrun it.

He would outrun in it.

There was no other option as his blood pressure skyrocketed and his breath became harsh, shallow.

The fire sucked away the air before it could go in as he tried to gulp it down.

There was no oxygen.

His insides kept writhing and twisting.

They knotted up and up so tightly he swore felt something tear. Something that made him cry out as the air was crushed from him.

He could see shadows in his periphery. Specks of darkness and sparks of light as his lungs ached and screamed for oxygen. For rest.

Resting meant dying.

Dying meant failing her.

Failing her was never an option before.

It couldn’t be one now.

He put his head down and ran.

He jumped over another wooden beam as the light ahead broadened and he landed atop aged wooden boards.

He only had time to scream as they broke under his weight and their age.

Jake fell. And fell and fell.

He screwed his eyes shut before he hit the ground.

The impact was so brutal, he almost wished it had killed him.

He hit the ground with a resounding whack.

His head cracked off the stone. Pain, blinding and bleeding, radiated through his skull and brain, frying his rationality completely and leaving room for fear to consume him wholly.

Warmth seeped across his scalp and his hand came away, stained in crimson when he reached to feel the damage.

Head wounds bled worse than they were and the gash didn’t feel too bad once the stinging pain subsided a little. He internally surveyed the rest of himself. Finding nothing broken despite his ribs feeling as though a giant had stomped him flat.

Dirt and blood coated his teeth as he wheezed and coughed. Choking and spluttering as he tried to get a handle on himself.

He’d bitten through his lip, and it bled like a bitch.

Something was stabbing into his shoulder.

As he stared up at the hole he fell through, a sensation like a thousand razor blades slicing down his skin moved down his spine, coiling in his lower back. It swirled there, a ball of cutting, primal fright that soon bled through the rest of him.

A rickety ladder leading up and out offered a small ray of hope.

He clung to it and calculated how long it would take to climb in his current condition.

Fire scoured over the opening and left no place for him to escape.

His hope died with a breathless whimper.

He barely even heard it as agony rippled through his bones and he rolled onto his knees, panting.

“Fuck!” He spat. The word was more like a vicious curse as it rebounded off the mine walls and into his ears.

Mocking him as he squinted into the darkness and tried to figure out what to do next.

The fire would keep the police and FBI away from the mine until it burnt out. They wouldn’t rush in until it was safe enough. He knew that.

He could use that.

Jake kneeled on the filthy ground and schemed.

The temperature rose and rose as he shuffled through his thoughts.

He neatly ordered and arranged everything, thinking of his brain like a filing cabinet.

He could slide one drawer open and find a treasure trove of data and memories.

Some would get stuck as he tugged at them. Rusty and dusty, hardly ever opened for fear it would cut off his ability to feel nothing.

He pulled at one that had eroded so much he had to kick it and smash it to smithereens to pull the files out.

It was like opening Pandora’s box and expecting sunshine to pour forth.

A veritable flood of emotion, memory, and agony spilled free of the mental drawer and absolutely annihilated his hold on himself.

He’d forgotten what it was like to feel everything so fully.

Everything of the last few years had felt like he was competing against time itself. And time was humanity’s greatest enemy. There was never enough of it and it actively fought back when you tried to beat it.

It was a losing game and in order to keep playing, he’d become a ghost.

He muted everything that made him human in order to survive.

Calculated.

Clinical.

Cold.

Jake was all of that.

Now, he felt everything.

He wanted to survive. He wanted to live.

Lingering as a phantom on the periphery of reality no longer appealed to him. He wanted to feel and touch and be. He wanted everything life had to give.

The bitter and the sweet. The hurt and the relief. All of it.

Jake just wanted.

And when Jake wanted something, he got it.

He pushed up on his hands. Curling his fingers into the gravelly dirt and ignoring the bark of pain as his nails cracked and split.

His blood mingled with the muck, and he clambered to his feet.

Everything ached and bled and felt so heavy he could barely put one foot in front of the other as he carefully headed down the tunnel he’d dropped into.

His throat was raw. Torn to shreds from smoke and screaming. His hands quaked and his mouth was so dry his tongue curdled in his mouth as he smacked his lips together and tried to create some lubrication.

It was useless. He needed water.

He needed to rest soon, or he would pass out in sheer fright and exhaustion.

It’s too late, Jake.

Give up.

Only fools persist in fighting when the odds are stacked.

Jake’s head throbbed as he thrashed it, as if to dispel the sinister crooning, and muttered, “The odds are always stacked. It’s how you play the system.”

The voice went quiet again, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he tripped over rock and wood, hands scrabbling at the walls to ensure he wouldn’t get himself lost.

He risked taking his phone out of his pocket, scowling at the shattered screen as message after message came through.

MC: Jake. You can’t just tell a woman you love her and then ignore her!

Answer me.

Please.

Just give me a sign. A smoke signal. Send a damn carrier pigeon if you have to! They’re saying there’s no way in or out. But I know better. You’ll find a way.

Keep going. Please don’t give up. You’re not alone in this. I won’t allow it.

If you die, I will hunt you down, drag you back and kill you again. You must live, Jake. Not for me, not for Hannah or Lilly, but for you. You will make it back to me.

He swiped them away. Deleting them. They made his heart shiver and fracture more. The rubious fissures would leave silver scars behind. He groaned as another came through and he immediately memorized the coordinates she gave him. Deleting the message once he had. He put all his remaining energy and will into planning his escape.

His mind wheeled with memories from before. Prior to being forced into hiding, he had experienced a life of color and fluctuating joy. It wasn’t a perfect life, but it was his. The day he had to leave it all behind, he’d severed all strands of his old life and assumed the identity of many and none.

He’d learned a lot about humanity and its cruelty in that time. He knew how it worked.

Life was a battle against human cruelty. It always was and always would be. Wisdom, strategy, and hope were the only factors that could hope to gain over cruelty.

And his hope lived on.

Hope, he understood it lived with her now. He’d given her it and she had offered him her own. He would not waste it.

He flicked through his brain and memories, shelving what didn’t matter and keeping what did. Everything that made him ache, he kept. Everything that made him feel safe, he lost.

If safety meant being alone, lost in a mine until he either burned or starved to death, he didn’t want it.

He reached into the mental vault containing their chats.

Their conversation about her coming here was the most potent file he had, and it would fuel him to make it out.

She had complimented his research on the mine and he’d told her about some entrances/exits.

