#I remember the fear that shot through me when me mom looked over my shoulder to see me dming miles about a painting or something

[edith-is-a-cat]

The character development in being comfortable in telling my parents about my online friends

[mynameismckenziemae]

All of Me

Part 5

(previous part here, next part here)

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x You

Summary: You wake up to an empty bed but not for the reason you think.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Smut, fingering, teasing, orgasm delay/denial, kink discussion, femdom kind of? Lmk if I missed anything.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

Your eyes slowly blink open a few hours later, feeling more rested than you have in years. “Good morning,” you murmur as you roll over. Jake’s not there, though the bed is still warm.

Disappointment fills you when you hear the front door closing softly.

You sigh as you reach for your phone. It’s only fair; it’s exactly how you left him after your first night together.

But there’s a text from Jake, sent only 5 minutes prior.

Jake: BRB, just going to go get breakfast.

Reese: Sounds good. Scared me for a second, I thought you pulled a Reese 🥴

Jake: I wouldn’t do that to a friend 😉

Reese: Couldn’t blame if you did. I’m sorry for that btw.

Jake: It’s all good. I’m just I got to see you again and that’s saying a lot because I hate going to the doctor.

Jake: Since you’re awake, what do you want for breakfast?

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

He’s back 20 minutes later with coffee and your favorite breakfast in hand. He looks good enough to eat in his gray sweatpants and black tank top.

“It’s called iatrophobia,” you say between sips of coffee in bed, continuing when he gives you a confused look. “The fear of going to the doctor. It’s more common than you think. Is it something you’ve always struggled with?

A flush works up his neck as he nods. “Yeah, as long as I can remember. My mom said it started after I got a round of shots at 3. I don’t get it, shots don’t even bother me that much anymore but even walking into a clinic or hospital makes me antsy.”

“You could start having lunch with me in my office,” you offer, happy that you sound nonchalant while your stomach does somersaults. “See if it helps?”

The way he grins tells you he can see right through your ruse. “Sure, kinda like exposure therapy.”

“Exactly.”

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

“Hey, I’m gonna run home to change but I’ll see you…” Jake trails off as he re-enters the bedroom to you half-naked.

“I had to change,” you huff as you pull on another pair of bikini bottoms, “Because someone left not one, but two hickeys on my ass.”

You turn and groan when you see the marks still not covered by fabric in the mirror.

He doesn’t need to know you like it.

“I’m sorry,” he walks over with the cutest grin and turns you so you’re again facing the mirror. He’s already hard against your ass.

“No, you’re not,” you laugh breathlessly as he kisses your neck.

“No, I’m not,” he agrees as his eyes find yours in the reflection.

“Make it up to me?” You ask as you take his hand and bring it to your lips, drawing two of his fingers into your mouth.

He nods and his hips jerk into you when you swirl your tongue around the digits, before dragging them down your body and into the front of your swimsuit.

You sigh as you let him take over between your legs, rubbing slow circles over your clit. Your head drops back onto his shoulder when your hand pushes down the fabric covering your breast to find your nipple begging for attention.

“I’m gonna be fighting a hard-on all day now that I know what you’re hiding under this bikini,” he complains, slotting himself between your cheeks with a gentle thrust. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, feeling the way your heart races as he kisses your pulse point, “I can’t get you off my mind. At work…when I’m with friends…especially at night when I’m alone in bed.”

“Tell me what you think about when you touch yourself,” you order, eyes falling close as he slides two fingers into you. Lewd, wet noises fill your bedroom giving away just how much he turns you on. You gasp, pinching your nipples just as his fingers rub against your g-spot while the heel of his palm gives your clit attention.

“Imagining you sucking me off,” You can hear his smile, “and now I know and it’s even better than I thought.” His free hand finds your butt and squeezes, pulling a moan from you. “I think about your ass and what it would be like to take you from behind; pulling out and coating it with my cum.”

“Yes,” you breathe, clenching around him as you picture it. “What else?”

“You sitting on my face, using me to get off,” he grunts as his hips rut faster as if he can’t help it. “N-not…”

Your eyes flutter open as he trails off; embarrassment paints his face in pink. One of your hands slides up to turn his chin towards you to give him a biting kiss. “It’s okay, you can tell me,” you pant against his lips; his breathing matching yours.

You turn back, eyes meeting his again in the mirror. “Tell me,” you order softly as you slide your fingers back over his jaw and into his hair; refusing to give in to the pleasure rapidly approaching until you hear what else he has to say.

“Never told anyone this,” he whispers, working his hand harder in an effort to distract you. “I-uh…I think about you edging me; making me beg you cum,” his eyes close and he flushes even further as he tells you all of his secrets, “not letting me cum at all.”

