#And people are just letting him fuck around and find

[nezuscribe]

life as a hit man was dirty but simple, and gojo preferred keeping it that way. he didn’t know his clients names, they didn’t know his. he’d send over proof of his work, they’d wire in the money. dirty, yet simple.

so when he gets a message to kill the daughter of some oil tycoon, he doesn’t think much about it. sure he thinks it’s cheap to go for the kid, but what does he know. this is the most he’s ever been offered for a one shot job, so he’s not an idiot to turn this offer down.

and unfortunately, that meant his next confirmed target was you.

he gets your information, where you go to school, what apartment building you live in, where you like to eat. usually he prefers a straight shot to the head, but sometimes sneaking in something to your food lets him off easier.

gojo gets to know your routine. what you do at what time. what shows you watch, what your favorite sweater is. he watches from the high rises that faces yours, crouching down so none of your bodyguards could see the reflection of the magnifier of his rifle.

and gojo is used to taking out a wide range of people. men, women, grandpas, aunts. it’s just business to him. but there’s something about you that makes him hesitate to pull the trigger.

maybe it’s the fact that the weeks he’s spent trailing after you he’s noticed you’re pretty much a loner. you keep to yourself, never bothering anyone. you don’t seem to have my friends in your classes, or even out of them. gojo never questions to morals of his clients or who they ask him to kill, but judging you so far you seem to have done…nothing wrong.

you treat the old lady who works in the convenience story with such kindness that gojo wonders if you were born into this level of wealth, because most people of your status treat those beneath them like ants. you always hold the door open for your body guards despite them insisting they do it for you. you always buy some food for the stray cats in the alley you pass, and you never yell when you’re on the phone with your dad, even though gojo tracks those calls and feels the need to yell for you.

it all comes to a moment when you’re at your favorite coffee shop (he knows this because you come here so often), and you’ve managed to weasel away from your bodyguards. he knows they must be freaking out by now, but you just want some alone time.

he’s right there, right behind you, the little pouch of his condition of drugs that instantly kill in his pocket ready, and you turn around with your coffee cup and bump into him.

your eyes seen, letting out a shocked gasp as the iced drink stains his shirt and pants, the cup not empty on the floor.

“oh my god, oh my god,” you stutter out, scrambling to find some napkins, “i’m so so sorry! i didn’t even see you there - gosh,” you shove some napkins into his hands, trying to dapple the coffee away but it does nothing to help, “i can’t believe…!” you trail off, the two of you moving out of line so you don’t hold the others up and your shaking your head in dismay, mad at your clumsiness.

“it’s alright,” he assures you, waving it off as his eyes take in your appearance. “don’t even worry about it, accidents happen.” it’s the first time he’s seen you this close, and he feels that pouch growing heavier in his pocket.

because you’re pretty. really pretty. and he likes the plush of your cheeks, the scrunch of your brows, the way you’re nearly gnawing your lip raw. you seem even prettier in person, and there’s a lump forming in his chest, something he’s never felt before.

“no, no,” you murmur, trying to find the tide pen in your bag, only to realize you left it at home, “and it’s stained too, fuck. i am so sorry about this, you probably have somewhere to be and…” your words trail off as you scramble for your wallet, pulling out some cash as you push it into his hands.

it’s more than he needs to replace the shirt and pants, probably enough to buy him a couple pairs from ralph lauren, but you still seem to think it’s not enough as you look for more.

“it’s no worries at all, i keep an extra of shirts in my car for emergencies like this,” gojo lies smoothly and you look up from your purse, eyes wide in shame. fuck he really likes your eyes too.

“no, please take it, it’ll be on my mind all day if you don’t,” you insist, but he’s shaking his head defiantly, a reassuring smile on his face as he hands the money back to you.

“and it’ll be on my conscience all day if i take it,” he promises you, and after you realize he’s not going to retract his hands you take the cash, shoving it back into your wallet as heat settles all over your body.

of course with your luck you spill coffee all over the most attractive man you’ve ever met.

you still look worried, finding another napkin as you take out a pen from your purse, messily writing something down.

“this is my contact information if you ever need me to replace your clothes,” you hand it over to the man with an apologetic smile, “please don’t hesitate to call me, i know stains and that’s gonna be really hard to get out,” you go to say something else but your eyes dart to the large windows behaubd him, catching sight of your body guards who seem to have seen you, and your face falls.

“i’m really sorry, again, but i have to go,” you mutter as you speed off, waving goodbyes to the stranger as you duck your head down and leave the coffee shop, not wanting to cause another scene as three buff men race in to find you.

gojo stands there almost in a haze, looking at his stained white shirt to the napkin with your number and name on it.

almost as if he didn’t already know it, almost as if you weren’t the girl he’s supposed to kill.

and in that moment he realizes how screwed he is, because he’d rather down that packet right there than shoot you down, and he’s never felt this dread before.

[alchemistc]

You never let me in, Buck sends, two of three sheets fully winded, and when he kicks his leg over the coffee table he nearly knocks over three empties.

They do this thing, right? Buck gets upset and before the tears can fall, because he's cried too many fucking times already, he makes himself angry. Picks at something that has come up every time he's done a post-mortem on the last six months.

And then he sends that shit to Tommy. Because - because who the fuck else is he supposed to talk to about it? The guy who'd sucked him off in the hallway of a nightclub two weeks ago? The woman who'd spent an hour quietly helping Buck understand that yeah, he was very much bi, and yeah, some people did not like that shit? Maddie, or Chim, or Hen or Eddie, who still might interact with him on the job? Bobby? Fuck, not Bobby.

Bobby who'd blinked at Buck and offered platitudes and apologized to Buck like it was somehow his fault Tommy was good people but he was the kind of good people who just walked out on something that could have been something.

I should have pushed more. I know I should have. I just thought since I was trying to share everything, you were too.

My mistake.

Three months and Buck isn't over it. He's far enough into the mourning process that he thinks this one is always gonna sting, and not for the reasons Tommy thinks.

That's not fair. I'm sorry.

The texts get delivered. Tommy reads them. Buck's had read receipts on since the first time Tommy went quiet on a call and Buck freaked out a little - but back then they were still working towards something. Back then, sometimes Tommy would pull out his phone and open the thread just to give Buck sign of life.

He was always doing that. Heading shit off at the pass.

Buck had just never realized he'd be able to do it to hurt him, just as well as take care of him.

Every four weeks like clockwork Buck gets a response. He has no fucking idea why it's four weeks, what the third Thursday of the month has to do with Tommy feeling gracious enough to give Buck some clarity. He'd never known enough about Tommy, is the thing he's coming around to. He'd done everything he could to bring Tommy in, make him a part, and Tommy had let him. Tommy had distracted him with quippy words and a clever tongue and with being so fucking willing to be integrated into Buck's life that Buck just - hadn't noticed.

No one will say it, but he Bucked It Up in the worst kind of way.

He's waited until Third Thursday to send these texts. He actually hasn't sent anything at all, until this moment, and he wonders if Tommy noticed. If he cared. Tommy picks and chooses from Buck's random thoughts, parses out details like he's reading from a manual and Buck is off topic two thirds of the time. Buck doesn't actually know why he's been answering, all this time. He wonders if, in the last four weeks of silence, he thought he was finally done with Buck.

He wonders if it had hurt.

Buck sets his phone down to stand, skating across to the kitchen in his socks for the pizza rolls in the oven.

His diet is shit. His body feels like crap. He's one more drunken nights sleep on the couch away from emptying the rack in his fridge down the drain and giving sobriety a try. The last person he'd slept with had hinted that they'd prefer not to use condoms and Buck had almost let them.

Buck has worth. He knows he does. It's just sometimes when he remembers that every person he's ever loved has either walked out on him or let him walk away when he needed them, he struggles to find that worth.

His life has meaning, and all that jazz.

Buck sort of wonders if Tommy hasn't finally blocked his number, as he tosses a too-hot pizza roll in his mouth and huffs on the lava cheese burning his tongue. After the last message Buck had sent, three weeks ago, he wouldn't exactly be surprised.

(This is basically just an unhinged grief journal with an unreliable second narrator. Do you know what it's like to realize you're still in love with someone who never let you know them?)

There's been no response to that. Fair. Buck hadn't even actually said the words. No, he'd jumped right into the sharing a life part, cart before the horse as always when emotions were high.

The pizza rolls get tipped onto a plate and are immediately swimming in the heavy pour of ranch he'd prepared after he set the oven to preheat.

It cools them off a lot quicker than popping a hole in each seam and waiting.

It's been eight years since Buck has really even thought about that little trick.

When he opens his phone there's no response. No receipt. Just stark words waiting to be acknowledged.

I gave you my family, Tommy. You didn't even introduce me to your team at Harbor.

It's startling to realize after the fact. He doubts Tommy had meant it that way, but he'd basically spent six months being love bombed only to have the rug ripped right out from under his feet.

And yet. Months later and he still wants to know. Know why. Know how he could have done it, with tears in his eyes, with full awareness that it was already gonna hurt. Know Tommy - anything he'd part with, really, that wasn't something every random acquaintance also knew.

Cool, he'd been jealous of what Buck and the 118 had. (Buck had tried to give him that. Or at least he thought he had.)

Great, he didn't talk to his dad and Gerrard was a shitty captain. (Buck had spent an hour once explaining the first time he and his dad had spoken about Daniel without screaming at each other. Tommy had listened to the rants about Gerrard and offered physical comfort and a 'sounds like him' and Buck had just been so relieved to have an ally amongst the 'life is just like this sometimes' crowd that he'd never examined that.)

He was a Kinsey six who'd been engaged to the first woman Buck had ever really loved and they'd never dug deeper than that.

And Buck had apparently interpreted some of the shit he'd said that night wrong, but he still doesn't think it's fucking fair that Tommy can't trust him to know his own fucking mind well enough to know he hates sleeping around and he'd found the sort of connection he was looking for. He'd found it. Even with the lack of reciprocation. Even with the quiet behind Tommy's eyes that he'd never let Buck in on. Even with the -

His phone buzzes on the coffee table.

Can we talk?

Buck kinda hates those words in that order now. They'd been the start of something twice, but they'd always been leading to an end, if Tommy had his way.

Once every four weeks, apparently, Buck sends back and takes a vicious bite.

His phone chimes with an incoming call.

Buck stares at the name he hasn't had the stomach to remove the little heart from. Lets it ring through to voicemail and then shoves three more pizza rolls into his mouth and doesn't care if they burn off his taste buds.

His phone rings again.

"What?"

"I'm outside your building. Didn't want to make any assumptions that I'd be welcome without asking first."

Buck can feel his ribs cracking under the lurch of angry laughter. "What the hell?"

"Well the parking around here is miserable again, so I figure that's a sign."

"Are you driving right now?"

"Hands off. I'm on Bluetooth. So. Should I circle the building a fifth time or call it now and go home?"

Buck gets stuck on fifth time.

There's no way he hadn't been driving since at least before Buck sent that first text.

Buck sighs. There's absolutely no reason to be hopeful about that. For all he knows, Tommy has just decided dousing any residual flames is just another thing he has to do in person.

"My Jeep's in the shop. I'll buzz you into the garage."

Tommy's silent for a long, long moment. The quip comes anyway. "I keep telling you that thing is a money pit."

"I'm not really feeling the flirty banter, right now, Tommy, so maybe just let me know when you're at the gate."

He does. He hangs up the phone twenty seconds later with a plain "See you soon."

Buck doesn't have time to change. Fix his hair. Hide the sheet pan with half a dozen pizza rolls still laying on it, because he'd cooked way too many again.

(He could absolutely do one of these things but if Tommy's gonna throw this at him, he's getting every little slovenly habit Bucks's picked up since he walked out that door.)

The knock comes while Buck's shoving the last two rolls on his plate into his mouth.

He's still chewing with his mouth open to blow out the steam when he swings the door open, and Buck feels the first inklings of pleasure ripple through him at the sight of Tommy.

He looks like shit.

"You look like shit."

Tommy's brow ticks up. He stares pointedly at the glob of not-cheese that's going to absolutely ruin this sweatshirt.

"That tends to happen when you spend an hour in an armchair two sizes too small picking at trauma you've been hiding from your therapist for six years."

Buck opens the door wider. Holy crap. Tommy might legitimately be more fucked up than Buck.

Tommy's smile is strained. "Can I come in?"

Buck holds his gaze. His eyes are a little red. He's got a red spot along the side of his neck, like he's been rubbing at it. Buck only recognizes it as a comforting motion because he's replayed him doing it half a million times right before he ended things.

"Depends. Is this the last time you respond to my mean, rude, asshole texts for an hour after therapy rubs you raw?" Third Thursday Therapy, is apparently what does it. Buck is - god. He just wants -

"God, I hope not," Tommy says, and Buck takes a step to the side to let Tommy in.

[icarusredwings]

FINE ill review it DAMN

Review of hellraiser heartbreaker

Playlist:

Murder on the Dancefloor - Sophie Ellis Bextor

Tommy Gun - Royal Republic

Do I Wanna Know - Arctic Monkeys

Tell Me The Truth - Two Feet

Undisclosed Desires - Muse

Jolene - Beyonce

I Wanna Be Yours - Foxy Shazam

Chapter 1.

Yoo lmao young wolvie is like "whats wrong with this guy?" And wades SOOO excited to be beat the shit out of.

"Let my babt boy go >:( you big meanies" ahh wade you silly thing.

Sokay baby boy dawww

Flirty kitty it is

Remeber kiddos introducing two wolverines in a very small area is NOT advised. Young wolvie is like a kitten, his hair going up and growling because hes scared and Logan growling to admit dominance and maturity over him. Jeez lousie.

"Ahahah behave" wade honey I bet logan loves when you defend his place in your life.

Chapter 2.

Oooh what a good start I love how hes sitting here staring at wade because he knows him and logan is NOT having it. He knows what young pups try to do, they try to steal your mate and hes not about to let that happen.

Pfft logan really said "ah hell nah id fuck anything back then im coming too"

THEY FUCKING VAN GOUGHED ME HAS TO BE ONE OF THE BEST LINES EVER

“This is why you’re my favorite.”

Logan tried hard not to smirk at that. He failed.

That right there confirms that wade KNOWS logan is jealous already and is lowkey trying hard not to entice younger wolverine too much because he knows he's gonna kill him.

I should thank Wade then. I should thank him very thoroughly .”

Oh so youve chosen death little one?

"Gotcha you pointy little bitch!" Me at my splinters.

Aww man wade is being so careful with both of them, hes just less careful with you logan cause your younger has a collar on right now thats all.

Did you forget your wade is one of the top mercs there is? He never has NOT gotten a job done, which means handling wolvie with care you stupid old man.

Chapter 3.

Yo he already said no once. Leave it.

He finna kill you, you better start acting right.

“I said no.” There was no hint of playfulness or friendliness there. Just finality. It was enough to make Wolverine back down.

See? I told you. God you little degenerate. You need trained that no means no sheesh.

Yeah those hips are quick but they aint for you

Awwww logan got him rabbits like a good hound dog. Bro really said "man I need to impress my mate lemme go kill some innocent rabbits to eat"

Finding food and showing how reliable he could be to Wade.

“Oh Logan,” that was a new tone from Wade. Affectionate. Directed at Logan. Not at him.

Yes exactly.

Wade brought me home

He sure as fuck did. He might as well collar you with his name on it too. Big strong boy. All jealous of a little inexperienced wolvie. Psshh lets be so for real.

“I don't see a ring, asshole.”

“Don't. Fucking. Touch. Him.”

ALEXA!! PLAY SINGLE LADIES FOR THE EPIC FIGHT THATS ABOUTA HAPPENA

Suddenly, the tip of a katana pushed against Logan’s cheek.

“What did I say about fighting?” Wade panted, his white eyes glaring. There was that seriousness in his voice again. Logan rolled his eyes at him. The katana pushed into Logan’s cheek until a trail of blood came out.

tHIS IS WHAT I KEEP SAYING!! wade does NOT fuck around when it comes to jobs! He was taught and trained to ALWAYS finish the job. Hes terrifying bro I would literally kill myself if I knew this man was after me because id be afraid hed play with me and not kill me fast enough.

Both of you need to settle your shit. I can’t have you guys fucking my mission up

Exhibit B. Do NOT come between an adhd man and his dopamine and his dopamine is finishing missions and getting cash.

Ooh my poor baby though. Like seriously you need a shock collar and maybe neutered bc holy hell no is non existent to you but you just miss your own. Its a shame yours always dies. Its really not fair. But you cant just go stealing other peoples wades either. Hes limited edition baby. If him and his poolcule dont invite you you cant touchy.

Got inspired by PrettyPonyRideToHell’s fic Hellraiser, Heartbreaker

Never knew I needed Worst Wolvie having to deal with his little shit, younger self and with Wade ofc caught in the middle 😌✨

[ventismacchiato]

12 stuck with you — kiss kiss fall in love !

scaramouche x gender neutral reader

The ringing of a phone pierces through the quiet and drags you from sleep. Disoriented, you blink at the dim light seeping in through the skylight. The sound was vibrating against the bedside table and as you reached for it half-asleep you felt the unmistakable warmth of someone's body tangled with yours.

Your eyes fly open. Scaramouche.

You feel the way your body tenses up, as it usually does when you’re with the idiot. You turn your face and find him just inches away from yours. The pillow you’d place between you two long gone on the floor as the only thing separating you both was the thin comforter.

For a moment, Scaramouche looks oddly peaceful, with his dark hair tousled against the pillow and his brows not creased in its usual scowl towards you. That’s until his eyes open from the sound and he sends you a glare.

“Shut that up,” he grumbles, sitting up and reaching over you to shut it off himself. His body hovers over you and you can see his shirt hang low enough to see his stomach. The warmth of his body radiates through the thin fabric separating you both, and for a split second, you’re hyper-aware of just how close you are. The gentle weight of him leaning over makes your pulse quicken.

You expected him to make a snide comment about how your legs were still tangled together but he doesn’t. It's as if waking up practically wrapped around each other is just another morning for you two. He doesn't acknowledge it, doesn’t even meet your eyes, and for some reason, that silence makes the moment even more charged.

With the phone in hand, he flops back into his spot beside you, muttering something under his breath, the tension between you two as palpable as the fading echo of the ringtone as he wordlessly lays away from you.

“Fuck do you want you old hag,” Scara grumbles, putting the phone on speaker.

“Good morning!” Yae Miko’s voice is far too cheerful for this hour. “We’ve got a little emergency. Some rumors are starting to circulate about the show being fake.”

Your blood runs cold. “Wait, what?"

"Exactly what it sounds like," Yae continues, almost too calm for the bomb she's dropping. "Which means we need you two to handle it. Get dressed and head to the hot tub. We’ll film a ‘leaked’ kissing scene to throw people off. Make it look real.”

"At five in the morning?" Scaramouche groans, his voice laced with annoyance.

Yae’s voice, ever so sly, comes back through. “Is there a problem? Oh, and don’t forget to make it convincing. The public loves a good scandal!”

You reach over and hang up without answering, already dreading the awkwardness that’s about to unfold. You both lay there for a few minutes, your upcoming fate and lack of sleep not motivating either of you.