He informed her of the ones he thought were most likely to get him caught. It was a manipulative decision, so she wouldn’t get the stupid idea of following him.

He kept one exit loaded like a bullet in the back of his mind.

It was risky.

It was idiotic.

Still, Jake took off running for it.

The tunnel was narrowing as he traveled along it. He had to duck before long.

His heart still frothed behind his sternum. Relentless and out of time, with his sawing breath as the walls closed in on him.

He had to crouch now. His head scuffed off the rugged ceiling and he bit back a shout as the pain merged with that of the wound still leaking blood on the back of his skull.

He felt drained. His body became so weighty, he was grateful when the tightening passage forced him to his hands and knees.

Jake crawled and crawled. Palms scraped and searing as sweat irritated all his grazes. His eyes prickled with fresh tears as a draught of fresh air snaked into his nose.

Dread rose to swallow him, but he kept going. He didn’t know what awaited him on the other side, but it was better than dying alone, never to be mourned or found.

The fear of being arrested was so strong it almost halted him as he squeezed through the ever shrinking tunnel and felt like he was caught in a vice.

If he got stuck—No, he couldn’t think it.

He had to turn his fear into a weapon. Run from this place and reclaim his name. The sweat on his brow, the blood running through his veins; it was that of a survivor.

This was just another glitch.

He told himself that over and over as he army crawled through the crushing mine.

He was blind.

The darkness entrenched him.

It would entomb him if he allowed it.

His coat snagged on the rough wall and dragged him back. He shook his sore body as much as the tight space would allow and panted through his clenched teeth.

It kept sticking. He had stretched his hands ahead of him.

There was no room or way for him to tug the fabric free.

His heart stopped dead in his chest.

Helplessness stole his flagging fight, and he slumped into the dirt, hiding his filthy face in it.

Abruptly, Jake started sobbing like a child. Great, gasping cries tore from him and his entire body shuddered with it. So violent and soul destroying he couldn’t temper it.

No matter what he did, it went against him. He’d never worked with such horrendous odds. His brain was a mess of emotion and regret.

He wished he’d written everything he felt and hoped for them down and mailed the letter to her before he entered the mine, but he’d been cocky then. Too confident in his ability to escape any trap or cage.

Jake gave up and accepted his fate.

If he died, if that was his due, there was no stopping it. He’d been living off begged and borrowed and stolen time for years.

It had finally caught up to him.

He was so lost in defeat. Consumed by it. His throat contracted, and he felt like he might be sick.

He hoped he choked on it.

Make it quick.

“I don’t want to die,” He whispered without meaning to and his mouth kept moving, the words kept falling from his bloodstained lips, “Not like this, anything but this.”

His heart shriveled and went cold as he struggled and tried to shuffle forward. He couldn’t breathe properly. All his weight was on his front. His ribs felt bruised and cracked, every tiny inhale felt like a sledgehammer blow.

It is over, Jake. Feel that? The cold creeping in? Soon, it’s all you’ll know. This darkness? It’s all there is. All there ever will be. It’s what you –

“-- I don’t deserve this.” Jake growled with a certainty he’d never known.

Adrenaline coursed through him, lighting up his veins and filling him with new trembling energy as if someone had injected him with a drug.

He rocked and shook his body until his bones jolted and his skin felt too tight. He forced what little breath he had out through gritted teeth and felt the tendons in his neck straining as he dug his fingers into the dirt and put all his strength into pulling himself free.

The sound of fabric ripping caused his heart to start beating again.

He gave a laugh like shattering glass.

Unhinged and desperate as the momentum of his coat coming free shoved him forward a few feet.

From there, it wasn’t easy. He felt like a clumsy serpent as he slithered through the mine.

He kept laughing. His heart kept pounding.

The voice in his head was silent as his hands connected with something that fell away as he shoved at it.

Glorious, clean night air hit his sweaty face, and he gulped it down as he pulled himself out of the horrible tunnel.

It seemed to cling to him. Like invisible hands tugged on his ankles to keep him trapped. He refused to allow it.

Damp earth, long green grass, and dried leaves crunched under his hands as he lay on his back on the forest floor and stared at the starry sky.

He considered the spectacle of stars as the greatest gift he could have received. He analyzed it, finding the North star and thinking of the co-ordinates MC had given him. He quickly checked them on his phone before he threw it away, and was relieved when he discovered it wasn’t too far to make it there on foot.

If he headed in a North- Easterly direction, he could make it there at sunrise.

He didn’t bother looking toward Duskwood, didn’t need to know how close his pursuers might be or he’d lose his nerve.

He shakily got to his feet and started walking.

Time meant nothing to him as he traipsed through forest and open fields. He stayed away from the roads he knew were always busy.

In his current condition, some good samaritan would call for help thinking they were aiding him when in fact they’d be signing his death.

He was so tired. It clung to him like a shroud of smothering fog he would never break out of.

He kept moving.

Through shadow and moonlight, he kept walking and ignored the pain in his body as best he could.

There was no end to his exhaustion as pink tinged sunlight shimmered through the pines.

The sun was rising.

How strange, he thought, that his world could burn down around him and yet the sun still rose.

He eyed it and felt strange, like it was an abstract painting absolutely out of place in this world of cruelty, death, and flame.

No matter how deeply or irrevocably the world burned. No matter how thick the shadows grew and the amount the freezing darkness consumed, the sun would always rise.

It filled the world with light, warmth, and color and precious hope.

He felt the soft warmth kiss his hurting face, and it energized him as he broke out of the cover of trees and came to a halt in a motel parking lot.

Jake frowned, glancing around in suspicion and doubt as he failed to understand. Why would she send him here? He hadn’t stayed here. It was too out of the way.

And just how did she know of it?

He stood straight and fear thickened in his throat as his attention snagged on a window. The curtains had moved. He was sure of it.

He moved as though to sink back amongst the trees, but the creak of a door opening made his head snap toward it.

A small, slender hand poked through the gap in the door, beckoning him. He was moving toward it before he could give his feet the command.

His heart picked up speed again. His pulse and distress ratcheting up and infusing him with tension like someone was turning a screw too tightly.

He was only a few steps away from the door now. His skin felt too sensitive and everything hurt in some way. His throat felt like he’d been eating sandpaper and gravel.

The shake in his hands intensified, flight or fight. His nervous system couldn’t decide.

As he hesitated, a female voice trailed through the open door and it was like a salve on his exposed nerves. He had heard that voice, he could recognize it anywhere.

His heart raced for an entirely different reason as he listened to it.

“It’s safe. Come in and I’ll explain.”

Jake didn’t care about her explanation as the adrenaline left him so suddenly he drooped and nearly dropped to his knees.

He tripped through the door instead.

She didn’t give him time to rake his gaze over her the way he wanted to. She gripped him and forcefully dragged him into an embrace, causing him to groan in pain as it aggravated his many minor injuries.

She instantly pulled back, grimacing and apologetic.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. Here, I have supplies. I figured one of us would get shot or stabbed or maimed. It felt important to be prepared. Thankfully, the worst injury I’ve had is paper cuts. You don’t look like you’ve been so lucky. Are you bleeding anywhere? What do I do first? Are you burnt? You smell like someone roasted you over a spit! Are yo-”

Jake chuckled roughly at her babbling. Touched and amused by her care and thoughtfulness.

It was the first genuine laugh he’d had in years, and it turned into a cackle before long. It just slipped out of him and sounded more like crying by the end.

His gritty eyes closed as emotion swallowed him and he welcomed the darkness they offered.

It was familiar.

It was safe.

He woke hours later very confused and so stiff it felt like he was breaking his bones to sit up. His grunt of pain escaped his teeth as a lilting voice cut through the static in his mind.

“Oh, good. I was worrying. That’s nothing new, but you look like someone just dug you out of your grave. I cleaned and patched you up as best I could without stripping you. I thought I’d let you buy me dinner before we got to that stage!”

Her tone was light and filled with humor, but there was an edge of despair and anxiety in it that told him she’d fussed over him the entire time he slept.

His sluggish heart resided in his empty stomach as she approached him slowly like she thought he was an injured animal and she was afraid to spook him.

“Where are we? Why are you here? You promised to stay away.” He managed as he accepted the glass of water she offered him.

His fingers left dirty streaks on the glass as the dirt mingled with the condensation. The water was cold and crystal clear and he gulped it down to clear the sour taste out of his mouth.

She huffed at his words and waited for him to sink the water before she responded, “Typical. I come and help you and you scold me. Well, shove it. If it weren’t for me and Alan, you would be dead or rotting in a cell. And I did stay away! I didn't go to the mine, did I?”

His gaze flew to her indignant face, lovely and open despite the fury razing hell in her narrowed eyes.

He felt shocked that he could speak because his tongue felt so thick in his mouth. “My apologies. I’m still—I’m sorry... Alan? I thought he would be more interested in helping them catch me?”

She smirked, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she sat down beside him.

“That was until I ripped him a new one. The fire helped most, but Alan is currently playing down your involvement to give us time. He’ll make contact with us once we find a safe place to stay.”

He opened his mouth to demand she go back home, and he’d message once he was safe, but she flung up a hand to silence him.

“None of that. I’ll explain better once we know the scope of the fallout in Duskwood. But I am coming with you. No, if ands or buts about it, Jake. I make my decisions, not you. The last time someone tried to decide for me, I bit them. Don’t make me bite you too. Are you in?”

Her eyes were hard and unwavering, not a sliver of doubt to be found.

Everything inside him protested against dragging her into his mess, but he was tired.

He was tired of being alone.

He was so tired of losing everything.

Four years of fatigue and depression sank through him like a millstone and he hung his head in defeat. He was in no condition to run alone, anyway.

And he didn't want to. It was selfish. It was daft. But he didn't care.

He hadn't expected to survive this long. Plus, she had been his reason to make it out. He sighed and let his shoulders curl inward. Having someone else to protect would keep him sharp and ready for anything. She must've sensed his resolve weakening.

She reached out and threaded her clean fingers through his muddy ones, dark and light; he thought stupidly as his skin tingled at the contact.

It had been so long since he’d been touched gently. With obvious affection and because someone wanted to, not because they had to.

He was used to bruises and hurt. This was — this was what he'd survived for.

He’d forgotten what it felt like as he met her gaze and felt his stomach fluttering with something that felt like excitement.

It felt like hundreds of tiny birds had taken flight in his abdomen and a frisson of tentative anticipation filtered through him.

Her eyes glittered and his mouth twitched with the want to smile as he gave his response.

“I’m in.”

—————————

Thank you for reading. I hope it was worth your time despite this being done so many times before me. Oh, and if you leave a comment or reblog, thank you. It is appreciated ❤️

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jaebeomsbitch · 8 months

Text

Puppy (R.R) Smut

Pt.I

Summary: Sending Roman a present turns into a sexy phone call

Warnings: MINORS DNI! Masturbation, degradation, phone sex?, guided masturbation, dom/sub dynamics.

Authors Note: God was so fun to write this. The virgin Eddie fic is like 90% done!

Roman was used to meeting the world with witty quips and that smug smile on his face. He never registered it as awkward as it is. Everyone around him could see how he was shouldering the pain away. Shoving against it like a football player during practice.

He doesn’t see you again until the day of his fathers funeral. Until you’re getting the police to open up the fence and drag him up off the floor, pulling him into his Escalade and sitting in complete silence as his driver takes you both to his penthouse.

You gently clean up his wounds, undress him, hand him some pain killers and water then tuck him into bed with a kiss to his forehead. He doesn’t understand it. Why would you randomly come back to take care of him like this? You’d just left like it was nothing, it really was nothing. It was some flirting at best but here you were toeing off your heels and digging through his closet for a sleep shirt.

You knew he’d never have the courage to ask you to stay. So you slip off your dress and put on his shirt sliding into the cool sheets of his bed and pressing him against your chest like a mother would to a child. It’s not long until he’s uncontrollably sobbing in your arms. He babbles incoherently as you rub his back. You hold him for what seems like hours until his tears are dried and the shirt you borrowed is full of snot. The bandaid on his face falling from his face.

You stand up pulling a bandaid out from your phone case. You’d have it there for emergencies, in case your heels cut up your ankles. He sits there sniffling trying to push your hand away as you place a blue bandaid on him. It’s got a fat puppy all over it, like snoopy but different.

You let him tucker himself out until he’s passed out on his bed, his fingers clutched to the shirt you’re wearing, red nosed, and puffy eyed.

When you wake up he acts like nothing happened but he’s dressed differently. He’s no longer adorned with opulent suits but instead in baggy shorts and a T-shirt. He sips his coffee, that same smug smile adorning his face as he asks “ So how’d you sleep last night?”