“I can see you both slacking off!” Lisa’s voice from the intercoms yell, causing you both to sit up abruptly.

“Fucking perv,” Scara mutters, sliding the comforter off as you follow suit.

“Let’s just get it over with,” you say, avoiding his gaze.

He scoffs but doesn’t argue, instead dragging himself up and throwing on the same outfit from last night. You do the same, trying not to think about the fact that you’ll be practically glued to him in about ten minutes.

By the time you make it to the hot tub, the early morning air bites at your skin, the sky still dark. The hot water looks almost inviting compared to the chill, though the thought of what you’re about to do makes your stomach churn.

You lower yourself into the water, already feeling the tension settle in as Scaramouche follows suit. It’s quiet—too quiet—until he mutters, “So, how are we doing this?”

You sink lower into the water, heat creeping up your neck. "I guess… I sit on your lap, and we angle ourselves so it looks like we're kissing."

He gives you a look, something unreadable flashing in his eyes, before nodding. “Fine.”

“Well, get on with it!” Yae’s voice yells from god knows where.

Reluctantly, you move closer an inch. And then another. And then one more.

“For fucks sake, we’ll be here all day,” Scara huffs, reaching out to slide a hand around your waist and yanking you closer. You yelp at the suddenness as you slide onto his lap. His hands find your waist, holding you steady as your heart pounds in your ears. This position is way more intimate than you’d expected. There was nowhere to look but at him with his chest solid against yours. The steam rising from the water makes the air feel thick.

You tilt your head back, just enough so that it looks like you’re about to kiss, hoping that the camera will get the right angle without you two having to go through with it.

“This is good but while we’re here, why don’t you both just kiss,” Lisa yells from the intercom, "Now that will shut down the rumors.”

Your entire body stiffens at Lisa's suggestion, the weight of her words settling in like stones in your stomach. You shift slightly on Scaramouche’s lap, trying to ignore the situation at hand.

“You’ve got to stop shifting like that,” Scara says under his breath, holding your hips still with his hands. He lets out an annoyed sigh, his grip on your waist tightening just slightly. “Let’s just get it over with,” he mutters, leaning in a little closer, his expression unreadable but tense.

You open your mouth to speak, but the words catch in your throat. Instead, you manage to stammer, “I’ve… never kissed anyone before.”

There’s a beat of silence. You brace yourself, expecting him to make fun of you, to twist this into some new way to tease you relentlessly. Maybe he’ll laugh about how he knew you were a virgin like he usually does or call you pathetic for having no experience.

But that doesn’t happen.

Scaramouche just stares at you, his eyes flickering with something—maybe surprise, maybe something else entirely—but then he simply sighs, and his expression softens just a fraction. If you hadn’t spent so much time glaring at him all your career you wouldn’t have even noticed.

“Fine,” he says, his voice calmer than you expected. “I’ll guide it. Just follow my lead.”

Before you can process what’s happening, he takes one of your hands and places it on his shoulder, the other by his nape. The heat from his skin is almost unbearable in contrast to the cool air, and you can feel the slight tension in his muscles under your fingers.

You swallow hard, unsure of how to respond, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. But Scaramouche’s eyes are steady on yours, his lips close enough that you can feel his breath on your skin.

“Relax,” he murmurs, as if that’s an easy thing to do. His hand on your waist moves up slightly, settling just beneath your ribs, grounding you as he tilts his head a fraction closer. “It’s not that hard, dumbass”

Your body feels like it’s caught in two different worlds—one of panic and another of dizzying anticipation. You’ve never been this close to anyone, let alone someone you’ve spent so much time despising. But there’s no mockery in his gaze now, no smug grin. Just a quiet, unspoken agreement between the two of you to get this over with.

The last thing you see before shutting your eyes are Scara’s lips, which fall gently open the moment he leans in to kiss yours.

Scaramouche closes the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, hesitant way. It’s not like you imagined a kiss would feel. It’s… gentle, almost patient, like he’s allowing you the time to catch up. His hand shifts, guiding you closer as the kiss deepens, but not by much—just enough to make the world outside of this moment blur.

Your body, tense from anticipation, crumbles into abandon. The beat of your heart is too loud in your chest, emotions lodged in your throat, and soft dark hair curling through the spaces between your fingers.

You find yourself following his lead without thinking, your fingers tightening slightly against the back of his neck as you lean into the kiss. There’s no rush, no urgency. It’s almost like he’s teaching you without words, each movement purposeful but slow, as if he’s trying not to overwhelm you. It’s a contrast to his usual demeanor, where he seemed like he was always one step ahead. He seemed so out of reach.

But now here he was, barely an inch away from you and letting you catch up.

When he finally pulls back, it’s only by a few inches, and his gaze lingers on your lips before flicking back up to your eyes.

“There,” he says, his voice quieter now. “Wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You’re too stunned to respond right away, the world around you coming back into focus in slow motion. The water, the cold air, the fact that this was all supposed to be for show. But for a moment, you’d forgotten that.

“No,” you finally manage, your voice barely above a whisper. “I guess not.”

“Your lips were chapped,” Scaramouche adds with a smirk, because of course he does. The teasing lilt in his voice grates on you, breaking the moment that had felt so strangely…intimate.

Without hesitation, you flick his forehead, the satisfying thunk earning a small grunt from him. Before he can retaliate, you quickly slide off his lap, distancing yourself in the water. The warmth of the hot tub is nothing compared to the heat still lingering on your face.

“That was GREAT,” Yae’s voice screeches through the intercom, cutting through the awkwardness like a knife. “THAT TWITTER USER CAN EAT MY ASS!”

You can practically see her smug grin, and it makes you groan internally. Great. Now your first kiss is going to be broadcast as a PR stunt to shut down rumors. You shift uncomfortably, trying to push down the strange mix of emotions swirling in your chest—annoyance, disbelief, and something you can’t quite place. Your lips still tingle from the kiss that wasn’t even supposed to happen.

Yae gives the signal that they’ve got the footage they need so you get ready to leave. As you move to climb out of the tub, Scaramouche stays behind, seemingly unfazed. You’re doing your best to ignore him, but his voice cuts through the steam and your scattered thoughts.

“It doesn’t have to count.”

You pause, turning your head slightly. “What?”

“The kiss,” he says, his tone almost casual, like this whole conversation is no big deal. “If first kisses are something stupid you care about… this one doesn’t have to count.”

You blink at him, trying to process his words. “What are you talking about?”

Scaramouche’s gaze flickers over to you, his face unreadable but his voice softening just a bit. “Your real first kiss can be with someone you actually care about. Doesn’t have to be this.” He gestures vaguely between you two, as if the kiss you just shared is nothing more than a contractual obligation—just part of the game. Which it was. But at the end of the day it was still your first kiss.

You stare at him, trying to make sense of the words he just said, of the way his tone has softened like he’s actually trying to spare you something for once.

“It was still my first,” you mutter, more to yourself than to him.

Scaramouche's eyes flicker, a shadow of something crossing his face before his expression hardens again. He leans his head back against the edge of the tub, arms crossing over his chest. “Look,” he starts, his voice dropping to that low, lazy tone he uses when he’s about to say something he knows is going to piss you off. “I know I’m an asshole most of the time—”

“Most of the time?” you cut in, eyebrow raised.

He glares at you, but there’s no real heat in it. “Shut up and let me finish, will you?”

You bite back the retort bubbling in your throat, nodding slightly for him to continue.

“I’m an asshole, yeah,” he says again, a little slower this time. “But I’m not that much of an asshole. If… if this is something that matters to you, then don’t let it. You can still have your real first kiss with someone who—” He hesitates, eyes shifting to the side for a second, and you could swear you see the faintest hint of uncertainty in his gaze before he forces it away. “—someone who means something to you.”

The words hang in the air between you, thick and heavy with something unspoken. You can’t tell if he’s saying it because he genuinely believes it or if he’s just trying to make this whole mess easier for you. Either way, it’s not like him to care, and that fact alone makes your chest tighten with confusion. Maybe he just pitied you.

“Anyway, don’t get all emotional about it,” he adds, his voice back to its usual flippant tone. “I’m not gonna hold your hand through it.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” you snap back, but there’s no bite to your words. Instead, you’re left with the lingering thought of what he just said, the weight of his strange attempt at comfort settling in your chest.

Before you can say anything else, Scaramouche pushes himself up from the water, his hands gripping the edge of the tub as he turns his back to you. “Let’s just get out of here before Yae comes up with another stupid idea.”

This was what you’d expected. Scaramouche being uncomfortable with you both being so close and you feeling sick at the thought. There was a kind of comfort in predictability, and you and Scara’s relationship was so goddamn predictable.

[00:00:00] KISS INTERVIEW ONE, TAKE ONE

YAE: So, tell us all about that little kiss that got leaked!

SCARAMOUCHE: It was alright. YAE: [GESTURES FOR HIM TO KEEP GOING]

SCARAMOUCHE: It was great and…[SQUINTS AT SIGN YAE IS HOLDING] life changing, their lips were soft as flower petals and…Yae this is stupid, I’m not reading this. Who wrote this? It’s terrible.

YAE: I wrote it! It’s romantic!

SCARAMOUCHE: It’s gross. Who the hell describes a kiss like this?

JEAN, SIGHING: Why don’t you use your own words to describe it? SCARAMOUCHE: Fake. 

JEAN: Cut!

[00:17:38] KISS INTERVIEW ONE, TAKE TWO

YAE: Let’s try this again. Can you describe the kiss in your own words?

SCARAMOUCHE: It wasn’t planned, okay? It just…I don’t know.

YAE: That’s all you’re giving us? C’mon, this is your big moment. Tell the fans something juicy!

SCARAMOUCHE: [EXHALES SHARPLY, LOOKS AWAY] I don’t know… I guess I… I feel bad about it.

YAE: Bad? Why would you feel bad? Was the kiss not good?

SCARAMOUCHE: [RUNS A HAND THROUGH HIS HAIR, HESITATES] I’m not the kind of guy people would want their first kiss with. And, yeah… it was their first. I know it was supposed to be this whole act, but I… I shouldn’t have taken that from them, not like that.

YAE: [RAISES AN EYEBROW] So, you actually care?

SCARAMOUCHE: [AVERTS EYES] Care? I… [PAUSES] No. Maybe. It just wasn’t fair to them, that’s all.

LISA: When you say “not like that” do you mean you wished you’d kissed them in a different setting?

SCARAMOUCHE: [GLARES AT LISA] I’m not answering something stupid as that.

YAE: Oh, come on! This is what everyone wants to know. Don’t you think the fans deserve a little honesty?

SCARAMOUCHE: [CROSSES HIS ARMS] I’ve given you plenty. I already told you, it wasn’t fair to them. Isn’t that enough?

LISA: [SMILING] Just admit it—you’re dodging because you actually feel something.

SCARAMOUCHE: [LEANS BACK, SIGHING] Look, if you’re expecting some big confession, you’re wasting your time. It was a job. That’s it. 

YAE: [SHARING A SMIRK WITH LISA] Right, because I also kiss my coworkers passionately all in the name of “just doing my job.”

[00:00:00] KISS INTERVIEW TWO, TAKE ONE

YAE: Alright, Y/N, let’s dive in! 

Y/N: [FROWNS AT CARD] Why does the thingy say kiss this time?

YAE: Because we all want to know what went down in the hot tub with Scara! 

Y/N: [SQUINTS AT YAE'S SIGN] I can’t even read the script you’re holding. My eyesight’s terrible. Does that seriously say, “His lips felt like heaven?”

YAE: [GRINNING] Yes! It’s good, right? Very romantic!

Y/N: [RAISES AN EYEBROW] Romantic? It sounds like something out of a cheap romance novel.

YAE: [GIGGLING] Well, Scara said my writing was terrible too. You two are totally synced, it seems.

JEAN: [SIGHS AND PLACES HER HEAD IN HER HANDS] We might be here a while…

YAE: Cut! Alright, let’s reset. [DEEP BREATH] Take two.

[00:05:43] KISS INTERVIEW TWO, TAKE TWO

YAE: [ROLLING HER EYES] Okay, just… talk about how hot his body was or something. Give the fans what they want!

Y/N: [STRAIGHT-FACED] I’d rather not.

LISA: [GIGGLES] Then maybe just tell us what it was like losing your first kiss to him.

JEAN: Lisa! That’s kind of insensitive…

Y/N: [SHRUGS] It’s fine. Surprisingly, I’m not that mad about it. I’ve known Scara for years, so… at least it wasn’t with some stranger.

YAE: [GIGGLING, LEANING IN] So… was it any good?

Y/N: [ROLLS EYES] I mean, I don’t exactly have anything to compare it to.

YAE: [TEASING] So you’re saying he set the bar?

Y/N: [CROSSES ARMS, SHRUGS] I’m saying I survived. Let’s leave it at that.

JEAN: [UNDER HER BREATH] Why do I feel like we’re making this worse? 

LISA: [CHUCKLING] Because we probably are.

[00:00:00] BEACH INTERVIEW ONE, TAKE ONE

YAE: So, Childe, tell us—how are you enjoying the beach so far? Getting some time to unwind?

CHILDE: [SMILING] Yeah, it’s been nice. But it’s a little too quiet without Scara and Y/N bickering in the background. You’d think I’d enjoy the peace, but… kinda miss the chaos, you know?

YAE: [CHUCKLES] Oh? Seems like you got used to it. How’s everyone managing without Scara?

CHILDE: Well, he was the best cook, surprisingly. So now everyone’s struggling. Dinner last night was... [SHUDDERS] Let’s just say nobody knew how to work the stove.

YAE: [LAUGHS] Sounds rough. So, I have to ask—any romance brewing in the group?

CHILDE: [GRINS, LEANS IN] Between you and me, I keep seeing Xiao and Kazuha sneaking off for these little “walks” along the shore. But hey, maybe they’re just out there for a smoke or something. 

JEAN: [OFF-CAMERA, SIGHS] Childe, don’t bring up smoking!

CHILDE: Right, right! I mean, they’re, uh… stargazing. Totally innocent. Just two guys appreciating the stars.

YAE: Cut!

stuck with you!

masterlist — prev | next

lmk if the written portion below pic helped, if i’m able to fit in it i’ll include it from now on

a few tags don’t work anymore so if u wanna be in the taglist lmk in the comments and ill keep it in mind

pls comment or send me an ask if u enjoyed i need motivation 🙂‍↕️

comment on the MASTERLIST if i can use ur user as a fan in the au!

synopsis — after the disaster that was the live award show, where you and scaramouche got into an argument on stage after both of your groups got a tie for top artists, your guys' PR teams have been in shambles trying to scrape up your mess. that's when the idea to send you both off with some other idols to a remote location for a survival dating show to mend your public image comes up. before you know it your bags are packed and you’re on a plane to a remote island. the only obligation is you need to end up with scaramouche at the end of the show, whether you end up liking him or not doesn’t matter to your managers as long as the show’s ratings stay high. whatever you do in between to get there is up to you!

notes — i rlly do wanna update more but college is kicking my ass so pls be patient with me :’) my semester ends in a few weeks and then next spring my classes won’t end at 7pm every night so i should have more free time 🙂‍↕️

taglist — @na1lea @cindywasneverhere @lunavixia @aestherin @mlaakai @camvrin @retiredmommylover @iheartpieck @jangyung @cartierfiles @loveariel @silly-ez @mochipls @pomeiu @chuuismylife @flowerypesky @creammpuff @justanothertiredreader @boxdisappeared @kissingkzuha @webbywill @kazusboyfriend @s3xpistolss @pjsucks @bunns-wonderland @lordbugs @localgirlywithnolife @kosumos @danfelions @featuredtofu @pinxeajin @herebyaccident0 @haeunoo @scaradooche @pglt19 @chemiru @childesbabygirl @simonisferal @shutingstar @ttalgi @esuz @tokkishouse @kitsuvil @scarasmood @ihearttori @nomurahayami @starringyau @androxphobic @reivelmin @animeobsessed56 @femaholicc

[frogchiro]

Krauser sitting and watch you and Leon as you make out and explore each other’s bodies. He’s just curious.

He would make you do it and he's such an asshole about it too :(

He wasn't blind. Of course he wasn't. He saw how both you and Leon looked at each other, how you two interacted and all that shit. Some know-it-all shrink would guess it's some kind of trauma bonding, others would say its raging hormones between two your people, barely in your 20's and thrust into such shit predicament. Jack on the other hand didn't have time or care for speculations or analyzing the two rookies put under his command, all he knew and cared about is that Kennedy and you were close.

It was clear as day to anyone with two working eyes; Kennedy was gentler and more careful with you, for example during your private combat training, trying not to throw you around too roughly or hit too hard. Or how after you were tired out after your training Leon would always nuzzle up to you, nudging you with his forehead.

Or that one time during your first weeks on the base whenever some soldiers tried to harass you, Leon was always there, snarling like a feral mutt in your defense; that memory made Krauser chuckle, but he guesses that a mutt will always try to protect his bitch.

Surprisingly, this wasn't the case when it came to Jack himself. Leon was still protective of you, sure, but not nearly as much, in fact neither him nor you were unresponsive to his...advances. Krauser would be a liar if he said he didn't find you both pretty; nice bodies, good hips, the most fuckable lips and those sweet sweet eyes staring up at him whenever he cornered you or Kennedy with a snarl on his face, the gnarly scars moving slightly when he smirked at the whine or tiny arch he got in response.

Months of build up tension led to this exact moment; Krauser, who herded you and Leon into his office and made you sit on the couch, was now seated in front of it, huge, powerful legs spread wide, the bulge of his cock straining against his military pants as he watched you and the blonde embracing while kneeling in front of each other, your arms wrapped around the other's body and letting out the most delicious whimpers and tiny moans while kissing.

Your gentle, soft hands roamed over Leon's broad shoulders, neck and into his fluffy hair, carding through it and gently scratching his scalp which in turn made the man shudder and break the passionate kiss in order to let out pleasured purr, a string of spit still between you as you pant.

'This is so...embarrassing...' You thought and blushed even harder, not even able to suppress the needy whine when Leon dipped down to your neck to ravage it with hot, open mouthed kisses and making you subconsciously tilt your head to the side to allow him more room which Leon enthusiastically used.

His hands moved from your sides to your front, grabbing at your breasts and kneading them, particularly focusing on your stiff nipples which only made you moan louder and arch even more into his insistent touch; they were still so, so sensitive from last night when Leon suckled them well into the night...

However, your pleasure-pained noises were like music to Krauser's ears as his own hand traveled down his belly to his still clothed cock to give it a firm squeeze, his own husky growl drawing both your and Leon's attention and Jack couldn't help but chuckle at your fucked out, needy expressions when you looked at his obscene display; lounging back in his comfortable armchair, his huge, powerful body laid back lazily with his legs all spread, touching and squeezing his cock through his clothes.

God he couldn't wait until he got his hands on his two pretty, fucked out rookies <3

[slvtforoldermen]

SKZ x Sex Drive

How horny are the members of Stray Kids: Most to Least.

Warnings: Smut duh. Discussions of sex drive and boundaries. Pegging implied.