You smile, seeing past his façade, seeing that scared little boy from last night. “Better with my kitten” you say in an annoying tone slipping back into teasing each other. You hug him tightly, almost spilling his hot coffee onto your arm. He’s trying not to laugh.

“Well I’m not a kitten, I’m a tiger if anything. I’ll fuckin’ rip you to shreds” he scoffs sipping his bitter drink, pushing you off of him even though he craves the heat of your skin.

“Fine, you’re my puppy then” you laugh, opening his refrigerator and grabbing an orange juice. He doesn’t say anything, he eyes you wearily. Sipping his drink but internally his heart pounds against his ribs.

You sip your drink watching him as he watches you like you’re in an old western movie ready to draw your guns. You silently finish your juice washing the cup as Roman makes a comment about how only peasants wash their dishes.

Before he knows it you’re dressed and ready to slip out of his apartment and probably out of his life again. A part of him wants to beg for you to stay but his fragile ego won’t let him. He’d begged Gerri to stay and she threw it in his face. He couldn’t risk being hurt again and yet as you leave reminding him to call a doctor to stitch him up, his heart aches.

He didn’t get to ask your name again. Miss Business and Pleasure… He wants to know who you are. Even if you’re just some low level employee at Waystar trying to kiss ass to climb the ladder. He sits on his his couch like Bella in Twilight, memories of the funeral, of his fuck up eating away at his soul. Any obligation to follow your orders and eat breakfast is long gone since you left. He feels that ache in his stomach and welcomes it. He deserves the pain for being useless. Everything was bullshit but most of all Roman was bullshit.

He was always a pawn in a game he could never win. The court jester sent to fuck clients like a common whore despite his inability to get hard.

Then there’s a package at the front desk. His mind racing, what could it be? Maybe another condolence gift, fuck em. Who cares? His father was dead and he was finally free of the cage and yet he could feel the familiar press of metal against his skin. He can practically see his siblings taunting him for being a weakling, dog bowl full of chow and water ready for him to dig in.

The Gojo deal goes through he feels empty and free but chained… to what? Who knows. Like he'll never truly be free of the dog cage he grew accustomed to. The package sits in a pile until he finally decides to open them. Most of them have cards obviously written by personal assistants by rich fucks who can’t take the two seconds to write ‘sorry your dad died :/’ followed by bottles of expensive booze. Like that’s cured the crater in his chest. Maybe they wanted him to become an alcoholic. “34 year old Roman Roy found dead, choked on his own vomit,” he could almost imagine it. Taste the bile in his throat and the burn of the liquor in his chest.

He gets to the last package opening it without a care. He rips through the tissue paper, the unfamiliar feeling on his fingertips before he registers what it is. It’s a blush pink collar. Why would someone send him a dog collar? Wait, this one was bigger and thicker… there’s a golden name plate that hangs from the middle of it, “Puppy” it reads. The metal jingles as he holds it up closer to his face.

“What the fuck?” He mumbles.

Fingers searching through the packet until his index finger hits a corner of a paper. He pulls it out, a pink letter addressed to Roman well… to Puppy. He rips open the paper. There’s nothing on the paper, well no words it’s a phone number.

Before he can think he’s dialing the number like he’s just a normal schmuck. He should probably at least Google search it but the phone is ringing and his heart pounds in his throat. He knows who this is from.

“Romulus, to what do I owe the pleasure?” You say picking up on the third ring.

“It’s you” he says, taken aback.

“So it is. I take it you loved the present” you say, smirk on your lips. That familiar smug tone in your voice.

“You want me to bark and sit on command too?” He asks, joking around with you.

“I take it you didn’t see the back of the card” you reply. His hands go back to the note flipping it.

“Sex dwarf by Soft Cell” it reads and then “send me a photo of it on, Puppy” all in your hand writing.

“As if I’d do what you told me” he scoffs.

You laugh, “Why do I have a feeling you’re already hard imagining yourself on your knees for me? Crawling around your kitchen on all fours all pretty for me”

“Seems like someone’s got a sick fetish. You’d like to break me down or something? Too bad I’m more emotionally stable that your fucking Psychologist,” Roman says.

“We’ll see,” You say smugly over the phone before hanging up. Roman’s heart pounds, what the fuck did that mean? Would he see you again? Would he really have to wear the collar?

Weeks go by, his fingers itch to call you again. To hear your voice even over the shitty receiver of his pissed on phone. He doesn’t though, there’s a certain challenge between you going on. Like whoever contacts the other loses and yet, he knew if you reached out first you’d still somehow be winning. It was Roman who had all to lose in your invisible competition. Maybe it was all in his head?

There’s another box brought to him, this one a matching leash to his collar. His body can’t help it. He flushes with color imagining your red bottomed heels digging into his back, pressing his face to his tiled floor as you call him sick names, the leather biting at his skin on his neck. Before he knows it he’s walking over to his bedroom taking out the collar and matching leash and touching himself imagining it. His head tipped back, imagining the curl of your lips, that look of disgust on your face and then he’s coming all over his sheets. The collar and leash dripping with cum. He takes a photo and sends it to you waiting for a response like a puppy waiting for his owner.

“See, I knew you liked it” you text, and then it's radio silence. Until his phone is ringing through the silent room. His fingers shaking, pants still down his thighs.

“If it isn’t my owner,” He says sarcastically, fingers smudging the cum into the leather.

“Put it on Romulus,” You say sternly over the phone.

“That’s fucking-” He tries to protest.

“Put the collar on like a good boy or I’ll have to punish you,” You say.

“Oh I’m fucking trembling, what could you possibly do?” He says sarcastically.

“I’m not asking again. Put the collar on or you’re never hearing from me again Romulus,” You say with a finality. He gulps, weirdly turned on by your threat despite jerking himself off less than five minutes ago. He puts the phone down, hands grabbing the collar and tightening it on his neck, his cum smearing all over his throat.

“I’m not doing it,” He says, trying to sound stern, hand already playing with himself as he grabs the phone. You don’t say anything, his hand grabbing his hard cock and stroking himself slowly.

“Mhm sure you're not,” You say condescendingly.

“I’m holding it in my hand,” He quips back, fingers teasing the head of his cock before going back to stroke himself. He tries to keep his voice steady and breath even but the collar is doing more to him than he’d like to admit.

“I know you Puppy. I know you’re touching yourself right now, imagining me telling how fucking disgusting you are. You’re a sick fuck Roman. Touching yourself while wearing my collar, you want to be owned don’t you? Want me to force you to admit how much you like this,” You say seductively.

You hear him shudder as he hears those words. You hear him moan as he imagines you towering over him. Calling him your filthy and disgusting puppy.

“Shit” He says, trying to hide the lust in his voice.

“How’s it feel to touch yourself with your puppy tag bouncing on your throat? You’re my fucking toy to play with Rome. Let me hear how good it feels to fuck your hand while thinking of me,” You say.

“You’re disgusting,” he says, not even trying to hide the fact that he’s now wearing the collar. You can hear as he tries to hide how much you’re turning him on, his face flushed. You can hear the jingling of his collar and a puff of breath with his every movement.

“How did you know I was wearing it?” He asks you.

“Cause you want to be called a good boy,” You chuckle. Chills trickle down his spine, his face red as he strokes himself faster, teeth clenched trying to hold back his moans. He can’t hold back for much longer. You know you can just keep driving him further and further and he knows too. He’s at your mercy, has been since the first night you met.

“You’re right,” he says. His voice is shaky and weak and he’s breathing very heavily.

“You’re disgusting Roman. You’re a sick fuck, God if you’re father knew you were jerking off with a dog collar on he’d smack you in the face,” you say into your phone. You knew he liked degradation from the way his breath hitched over the receiver.

“Let me hear how good your hand is making you feel Puppy,” You command.

“F-Fuck,” He moans, the jingling becoming more aparrent. His moans are mixed with the squelching of his hand on his cock. His precum dripping out, stomach tensing as he feels the burn in his belly.

His eyes are closed. You can almost hear the blood coursing through your veins as his breaths get heavier. God what you wouldn’t do to see him right now. Cock in his hand, thighs quivering, head tilted upward trying to hold onto a semblance of himself as he fucked his fist as you tell him what to do.

“Oh God,” is all he can manage to say. “Fuck- Fuck– m’disgusting,” He pants, the tingle at the base of his spine feeling electrifying.

“That’s it pup, you’re close aren’t you? Let me hear you. Fuck, wish I could see those big puppy eyes begging me to let you cum” You say breathily. The jingle of his collar ringing in your ears.

His orgasm builds and builds until his thighs are trembling like he just ran a marathon, a mixture of moans and curse words spilling out his lips. He’s in pure heaven, hand stroking over himself as he spills onto his thighs, eyes rolling back, mouth open as moans spill out.

“F-fuuuck” he pants as he relaxes against his bed. His phone pressed to his ear.

His phone still pressed against his ear, he struggles to catch his breath. He listens to his own heavy breathing. He can feel the chills going down his spine as his chest rises and falls. His breathing is shallow, short and fast as his brain is completely fried. He can’t think about anything other than the pleasure he just felt.

“Oh God,” he says again, trying to find words to show how he’s feeling. But he can’t say anything else. Not after what you just did to him.

“Good boy, Romey” you coo.

“Fuck you,” He pants.

“You wish,” You chuckle.

“Now, follow your commands and send me a photo,” You say not letting him answer as you hang up immediately. Roman’s brain is complete mush. Fuck you, who did you think you were demanding a photo? A part of him also wanted to comply. The deep rooted feeling of wanting approval gnawing at him. Why did those two words from you send a shiver down his spine? God was he doing this? What if you sent this photo to someone else?

Nonetheless ten minutes later your phone buzzes with a text. It’s a photo of Roman, his face cropped out but his neck adorned with that pink collar covered in his cum, his torso covered with a dress shirt, slacks down just enough for his cock to be free. He completely ruined his expensive suit, it’s all painted in his cum.

“Good boy,” You reply.

Roman had found himself in a completely different dog cage. One without his siblings cackling at him and forcing him to bark on command. Now you were outside the cage, images of your body clad in lingerie, insults passing through your lips, taunting him from outside of his metaphorical cage. Roman was your wholly devoted Puppy even if he wasn’t willing to fully admit it.

#roman roy #succession #succession hbo #succession roman #roman roy imagine #roman roy x reader #roman roy / reader #roman roy smut #roman roy x reader smut #romulus roy #sub and dom #sub and dom dynamics #roman is a sub #roman roy x female reader #roman roy au #slight angst #slight fluff #logan roy funeral mention #Spotify

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somber-sapphic · 8 months

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Midnight Quest

〘Day 2- Quest for a Cure 〙

〘Notes- Alright, the title is bad we can all agree on that. I also changed the colors and format just a bit because I wanted to.〙

〘Summary- Natasha runs of soup, forcing you on a 3am trip to the convince store.〙

〘Word Count- 700〙

〘Pairing- Sick Natasha x Reader〙

〚Main Masterlist〛⌶〚Sicktember Masterlist〛

You walked through the isles of the 24/7 convenience store, Natasha hanging onto your arm like a clingy puppy. Ever since she’d gotten sick, she’d been all over you, demanding constant attention. She didn’t let you leave the house, even when you had run out of soup to feed her.

She wouldn’t eat anything else of course, only Campbells chicken and rice soup. You’d offered chicken noodle but were immediately shut down with complaints of how they “aren’t even remotely similar”. How they were different you didn’t fully understand, but apparently, they were.

So there the two of you were, sifting through far too many cans of soup in search of the only one she would eat. Your feverish girlfriend kept putting random things into the cart, insisting that she’d need them later.

So far, you’d had to put back a bag of Fritos (she didn’t like Fritos), a toy car and a comb. The one item you had let stay was a light brown dog with a black patch over its left eye. The look Natasha had given you when you went to put the stuffed animal back was just too much. Did she need a stuffed dog? No. Was she getting one? Yes.

“Okay babe, here it is. I want to grab a few more boxes of tissues and some cough drops and then we can head home.” You said softly, grabbing ten cans of the stuff and shoving them into the basket. The likelihood that she’d consume ten cans of soup was extremely low, but there would be more for next time.

The redhead said something unintelligible and wiped her runny nose on your shoulder, further proving your point about the need for tissues. At least you could make this one trip, had you waited much longer you may have needed to go to the real grocery store. The real grocery store wasn’t open at 3am for your sick, needy girlfriend.