PLEASE REQUEST IF YOU WANT ANYTHING 🤍🤍

Most

1. Jisung

- Are we surprised? He gets so desperate and so clingy like, all he wants is to be inside you or for you to be inside him~ He’s so soft and sweet but he’s so horny and desperate that he can’t help but cum the minute he slides into your pussy. He makes up for it though, he always does, because he eats you are so good after. He gets so upset if you don’t wanna have sex with him if you’re busy or just not feeling it. He’ll be pouty yes, but he would never EVER want you to feel guilty about not being in the mood.

2. Changbin

- Okay, imo this man is HORNY!! Like, his sex drive is high, not creepy high where he’s thinking about sex 24/7, but when he sees even an inch of your skin that you usually cover, even when it’s starting to get warmer after a cold winter and you wear shorts or a crop top for the first time, he can’t keep his thoughts away. He gets frustrated easily, so he’s not having sex with you everyday because he can just go to the gym if he wants to let off some steam, and if you’re not in the mood, he’ll drill it into your mind that he’s not mad before you runs off to the gym. He just, he loves you so much and you have to torture him by having such a sexy body. It’s not fair, let him like… eat your pussy or something, once a day at least?

3. Felix

- Guys, he just, he’s just so lovable and romantic when he’s horny. He’s so gentle. You’ll be in the kitchen and even though he’s stressed and horny out of his mind, he’ll still wrap his arms around your waist and kiss your neck softly, quietly begging asking if he can take you to bed. If you say no, he’ll be so so understanding, all he’ll want is a cuddle and to vent about what happened the day. He’s incredibly horny, yes, but he knows your boundaries and he wouldn’t ever dare cross them.

4. Bangchan

- Now listen here, when this man wants to restrain himself he will, but when he’s horny, he’s a monster. There’s a reason why the man wrote Railway, it’s because he’ll run a train onto you. When he’s mad or stressed, he’ll be rough, grunting and groaning as if he’s a… wolf 😏. But he wouldn’t hurt you, he wouldn’t ever try to hurt you. Even when he’s mad, he’ll still check up on you, and prep you. That’s a must now cmon, have you seen him? If you say no, he won’t even touch you unless you ask him to, he treats you a little too delicately, which sometimes pisses you off, and then you need to prove to him that you’re not made of glass.

5. Jeongin

- BARK BARK!! Sorry, it’s very clear he’s my bias wrecker. Anyway, Jeonginnie isn’t the horniest of the bunch, despite a lot of contradiction, he’s got a lot of self control when it comes to his sex drive. But when Jeongin fucks, Jeongin fucks. He’ll go down on you as if you was addicted to your taste (when he defo is but he won’t admit it), he’ll be sweet sometimes, smiling at you sweetly as you look so pretty under him, he’ll praise you and kiss you for hours. But when he’s stressed, GAWD DAYUM, daddy toast has arrived. Due to being the youngest, he has an inkling of a control kink, he’s not submissive at ALL, so he’ll be rough with you when he’s mad, unless you tell him to stop. If you tell him no, he’ll be slightly confused, because now he has a raging boner and no idea what to do, but always ends up jerking off. NEVER makes you feel bad, he loves you way too much for that.

6. Seungmin

- A lot of people think he’s horny, however, I think Seungmin’s sex drive depends on yours. If he wasn’t with you, he would probably jerk off like once or twice a week. He’s got better things to do with his time. But he finds how horny you get endearing, and that gets him horny. If he is horny and you’re not in the mood, you guys will end up cuddling and he’ll hold you. He secretly loves domesticity. If he’s frustrated he’ll be rough: if he’s calm, well… that all depends on you being bratty or not.

7. Hyunjin

- Like Changbin, Hyunjin has other vices, but unlike Changbin, he can keep his horniness down impeccably well. Ever since he started painting regularly, he doesn’t feel as horny as often. When he does, he’s so romantic. I can’t picture this man being rough: he’s a soft dom, period, the end. When you say no, he’ll offer to paint you, which is something you can’t say no to, he loves painting you, half of his paintings are just you. Overall, he’s a sweet lover who loves painting you, whether that be on an easel with acrylics, or on your body with his cum.

8. Lee Know

- The same situation as Seungmin. His sex drive depends on yours. He’s a talented lover and he’ll take his time with you. He’s gentle and loving, but when you want him to be rough, his sweet switch will turn off and he’ll be mean easy. I don’t believe this man is cold at all, he’s kind and gentle and loving… until you’re a brat and you break that barrier, then he’ll fuck you into tomorrow, with tomorrow’s aftercare being incredible. If you say no, he’ll be a little confused, because normally you’re the one initiating, so he feels a little insecure, but once you explain why, he’ll smile and cuddle you. Minho’s a cuddler, period.

Least

[zyafics-recs]

reblogging comment review from @zyafics

it’s 6:47am and i went “why not” so here i am reading ⬇️

You were home.

PAUSE DID I MISS SOMETHING

Your father, with his disheveled hair and red-rimmed eyes, swung the bottle in his hand dangerously close to JJ’s head. Each wave of the bottle sent droplets of amber liquid flying, dotting the floor like gruesome confetti.

god this paragraph eats ur descriptions 🤌🏼 (the amber liquid, the droplets on the floor? yeahhh i know u ate with that)

It was Rafe.

ohmygod im spiraling right now

You felt a surge of nausea, your stomach churning with revulsion of yourself. The nightmare still clung to you, the vivid memories of his hands around your throat making it hard to reconcile the image of him sleeping so peacefully.

what if she runs away (i would eat that up🤭)

Sleeping around—no, not just sleeping, practically baring your soul to one of the people that had destroyed your life? That had taunted and beaten your brother? Your friends? That killed a cop and got away with it? The thoughts circled in your mind, relentless and unforgiving. The cool night air was a temporary relief, but it couldn’t wash away the shame eating you alive. How did it come to this? How did you go from hating Rafe to being tangled up with him like this? 

why am i so scared of the upcoming angst

Maybe you were holding on to the only person who managed to pull you out of Ward’s grasp, fooling yourself into finding some good in someone who had caused so much pain. 

stockholm syndrome (it’s not… i think)

Rafe's voice cut through the air, his tone urgent, "How the fuck did you not see her leave? Did someone take her?”

he’s so protective of her i’m so in love 💍

Rafe's head snapped up, his blue eyes widening in relief as he caught sight of you. "Thank God," he breathed, his shoulders visibly relaxing, “Fucking hell, Maybank.”

THE FUCKING BUTTERFLIES 🦋

His arms were around you in an instant, his warmth enveloping you. His hands rested gently on your back; fingers splayed wide. For a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into his embrace for the last time, the tension in your shoulders easing ever so slightly. Barely looking at him, you pushed him away, your movements sharp. His hands fell away from you, confusion flickering across his features like a shadow passing over the sun. The hurt in his eyes cut through you like a punch, but you couldn’t bring yourself to dwell on it.

STOP STOP STOP

You hated the fact you could pinpoint the sincerity in his voice so easily. It nearly killed you. 

LET HIM IN PLS 🛐🛐

“It was a mistake.”

i’m actually holding my breath pls gigi let me breathe 😭😭😭

Rafe could act cold and stoic all he wanted; you could hear the hurt in his voice and sense the sadness in the words. He sounded broken.

"You're angry,” Your mouth ran dry, your heart lurching into your throat. "I’m sorry.”

"Sorry?" he seethed, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine, "Angry? You think you mean enough to me to make me angry?"

SHUT UP RAFE

“Stop it,” Your voice broke a little, fighting the waterworks that were threatening to run down your cheeks, “Stop making it sound like it meant nothing to you.”

no bc i would lose it in that room (absolutely go kill bill or disney princess cry idk yet)

“And whose fault is that? Hmm? You said you didn’t want to stop. You wanted it, you wanted me.”

You staggered back, feeling as if the ground beneath your feet was shifting, uncertain, and unsteady.

"I wanted it," Rafe repeated, fingers digging into his chest, his voice raw with emotion, "I wanted you."

the way my stomach rolled oh my god u r incredible at creating emotions

The anger that had driven him was gone, replaced by a hollow, almost haunted look

love the description of haunted had to take a sec to think what that is

He finally looked at you, his eyes bloodshot and filled with a mix of pain and regret. “I... I couldn’t stay away,” he slurred, his words thick with the effects of too much alcohol. “I tried, but...”

RAFE MY ANNOYINGLY POOR BABY

“It’s not, Maybank. I’ve done enough damage for a lifetime. It’s the reason why you’re sleeping on the other side of the bed instead of right next to me.”

actually stop hurting me pls and thank u

It took you hours to fall asleep. You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the events of the past weeks replaying in your mind. You thought of Rafe, of the hurt in his eyes, the way he had looked at you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. 

THE ONLY THING KEEPING HIM TETHERED TO REALITY STFU UP

Rafe’s gaze flicked to you as if he was memorizing your features, from your eyes down to your lips. You could see the gears turning inside his brain and it made you sick to your stomach when he took a deep breath, his eyes hardening with resolve, “Run.”

STOP MY HEART IS RACING 🫨

Without thinking, you ran to Rafe, your heart pounding with fear and relief. His arms wrapped around you tightly, and gently pulled you back, his eyes searching yours to make sure you were okay, but before you could assure him you were fine, he kissed you. His lips pressed firmly against yours, and you felt his tongue gently parting your lips, exploring with a tenderness that made your knees weak. It felt so…real, it nearly brought you to your knees. As cheesy as it sounded, it felt like time stood still for you, the rest of the world ceasing to exist. 

ITS LIKE A CRIMINAL LOVE STORY PLS 😭

“Baby, you—“ he coughed, blood seeping through his teeth, "You gotta go home.”

STOP STOP STOP STOP

“I’m not leaving without him,” You made the mistake to glance back one last time, your heart breaking as you saw Rafe's eyes close, his body slumping against the ground, “No, no, no! Keep your eyes open, I swear to god—” Your hands trembled as you tried to staunch the flow of blood with your already stained clothing, "Stay with me," you pleaded, your voice cracking. 

i’m actually gonna kill u gigi u have no idea

As you were led out of the police station and into a waiting car, your mind raced with thoughts of him, lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life, by himself. You couldn't bear the thought of him waking up alone, without knowing that you were there for him.

If he ever woke up.

for once in ur life i need u to be crazy and jump the car

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

FINAL THOUGHTS | omg. OHMYGOD??? okay one thing i absolutely love about this chapter is your emotional development and connection. the way that reader had to pull back because of her nightmare, because of what it means to be with rafe in the real world, the way she withdraws from him and it hurts him until they get to that argument. and that ARGUMENT; rafe being vulnerable while also pushing back, while also being sharp and anger? that PIERCED MY SOUL because u did it so well i actually held my breath and stopped breathing and just stared at how well u managed to capture emotional moments without exaggerating it. then then, him looking at her face trying to memorize her features before telling her to run? to kissing her because he couldn’t stand it anymore? screaming. AND THEN HE GOT FUCKING SHOT?? i saw spoilers that he got shot but i was so wrapped in the story i FORGOT 😭 it literally took me out 😭😭😭 I NEED HER TO JUMP OUT THE COP CAR OR SOMETHING PLS STAY WITH HIM 😭

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - four

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"

warnings: angst; gun violence; blood;

word count: 7.1k

You woke up confused staring at the oddly familiar ceiling, filled with posters ripped from the old magazines you’d gotten at a second-hand store. When you were sixteen is sounded like a great edgy idea. 

You were home.

What the—? How? 

Sitting up, the room felt stifling, the air thick with the stale smell of old wood and the faintest hint of your father’s cigarette smoke, a scent you had hoped never to encounter again. The heavy feeling in your chest wasn’t just the dread of being back; it was the oppressive memories flooding back, threatening to drown you.

The sound of a muffled argument seeped through the thin walls, pulling you back to the present.

Your heart pounded in your ears as you recognized the angry, slurred voice of your father.

He was shouting at someone, probably your brother, just like he used to. The familiar clinking of bottles and the crash of something being thrown sent a shiver down your spine.

No. This wasn't real. This couldn’t be real.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed, feeling the rough carpet under your feet, grounding yourself in the moment. You stood up shakily, each step toward the door feeling heavier than the last. The hallway stretched out before you, longer than it should have been, and the flickering light cast eerie shadows on the peeling wallpaper.

As you approached the living room, the noise grew louder, more distinct. Your father’s voice, filled with venom and rage, cut through you like a knife. You reached the doorway and peered in, your breath catching in your throat. There he was, towering over your JJ, his face twisted in anger. Your little brother was cowering, trying to make himself as small as possible, his eyes filled with fear. The scene was a haunting echo of so many nights you’d tried to forget.

“No,” you whispered, fear and anger bubbling up inside you. “This isn’t happening.”

But it was.

Your father, with his disheveled hair and red-rimmed eyes, swung the bottle in his hand dangerously close to JJ’s head. Each wave of the bottle sent droplets of amber liquid flying, dotting the floor like gruesome confetti. JJ flinched with every movement, tears streaming down his cheeks, and the sight made your heart ache.

“Get out of my sight, you worthless—” your father roared, his voice a terrifying growl.

“No!” you screamed, stepping into the room before you even realized you were moving. “Stop it!”

Your father turned, his bloodshot eyes narrowing as they focused on you. For a moment, there was a flicker of confusion, as if he couldn’t quite believe you were standing there.

Then, recognition set in, and his scowl deepened.

“You,” he spat, the word laced with bitterness. “You think you can just walk back in here and tell me what to do?”

The room seemed to shrink around you, the walls closing in, suffocating. But you couldn’t back down, not now. Not ever again.

“Leave him alone,” you said, your voice trembling, “He’s a child!”

Your father took a menacing step toward you, the bottle still clutched in his hand. “You’ve got some nerve, coming back here and talking to me like that. Looking exactly like her!”

Every instinct screamed at you to run, but you stood your ground. “I’m not afraid of you Luke,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes flashed with anger, and he raised the bottle, ready to strike. You braced yourself, every muscle tensed, waiting for the blow.

“Dad, please!” JJ’s voice broke through the tension, small and desperate. 

“Don’t hurt her.”

The plea hung in the air, a fragile thread that seemed to hold back the storm for just a moment. Your father’s hand wavered, his eyes darting between you and JJ.

Then, with a roar of frustration, he threw the bottle against the wall, where it shattered into a thousand pieces. The crash echoed through the house, a final, violent punctuation to the nightmare unfolding around you.

“You’re a coward, you know that? Hitting on your own children. You’re trash.” you spat out, the words flying from your mouth before you could stop them.

His face twisted, “What did you say to me?” He lunged at you, his hands going straight for your throat. Fear surged through you as his fingers tightened, cutting off your air supply. Your hands flew up to try and pry his grip loose, but he was too strong, too relentless, too driven.

Black spots began to dance at the edges of your vision. You struggled, gasping for breath, but his grip only tightened. The room started to spin, and just as you thought you might pass out, his face began to shift, blurring and changing. You blinked, trying to clear your vision, and when you opened your eyes again, it was no longer your father choking you.

It was Rafe.

Rafe's face, with a sickening grin, loomed over you. His eyes, filled with a cold, calculating malice, bore into yours. “You thought I’d be any different?” he sneered. “You signed your death sentence, pogue.”

The terror was overwhelming, a wave of cold dread washing over you. 

Your heart pounded frantically against your ribs, but you couldn’t scream, couldn’t call for help. His grip was like iron, unyielding and merciless.

You fought against him with all your strength, but it felt like trying to move through quicksand. Every movement was sluggish, every attempt to break free met with resistance. The walls around you seemed to close in, the room becoming a claustrophobic prison.

As the edges of your vision began to fade, a new sound cut through the suffocating haze – JJ’s voice, calling your name. “Sis! Please, wake up! Wake up!”

With a final, desperate burst of energy, you tore yourself away from Rafe, his grip suddenly gone. You were falling, tumbling through darkness, and then–

You jolted awake, gasping for breath, your body drenched in sweat. The familiar ceiling of the motel room came into focus. The terror of the nightmare clung to you, and it made it hard to breathe.

Your hands went to your throat, feeling for bruises that weren’t there. It was just a dream, you told yourself, trying to calm your racing heart. Just a nightmare.

As your breath began to steady, you turned your head, feeling the sheets rustle against your skin.

The dim light of the room cast long shadows, and your heart sank when you saw Rafe lying next to you, his chest rising and falling in a deep, peaceful slumber. He was naked, his body partially covered by the sheets, a stark reminder of what you’d done hours ago.

You felt a surge of nausea, your stomach churning with revulsion of yourself. The nightmare still clung to you, the vivid memories of his hands around your throat making it hard to reconcile the image of him sleeping so peacefully. You quietly slipped out of bed, trying not to wake him, and grabbed your clothes, dressing quickly.

Standing in the small bathroom, you splashed cold water on your face, trying to wash away the remnants of the dream. The coolness against your skin brought a brief sense of clarity, but it didn’t banish the lingering sense of dread. You looked at yourself in the mirror, your reflection pale and haunted.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You had to get out of here, clear your head, and figure out what to do next. Slipping out of the bathroom, you grabbed your keys from the nightstand, sneaking one last look at Rafe. He was still asleep, completely unaware of the fear inside you.

The motel hallway was dark and quiet, with the faint hum of the vending machine being the only noise. You made your way to the exit, and the cool night air hit you like a splash of reality. It felt like you were stepping out of one world and into another, the contrast so stark and jarring. 

You took a few more steps, but your vision blurred, and you felt lightheaded. You slumped against the wall, struggling to catch your breath.

The panic attack hit you full force, your chest tightening, and your mind racing. You couldn't let Rafe see you like this. You couldn't let anyone see you like this. You sank to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest, trying to focus on something, anything, to calm yourself down. You started counting your breaths, focusing on each inhale and exhale, trying to slow your racing heart. You thought of JJ, of how much he needed you to be strong. You couldn't fall apart now, not when there was so much at stake.

You kept counting, kept breathing, the cool air helping to clear your head. Slowly, the tightness in your chest began to ease. The world started to come back into focus, the shadows in the hallway retreating.

You wiped away the tears that had slipped down your cheeks and stood up, feeling a little more in control.

Sleeping around—no, not just sleeping, practically baring your soul to one of the people that had destroyed your life? That had taunted and beaten your brother? Your friends? That killed a cop and got away with it? The thoughts circled in your mind, relentless and unforgiving. The cool night air was a temporary relief, but it couldn’t wash away the shame eating you alive. How did it come to this? How did you go from hating Rafe to being tangled up with him like this? 

You thought of JJ, of your friends, the people who had been there for you through everything. They’d never understand.

Hell, you didn’t even understand it yourself. You stopped and leaned against a lamppost, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. You had to sort through this mess, had to figure out what was real and what was just the lingering effects of captivity and longing. Maybe you were holding on to the only person who managed to pull you out of Ward’s grasp, fooling yourself into finding some good in someone who had caused so much pain. 

An hour later, you made your way back to the motel. Each step felt like a struggle, the guilt and self-doubt threatening to consume you entirely. You couldn't shake the feeling that you'd betrayed everything you stood for by letting Rafe into your life, even if it was just for a moment of weakness.

As you approached the entrance, you saw him standing at the front desk, looking worried and disheveled. He must have just woken up, throwing on some shorts in a hurry. His expression was tense as he spoke to the front desk guy, hands moving rapidly, gesturing around. 

Your pulse pounded as you walked in, not sure of what to say, what to do, how to approach him. The memory of the nightmare still lingered, haunting you like a specter refusing to be exorcised.

Rafe's voice cut through the air, his tone urgent, "How the fuck did you not see her leave? Did someone take her?”

The front desk guy shook his head, his expression apologetic. "I apologize sir, but I haven't seen anyone come through here."

With a deep breath, you stepped forward, revealing yourself to him. "I'm here," you said quietly, voice rough from not speaking since you woke up.

Rafe's head snapped up, his blue eyes widening in relief as he caught sight of you. "Thank God," he breathed, his shoulders visibly relaxing, “Fucking hell, Maybank.”

His arms were around you in an instant, his warmth enveloping you. His hands rested gently on your back; fingers splayed wide. For a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into his embrace for the last time, the tension in your shoulders easing ever so slightly. Barely looking at him, you pushed him away, your movements sharp. His hands fell away from you, confusion flickering across his features like a shadow passing over the sun. The hurt in his eyes cut through you like a punch, but you couldn’t bring yourself to dwell on it.

You took a step back, putting some distance between you and Rafe, needing the space to breathe, to think, to figure out what comes next.

Your gaze flickered to the floor, unable to meet his eyes, unable to face the consequences of your actions, "Just needed some air," you muttered, your voice barely audible even to yourself, “Sorry for not leaving a note.”

Rafe's expression shifted from relief to concern as he watched you, his brows furrowing with worry.

"You okay?"

You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, "I'm fine," you replied, your voice lacking conviction even to your own ears. "Just felt a little nauseous.”

His hand reached out tentatively as if he wanted to comfort you, but he hesitated, letting it fall back to his side. “I just woke up and you were gone, and I...I panicked."

You hated the fact you could pinpoint the sincerity in his voice so easily. It nearly killed you. 

“We should go back.”

"Will you... will you be okay?" he asked, his voice hesitant.

You nodded, trying to muster up a reassuring smile, but it felt hollow and insincere. "I'll be fine," you lied, the words tasted bitter on your tongue, “Just need some rest.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah, let’s go back.”

As you stepped inside the room, the early sunlight washed over Rafe's face, highlighting the worry etched into his features. He watched you carefully, as if afraid you would’ve disappeared again at any moment. He tried to reach out and grab your arm, but you moved too quickly, and he was left grasping air.

You offered him a weak smile, ignoring the look on his face, "I'm sorry for leaving like that," you said, your voice tinged with genuine regret. "I’m fine.”

You didn’t think he believed you. He was watching you so closely. He took in how disheveled you looked. The mess of your hair, and barely laced-up shoes so you could get out the door faster. Rafe’s eyes pierce into your own, searching them for something as he took a deep breath to calm himself.

It took several tense moments before he finally spoke, “Is this about last night?”

Your body froze, panic taking over every single one of your muscles. What were you supposed to tell him? Lie? Tell him the truth and make him hate himself even more? Keep your pain down to hold his?

“It was a mistake.”

You went straight to the chase.

He stalked closer to you, and you took a step back reflexively, “A mistake?” he echoed between labored breaths, “A mistake?”

“Yeah," you stammered, trying to articulate your thoughts, "It's not right. We, we're just lonely."

You despised yourself for even hinting at it, but the tumultuous month spent with him had been bewildering, to say the least. You questioned whether you were truly good for each other.

"I thought..." he began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words.

The pain in his voice pierced your skin, a reminder of the consequences of your actions. But you needed to put yourself first.

“I’m sorry.”

Rafe's face contorted, his features tightening into a mask of disbelief. And you couldn’t blame him for whatever he was about to unleash on you.

“So, what? You're just gonna walk away?" He tried to bark, but his voice quivered from grief, “Stop looking at me?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” He scoffed, lips twisting into a sneer, as he started to pace around the room, his movements restless and agitated. “That’s funny.”

Rafe could act cold and stoic all he wanted; you could hear the hurt in your voice and sense the sadness in the words. He sounded broken.

"You're angry,” Your mouth ran dry, your heart lurching into your throat. "I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” he seethed, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine, “Angry? You think you mean enough to me to make me angry?”

His words struck you like a physical blow, a slap to the face. You recoiled instinctively, the weight of his fury bearing down on you. 

"I don't know what I mean to you," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggled to maintain your composure. "I just know that I can't keep doing this."

Rafe's laughter was bitter and mocking, a harsh sound that echoed off the walls of the room.

"Can't keep doing this?" he repeated, his voice laced with derision. "And what, exactly, is 'this'? Fucking? You can’t even say it.”

“You’re being an asshole.”

"An asshole?" he spat, "Is that what you think of me?"

You held his gaze, refusing to back down despite the hurting coursing through your veins. "You're acting like one.”

“Maybank,” His voice was still harsh as he lowered his head to try and meet your eyes. He was close enough that you were able to smell him, "You don't know anything about me, remember? Maybe the fucking really did confuse you.”

“Stop it,” Your voice broke a little, fighting the waterworks that were threatening to run down your cheeks, “Stop making it sound like it meant nothing to you.”

His eyes shut tightly, “Why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s wrong! Rafe—don’t you see it? I can’t do this, not with you of all fucking people, okay?”

He looked down at the carpet, a look of shame falling over his features as he ran a hand over his face, “You knew who I was since the beginning.”

You felt a surge of frustration rising within you, mingling with the anguish that threatened to overwhelm your senses. "Yeah, and every time I look at you now, I see everything that's wrong with me."

“And whose fault is that? Hmm? You said you didn’t want to stop. You wanted it, you wanted me.”

You staggered back, feeling as if the ground beneath your feet was shifting, uncertain, and unsteady.

"I wanted it," Rafe repeated, fingers digging into his chest, his voice raw with emotion, "I wanted you."

The admission hung in the air between you, everything left unsaid. You wanted to reach out to him, hug him as you had just hours ago, but you knew you couldn’t.

“We can’t.”

His eyes were slightly dewy, a somewhat defeated look to his gaze as he walked towards the door.

“Well, congrats Maybank. You won.”

The sound of the door slamming echoed through the room, the finality of it hitting you like a punch to the gut. You stood there, motionless, as the silence enveloped you. The weight of everything that had just transpired pressed down on your shoulders, threatening to crush you.

You sank to the floor, your back against the wall, and the tears came in a torrent. Sobs wracked your body, each one more painful than the last, as the reality of your situation washed over you. You had pushed him away, and hurt him, but what other choice did you have? 

The quiet was almost eerie. 

You couldn't deny that you had felt something for Rafe, something more than just anger and resentment.

But it was twisted, born out of shared trauma and desperation, wasn’t it? Wiping your tear-streaked face with trembling hands, you tried to gather yourself. You still needed to get home. In five days. How the fuck were you going to live in the same room with Rafe for five days after what went down? You couldn’t, you needed the money to pay off the men taking you back home.

You sat on the motel room floor for what felt like hours, the silence pressing in on you.

The weight of your words, of the confrontation, was suffocating. Eventually, exhaustion won out, and you crawled into bed, your mind too restless to allow for more than fitful dozing.

It was around 4 a.m. when the door to the motel room creaked open, startling you awake. You sat up, your heart pounding, straining to see in the dark. The figure that stumbled through the door was unmistakable: Rafe. His movements were unsteady, his clothes disheveled, and the sharp scent of alcohol hit you even from across the room.

“Rafe?”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned heavily against the doorframe, his eyes unfocused. He looked lost.

The anger that had driven him was gone, replaced by a hollow, almost haunted look. You had done that to him. You got out of bed, approaching him cautiously.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice tinged with worry.

He finally looked at you, his eyes bloodshot and filled with a mix of pain and regret. “I... I couldn’t stay away,” he slurred, his words thick with the effects of too much alcohol. “I tried, but...”

You sighed, the concern battling within you.

“Rafe, you’re drunk. You need to sit down.”

He let you guide him to the bed, his body heavy and uncooperative. Once he was seated, you grabbed a bottle of water from the small table and handed it to him.

“Drink this,” you instructed.

He took a sip, his hands shaking slightly. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, staring down at the floor. “For everything.”

It was the first time he ever apologized to you. You didn’t know what to say. Part of you wanted to comfort him, to tell him it was okay, but another part of you was still reeling from the emotional whirlwind of the past few days. 

“You need to sleep this off,” you said instead, trying to keep your voice steady.

He nodded but didn’t move. Instead, he reached out, his hand brushing against yours. “I don’t want to be like him,” he confessed, “I can't."

If you allowed him to keep sputtering out his drunken thoughts you would’ve ended up crying your eyes out again, so instead you squeezed his hand, “Let’s just sleep, okay?”

He nodded again, his eyes drifting shut as the exhaustion and alcohol finally took their toll. You helped him lie down, covering him with the sheets. As you laid back down, you watched Rafe’s breathing even out, his face softening in sleep. 

The next few days passed in a blur of tension and silence. That night?

It never happened.

Rafe didn’t spare you a glance from the moment he woke up, choosing to care for his hangover by himself. You and he moved around each other like ghosts, the motel room becoming a prison. You barely slept, the nightmares coming back with a vengeance, leaving you exhausted and on edge.

Every time you closed your eyes, you saw your father, Rafe, or the haunting echoes of your past, blending into a relentless cycle of fear and regret. You knew he’d been having nightmares as well, but you pretended to be asleep every time he woke up, chest heaving. 

He seemed so caught in his torment. You could see it in the way he clenched his jaw, the way his hands would flex into fists and then relax as if he was battling some inner demon. He avoided you, constantly, and when he did speak, his words were clipped and distant. Your shared meals were silent, the clinking of cutlery the only sound breaking the oppressive quiet. 

Even the TV stayed off.

On the fifth night, you lay awake in the dark, listening to the rhythm of Rafe's breathing from the other bed. It was uneven, indicating he was also awake. 

“You’re not gonna end up like him.”

Rafe's breathing hitched, and you could almost feel his eyes on you through the darkness.

"I mean it," you continued, turning slightly to face his silhouette. "You're not your father, Rafe."

He didn't respond immediately, but you sensed a shift in the atmosphere, a subtle change in his posture. Finally, he sighed, the sound heavy and laden with years of unspoken fears and insecurities.

"How can you be so sure?" he murmured, his voice raw.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "Because I've seen you. I've seen the parts of you that fight against becoming him. The parts that want to be better. And that matters."

He let out a bitter laugh. "I'm not sure it’s enough.”

“It is.”

“It’s not, Maybank. I’ve done enough damage for a lifetime. It’s the reason why you’re sleeping on the other side of the bed instead of right next to me.”

You wanted to reach out, to reassure him that he wasn’t alone, but you knew it wasn’t that simple. 

“I’m still here,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m not leaving.”

“You already did.”

Ouch.

Before you could utter a single word, he turned his back to you.

“We’re leaving tomorrow. Sleep.”

“Rafe—”

“Goodnight.”

It took you hours to fall asleep. You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the events of the past weeks replaying in your mind. You thought of Rafe, of the hurt in his eyes, the way he had looked at you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. 

The next morning, you didn’t bother much with packing, only shoving the pieces of clothing you’d collected in a backpack. It felt torturous, to be so close to Rafe yet so far away. He didn’t speak a word as he packed his things, his movements stiff and mechanical. You wanted to break the silence, but every time you opened your mouth, the words seemed to stick in your throat. The taxi drive to the port was just as unbearable. You stared out the window, watching the landscape blur past, your mind racing with thoughts of what could have been, what should have been. 

Once you arrived, you and Rafe stepped out, the silence between you as impenetrable as ever. The boat that would take you both back home loomed ahead. He took the lead, heading towards the ticket booth with his shoulders hunched, and you followed, your steps heavy with reluctance.

You were still scared shitless of those men. They were only helping you because at some point Rafe had helped them smuggle drugs into the States, and that did not leave you the least bit reassured over their intentions. 

Finding a spot on the deck, you both settled into a tense silence, the hum of the boat’s engine and the cries of seagulls filling the void between you. The sun was beginning to rise, casting a golden hue over the water, but the beauty of the scene did little to ease the knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.

He leaned against the railing, his gaze fixed on the horizon, his face a mask void of any emotion.

You watched him for a moment, torn between wanting to reach out to him and the fear that doing so would only make things worse.

Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, you cleared your throat. “Rafe,” you began hesitantly, “I—”

Before you could finish, he turned to you, his expression weary. “We don’t have to talk about it,” he said, his voice flat. “Not now.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Okay.”

“Just stay low, stay quiet. My dad got eyes everywhere.”

From the corner of your eye you spotted one of the men. Tall, burly, with a scar running down his cheek. He simply nodded towards the cargo boat and for a minute you’re taken back to your first day stuck with the Cameron’s, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong.

Rafe walked in front of you again, entering the ship, rounding his way through the halls behind the sketchy guy, only stopping when he knocked on a door, after a moment, it swung open to reveal a bald shot man, eyes way too big for his face, which flicked over you and Rafe, a predatory smile curling his lips.

“Well, well, look who decided to show up,” he drawled, his voice laced with mockery. “You’re late.”

“Had some complications,” Rafe replied curtly, his posture tense.

The man’s smile widened. “Complications, huh? Well, come on in”

You followed Rafe inside, your heart racing. The interior of the room was pretty dark, the air thick with the smell of smoke and something you couldn’t quite identify. Nor did you want to. 

“Rafe,” the older man said, his voice cold and commanding. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten about our arrangement.”

“Never,” Rafe replied, his tone clipped. “I brought the money.”

He handed over a thick envelope, and the man behind the desk took it, flipping through the bills with a practiced eye. After a moment, he nodded, satisfied.

“Good,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Now, let’s discuss the other part of our deal.”

Rafe stiffened. “I told you, I’m out. I’m not running anything for you anymore.”

The man’s eyes narrowed, his smile turning dangerous. “I don’t think you understand. You don’t get to just walk away.”

You felt a chill run down your spine as the tension in the room escalated. The man behind the desk stood up, his gaze shifting to you.

“And who’s this?” he asked, his tone menacing.

“No one,” Rafe said quickly. “She has nothing to do with this.”

The man chuckled, a low, sinister sound. “Oh, I think she has everything to do with this.”

He took a step towards you, and instinctively, you backed away, your heart pounding in your chest. Rafe moved to place himself between you and the older man, his jaw clenched.

“Leave her out of this.”

“You see, your daddy dearest called in last night. Told me about a loose piece he had to get rid off…a pretty one. Guess this is her?”

"That's none of your business," Rafe growled, his voice filled with a warning, body still shielding yours.

The older man laughed, the sound grating against your nerves. "Oh, but it is my business, Rafe. You see, your daddy and I, we go way back. And when he asks for a favor, I don't say no."

You felt a surge of terror at his words, your mind racing to find a way out of this situation. "Rafe, we need to go," you whispered urgently, tugging on his arm.

He didn't move, his eyes locked on the man before him. "We're leaving," Rafe said firmly, his voice unwavering. "Now."

The man smirked, his gaze shifting between you and Rafe. "You think you can just walk out of here? You're in deep, Cameron. And now, so is she."

Rafe's jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists. "We're not doing this.”

The older man took a step closer, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent. 

"You have two choices, Rafe. You either do as I say, or she pays the price like Ward asked.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, fear coursing through your veins. You couldn't let Rafe get pulled back into this world, but you also couldn't bear the thought of what might happen if you stayed.

"Rafe, please," you pleaded, your voice trembling.

Rafe’s gaze flicked to you as if he was memorizing your features, from your eyes down to your lips. You could see the gears turning inside his brain and it made you sick to your stomach when he took a deep breath, his eyes hardening with resolve, “Run.”

Before you could process his words, Rafe launched himself at the older man, tackling him to the ground. The suddenness of the movement caught everyone off guard, but you knew you had to act quickly. Heart pounding, you turned and bolted out of the room, dropping your backpack in the process, your footsteps echoing down the dimly lit corridor.

Behind you, you could hear the sounds of struggle—grunts, crashes, and the thud of bodies hitting the floor. You didn’t dare look back, knowing that every second counted. Rafe had told you to run.

The ship's layout was confusing, with identical-looking hallways and doors leading to who-knew-where. You sprinted through the maze of metal and dim lights, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The distant sound of shouting and commotion indicated that the fight was far from over. You turned a corner and collided with one of the burly men from earlier. He grabbed your arm, his grip like a vise.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he snarled.

Panic surged through you, but you fought it down, remembering the self-defense moves Rafe had taught you back at Ward’s island. You stomped on his foot and jabbed your elbow into his ribs, wrenching your arm free as he grunted in pain. Without wasting a second, you continued running, your legs burning with effort.

You burst onto the deck, the cold, salty air hitting you like a slap. The early morning light was just beginning to brighten the horizon, casting long shadows across the deck. You looked around frantically, searching for any means of escape. Your eyes landed on a lifeboat secured to the side of the ship. Without hesitation, you made your way towards it, fumbling with the ropes that held it in place. Your fingers were shaking, but you managed to free the boat. As you were about to lower it into the water, a rough hand grabbed your shoulder and spun you around. It was the man with the scar, his face twisted in anger.

“Going somewhere?” he sneered.

You tried to fight him off, but he was too strong.

Just when you thought all hope was lost, a loud bang echoed across the deck. The man with the scar froze, his grip loosening. You took the opportunity to break free, scrambling away from him.

Rafe stood at the entrance to the deck, a gun in his hand and determination in his eyes. The man with the scar raised his hands slowly, backing away.

“You okay?” Rafe asked, his voice tight with concern.

“I think so.”

“Come here.”

Without thinking, you ran to Rafe, your heart pounding with fear and relief. His arms wrapped around you tightly, and gently pulled you back, his eyes searching yours to make sure you were okay, but before you could assure him you were fine, he kissed you. His lips pressed firmly against yours, and you felt his tongue gently parting your lips, exploring with a tenderness that made your knees weak. It felt so…real, it nearly brought you to your knees. As cheesy as it sounded, it felt like time stood still for you, the rest of the world ceasing to exist. 

Until reality broke you again.

Rafe's body tensed suddenly. You heard a muffled sound, like a distant pop, but it took a moment for your mind to register what had happened. His grip on you loosened, and he staggered, his breath hitching in pain.

No, no, no, no.

"Rafe?” You caught him as he fell to his knees, eyes darting around, searching for the source of the shot. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head as you watched a showdown between the so-called human traffickers and the fucking police. This had to be a fucking nightmare, no way, were you getting caught in a crossfire. 

Rafe clutched his side, blood seeping through his fingers, staining his white shirt. His face was scarily pale, and he struggled to stay upright.

"You need to...get out of here," he managed to say, his voice strained, “Right now.”

“I’m not leaving you, you fuckin—Shit, Rafe. Fuck!” You looked around frantically, your heart pounding in your chest. The island, which had seemed like a safe haven moments ago, now felt like a trap. "Can you walk?" you asked, trying to keep the panic from your voice.

“Does it look like I can walk, pretty Maybank?”

A sob broke through you, “Don’t try to be fucking funny, you got shot!”

“Baby, you—“ he coughed, blood seeping through his teeth, "You gotta go home.”