You very slowly made your way to the pharmacy aisles of the store, practically dragging Natasha behind you. She had her arms wrapped around your waist and her head on your shoulder, probably drooling on you. It didn’t really matter; you’d be able to shower after she passed out in front of the tv.

While perusing the several rows of cough drops Nat sort of got away from you. She stumbled a bit further than you had expected and ended up over by the Band-Aids, looking at the Marvel themed ones with wide eyes. You couldn’t help but smirk as you tossed a bag of cherry flavored lozenges into the basket, amused by the look on her face.

“Why’sit have me?” She croaked, turning those wide green eyes on you. The box she had picked up did indeed have a little cartoon version of her plastered onto its side, next to Iron Man and Thor. You walked back to her side and kissed the tip of her chapped nose with a grin spread across your lips.

“Because you’re a hero maylsh, heroes get to be on Band-Aids.” You explained, easing the carton from her fingers and into the box. Natasha wrinkled her brow and seemed to have a moment of clarity, quickly moving to put it away.

“No, we don’t need those.” She tried to put them back, but you snatched them away and put them in the basket again.

“I think we do. Next time I get a papercut you’ll be there to protect me.” You joked, the lack of sleep getting to you a bit. Natasha wiped her nose on her sleeve and let out a small half cough half laugh, shaking her head a bit at you.

“Kay.” She mumbled, the laugh seeming to have sapped her last bit of strength. There was a good chance that she was being overdramatic (she had done it before) but this was a strangely good way for the two of you to spend time together.

“Okay then.”

With that, you grabbed a box of tissues and an extra bottle of cough medicine, paid, and left the store. Before reaching the car, you presented Natasha with the stuffed dog, your heart warming at the smile she gave you.

She leaned forward and kissed you gently, hugging the plushie close to her chest. For this woman you would go out to find soup any time of night. Afterall, you knew she would do the same for you.

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wishfuldivine · 3 months

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Gaz being the one to calm Ghost down when things hit the fan within him. Everyone always thought it would be Soap, seeing how they're the closest. But no, Gaz has a way of speaking and doing things that make Ghost feel at ease.

"I'm just doing my job, sir." Kyle replies to the subtle nod from the lieutenant when they waited for their transportation. There was a comfortable silence after that.

Now, they were on their way back to base after exfiling successfully. Ghost sat to his left, silent as ever. But his shoulders are less tense than when they were in the safe house.

Gaz was too busy in reporting with their captain when Ghost's gloved hand went to his thigh and gave a light squeeze.

It made the sergeant smile and nod in acknowledgment. He knew that the lieutenant was grateful. And if that wasn't any indication, the gloved hand staying on his thigh for the rest of the ride was more than enough proof.

#kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #ghostgaz #cod #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #call of duty #slight fluff #i can honestly see this #gaz is the most level-headed #sometimes though lmao

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bored-storyteller · 10 months

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WARNING: Angst and spoilers of Spider-Man: across the Spider-Verse. Implied Spider!Reader. I don't know Spanish so I limited myself a lot to try not to spoil anything, even though it's one of the best sides of Miguel. If anyone has any suggestions for me, they're welcome.

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse, Miguel O'Hara x reader

The right part

You wouldn't be able to say exactly when you gave your affection and trust to Miguel; maybe it was that time when the world seemed a little quieter than usual -although it wasn't for real, of course-, where everything that was important was developed on orange screens and he, the big, thick, arrogant Miguel, worked with little Mayday crawling on his lap.

Spider-man's impassiveness hadn't made you aware of her sweet presence until the little red head had sprouted from over his shoulder, she had looked at you with those big bright eyes and she had smiled at you smugly.

You laughed tenderly and at that point Miguel too turned to look at you to understand what you found so funny.

Well, maybe that was the moment you thought that Miguel O'Hara really could be the really good guy.

But in the same way he can't tell when you became a partner, someone that he should have protected in the first place.

One evening you had dragged yourself to him at his request, evidently exhausted after a mission out of dimension. He could imagine you were tired, but he needed you, and you hadn't complained.

You sat side by side, in silence, each concentrating on his own part of the analysis you were doing.

"A little more..." you had started to murmur at one point, and he remembers it well, because when he had looked at you out of the corner of his eye, it was the first time he had seen you with your sleepy face. Yet, despite this, Miguel didn't expect to feel the weight of your head leaning gently on his shoulder.

Your efforts to stay awake had melted away, and in that moment your face was calm, your cheek pressed against his muscle and it genuinely felt like not even an earthquake could wake you.

As much as he should have woken you up, there was only one thing that was buzzing in his head at that moment: you had completely abandoned yourself to him. You were one of the best people around there in his judgment, and you trusted him enough to completely lower your barriers with him.

"What would I do without you?" He had thought unfiltered in his head, and that fleeting thought had slowly become essential.

And you had become a problem.

Miguel couldn't think of you as someone who could be on the wrong side, at least in big matters, so when you first mentioned that maybe he could let Gwen visit Miles Morales he thought you didn't really understand the situation

"I admit it's risky but...do you really think you can keep them away from each other?" You put your hand on his arm, reassuring, and for a moment he feels you close and accomplice, but you kept talking: "they can change things."

Neither he nor you knew what things two unconscious little teens had to change, but he wasn't surprised that your sensitivity was moved by their distance.

And it hurts him that before your eyes he was passing for the villain of the situation.

“No soy el malo.” He'd muttered to himself, in a vague plea to make that thought a reality, and then he'd turned to you trying to remain calm and maybe somewhat kind: “Look, I don't do it because I'm happy to do it. But I know what happens when the canon breaks, you know, and Miles Morales-”

“You can't compare him to you. It's different, the dynamics are different."

You'd interrupted him with a seriousness he'd never seen on your face, but he certainly wouldn't falter before you, though his eyebrows had drawn together in a look of painful questioning.

“It's the same thing, you know what I lost-” He tried to tell you, but you were even stronger.

"Your Life. But was that your life?”

You had spoken those words with a firmness he hadn't expected, and for a fraction he stood there motionless, speechless and out of breath, as if he had just been punched in the stomach, one of those punch that completely empty the lungs.

His subconscious understood the implication of that question, but he wasn't ready to accept it. But what if that meant giving up on you? Giving up what might really have been his, of that one Miguel O'Hara?

He didn't know how to react, because his claws were pressing, he wanted to shout, but it wasn't what he had to do, he knew it. He hadn't hit rock bottom yet.