"Stop talking!" you repeated, your voice trembling with desperation. You looked around again, trying to find a way out, a way to save him, anything. But the chaos around you was overwhelming. The police and the traffickers were engaged in a fierce shootout, bullets whizzing through the air, ricocheting off metal, and splintering wood.

Rafe's hand tightened weakly around yours.

"Listen to me," he said, his voice just a whisper. "You have to...Go gome."

Tears streamed down your face as you shook your head. "I can't leave you here."

You knew you had to move, had to find help, but leaving him there felt like tearing your heart out. As you turned to peek around one final time, you heard a shout from behind you. "Freeze!" a police officer yelled, his gun trained on you.

You stopped, your hands raised, your mind racing. "Please, help him," you begged, pointing to Rafe. "He's been shot."

The officer's eyes flicked to Rafe, then back to you. "We need to secure the area first," he said, his tone firm but not unkind.

"Please," you repeated, your voice breaking. "He's dying."

The officer hesitated, then spoke into his radio. "Officer down, need medical assistance immediately."

Another officer approached, his gun drawn, and you saw his gaze soften as he took in Rafe's condition. "We'll get him help," he assured you, "but we need to get you out of here safely."

“I’m not leaving without him,” You made the mistake to glance back one last time, your heart breaking as you saw Rafe's eyes close, his body slumping against the ground, “No, no, no! Keep your eyes open, I swear to god—” Your hands trembled as you tried to staunch the flow of blood with your already stained clothing, "Stay with me," you pleaded, your voice cracking. 

His eyes fluttered open briefly, a weak smile touching his lips.

"You... have to... go," he whispered, his breath coming in shallow gasps, "Go."

Before you could respond, you felt strong hands grip your shoulders, pulling you back. "We need to get you to safety," one of the officers said firmly, trying to drag you away from Rafe.

"No! Let me go! I can't leave him!" you screamed, fighting against their hold.

"Ma'am, we need to get you out of the line of fire," the officer insisted, his grip tightening as he pulled you to your feet.

Through your tears, you saw more officers surrounding Rafe, their voices urgent as they called for medical assistance. You watched helplessly as they began to administer first aid, their movements efficient but hurried. As the officers dragged you away against your will, your eyes never left Rafe. 

You struggled against their hold, but their grip was unyielding. "Please, don't let him die," you sobbed, your voice breaking with despair.

"We're doing everything we can," one of the officers reassured you, guiding you towards the edge of the deck where a police boat was waiting.

You stumbled, your legs weak with fear and exhaustion, but the officers held you steady. As you were helped onto the police boat, you turned back one last time, your heart breaking at the sight of Rafe lying on the deck, surrounded by officers and paramedics. You clutched the railing, your knuckles white, as the boat pulled away from the ship, the distance between you and Rafe growing with each passing second.

The journey back to shore was a blur of sirens, flashing lights, and the distant sound of helicopter blades cutting through the air. The police officers tried to reassure you, but their words were lost in the whirlwind of your thoughts.

When the boat finally docked, you were met by a flurry of activity. Paramedics rushed forward, checking you for injuries, while police officers asked you questions about what had happened. You answered them mechanically, your mind still focused on Rafe, praying that he would survive. Hours seemed to pass in a haze of questions, medical checks, and statements. You told them everything. Finally, you were allowed to sit down, your body heavy with exhaustion. A police officer approached you, his expression kind but serious.

"Rafe Cameron is being taken to the hospital," he said gently. "He's in critical condition, but the paramedics are doing everything they can."

You nodded numbly, the weight of his words pressing down on you. "Can I see him?"

“’No visitors will be allowed, kid. We checked your backgrounds. If he survives, he’ll be taken into custody, his father is Ward Cameron, the feds are going to need him.”

You nearly threw up at how easily he said, “if he survives”. There couldn’t be no fucking ifs, he wasn’t dying. Not like this. Not after everything. 

Your knees buckled, and you had to sit down, the reality of the situation pressing down on you like a ton of bricks. The officer helped you to a bench, his face sympathetic but firm. “I understand this is hard, but we need to follow protocol. He’s a key witness and suspect in multiple ongoing investigations.”

You nodded, your mind barely processing his words. The world felt distant, and surreal. “Can I at least know which hospital?”

The officer hesitated for a moment, then relented. “St. Michael’s. But you won’t be allowed to call until we clear things with the authorities.”

“Call? I want to visit.”

He sighed, taking a seat next to you, “Kid. I’m really sorry, but you won’t be here. You’re a kidnapping victim and there’s a direct order to take you back home, you’ve been reported missing for over a month now.”

Your mind reeled, struggling to process the officer's words. Missing? For over a month? It felt like a lifetime and no time at all had passed since you'd been caught up in this nightmare.

"I can't leave him," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Not like this."

The officer's expression softened. "I understand, but this is out of my hands. We need to get you back to your family. They'll be worried sick."

What family?

You wanted to shout in his face. JJ was still missing for all you knew and Luke hadn't stepped foot home in months. You felt a surge of helplessness.

“I can't just leave him."

The officer looked taken aback but remained resolute. "We're going to get you home safely. You'll be able to follow up on Rafe's condition, but right now, you need to come with us."

The officer stood up, motioning for you to follow. Reluctantly, you got to your feet, every step feeling like a betrayal to Rafe.

As you were led out of the police station and into a waiting car, your mind raced with thoughts of him , lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life, by himself. You couldn't bear the thought of him waking up alone, without knowing that you were there for him.

If he ever woke up.

[cinna-stars]

Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader - MDNI

18+ Trafalgar Law Ghostface SMUT - ABSOLUTE FILTH below the cut

Word Count: 3.3k

This is my first time writing in a few years. This was a self indulgent piece after seeing this art from hunnismoker on Instagram:

Trigger Warnings: 18+ MDNI, this is your last warning!

Knife play, Choking, Law has a potty mouth, Penetrative sex, Dacryphilia, Blowjob, Face fucking, Mask kink, Ghostface mask, Shachi being a little perv at the end

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Trafalgar Law, your boyfriend and Captain of the Heart Pirates, was acting more quiet than usual. Which was somewhat concerning, given that he was already one of the most stoic people you had ever met. It had started after you had come to him with the proposition of bringing a Ghostface mask into the bedroom. "I don't want to hurt you" was his initial response. It wasn't until you noticed a white mask in his dresser drawer that you realized he had been considering your request. You gently pulled it out, running your fingers over the smooth surface. Law's eyes widened slightly as he caught sight of you holding the mask.

"I... I got it for you," he admitted quietly, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. "But I'm still not sure about this."

You smiled softly, touched by his thoughtfulness despite his reservations. "We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with, Law. I appreciate that you even considered it."

He stepped closer, taking the mask from your hands and examining it. "It's not that I'm uncomfortable," he said slowly. "I'm just concerned about losing control. The thought of potentially harming you, even in play..."

“ I trust you, Law. And if at any point either of us wants to stop, we will. No questions asked."

He brings his hand to his chin, rubbing slowly, gazing off pensively for a few moments. “Okay. Let’s try this.” He lifts the Ghostface mask to hover in front of his face.

“How do you want me to initiate this… and when?” He questions in a slightly deeper, more sultry tone than normal. Even the illusion of him wearing the mask has your heart racing and core heated, the question sending shivers of excitement through your body.

“I feel like the element of surprise adds to it, so, whenever you’re ready, Captain.” you grin. His golden eyes peer through the mask and examine the joy on your face.

He moves his free hand to ghost over your throat, pulsing his grip ever so slightly and leaning to your ear. “That’s Mr. Ghostface to you.”

A small whimper escapes from your lips and you hear a light chuckle from Law. “Something tells me this is going to be enjoyable for the both of us.”

A few days pass, and the anticipation of finding Law lurking around any corner wearing the mask that he had bought filled you with both lust and anticipation. He had teased you with it a couple of times, leaving it in places for you to find it, such as the bathroom mirror whilst you were taking a shower, and hanging from the back of his door in the dark of night. Needless to say, he had started to gain just as much excitement from the prospect of fucking you in the mask as you had seeing him in it.

Tonight, Law had advised he was going to be working until the early hours of the morning in his office. This wasn’t irregular for him, especially as of late. So, you decided to sit on the sofa in his quarters and watch a film, hoping to try and stay awake for his return. The film you chose was not particularly of interest, and your eyes started feeling heavy. Just as you lean your head back on the sofa, you hear footsteps approaching.

Your eyes snap open, suddenly alert. The footsteps are slow, deliberate. Not Law's usual confident stride. A shiver runs down your spine as you realize what's happening.

The door creaks open slowly. You hold your breath, heart pounding. A figure emerges from the shadows, tall and imposing. He still wore his normal attire, the usual black t-shirt and dark jeans, but over his face he wore the white mask. The smooth plastic gleams in the dim light from the TV screen. You also notice what you think is a small black hilt tucked into his waistband.

The footsteps continue slowly in your direction, and you lift your head up to watch his figure approaching. You swallow hard, a mix of fear and arousal flooding your system. "Mr. Ghostface," you whisper, playing along.

He stalks towards you, movements predatory. "You've been a naughty girl, waiting up for me. Don't you know it's dangerous to be alone at night?"

"I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-” he cuts you off, closing the distance between you. With a sudden change of speed, he straddles you where you sit. His bare hand wraps around your throat, not squeezing, but firmly holding you in place. "Shh," he hisses through the mask. "No excuses."

Your breath catches as he presses you against the sofa. Even through his jeans, you can feel the heat radiating from Law's body. His free hand trails down your side, sending shivers through you.

You remain silent, watching as he tilts his head in that eerie Ghostface manner, his curious hand finding purchase on the waist of your silk pyjama shorts.

You whimper softly, torn between playing the scared victim and showing how aroused you already are. "Please," you whisper, not even sure what you're begging for.

He chuckles darkly. "Please what? Please let you go?" You paw at his hand and nod vigorously, and he feels you swallow hard. His fingers now play with the fabric of your waistline, the hand around your throat moving round to the back of your head to grasp your hair. With one swift pull, your neck cranes back as he leans forward to whisper in your ear. “Don’t FUCK with me. You’re getting exactly what you asked for. Now be a good girl and do as I say.”

Your breath hitches at his commanding tone, a mix of fear and desire coursing through you. You nod slightly, careful not to move too much with his grip on your hair.

"Good," he purrs, the mask distorting his voice just enough to send chills down your spine. "Now, stand up slowly."

He releases your hair and moves off of you, allowing you to rise. Your legs feel shaky as you comply, standing before him. His golden eyes bore into you through the mask's eyeholes, intense and predatory.

"Strip," he orders, voice low and dangerous. "Slowly."

With trembling fingers, you begin to unbutton your silk pyjama top. You can feel his gaze burning into your skin as you reveal more and more. The top falls to the floor, revealing the black lace bra that you had kept on in anticipation of him making his move tonight. You hesitate at the waistband of your shorts.

"Did I tell you to stop?" he growls. You pause, wondering what he’d do if you disobey. Apparently you took too long thinking about this, because in one swift motion, Law grabs your arm, spinning you round so that his chest is flush with your back. You feel him manoeuvre to grab something from his person, and just as quickly you feel a cold, hard object placed against the underside of your chin.

“I told you not to fuck about. Now we do things my way.” The cold metal against your skin sends a jolt through your body. You realize it must be the small blade you had noticed earlier. Your heart races, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through your veins.

"Y-yes, Mr. Ghostface," you play into the role, your voice barely above a whisper.

You feel his breath hot against your ear as he speaks, "Good girl. Now, finish what you started."

With shaky hands, you slowly push your shorts down your legs, stepping out of them carefully. The cool air of the room raises goosebumps on your exposed skin. You stand there, clad only in your black lace underwear, hyper-aware of Law's presence behind you.

The blade trails down your neck, across your collarbone, and down between your breasts. It's not enough pressure to cut, but the threat is there, heightening every sensation. Law's chest presses harder into your back, and you can feel how hard he is through his jeans. You’re relieved to know that he is enjoying this as much as you.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice husky behind the mask. "Now, on your knees." You comply, carefully turning around and sinking to the floor. The knife follows your movements, never leaving your skin. You can feel Law's presence looming over you, powerful and dominating.

"Hands behind your back," he orders. You comply swiftly, gazing up at the sight before you. Now that you were pretty much level with it, the bulge in his pants was VERY obvious. It looked painful, even. Your lips part in awe, panties absolutely soaked through already. He removed the knife from your plush skin, discarding it onto the sofa, and unzips his jeans, pushing them down to his ankles. He does the same with his boxers, but not before you can notice the significant wet patch across the front of the black fabric. His cock bounced as it was freed from the confines of Law’s pants, and you notice how flush his tip already was. You snap yourself out of the trance you found yourself in, staring and drooling.

"Open wide," he commands, his voice thick with desire. You comply eagerly, parting your lips as he guides his cock towards your mouth. He teases you at first, running the tip along your lips, smearing pre-cum across them. You whimper, and stick your tongue out, desperate to taste him.

Finally, he pushes into your mouth, groaning softly as your warm, wet tongue envelops him. You hollow your cheeks, sucking eagerly as he begins to thrust slowly. His hands tangle in your hair, guiding your movements.

"That's it," he hisses through the mask. "Take it all."

You relax your throat, allowing him to push deeper. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you gag slightly, but you don't stop. The sounds of your wet, sloppy efforts fill the room, punctuated by Law's low groans.

“That’s a good fucking girl” He breathes, picking up the pace of his thrusts. You adjust to his size, tears streaming down your face, gagging and blubbering as he lolls his head back in pleasure. You can see the fall and rise of his chest quicken, indicating how close he already is.

His breath catches in his throat, and he pulls you off his cock by your hair with a “pop”. He glares back down at you through the mask, chest still heaving. “Such a compliant little slut now, huh? Look at you. Is this what it takes for you to fucking listen?” You moan at his words. Hearing him talk like this, you could feel your pussy clench around nothing. All you wanted was him inside you. With his free hand, he holds your chin, using his thumb to wipe your saliva around your mouth. He places his index and middle finger over your lips, and you start sucking them in. He starts thrusting them across your tongue slowly, pulling your head back with the other hand still attached to your hair.

Suddenly, he shoves his fingers down your throat, causing you to gag and cough. He releases his grip on you, allowing you to catch your breath momentarily, before grabbing you underneath each arm. He pulls you up harshly, spinning you back around and pushing you onto the sofa. On instinct, you get on your knees and arch your back, giving him a perfect view of your ass.

Law's hands grip your hips firmly, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. You feel the cool plastic of the mask brush against your shoulder as he leans over you, his hot breath tickling your ear.

"Look at you, presenting yourself like a bitch in heat," he growls, voice dripping with lust. "Is this what you wanted all along?"

You nod eagerly, pushing your hips back against him. "Yes, Mr. Ghostface. Please..."

He chuckles darkly, one hand leaving your hip to trail down your spine. "Please what? Use your words, slut."

You whimper, desire clouding your thoughts.

Without warning, he rips your lace panties off, the delicate fabric tearing easily. The cool air hits your dripping core, making you shiver. Law brings his hand down hard on your ass. The sharp sting makes you cry out, a mix of pain and pleasure. "Answer me when I speak to you," he demands.

“P-please fuck me, Law! Please! I need you inside me.” You wail. Another harsh smack reverberates off of your ass and echoes through the room, along with the sounds of you crying out. His hand returns to your neck and pulls you up against him. You turn your head to try and face him.

“What the fuck did you just call me?” He snarls. Your face goes as white as the one staring back at you. The few seconds of silence are deafening. The sounds from the TV dull as the room fills with overbearing silence.

“I-I-” you try to start, his grip on your throat getting firmer. More tears start to fall from your cheeks as you gaze up at him through the mask, trying to predict his next move. The pressure on your trachea is starting to overwhelm you, and black spots start to cloud your vision. Before you pass out, he lets go and you fall forward, back onto all fours, gasping for breath.

Without warning, he grabs your hips and thrusts his entire length into you. You both groan in unison from the pleasure, yours slightly more strained. He starts thrusting in and out of you at a harsh pace, the rough grip on your hips already burning. The silence that once veiled the room is replaced with the sound of his balls slapping against you with every thrust, his feral grunts and your rasped moans. He removes once hand from your hip to hook into the side of your mouth while he fucks into you from behind.

“Fuuuuuck baby, you take me so well” he drawls. This is the first time during his pursuit this evening that you can feel your Law shining through, clear as day. The use of one of your many pet names has your stomach doing flips, and you can feel your release building up fast.

“M’gonna cum” you strain. The remaining hand on your hip shifts slightly closer to your ass, as you feel his thumb probing at your back entrance, and your orgasm hits you in a wave of pleasure. Back arching even further, mouth agape and drooling, you let out a mix of a moan and a scream. Law watches as you come undone around his cock, feeling you tighten up and watching as your ass clenched around the tip of his thumb, your whole body trembling. The feeling of his own high flooding his senses.

“Thaat’s it, good girl. Gonna cum inside this tight little pussy” He breathes ruggedly, hips faltering to a stop as he releases his load deep inside you. Another drawn out moan expels from you both at the sensation.

Law reaches up and pulls the mask off of his face to help catch his breath, and you turn your head to see his beautiful, fucked out face, forehead drenched in sweat and hair a mess. You can’t help but beam from ear to ear, and he can’t help but smirk back at you. Throwing the mask to the side, he wraps his arms around you from behind and rolls you both onto your sides on the sofa.

You both lay there panting, bodies intertwined and glistening with sweat. Law's arms hold you close, his chest pressed against your back. You can feel his heartbeat gradually slowing as he catches his breath. The room is quiet now, save for your soft breathing and the muted sounds from the forgotten TV.

After a few moments, Law gently turns you to face him. His golden eyes, no longer hidden behind the mask, search your face with a mix of concern and tenderness. "Are you alright?" he asks softly, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from your face.

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his care. "I'm more than alright," you assure him, leaning in to place a soft kiss on his lips. "That was... incredible."

He returns your smile, relief evident in his features. "It was," he agrees, "I have to admit, I enjoyed that more than I expected to."

You examine his face, taking in his flushed cheeks and dishevelled hair. "I could tell," you tease, running a hand through his damp locks.

He smirks at you again. He kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips. “Next time you come up with one of these mask ideas, can you pick one that has a fucking hole to breathe out of?”

“I don’t know, the heavy breathing adds to the immersion” you giggle. He rolls his eyes playfully in response. You begin to trace the tattoos on his arm idly. He leans in again and slots his lips between yours. It was tender, soft, and epitomised the sappy side of Law that he revealed ever so rarely. He withdrew from your lips and paused for a moment, as if he was contemplating something.

“I missed kissing you, too” he admits, the innocent confession causing even more of a blush to form and his eyes to shift to the side.

“Trafalgar D. Water Law, are you going soft on me?” you tease. Your hand moving to his cheek, forcing his eyes to meet yours.

“Don’t ever change. You are more than I could ever ask for, and far more than I ever deserved.” You brush your thumbs across his cheek. “I love you so much, Law".

You can see his eyes go slightly glossy from the emotional confession. “I love you, too, Y/N.” He tucks another loose strand of hair behind your ear and his face contorts into a smirk. “Now who’s going soft, huh?”

The hand that you were using to caress his face pats his cheek lightly in a faux slap. “Can’t have one sincere moment without one of us being a cynical ass hat, huh?” You retort, grinning.

Slowly sitting up from the sofa and rubbing your (rather sore) neck, you can feel the mixture of your fluids leaking out of you. You both head to the bathroom to wash away the remnants of the evening, getting comfortable underneath the covers, bodies entwined with each other.

——————————————————————————————————

The Next Day

Shachi and Penguin opened the door of their Captain’s quarters, in search of Y/N’s log pose, at her request. They headed straight for the corner of the bedroom where a small makeshift living room space had been fashioned; a simple set-up including a sofa, coffee table and small TV.

Penguin fumbled through stacks of paperwork on the table, while Shachi moved around the pillows on the sofa. Y/N had instructed that her log pose may have fallen off somewhere in that vicinity.

“…holy SHIT” Shachi exclaimed, pulling out three items from betwixt the cushions. Penguin turned around and examined the items in his friends hands: a small knife with a black hilt, a ripped pair of black panties, and a plastic, white Ghostface mask.

“Oh my god” Penguin stared in awe. Shachi was particularly distracted by the panties that he gripped in his fist. “Do you think these are… Y/N’s?” he beamed.

“No, I think they’re the Captain’s... OF COURSE THEY’RE Y/N’S!” Penguin examined the other two items in Shachi’s hand. “Man, they’re into some kinky shit.” His friend nodded in agreeance.

They both continued searching for the log pose, but not before Shachi stuffed his new find into the pocket of his boiler suit.

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Wrong Person (College AU!)

Hockey player!Cregan Stark x Reader, Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Aemond's girlfriend has a group project with the man he hates the most, Cregan Stark.

Warning: abuse, domestic violence, alcohol consumption, implied smut, implied fighting, smoking, angst; characters generations/ages don't quite make sense but basically everyone is 20 in this

Word Count: 4.7k

Masterlist

A/N Hey guys, I know its been a while. Some of you may have figured out I stop posting as much when school picks up but here’s something I’ve been slowly piecing together

Taking a deep breath, I knocked on Aemond’s door. Softly, but not so soft he would miss it. Immediately the door swung open and I was met with Aemond’s eternally neutral expression. I felt my own heart sink as he yet again didn’t greet me with a smile. “Hey,” I greeted shyly, feeling my lips quirk up into a smile despite how disappointed I repeatedly found myself.

“Hey,” he greeted in return, stepping aside to let me through. I walked past him, finding his dorm just as I always did. It was surprisingly clean for a guy’s college dorm but Aemond was pretty tidy. Coming up behind me, he gently lifted my bag off my shoulder, placing it on the desk chair before moving me towards his bed.

I suddenly found myself wishing Criston, his roommate, was here. “Oh I actually need my-”

“What?” Aemond snapped, cutting me off.

I stared up at him for a second, trying to register just how angry he was. Finding no real, threatening anger I decided to answer him. “It’s just, I, uh I have to wrap up something quick for that project. Cregan just-”

Aemond scoffed, rolling his eyes. He walked around me, flopping onto his bed with an annoyed expression. “All I fucking hear is about Cregan fucking Stark and your project. You’ve been doing this project for like two months.”

I found my arms wrapping around myself but stopped. Aemond hated when I did that. “Stop acting like I’m gonna hurt you!” he’d say. “I’m sorry but it’s a semester long project,” I explained for the hundredth time.

“I don’t see why you had to partner with him,” Aemond grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest petulantly.

“I know, but there were no other seats.” We repeated the same conversation we’ve had dozens of times throughout this semester.

Walking into Tyrell Hall, I checked my phone. One minute until class started. Cursing, I rushed up to the second floor, quickly locating classroom 221B. Entering the room, I let out a huff seeing that every seat was filled. Scanning the room for a glimpse of an open seat, I observed my classmates. I waved to the few I knew, girls from my freshman year residence hall, some people who ran in Aemond’s circle, a few I didn’t know, and then the hockey team. They all sat in the rear corner of the room, with the only seat left being right next to their captain, Cregan Stark. Glancing at the professor, I found her looking at me expectantly so I reluctantly headed to the back of the room, trying to disappear into my hair as I walked past the hockey team.

“Now that we’re all here,” the professor started, “make sure to get to know your desk partner. You’ll be working with them all semester.” Shit.

I looked to my left, finding Cregan already giving me a shit eating grin. “Oh this is gonna be fun,” he smiled, knowing how much Aemond hated the athletes.

Aemond just got quiet, biting his lip as he looked down at his crossed arms. “C’mon, don’t be mad,” I begged, getting up on the bed. I no longer thought about it. We had been through this routine so many times I just acted. I laid on his bed, practically on top of him as I wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my head on his chest. “I hate it too but it’s only for one semester.”

Aemond huffed, uncrossing his arms so he could lay one across my shoulder, nestling me further into his chest. He didn’t say a word, rather he just looked at me. His expression wasn’t expectant but I knew what he wanted. Pushing my body up, I connected my lips to his. He immediately escalated it, turning so he could place one hand on my jaw, the other on my waist as he moved to be on top of me.

Managing to pull away slightly, I looked up at him, his lips still so close I could feel his labored breath. “Aemond, I want to, I really do,” I tried to keep him from getting mad, “but I have-”

“Is this about your project?” he interrupted me, still so close I could feel the sharpness of his breath as he got angrier.

“No,” I assured quickly. “I have a history assignment. Besides, doesn’t Criston get back from class soon?”

“I don’t care,” he said, brushing his nose against mine. “Here,” he said, leaning over me to his bedside table to grab his phone. He typed out a quick message, only briefly showing it to me before tossing it back onto his bedside table. “You can do your work tomorrow morning before class.” His words phrased as a suggestion but holding the weight of a command. He connected his lips to mine again, wasting no time slipping his hand up my shirt.

~

Sitting in class, I tried my best to ignore Cregan. The first half of class was always dedicated to lecture, with the second half going to working on our project. I was keenly aware of Cregan’s eyes flickering toward me every few moments as well as Aemond’s friends a few rows ahead. I just kept my gaze firmly on my notes and the professor’s slides.

Finally, the professor reached the end of her slides. “Okay, that wraps up today’s lecture. Turn to your partner and continue working on your projects. Remember: you should be submitting an outline to me by Monday.”

As I turned towards Cregan, making sure to keep my hair covering my neck, I caught a glimpse of Aegon’s watchful eye. Remembering Aemond, I turned to Cregan’s wolfish grin, refusing to return it. Undeterred, he leaned closer to me. “Hey, I saw you were working on the doc at five a.m. What were you doing up at that hour?” he asked good-naturedly.

“Oh, I couldn’t get to it last night so I woke up early to work on it,” I shrugged. I tried my best not to dwell on the fact that he had noticed that. And judging by his furrowed brows, I tried to ignore the fact that he was concerned about me. “Why were you up at that hour?” I returned, immediately feeling guilty for engaging him.

Cregan’s smile widened. “I was up for hockey practice and got the notifications. Speaking of which, are you coming to the game tonight?”

I sent him a look. “I think you know the answer to that.”

Cregan’s lips fell into a pout. He actually pouted at me like a dog. “C’mon, I want the girl who’s carrying me through this project there.” I just let out a breathy laugh, trying to dismiss his insistence, but thoughtlessly moved my hair, exposing the hickies Aemond had made a point to leave. Beside me, Cregan’s eyes widened. “Woah,” he exclaimed. I felt embarrassment consume me and I wanted the ground to swallow me whole in that moment as I quickly replaced my hair back where it was. “Wow, someone wants everyone to know you have a boyfriend,” Cregan chuckled.

“Cregan,” I began, ready to tell him off. The mortification must have been written all over my face because his expression morphed into silent sympathy as I looked at him.

He cleared his throat, looking down at his notes for a second before turning his attention to my laptop screen. “So where are we on the outline?” he asked. He looked back up, meeting my gaze and I gave him a soft smile of thanks before returning to the project.

~~

Cregan looked up at the stands full of students. Peering in the student section, he was disappointed but unsurprised to find the stands void of his health sciences partner.

“C’mon man, you had to know she wasn’t coming,” Benjicot Blackwood, Cregan’s best friend, interrupted his thoughts. “You know Aemond would never let her come.”

Cregan shrugged. “He’s not in charge of her. She could come.”

“Cregan,” Benji stopped his best friend, becoming very serious for once. “You know he basically controls her every move right? You had to have noticed. She basically hasn’t talked to anyone except Aemond and his friends since like October last year.”

Cregan stopped to think. Now that he thought about it, he realized that she had used to be one of the most well liked people at the university. But now, she really only had a reputation for being Aemond fucking Targaryen's girlfriend. He couldn’t believe that she of all people even looked at that silver haired prick twice.

Seeing his best friend’s dismay, Benji felt bad knowing that Cregan had had a crush on the girl since he first saw her freshman year. “Hey,” he caught his friend’s attention. “Larys told me Aemond and his little cult are going to Phi Gamma Delta tonight. Even if she isn’t there you could ‘accidentally’ spill some beer on Aemond.”

Cregan sent a mischievous look to his friend, a small smile quirking on his lips.

~

“So where are we going?” I asked Alicent as she curls my hair.

“Phi Gamma Delta,” she explained, putting down the hot wand and spraying hair spray all over me.

“Are the guys coming with us?” I asked, turning to her as she took the curling wand to her own hair.

“Yeah, Harwin is going to let the guys in,” Alicent explained, flawlessly curling her brown locks.

I stood up from her bed, going to my bag to grab my outfit. But as soon as I pulled it out, Alicent turned toward me with wide eyes. “Oh no, I already have something for you to wear so we can match,” she came up with on the spot.

“Thanks but I haven’t gotten to wear this since like first semester sophomore year,” I said, holding up the backless top. I didn’t say the quiet part out loud, I hadn’t worn it since Aemond and I got together.

“Yeah but I’m wearing a long sleeve,” Alicent said, standing up from her desk and holding up her sheer top.

“Another time,” I promised her. Grabbing my clothes, I headed for her bathroom, quickly changing into the top and my black jeans that I had cleaned beer off of so many times.

Entering the room again, Alicent had a slightly sour attitude as she finished off her hair. But I just ignored it, determined to have a good night as I got started on my makeup. Once the both of us were ready, we headed to Aemond’s room where all the guys were waiting for us.

I knocked, being louder this time so as to overcome the music that was already blasting. The door swung open, revealing Criston. “Hey!” he greeted the two of us excitedly. “The girls are here,” he announced to the very crowded dorm room.

Aemond pushed his way to the front of the room, a beer fueled smile on his face. But it dropped as soon as he saw me. My heart immediately sunk seeing his expression but he just grabbed my arm, dragging me into the dorm somewhat harshly. Before I could even speak, he was already barking orders at me. “Go grab a drink, I’ll talk to you in a second,” he spat. Disheartened and slightly scared, I went over to Criston’s desk which was lined with booze.

Aemond turned his attention to Alicent, seething. “I thought she was wearing that one long sleeve top,” he growled.

“I’m sorry, I tried to make her take it but she wouldn’t,” she defended. “I could’ve told her it was you insisting she wear it,” she threw back with a quirked brow.

Aemond just sent her a glare before going back to his girlfriend. “Hey,” he greeted, an arm slipping around my waist to bring me to face him. “Look, I’m sorry I got mad earlier its just… this top,” he said, tugging at the fabric, “is… well its basically a rectangle of fabric held together by one string,” he explained. His fingers now finding the back of my top, tugging at the string to where it almost came untied to make his point.

I averted my eyes, gaze flickered down, shame coursing through me. “I’m sorry, it’s just, I loved this top.”

“I know, baby. And I’m not trying to control what you wear just, keep close to me tonight. Not all the guys there will respect you,” he said, giving another tug to the string of my top before stepping away towards his friends.

Feeling slightly disoriented and embarrassed, I headed to the bathroom in order to fix the top before returning to the pregame, trying to forget the earlier conversation with cheap booze.

After a few more moments, Aemond had declared that it was time for us to all go to the frat. As we all headed over, Aemond had his arm slung across my shoulder. By the time we reached the house, I was shivering thanks to all my exposed skin, and slightly wishing I had listened to Alicent.

As soon as we entered, Alicent grabbed my hand, dragging me to the dance floor as the DJ started to play Super Bass. It wasn’t long after we had been jumping around on the dance floor that Aemond found me again, moving to stand behind me with one hand around my waist and the other holding a beer.

After a couple songs, I felt Aemond’s fingers tap on my hip before his lips came up behind my ear. “I’m gonna go out back for a smoke. Be safe,” he advised before taking his leave, a few of the guys following him upstairs out of the basement.

I just turned back to Alicent who seemed to relieved to not have anyone hovering around her so she could let loose. I laughed as her dancing became more wild and sloppy. That was until her eyes went wide and she was looking at the staircase leading out of the basement. Confused, I turned to find the entire hockey team filling the stairway, with Cregan Stark standing at the top of the staircase.

He looked around for a moment as he descended the stairs, before his eyes settled on me and a smile broke across his face. It was as if Aemond’s training kicked in or something because I had the sudden urge to go find him but something in me kept me firmly rooted to the ground. Maybe it was the beer and god knows what other sticky substances keeping my shoes on the floor of this frat basement.

Either way, it was too late to leave because Cregan was pushing his way through the crowd towards me until he towered over me. The dancing bodies of other students being no match for his hulking frame. He stooped down, bringing his lips closer to my ear. “Hi,” he greeted, pulling away with a bright smile.

“Hi,” I returned, not even bothering to try to reach up to reach his ear.

“Where’s your owner?” he asked sarcastically.

I sent him a look when he pulled away. He just laughed, bringing his lips to my ear again. “I kid. But seriously, I’m surprised he’s not attached to your hip making sure someone like me isn’t talking to you,” he teased.

This time he didn’t immediately stand up, allowing me to talk in his ear to answer. “He’s in the backyard. He’ll be out soon,” I answered.

“Well then I guess I have to make due with the time I have,” Cregan smiled. Before I could protest, his hand found mine, tugging me towards him. His grip was tight enough to move me, but not so tight that I couldn’t slip out if I wanted to.

I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help but move with Cregan, finding laughs building in my chest as I watched him dance. We were having a good time until all of a sudden Cregan got a serious expression on his face, standing straight up and looking toward the staircase. I didn’t even have time to follow his gaze before he grabbed my arm tugging me behind him.

“Hey! Wha-” I began to protest as I was whirled around but the words died in my throat as I realized why Cregan had gotten serious.

Currently pushing through the crowd was a murderous looking Aemond. Rather than rush to calm him like I probably should, I found myself cowering behind the hockey captain, clinging to his arm. “Stark!” Aemond barked across the crowded room, so loud everyone managed to hear it. “What the hell are you doing with my girlfriend?” he spat, getting in Cregan’s face.

“Nothing, we were just dancing,” he answered coolly. “Then you came down here looking like you wanted to murder someone.”

Aemond rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, maybe don’t dance with another guy’s girlfriend next time.” He turned his gaze to me, holding out his hand expectantly. “Come on, we’re leaving.”

The fear coursing through me was screaming at me to take his hand but something wouldn’t let my body move. Cregan sent a glance back towards me before turning to Aemond. “She doesn’t wanna go with you.”

“Stay out of this,” Aemond seethed. “This is none of your business.” He then looked at me expectantly again. “We’re going,” he spat.

By now the music had died down and everyone was looking at us. Glancing around, I saw both the hockey team and Aemond’s friends coming towards us, prepared to back up their guys. “Nah, I’m not letting her go with you,” Cregan declared. “Not until you calm down.”

That just seemed to ignite a fury in Aemond. “She’s my girlfriend, Stark,” he spat through gritted teeth. “She’s perfectly fine with me and I sure as hell am not leaving my girlfriend with any of you,” he nodded to the hockey team.

“Then why does she look terrified of you right now?” Benji interjected.

“Shut up, Blackwood,” Criston spat.

All of the guys started arguing, yelling at the others to shut up. Still behind Cregan, I snapped my head behind me as I felt a gentle hand brush against mine. Turning, I found Rhaenyra looking at me with a concerned, gentle look. I just stared at her for a moment before Alicent’s voice brought me back to the conflict.

“Enough!” she got in between Cregan and Aemond. “I’m taking her back to her dorm unless all of you,” she pointed at the guys on both sides, “want to leave.”

There were some grumbles but no one protested. “I’ll go with her too,” Rhaenyra offered.

Not letting the boys fight it out even more, I spoke up. “Yeah, we’re going home,” I agreed. Stepping away from Cregan, I shakily approached Aemond. He was looking at me like I had committed some serious sin against him. “I’m sorry,” I whispered softly. I tried to move past him but he grabbed my waist, pulling me into an aggressive kiss. I could taste the beer and smoke on his lips as he forced his lips into mine. And I had a sneaking suspicion his eyes were locked onto Cregan’s.

When he released me, I let out a shuddered breath as his hand rested on my hip. “We’ll discuss this tomorrow,” his voice was grave. But his hand came off my waist, as if giving me permission to walk away.

Nothing was really said as I left the frat with Alicent and Rhaenyra on my heels. They both tried to ask me multiple times if I was okay, to which I just nodded in agreement. My mind was too consumed playing out what had just happened. But as soon as we were within ten minutes of my dorm, I stopped walking and turned to the two girls behind me. “I’m good here if you guys wanna head home or back to the party. I appreciate you coming with me but I think I just need to be alone right now.”

They both sent each other a glance. “We’re not letting you walk alone at night,” Rhaenyra protested.

“I’ll be fine,” I insisted.

They both looked at each other reluctantly before looking toward me. “Okay but, call someone if you start to feel freaked out,” Alicent said.

“I will,” I agreed, before turning on my heel and walking away.

Immediately, I pulled out my phone, afraid to see what was on there. Opening it, I was first confronted with a text from Cregan.

Hey sorry about tn If he tries anything with you let me know and I’ll handle it

My heart melted reading his messages. I wanted to cry at how sweet he had been lately, mostly because Aemond had been anything but.

Going to our messages, I found nothing. I didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing. I’m sure my refusal to move would come up some way or another.

I swiped out of my messages with Aemond, going back to Cregan. Reluctantly, I held down on the message until the option to delete it popped up. My finger hesitated over the delete button before I hit it. Just like I had deleted all his flirty texts. Leaving nothing but the texts about our project.

~

The next morning, I was woken up by incessant banging on my door. Glancing quickly at the clock, I saw that it read eight a.m. Rushing to the door, I opened it without checking who it was because deep down, I already knew.

As the door flew open I immediately took a step back, finding Aemond practically glowing with fury. “What the hell was that last night?” he spat, storming into my room.

I backed up as he entered, the door slamming shut behind him. For the first time, I cursed the fact that my roommate went home every weekend. “Aemond, I’m-”

My words were cut off as he lunged forward, his hand coming to close around my throat. “You’re what?” he spat. “Sorry? Sorry for humiliating me? Making me look like an awful person?” But I hardly heard a word, too busy trying to process the fact that he had actually grabbed me by the throat and was choking me. But it seemed my silence angered him more as his fist became tighter and he pressed me up against the wall. My vision was beginning to fade as he crushed my windpipe even tighter. “You cowered away from your boyfriend behind Cregan fucking Stark! Do you know how that makes me look? This,” he said, referring to his hand around my throat, “is because of you. You make me out to be some abuser, fine. It can be that way,” he spat before dragging me to the floor.