You watched him expectantly, as if you were waiting patiently for him to woke up from too deep a sleep; but he saw the exact moment you gave up, the moment you looked down and started turning to leave.

And his hands had grabbed your shoulders: “Repítalo.” A break. "Repeat it."

He had growled it, a low growl that he really didn't want to let out though, because he didn't want to be like that with you, and he really didn't want to hear those words again.

But you weren't afraid, even though he was hurting you as he held you in his grip. His fingers loosened slowly, not enough to let you go but allowing you a softer, more careful touch.

There was a sorry stuck in his throat that desperately wanted to get out, but he couldn't take it, he couldn't.

“No, Miguel. Forget it." You told him with an infinite sweetness in your eyes, looking at him with a feeling that he was afraid to call by name.

Your hand had reached up, caressed his cheek and he, despite himself, had leaned a little against your palm, looking for your presence.

"I don’t want to hurt you." You told him, and he believed you and accepted it.

He couldn't and can't picture you on the wrong side, so you should be together, next to each other. Yet when he passes you to chase Miles Morale, Miguel knows you won't be with him.

You didn't try to stop the kid, despite everything and everyone, despite him asking you to.

You, one of the best people he knows. He can't believe you're choosing the wrong side.

“We are the good guys.” He says. “We are.” He repeats.

He repeats it to the crowd of heroes in front of him, but he repeats it to himself, to his chest and to his heart.

He's the good guy there, he must be. But you can't be the bad one.

He knows you'd subscribe to Mayday's raspberry if you weren't busy avoiding looking at him. He knows you'll be close to Peter as soon as he's gone.

He would like to tell you too that he doesn't need you, that he doesn't want you, he would like to save his arrogant pride and show you that it's not you who chooses not to be with him, it's him who chases you away. But Miguel O'Hara isn't heartless, he couldn't lie that stupidly.

You don't look at him when he stops in front of you, and he doesn't look at you either. He doesn't want to see when what might have been his life slips out of his hands.

“Are you going to hate me for this?”

If you're going to end his hopes, he wants you to do it now.

You're surprised, he knows it, you know you're now trying to study his expression - his pain - that he tries to hide from you.

"Let’s go out together." You say, your voice is cracked and weak “when this is all over, let's go out and have some fun for once. Okay?”

His instinct tells him to take you in his arms, but his fists clench and for a moment his eyes closed shut, pushing something inside him that threatens to come out.

Here is your special power, your disarming heart, your love for him that goes beyond tragedy. He knows you're not sure there will still be a together for you two when this is all over, but you hope so.

And as he walks away from you in silence, he knows that you are one of the best people he knows, the only future that still shines, and that you will try to save him. Maybe you won't succeed, because not even a hero can save everyone, but you will try, and you will believe until the end.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderverse #spider man 2099 #spider man: beyond the spider verse #fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #angst #slight fluff

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happy74827 · 5 months

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An Extraordinary Existence

[Sam Riordan x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: After the major confusion the group faced just a couple hours before, they all take a moment to reflect what exactly their intentions are. {GIF Creds: @heronamedhawks}

WC: 1978

Category: Fluff, Slightly Plot Driven

Are you guys proud of me? 'Cause I am lmao. I finally finished the second and final part of this fic. You can find the first half of it here

The ending might be a little confusing upon first glance, so I will say that it is heavily inspired by the theory surfacing around with Sam and Black Noir.

『••✎••』

It was a couple of hours later, and Sam was sitting on a chair, his legs pulled up to his chest and his head buried in his arms. They had talked; the six of you and Sam had learned a lot. He was currently trying to take everything in.

So much had happened in the past few days, and now that he was finally getting answers, it was all a bit overwhelming.

Sam was sitting in a dorm in front of a desk. Emma was behind him, rubbing his back, and he felt like a small child. But the action was calming, and he leaned into the touch.

You had been sitting in an identical chair he was, talking, but he wasn’t really paying attention. The lights were still dimmed, and the colors were swirling, dancing across the room, and it was hard to focus.

Andre had said that the room was designed by your friend Kota, a technopath, and Sam wondered if this was a normal room for supes or if it was just you and your friends.

He guessed it was a mixture of the two.

The other four were sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed. Jordan and Marie were chatting, and Emma was listening, though she did throw a comment in here and there. It was peaceful, and the voices were soft and comforting. Is this what normalcy felt like?

Sam didn't know. He had never really experienced normal, per se, but this was as close as it was going to get, so he relished the moment. After you had shown him the "lights' as he called it, he was more comfortable around you. He didn’t know if it was a good thing or not, but he wasn't complaining.

Sam hadn’t really paid attention to the conversation, but he heard you speak up, and he was immediately interested.

"So... Sam. What did you see?"

You were fidgeting, and you were clearly nervous. You hadn’t said anything about the whole light thing and had instead moved on, saying that you would talk about it later.

Sam hesitated, his hands digging into his thighs, but the soothing movements of Emma's hand helped calm him, and he loosened his grip. He raised his head and turned towards you but didn’t answer.

Emma did.

"I think I speak for all of us when I say that we have no clue what the heck that was. I mean, one minute you were talking, and the next minute the room goes dark, and then the lights explode? What was that, even? Magic?"

She paused, taking a breath, and the silence was thick. She looked down, her hand never stopping, and then she spoke again, her voice lower, softer.

"Did you know Luke?"

Sam's head snapped towards her, and his eyes were wide.

You couldn't have known, could you?

Emma didn’t even look up, but she did respond. "I've never seen anyone look that broken before, and that includes my own family."

Her hands stopped, and her grip on his shoulder was tight, her nails digging into his flesh. It didn't hurt him as much as it should have, not when he could feel the emotion pouring off her. He didn't say anything; he just sat there and took it.

Marie broke the silence, her voice small and timid, and she was glancing around the room, her hands shaking.

"What does this have to do with anything?"

She looked so lost, and her eyes were wide.

This time, instead of Emma, you answered. "I saw him in flashes. He was trying to protect his brother."

Marie's eyes darted towards Sam, and her eyebrows were raised. She looked at him with an odd expression, her mouth slightly open and her eyes full of an emotion that he didn't understand.

Sam could feel his shoulders tense, and his heart was racing. His breath hitched, and he couldn’t breathe.

He didn't want to remember, didn't want to think about his brother. Luke, oh man, he was gone. Gone.

Sam felt a sharp pain in his hand, and he looked down, surprised. He had broken the skin, his nails digging into his palm. A single drop of blood slid down his arm, and he stared. Just stared.

"I also saw Shetty and a few other people. I only recognized her, though."

"What about Cate? She was there... wasn't she." Andre was the one who spoke, his voice low and his head hung, staring down at the ground. Sam noticed his hand twitch, and he knew that he was fighting the urge to grab his phone.

"Cate was there."

It wasn’t a question, and Andre didn't respond. His hand stopped shaking, and he didn’t even seem surprised. Instead, his expression was blank, void of any emotion.

He looked like a statue. Unfortunately, Sam could not understand the feeling.

Jordan, on the other hand, didn't seem to be as indifferent. Her eyes were narrowed, her posture stiff, and she looked ready to pounce. "Where were they, and when?"

Her words were short and clipped, and Sam could hear the anger behind the words.

"That's the thing. I don't know. The flashes were quick, and I could barely tell what was going on. I couldn't even tell you if it was a memory, a vision, or something else."

You stopped talking, your shoulders dropping. You had been looking up, meeting their gaze, but now you were staring at the floor, and your fingers were tracing a pattern in the carpet. The number eight, to be exact. Sam wasn't sure why you kept repeating it, but it was a nice pattern.

Emma sighed, and she released her grip on Sam. She stood up, crossing her arms and looking down at the four of them. Her face was blank, and Sam knew she was upset.

"So, now what? We came here for answers, and now we're more confused than before."

"We have suspicions on Shetty. We know about Cate, and now we have confirmation that they were working together. That's not nothing."

Andre didn't sound happy, but he did have a point.

"So, what? We just sit here, hoping to connect more dots until we have a pretty picture of our enemy?" Jordan switched before them, now standing, his eyes flashing. "I'm sorry, but fuck that."

"Then what do you propose we do, hm? Go back out there, running wild and blind, hoping that we don't run into Cate's mind games? And what about Sam? He can't just run free. If you haven't noticed, he has a bounty on his head. He has to lay low. We can't afford to be reckless. Not after last time."

Once again, Andre was right. Sam had no desire to go outside, where people were hunting him down and trying to kill him. No, thank you.

"We need more information. If we knew what exactly they were planning, then we could stop them." Emma was calm, and her voice was level. "And hopefully, we can get Sam out of the line of fire."

"Speaking of," Andre's eyes turned towards him, his eyes still held that emptiness. "Do you plan on speaking, or are you just going to sit there."

"...I'm, uh, good to keep sitting… here."

Your eyes lit up, and a small smile appeared on your face, and Sam was caught off guard. He could even hear a slight tinge of humor in your tone. He didn't think the words were funny, but it made him smile anyway.

"Oh my god... Why do I even try." Andre's head fell, and he dragged his hand across his face.

Emma was also smiling like you were, but it was more of an exasperated grin, and Jordan wasn't paying attention. Marie, on the other hand, was looking at him with a look that he didn't like. He didn't know her well, but from what he had seen, she was quiet and a bit shy. Right now, though, her eyes were filled with sadness, a sorrow that wasn't hers. She almost seemed like a different person.

Emma was the first to notice, after him, and her expression shifted, her smile dropping and her eyes widening.

"Marie, are you okay?"

Jordan glanced at Marie, and she turned her attention to her. Marie blinked, her face turning pink.

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine. Just got a bit lightheaded."

Jordan didn't look convinced, and his brow furrowed.

"Are you sure?"

Marie nodded, and her blush deepened.

"Yes, I'm fine. Really."

"Alright, but if you feel like shit, tell us, okay? It could be Cate, or it could be something else. You can never be too sure."

"It's not Cate," Andre spoke up, his hand falling from his face.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Trust me, I just know."

Jordan narrowed his eyes, and his hand clenched. His knuckles turned white, and he gritted his teeth. "Care to share with the class?"

"No, I don't."

Andre and Jordan glared at each other, and the tension in the room rose. It seemed constant with these two, and Sam was starting to get a little agitated. They hadn't even been there for two hours, and they were already arguing for the tenth time.

"I vote we just stay low until we get a game plan. Maybe hide out here, get Sam some new clothes."

Sam looked down at his current attire, and he didn't blame Emma for her comment. His shirt was dirty, ripped, and covered in a variety of stains that he didn't want to think about.

"Or, we can go out there and fight."

"And end up getting ourselves killed?" Andre didn't wait for a response. "No, thanks. We can't afford another mistake, Jordan."

Jordan scoffed, and his lips curled into a snarl. "So you're saying it's my fault."

"Oh my god, guys! Please!" Finally, Marie spoke up, and her voice was high and shrill. "Can you please stop? We're supposed to be a team, not some bickering children. I agree with Emma; we should hide out, gather our strength, and come up with a plan. If we rush in blind, then we'll only make it easier for them. Cate's smart; she's not going to leave any openings. She's not an idiot."

Andre sighed, his anger vanishing. "You're right. We'll lay low for now. Get Sam some new clothes and maybe some food. Anything else?"

"Pop-Tarts?" You inquired, and Andre rolled his eyes, a small grin on his face.

"Pop-Tarts sound good." Sam agreed. It got him remembering the time he snuck an entire Costco worth of Pop-Tarts into his room, and Luke caught him eating them all during a late-night study session. Luke's face was absolutely priceless. Unfortunately, their mother caught Sam and was not happy about the mess. Sam was grounded for a month, but it was worth it. So, so worth it.

"Seriously, guys? That's the priority?"

"I'm with them, honestly." Emma was grinning; her previous stress had vanished, and her posture was relaxed. "Everyone knows the cinnamon and brown sugar ones are the best."

You flashed her a thumbs-up, and Jordan looked done.

"Are we sure Sam is still the most wanted person? I might change my vote."

"Your favorite flavor is probably strawberry. Disgusting." You were smiling, and Sam had a feeling you were joking. At least, he hoped you were. Strawberry was his favorite flavor.

"Alright, enough with the petty squabbles. Come tomorrow morning, we'll go over our game plan. We're going to take those bastards down, and we're going to get our damn lives back. Sound good?"

A chorus of agreements, Sam included.

"Good. Now, who's going to get the Pop-Tarts?"

Unfortunately for them, given what happens just a few days later, their plan to get their lives back did not happen.

Instead, Sam got a new life and a new name.

The others did not.

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Enjoy guys!

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