I coughed and sputtered as I hit the ground. Hard. “I’m sorry,” I managed to gasp out through tears and desperate gulps of air. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Aemond stood over me, bending down to get in my face. “You’re damn right you weren’t thinking straight. I’ll see you Monday and you better have fixed this attitude by then,” he said before marching out of my room.

~

That entire weekend I just flipped between numbly trying to wrap my head around what happened and sobbing violently. Every time I caught a glimpse of my bruised neck in the mirror—Aemond’s fingers clearly marked in my skin—or thought about the feeling of his hand around my throat.

I stood in the bathroom, my skin blotchy from the tears and black and blue covering my neck. I had only just managed to start being able to look at myself without immediately dissolving into sobs when my phone rang. Hesitantly, I picked it up, finding Cregan’s name scrawled across my screen. After another moment of hesitation, I answered the call. “Hello?” I answered, immediately cringing at the hoarseness of my voice.

“Hey,” Cregan’s voice came over the phone, his concern apparent. “Are you okay?” His heart was racing as he heard the scratchiness in her voice.

I hesitated for a moment, trying to clear my throat but it was no use. Between the choking and nearly two days worth of sobbing, my voice was fried. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“No you’re not, I’m coming over,” Cregan informed, already getting up from his bed.

“Cregan,” I began to protest.

“You’re still in Benjen Hall 514, right?” Cregan asked.

I opened my mouth to protest but the words wouldn’t fall. So instead, I gave a reluctant confirmation.

“I’ll be over in five.”

I hung up the phone, going over to my bed and slinking onto it. I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I should try to clean myself up and hide the hand print on my neck. But if I hod it, what life was I resigning myself to?

I didn’t have much time to act because there was a knock at my door. I found myself rushing to open the door, despite my resistance to being seen by anyone. But either way, I opened the door, quickly ushering Cregan inside before letting it shut again, once again hiding Aemond’s act from the world.

After observing my room for a moment, Cregan turned to me. “So what’s wrong?” he asked.

I realized I was looking at the ground, effectively hiding my face and neck. After a second of hesitation, I looked up, letting him see the bruises and tear stains. His eyes widened, his jaw even dropping as he saw my state. He just stared at me for a moment before he spoke hesitantly. “Did- did Aemond do that?” he asked, horror lacing his voice. I only nodded reluctantly.

I watched the shock turn to sympathy, to hurt, to finally anger. His jaw locked and his fists curled as he took a step away from me. “That little-” he couldn’t even finish his insult he was so angry. “Did you get my text? Why didn’t you call?”

“I-” I began but I was cut off my my cringe at the sound of my own voice. “I don’t know. The past few days have just been a blur.”

Cregan stepped towards me. I flinched as he came towards me to which he immediately stopped. “I’m not gonna hurt you,” he swore. He took another hesitant step forward until he was gently grasping my shoulders. “I am however, gonna beat the shit out of that deadbeat boyfriend of yours. Or should I say, ex-boyfriend.”

“Cregan,” I began, my hands finding his chest. “I-” I didn’t even know what I wanted to say. I just broke down into sobs as I fell into his chest. In response, he just hugged me tightly, running his fingers through my hair.

“Hey, it’ll be okay,” he hushed me. “I swear I’ll be right back.”

~~

Cregan cringed as he knocked on room 514. His knuckles were bloody but he didn’t care. Immediately the door swung open, revealing his health sciences partner. She immediately threw herself into his arms, much to the hockey player’s joy. He hugged her tighter as her legs came to wrap around his hips. Entering the threshold of the room, he let the door fall shut behind him as her feet fell back down onto the ground. “No one’s ever gonna hurt you again,” Cregan swore, his forehead resting against hers. “I promise you.”

Masterlist

[suzukiblu]

Day ten of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. tw: implications of past grooming/abuse and the inherent problems that causes for someone who was in that situation and hasn’t processed it trying to have a relationship with someone actually age-appropriate. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“I mean–it’s nice,” Kon says, smiling just as helplessly into his collar and keeping his eyes on the sidewalk as they walk. “Just, you know, it’s not the kinda stuff you usually get me. Like–it’s just, you know–pretty, or whatever. It’s not for anything. Like, I can’t wear it for you and it’s not, you know, food or a game or anything.” 

Tim did not actually realize that he hadn't bought Kon anything that didn't count as “useful” yet, though given the video games and candy and jewelry he's pretty sure they just have different definitions of what “useful” actually is. Also he needs to take a moment to not burn alive over Kon saying the phrase “wear it for you” again, which definitely takes the full moment, because Jesus Christ. 

That has not gotten any less affecting, yeah. 

“Oh, I guess,” he says in his best imitation of a normal person's normal voice. “I didn't really think about that. I just thought you might like it, so I got it for you.” 

Kon somehow finds a new shade of red to turn that honestly might actually be a Kryptonian-related one, considering the intensity of it. It is, unfortunately, cute as fuck. 

“I mean, I do like buying you clothes and stuff, obviously. You look really nice in that outfit, for one,” Tim says, and Kon glances away again, still smiling helplessly and still just as red-faced. He really does blush so easy. It’s weird, Tim thinks, given how much flirting he does. But maybe Kon’s just the “can dish it out but can’t take it” type, he guesses. 

Alternately, maybe people just aren’t complimenting him as often as he deserves and he's not used to hearing it. 

. . . Tim makes a mental note to pencil in some affirmations in Young Justice’s next training session and also to buy Kon even more flowers than he was already planning to. Flowers that come with little hand-written cards that say nice things about him, specifically. 

“You better think I look nice in it, pretty boy,” Kon says, biting his lip around another grin. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted me all fancied up.” 

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I liked the crop top too,” Tim allows, and Kon bursts into laughter and then lets go of his jacket collar and just–beams at him, actually. Just–literally actually beams, brighter than anything in Gotham that doesn’t run on electricity. 

Tim manages not to step off the sidewalk into traffic by Robin-reflexes alone and literally nothing else. 

Jesus, that expression. 

“I like, uh–that,” Kon says, and then blushes a little darker again. “Um–I mean, I like that you, uh . . . like to get me stuff you think I look good in. Uh. I don’t know how to say this without it sounding weird, fuck, just–just I like it.” 

“Oh,” Tim says. The warehouse district in his brain is a lost cause; the fire has officially spread to the docks and across downtown. His mental Gotham is going the way of 1871 Chicago, he’s pretty sure. “Uh–um, good. I’m glad.” 

“It’s just, um–I dunno, it’s just nice to look nice for somebody,” Kon murmurs a little bit shyly, tugging his jacket collar up over his mouth again but still obviously smiling behind it. Tim isn’t sure if that’s a line of thought he should be concerned by after the kind of things Kon was saying earlier, if–“Instead of, you know. For everybody.” 

. . . Tim decides that actually, never mind the concern. Kon can look as good for him as he wants to, if what Kon’s used to is being stuck having to look good for some stupid ad campaign or magazine shoot or what the frick ever. And like–it’s not like he has a problem with Kon wanting to wear things he thinks he’ll like. That is pretty much the opposite of a problem for him, in fact. 

It probably explains the makeup, too. There were definitely not any ad campaigns with glitter eyeliner or nail polish involved. 

. . . not that Tim’s seen all the ad campaigns or anything, just–

Alright, fine, he’s seen all the ad campaigns. That’s just Bat SOP, alright? And definitely only Bat SOP.

[littlemissadams]

Danny hated this. Really, truely, in the depths of his soul hated every single thing about this situation.

Here he was, in his pyjamas, being carted across the city by fucking Nightwing to play Emotional Support Person to the man's murderous Crime Lord-turned-Vigilante brother.

Sure, he got that emotional regulation was difficult for Revenants, especially when their death hadn't been properly avenged, but there were better alternatives than kidnapping! Danny had even suggested a few, all of which were soundly ignored in favor of dragging Danny away from whatever he happened to be doing and into some very uncomfortable situations to calm Red Hood down before he killed someone.

Again.

He expected to be dropped in a warehouse filled with unconcious goons, or an alleyway with some kind of mexican standoff happening between Red Hood and one of the other Bats. Except it seemed that they were going off script tonight when he was hauled through the window of Some Dudes apartment.

Oh.

Oh Shit.

There was a man being restrained by the big Bat himself that was 100% an unmasked Red Hood.

What the fuck were these people thinking?

Danny supposed that didn't really matter right now. He was expected to calm this guy down and he really didn't want to find out what would happen if he refused.

So Danny double checked that every emotion that wasn't calmsafesecure was buried deep down and locked away and went over.

"Hey, big guy. It's okay. You're alright." The man struggled against Batman's hold, his glowing eyes darting around, a low steady growl coming from him. "Someone want to tell me what happened?"

"Scarecrow." Mr. I-Am-Vengance ground out, narrowly dodging a headbutt. And, ok that explained a tiny bit about the situation, but not nearly enough.

"A new strain." The OG Boy Wonder spoke up. "It's having a weird reaction with his... unique biology. We've tried to get him to the Cave, but every time we do, he goes nuts."

"And what, you want me to... corrall him? Into cooperating with you?"

"Uh, yeah, please?"

Now they ask nicely.

"Ok. Let 'em go."

"Are you sure that's-"

"Yes." No, Danny's not sure. In fact It seems like a terrible idea. But he doesn't get to dwell on it anymore as he finds himself in the crushing embrace of a Revenant hopped up on whatever unholy concotion Dr Crane decided to unleash this time.

He cautiously ran a hand through Hood's black and white hair, projecting calmcalmcalm as thoroughly as he could.

Eventually the low growl stops and a gentle purr starts.

"Ok, big guy. We're gonna go on a little trip now, alright." Danny started moving to where Nightwing and Batman were waiting by the open window. Mr. Anger-Management-Issues followed with very little complaint, and mostly just clung to Danny like a baby koala.

Danny sighed and climbed out the window, resigned once again to spending the night curled up in a strange place and being used like a living teddy bear.

For some reason, Danny’s presence calms Red Hood’s Rages. Not fully curing it, but dampening the effects significantly. People have noticed this fact, and thus have taken to dragging him to over to the vigilante/crime lord whenever he has an episode.

As a result of their repeated interactions, Jason thinks he might be developing feelings for Danny. Even if the context of their meetings is… not ideal, he enjoys their time together and hopes the other man does too.

Danny does not. He hates that people keep interrupting his life, kidnapping him to act as a pacifier for a murderous vigilante.

[albaskies]

‘You didn’t have to do that, you know.’

His voice lingers in the air like a sweet scent of honey, and pulls her to a halt just before she reaches the stairs leading up to the dormitories. 

Ginny turns, drawn by the ever-familiar sound that still makes her heart sing despite herself, and finds Harry slumped in a solitary chair at the far end of the common room. His head rests in his hands, his shoulders seem stiff under the weight of his own exhaustion. And yet, his voice is soft - so soft that she wonders if she’s imagined it. It’s only when she notices his gaze fixed upon her that she has the confirmation that it was not just a trick of her mind.

The quiet in the room is mitigated by the gentle crackle of the fire, its warm glow flickering across the walls, and by the occasional whispers of a few lingering Gryffindors, not yet ready for sleep.

She smiles gingerly and draws closer to where Harry is sitting, the air around them feeling somehow thicker and thicker at every step she takes towards him. She is sure, quite sure, to notice his posture relax, his muscles loosen, and for a fleeting, desperately terrifying moment, she just knows — he feels it, too. 

She stops right in front of him, her knees slightly brushing his, and she realises she’s been holding her breath.

‘Do what?’

She knows what, of course, but her throat has suddenly gone dry under the weight of his unwavering gaze, never once leaving her.

He smiles tentatively, and it still feels unreal that she can make him do that, that she can be the reason for it.

‘Well.’ He shrugs. ‘Telling people off on my behalf.’

She hums, then winks at him. ‘You looked like you needed saving, and I do have a debt to settle.’

He snorts, the glimpse of a short-lived moment of lightheartedness brightening his eyes, then quickly shakes his head, coming back to reality.

‘Everyone is right to be disappointed, especially you’, he says, then pauses, staring at her intently, struggling to find the right words. ‘Because I-’.

What he did remains hanging in the air, his voice breaking right in the middle of it. She tries to contain the urge to sit on the armrest of his chair and to throw her hands around his neck, holding him tight, telling him it’s OK, he’s OK, and they’ll be just fine. 

Instead, she looks at him, faking a shrug to dissimulate a shiver.

‘You took orders from something someone wrote in a book.’

There’s another pause, a beat, and the air around them suddenly feels unbreathable.

‘Yeah.’ His eyes flash before her, and she feels them burning on her skin, like the scariest and yet most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. ‘I’m very sorry, Ginny.’

How do you tell someone, you know, I think I’m in love with you. I think I’ve been for the longest of times and damn you, damn you, for looking at me like that right now. Just when I had almost moved on, just when I had almost let you go. Damn you for having those eyes, that face, those hands. I’ve spent so many sleepless nights over the years, but your smile is the most beautiful sunrise I’ve ever seen. I want to spend my days telling you about it, laughing with you, crying with you. I want to kiss that sad frown away from your face and make all this disappear. I want to take your pain away, I want to make you smile like you do until the air in my lungs runs out. I want the good, I want the bad, I want it fucking all.

I’m so screwed, she concludes. She gives in, stops resisting. I’m so fucking screwed.

[boom-bada-boom]

shawn spencer, through a series of comedic should-be-impossible hijinks, gets turned into a cat without anyone knowing its him. he elects to hang around the station and help out however much his four paws can.

hilariously, it doesn’t change that much.

some notes:

hes brownish-orange (kinda like henry’s hair in flashbacks??) which means he is close enough that he has the orange cat curse™

trying to decide on what breed he is. obviously mixed but what is in the mix?? main thoughts are havana, bengal, and siamese

okay final thoughts: bengal-siamese mix with a havana-like coloring for both eyes and coat.

hes a chatty cattyyyyyyyyyy,,,,,,,, yapper frfr

dog-person lassie and cat-person jules (she canonically has two cats)

he is so indecisive on if he should try and communicate that he is shawn to the station. on one hand theyd know hes safe and maybe be able to help him fix this. on the other jules has literally played fetch with him. a few officers have hand fed him. several cat things occurred. he would never live this all down (human shawn after hes asked where he was for like two months: (heavy sweating) i dont remember)

shawn sleeping in lassie’s chair and on his lap. he started doing it for the laughs but now he has realized that oh no this is actually comfy. tragedy.

half the station supports shawn’s cat shenanigans. a third just take videos. the remaining sixth try to call animal control on shawn but he always gets away and hes back in the station like two hours later so eventually they give up lmao

while all this is happening the station is also stressing because of shawn’s disappearance. they cant find any evidence for what happened. shawn went out to pursue a lead and just vanished. consequently, shawn is trying to make them all feel better with cat shenanigans

he refuses to use a litter box. it does not matter that he is so so small now he is using the fucking toilet. (the officers start leaving the bathroom door open a crack so he can slip in lmao)

shawn reading over case files while sitting on them. hes participating (and solving them)

shawn as a human accidentally left a pineapple stress toy in the station (maybe on some forgotten corner of lassie’s desk or smth lmao) and as a cat he rediscovers it and decides to play ball using it. all this to say that people start calling him pineapple because of it. honestly hes quite happy with that name over some other possibilities

jules is the only one allowed to touch the pineapple toy. he doesnt trust lassie not to try and dump it or something like the spiteful person he is and he certainly doesnt want anyone else touching it. (he would allow lassie to touch the pineapple toy if it werent for that fact though)

(shawn very carefully putting the pineapple toy down in front of lassie for the first timeand staring up with his big ole eyes and lassie stares back and externally his expression is hella flat but internally hes like oh no. oh no its growing on me)

BIG NEWS: cats can in fact eat pineapple, just not a lot since as a fruit it has a lot of sugar (not good for cats), HOWEVER… “It’s hard to see why because cats don’t have the taste buds that let them enjoy sweet flavors. The strong sweet and tangy taste of pineapple is mostly lost on them.”

shawn finally managing to get someone (probably buzz) to give him some pineapple only to be utterly HEARTBROKEN bc it DOESNT TASTE LIKE PINEAPPLE ANYMORE !!!!!!!!!

juliet holding him like a little baby as he is purring like a freight train

LASSITER HOLDING HIM LIKE LONGCAT AS HE IS WAILING LIKE THE DAMNED

literallyyyyyy thisss,,,,

he breaks into the chief’s office to lounge on her desk and she gives him hardcore side eye before, after a while, just sighing and starting to pet him. “this station doesn’t exactly need a mascot, you know,” she tells him, to a reply of mrrp, “but i suppose a little bit of cheering up wouldn’t be too bad.” very carefully, she taps him on the nose. “but not too much. this is a serious line of work—no making a mockery of my station.” the dull thunking of a tail smacking repeatedly into solid wood made no promises.

inconceivable amounts of cat fur everywhere and on everyone. no one can brush him because he wriggles away like an eel and dramatically grooms his fur out of their reach. so he just sheds everywhere. hes got a thick coat there is so. much. fur.

he keeps sneaking into crime scenes. no one is sure how but they suspect he is hitchhiking in lassiter’s car. no one can prove it tho bc they cant fucking find him. the crazy thing is that he leads them to evidence sometimes like a narcotics detection dog but with completely random items that usually seem nonsensical at first. until they prove otherwise. consistently.

lassie to himself: man this feels just like dealing with spencer’s psychic shit. weird.

GUS FIGURES IT OUT FIRST. not because he saw anything but he just saw a newspaper about this cat solving crime with the cops and he was like “oh my fucking god. it can’t be.” and then he pulled up to the station yoinked said cat and went to an isolated corner to freak the fuck out with it. “shawn what the hell happened” he goes, and shawn meows with feeling

juliet watching gus talk to pineapple the station cat in the corner of the bullpen: ???????

several cops having the all-important conversation of what to label him as. theres no snappy cat version of K9 they can use. K9 is supposed to sound like “canine” but there’s no letter to cover the fel in“feline”

some say F9 and some say L9 and a few say FL9 or just straight up FEL9

BY THE WAY!!!!! “Police cats are becoming an increasingly popular addition to law enforcement teams around the world. These feline officers are being trained to assist their human counterparts in various aspects of police work, from sniffing out drugs and explosives to providing comfort and emotional support to officers on duty” SND ALSO “Because they are uncommon, police cats receive a lot of press. Many show up regularly in media posts. If your local department has a police cat, don’t be surprised if you see stories about them on the news”

police cats are a real thing!! shawn is not an official police cat but he is at this point an unofficial one. on rare occasions he might even listen to an order or two (the station thinks he may have been specially trained by some probably-illegal group or smth, escaped, and decided to imprint on the station) (btw this is an actual issue with some police cats. as independent creatures theyre not as predictable as dogs and might not follow orders, which is an issue in high stakes situations n shit)

[ninyard]

no but really. riko's "lessons" on grief crumbling the second kevin finds out about riko's death though!!!! all of that suppression, all of the buried feelings, all of the time spent avoiding and hiding and concealing left to rise to the surface the second riko is dead!!!

i am convinced kevin freaks out in a way he's never freaked out before, in a way that sincerely shocks anyone who witnesses it, once he finds out riko is gone. in a way that subtly begs the question about inpatient care and an extended leave of absence and rehab. in a way that nobody else really understands because it was riko of all people to trigger this meltdown, but in a way that is genuinely terrifying

that codependency, even if undercut by relief that the abuse is over, does not go away without a freak out!!

-childhood in the nest anon

oh that's such a good point. Especially if Riko was successful in not letting Kevin mourn, if Kevin never really grieved his mother because Riko said, "You have me."

Like, what if the whole basis of Kevin's avoidance of grieving his mom was based on Riko saying, "So long as I'm here, you don't have to worry about her." Imagine every time he almost cried, every time he almost said I miss my mom out loud, Riko would grip his arm or his hand or his face and say something to the effect of, "Your grief is a waste of time and the only thing that matters is me, is us, is exy."

And then Riko's dead? And oh, he remembers this feeling that he'd only felt in vague bursts before, buried so deep he couldn't even be sure he felt it at all. The words, "Riko is dead," sound like "Your mom is dead". They found her body this morning. They found his body last night. There's nothing they could've done to save her. He was dead when the ambulance arrived.

It's like this doubled grief, all the things he'd never been allowed to feel for his mom suddenly coming back up, and like, these are feelings that Kevin thought he was too young to have felt. He thought he was too young to remember, he thought he was too young to understand but now he's reminded that, no, you felt it. You understood. You just weren't allowed to feel the monumental loss that you'd faced. You weren't allowed to work through this gnawing icy pain in your heart. And now that Riko's dead, you're allowed. You're free.

But now Riko's dead. Now Riko is dead, and his mom is dead, and fuck Riko for making him feel both of their deaths at the same time because he shouldn't exist in the same world that his mother does. The pain he feels for them both should be incomparable.

I like to imagine that for just a few moments after Kevin is told, he goes into shock, completely and utterly unable to function with the knowledge that Riko is dead.

"Riko killed himself last night," David says, and Abby is by his side for backup, for protection, for Kevin's safety. Betsy is on speed dial. "They won't tell me much, but they think it happened fast."

Maybe Abby nudges him because nothing he says will be okay, or good enough, or soft enough so as to not destroy Kevin. And he hears the words. He knew they were coming. They had to come, this was always going to happen. This was always how it was going to end. But his brain goes quiet and his hands go numb and he smiles a weak smile. He doesn't feel those words at all.

"Okay," He nods, like he's just been told that it's raining outside or he's wearing odd socks. "Thank you, Coach."

"Kevin, did you..." Abby's voice is soft as she reaches out. "Did you hear what David said?"

His eyes are empty, someplace far away, but his voice does not shake as he says, "I did."

For a while, maybe, they don't let him leave the room. He's quiet, disassociating, but not yet crying. Not yet throwing things around the room like David expected. Not yet begging for a bottle of vodka.

Does Renee come to the door first, or Neil? Does Abby answer the door because David asked her to, and what snaps him out of it? Is it Renee saying, "I called Jean. I told him to avoid the news," or is it Neil saying, "Have you told him yet?" that snaps him back into the real world, back to reality, to Jean can't find out, to Jean is alone, to Neil knows, to oh my god to this is real to Riko's dead and Riko's dead and Riko's dead.

Everything is familiar and nothing is the same. His body tells him he’s allowed to mourn his mom now, but he can’t handle it, and he can’t handle Riko being dead and Jean not knowing and Riko being dead and his mom isn’t here and he just. can’t. get his head around it. It’s all of a sudden messy and loud and confusing. He can’t let himself think about how Riko probably didn’t kill himself, he can’t ask himself why Neil knew before he did. He can’t believe it. If he believes it then it’s real and it’s his fault and who has him now? That was Riko’s job. To stop him from mourning so he could keep his eye on the prize and now he has it; They won the season. He put all his focus on exy, and look where it got him. All those lessons, all that burying of his feelings and compartmentalising to deal with it later hits him at once like a fucking truck and I think Kevin had the breakdowns of all breakdowns that day.

I think whatever happened to Jean on his own in that dorm room would’ve happened to Kevin, and more. He’s lucky that he wasn’t alone, I suppose, but it still doesn’t make it any easier. He’s tall, and he’s strong, and his head isn’t in the room when he’s throwing shit at the walls and screaming like it’ll help make things make sense. He doesn’t see where the chair lands. He doesn’t see who the books are thrown at. There is a chance that not one person in that room has ever seen anyone lose their mind so quickly, and intensely before. Because it’s not just Riko, it’s his mom, it’s his childhood, it’s his future, it’s his abuser, it’s his brother, it’s his identity and purpose and fuck, it’s Riko. Who is he without Riko?

If I keep going this will just end up far too long but oh lordy lord I think you’re absolutely right

[theforgottencrow]

Throws my ColorKiller shipchild out and runs/j

*cough* anyways meet Ethanol! :D

A tiny lil guy who just wants to run around and collect everything and anything shiny or related to dinosaurs <3

info time :3

(there’s lots of it sorry I love this goober a lot)

As stated Eth is selectively mute! They’re more or less capable of speech (however with trouble) but choose to stay mute and instead prefer using their speech tablet whenever available to them.

She usually carries a dinosaur bag along with her which is usually carried by Killer or Color. It usually just contains her speech tablet, and dinosaur stuff but may contain other items on occasion.

Eth has to wear the grey suit basically 24/7 due to the fact that her entire body is made from/covered in flames; the suit is fire resistant and keeps her from burning/setting aflame other people or items she touches :)

The stuff leaking from her eyes and mouth are actually a combination of highly flammable liquids!! (Do not let that stuff touch her own fire/colors fire or any fire for that matter it will explode istg it has happened.)

He walks on all fours! He’s been doing this ever since he first learned how to walk and hasn’t stopped since. Killer and Color have tried to break this habit, but uh- haven’t had much success.. Which means yes he does it in public too and he couldn’t be care less! He’ll waddle to his hearts content.

Relative to the walking in all fours thing Eth has to wear a child harness in public due to how they tend to get distracted and want to run after things. There have been far too many instances from when they didn’t have a harness and caused his dads to go searching for him, only to find him in the weirdest places..

She has a hyperfixation on dinosaurs! She’ll immediately grab anything she has related to them and start letting out the flood of information she has on them as soon as you mention or ask her about it.

She has an odd love for drinking shit like gasoline and other flammable liquids, which in turn actually causes her flames to FUCKING EXPLODE. She’s okay ofc it doesn’t actually hurt them and if anything makes them laugh at the sensations but that’s not exactly the same for the stuff/prople around her (or her clothes for that matter)

Following the thing about her tears and spit being flammable liquids Color DID NOT have fun with that when she was a baby. That man is trying to nap and his baby keeps fucking exploding from the shit mixing with her flames.

Her Theriotypes are a Cladospecies of dinosaurs as well as canids!

Older Eth has Sickles as shown in the picture as her weaponry! She loves sickle weapons quite a lot and if anything treats them like Ink does for Broomie.

Color realized quite quickly that due to her bodily construct Eth burns any and all clothing that isn’t fire resistant.. So Color learned to make clothing just for her! Now all her clothing, so things like her suit and etc are hand made by Color himself <:3

Killer heavily encourages her to set things on fire (much to Colors disagreement) and has even purposely set her off on people just for shits and giggles.

Okay that’s all for now, feel free to ask anything abt them or anything else you want! :D

[yourwhumppromptoftheday]

Hello! My whumper is a demon king named castor, and my whumpee is named Quinn, although they aren’t truly mine so I won’t be doing the whumpee part

1. Acquiring whumpee-oh, it was quite easy. I put a tracker on a rebel and watched them go to their little base. We had a little raid, and I took them.

2. Choosing whumpee-It was clear they were the leader. Everyone panicked when I grabbed them, so I knew they were valuable.

3. Keeping whumpee-I know that they’re strong, and I can use that. I give them freedom but I can’t let them go until they tell me where my son is. I must find him.

4. Legality-Ahahhhaa! I make the laws, I can’t break them. The authorities have no right to stop me. If you’re concerned, however, section 3 paragraph 24 clause eight says that rebels do not have the right to try and stop any punishment. I’m fine

5. Open-ness-Well, I don’t parade them around, but a few of my advisors know that they exist.

6. Quinn has a very comfortable room in the castle, they’ve progressed enough to move out the cell. Even if the room locks on the outside

7. The entire castle is my “workplace” but I don’t bring them to most important decisions.

8. Quinn is quite confusing. They’re a rebel, and a terrible liar.

9. While I certainly don’t think of Quinn that way..their hair is nice. If I were ever going to kill them, I’d scalp them and keep it as a wig.

10. Quinn is mostly obedient, and they’ve come a long way. They used to spit on me and just spout insults all day.

11. I don’t have many rules. Dont leave, dont attack the guards, and dont roam without Alex, me, or a guard.

12. Oh, I bring out the good-ol whip. Always works.

13. I’ve tortured many people before. I won’t say that I’ve tortured Quinn. I’m just conditioning them. With others, I don’t let them rest. I’m being quite nice to Quinn here, they haven’t gotten their limbs removed in weeks!

14. Oh, I’d have to say I love skinning. My healer, Alex, is wonderful at fastly healing someone so I can do it all over again! It’s quite effective.

15. Quinns treats is being able to see their family, having a beautiful room, and being let outside. They’ve behaved enough to deserve these:

16. Possessive? I don’t care. Although I wouldn’t like anyone trying to take them..

17. A few pathetic escape attempts were made when they first got here. You know, darting through doors and sprinting down halls. I just drag them back.

18. Oh, when I got their family involved they certainly broke. They pretended to not care until I brought their little brother up. Oh, how they cried!

19. Their mine now. My soldier. They don’t belong to anyone else.

20. They can move about the castle and very soon, outside, as long as they have a chaperone.

21. Of course I’m doing the right thing! They’re a fucking rebel, what am I supposed to do, give them a cookie? I’ve never felt remorse.

22. I’d have them executed.

23. Alex, my medic, checks up on Quinn often. Healthy as a horse.

24. You have to find out what they care about. What they love. Then you exploit that.

25. I’ve certainly helped them learn that nobody is on their side. Nobody has tried to save them, and I make sure to let them know.

26. My guards are allowed to handle Quinn, and so is Alex. That’s about it.

27. Well, of course I allow them to talk. It helps me get information. Anyone can talk to them.

28. Boundaries are for nerds.

29. I’ve only known of Quinn through rumors before I got them.

30. Quinn gets quite good meals. When they first came here, I did “starve” them, but I never actually do it. I need them in top shape. I only give them the sensation of starving. It wasn’t effective, so I stopped.

31. I use them for information. As the rebel leader, they are also quite effective propaganda.

32. My ownership of Quinn shows the rebels that nobody is safe. That I am coming.

33. I don’t feel anything when I hurt Quinn. I get satisfaction when they tell me what I need to know, and that’s it.

34. Skip!

35. I used to have to restrain them as they got quite violent, but I don’t anymore. Locking them up in a room is enough. They do try and kill themself, but it’s not often enough I have to worry.

36. They’re just..so stubborn. Thats one thing I’ve tried to beat out of them.

37. They wear whatever’s in their wardrobe. I don’t stock it, I don’t know or care.

38. I have nothing to be punished for. I will remain as I am for centuries to come.

39. I believe in me. I am a god.

40. People don’t usually say anything about Quinn. I asked Alex and she said “..Quinn’s nice.” So, vague much?

41. I don’t use a collar. My command is enough to keep them “leashed”

42. No, they aren’t marked. They don’t have to be.

43. Release them? Hell no! They’ll run right back to their rebels with dozens of secrets.

44. Whenever I appear with them, I keep a firm grasp on them. Their propaganda; like I said.

45. I’ve sedated them when I needed to move them or if they need to calm down. I’ve drugged them to have horrible nightmares, because those will become reality if they don’t listen to what I say.

46. I’ve certainly never seen anyone try and rescue them. Or if they did, it was a pathetic enough attempt I never noticed them.

47. I put a roof over their head. I give them clothes, a comfy bed, luxury food, books to read.

48. Hm. I can’t say I remember doing it, but I probably have.

49. Only if it’s important, okay?

50. Haha! You can try but you’ll lose a few fingers

💫Whump ask game!💫

🔸Most suitable for non-BBU pet whump but can be used for whatever

🔸Anyone can use and reblog, nsfwhumpers included :)

🔸We're bringing tumblr ask culture back and ensuring no one is left excluded - sending an ask to the blog y'all reblogged it from is highly encouraged! I'll send an ask too! :)

🔸A little inspired by a wonderful ask post I wasn't able to reblog or visit that person's tumblr. Y'all hear me out. No block can stop me from playing whump ask games.

🔥For Whumper🔥

1) How did you acquire your whumpee? How hard it was?

2) From all the possibilities, why did you pick your whumpee rather than anyone else?

3) Why do you keep your whumpee captive? Why won't you let them go?

4) Is everything you do to your whumpee legal? Do you have to hide it from the authorities?

5) How open are you about keeping your whumpee?

6) Where does your whumpee live?

7) Do you bring your whumpee to your workplace? How about bringing them to your social activities?

8) How would you describe your whumpee?

9) Tell me about your whumpee's prettiest features!

10) How does your whumpee behave around you? How much did it change from the moment of capture?

11) What rules do you have for your whumpee?

12) What do you do if your whumpee misbehaves?

13) Have you ever tortured anyone aside from your whumpee? If so, what's the difference between your torture techniques for your whumpee and for others?

14) Your favorite torture method?

15) Do you give your whumpee any gifts, rewards or treats? If so, what are they? If you don't, why?

16) How possessive you are about your whumpee?

17) Has your whumpee ever tried to run away from you? What would you do/have done in that case?

18) Did you finally break your whumpee? How hard it is/was?

19) Does your whumpee fully belong to you? If not, why?

20) Is your whumpee allowed to move freely? How much?

21) Do you believe you're doing the right thing? Have you ever felt guilty about what you do to your whumpee?

22) What would you do if someone tried to take your whumpee from you?

23) Does your whumpee receive any medical care or health checks? If so, where?

24) Any advice on brainwashing or conditioning?

25) Have you made your whumpee learn something aside from rules and behavior lessons?

26) Do your friends/teammates/coworkers help you to tame your whumpee? Do you allow anyone to handle them?

27) Do you allow anyone else to talk to your whumpee?

28) Do you respect your whumpee's boundaries?

29) Did you know your whumpee before capturing them?

30) How often do you feed your whumpee? Have you ever used food as punishment?

31) What do you use your whumpee for?

32) Does your ownership of whumpee mean anything symbolic for you? Do you make any sort of statement by keeping them?

33) How would you describe the feelings you ger from owning/hurting your whumpee?

34) Have you trained your whumpee to obey your commands? How so?

35) Do you need to restrain your whumpee often? How and why so?

36) What do you dislike about your whumpee?

37) Do you decide on your whumpee's clothes? If so, what do you usually make them wear?

38) Do you ever believe you could be punished for your deeds, whether in your lifetime or after?

39) Could you tell me a bit about your values? How would you describe what you believe in?

40) What do other people usually say about your whumpee?

41) Do you use a collar or a leash on your whumpee? Do they have to wear it everyday, or only on special occasions?

42) Is your whumpee marked as your captive/possession in any way? How so?

43) Have you ever considered returning or releasing your whumpee?

44) Do you ever appear with your whumpee in public? If so, how do you make sure they won't run away?

45) Have you ever drugged or sedated your whumpee? Why?

46) Has anyone ever tried to search for your whumpee or rescue them? How do you prevent them from succeeding?

47) Which aspects of comfort do you allow your whumpee to have, if you do so?

48) Do you ever discipline/torture your whumpee when they didn't do anything wrong? For maintenance, for showing off, just because you felt like it?

49) Would you mind me to see your whumpee? Could you bring or call them to come here?

50) Your whumpee is so pretty! Can i pet them? Please :)

🌼For Whumpee🌼

1) When did you meet your whumper for the first time? How was it like?

2) What were you doing before capture? What could you tell about your life back then?

3) How were you captured?

4) Were you taken specifically for whumper from the start, or there was another reason at first?

5) Have you ever been interrogated? For what reason? Were you tortured there?

6) Do your friends or family know you're here? Do you think they miss you?

7) Have you ever planned your escape? If so, do you think it's gonna work? (We won't tell anyone)

8) How would you describe your whumper?

9) How strict your whumper has been with you?

10) At which points are you most scared of your whumper?

11) What are your thoughts on why is your whumper keeping you there?

12) Which of your whumper's rules you find harder to obey?

13) How much time are you forced to spend by your whumper's side?

14) Do you think anyone would be able to find or rescue you?

15) Have you ever tried asking anyone for help? If so, how did they react?

16) Do you hide from your whumper? Does it help? How long it takes for them to find you?

17) How often do you fight or resist your whumper? How do they react?

18) Does your whumper make you sleep in their bed?

19) Does your whumper take you outside? For walks, for any interesting places, for visiting their friends?

20) Do you have a comfort thing to feel better/safer? Does your whumper know about it?

21) Does your whumper provide you with any things of entertainment to do in your spare time?

22) Does your whumper try to brainwash you?

23) Do you have anyone to talk to aside from your whumper?

24) How often does your whumper punish you? Why?

25) Which punishment method do you hate the most?

26) Do you like it when your whumper holds or touches you? How often would they do that?

27) Has your whumper ever made you wear something you hate?

28) What do you prefer to do to comfort yourself when you've been hurt or feeling sad?

29) Do you remember how long you've been captive?

30) Does your whumper use any pet names for you? What are their favorite? Do you like them as well?

31) How much privacy do you have?

32) Where do you feel safer - with lots of people in the room or with your whumper alone?

33) How do your whumper's friends/coworkers treat you? Do they pay attention to you?

34) Did your whumper ever threaten to hurt your family or friends? Have they actually done that?

35) If you were given an opportunity to escape, what would you do? Where would you run to?

36) What does your whumper usually force you to do? Which of these things do you hate the most?

37) How often do you get sick? Do you get someone to take care of you in that case?

38) Have you ever been afraid to fall asleep? Why so?

39) What does your whumper usually say to you? Does he give more threats or compliments?

40) Does your whumper listen to your pleads, complaints or requests? What would you never ask them for even if you absolutely needed?

41) How does your whumper usually act around his friends or coworkers? Does he try to be a good person for them?

42) How much do you miss your past life, if you do so? Which aspects of it do you miss the most?

43) Are you afraid to die?

44) If you knew you'd end up like that, what would you do differently in your life?

45) Is there anything you said or did that could've led to your capture? If so, do you regret it?

46) If you could become an animal, which one would you choose? Why?

47) How much have you changed since the first day in captivity?

48) Do you have any plans or hopes for the future now?

49) Tell everything you've ever wanted to say to your whumper (we won't tell anyone!)

50) Share one of your happiest moment of freedom for us!