Picturing him begging and at your mercy is all it takes for you to fall apart with a broken moan of his name, one hand tugging his hair and eyes locked on his as the pleasure consumes you.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

He groans as he watches you and your hips press against your ass more insistently; like he’s getting close.

“W-wait,” you say, still catching your breath. He instantly stills his hips. “Not yet. I want you to wait.”

“Fuck,” he shudders, hiding his face in your neck. “You don’t-I mean…if you’re not into-“

“I’m into it,” you interrupt him, shivering as you pull his hand from your bikini bottoms. A punched-out noise leaves him when you lick his fingers clean. “Look at me.”

He slowly raises his head and you have to bite back your whimper at his half-lidded, lust-gazed eyes.

“You aren’t going to cum,” you whisper, reveling in the way his breath hitches, “until I say so.”

His eyes darken before he nods slowly.

“We better get going,” you sigh reluctantly as you step out of his arms and bend over to look through the bottom drawer of his dresser. “It’s almost noon and I’ve got to find some shorts to wear over these yet.”

“Yeah, I should uh…” he sounds entranced as he clears his throat before trying again. “I should go home and change.”

You have to fight the urge to jump him when you turn around to pull up your shorts.

He’s standing where you left him; skin flushed, hair messy from your fingers up hair, still hard and straining against his sweatpants, precum darkening the gray fabric.

“Yeah,” you swallow. “You better go home or we’ll never make it to the beach on time.”

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

“Mom!” Drew’s face lights up when he sees you approaching across the hot sand.

“Hey bud,” you return his hug, knowing the days of him hugging you willingly in public are sadly numbered. “How was boys night?”

“Good,” he doesn’t elaborate, of course. “Come meet Roo’s friends.”

“Okay,” you smile , letting him lead you over.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

“I’ve missed you,” Penny murmurs as she pulls you in for a hug. She and Mav are like family.

“This is Javy,” Drew says as he pulls you away from Penny. “Javy, this is my mom.”

“Nice to meet you,” Javy smiles and you realize he’s Jake’s friend; the one who threw the football the night you met. Either he doesn’t recognize you or has a good poker face.

“I’m Reese,” you laugh as Drew moves on before you shake his hand. “Nice to meet you too!”

“This is Nat, Javy’s…I don’t remember what it’s called but they’re getting married. She’s a pilot too, like Dad was. Her callsign is Phoenix, isn’t that cool?!”

“It is,” you agree, returning her smile as you shake her hand. “I’m Reese. I’ve seen you around base. Nice to put a name to the face.”

Bob and Callie are familiar faces; they transferred here a few months prior to your deployment. You hadn’t met their daughter, Elsie, yet who’s cute as a button at 3 years old.

“Did you seriously shower before coming to the beach?” Javy says as you feel a presence walking up behind you.

“Jake!” Drew exclaims, tugging you around and saving Jake from having to answer.

It’s been less than an hour since you last saw him but your breath catches when his green eyes meet yours.

“This is my mom, she’s a doctor,” Drew says as he’s looking at Jake like he hung the moon.

You know how he feels.

“Never been a fan of doctors,” he teases, winking at Drew and ruffling his hair.

“Do you wanna play football? I think there’s one in the Bronco,” Drew asks, bouncing with energy.

“Sure, why don’t you go see if anyone else wants to play? You’re on my team though,” Jake replies. Drew nods eagerly and runs off to do just that.

“Did you take a shower?” You ask, noticing his wet hair.

“Yep,” he nods. “A cold one.”

“How come?” You ask, trying not to smile.

“You know why,” he says under his breath, nodding at Bradley who’s looking over at the two of you. “Can’t hide anything in swim trunks.”

“Jake’s on my team!” Drew waves at him excitedly.

“Reese, you’re with me,” Bradley picks you next.

“Good luck,” you say, smiling at the double entendre as you walk over to your team.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>

A/N: I didn’t want to end it here but I didn’t want to rush what I have planned next. I hope you liked it ☺️

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[thursdayygrrrl]

from the sidelines

⌦ .｡.:*♡

characters: natasha romanoff, wanda maximoff (wandanat)

genre: fluff, slight angst

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood & guns, breakdowns/crying

summary: When Wanda comes into Natasha’s life, she gives the widow something to lose.

word count: 3,859

a/n: this is my first time writing for nat/something nat-centric and, technically, wandanat too! this was inspired by sidelines by phoebe bridgers because i think that song is suuuuper underappreciated and that it was a good fit for them (lyrics are in bold and italics). it’s been a while since i last wrote anything for fun and not for uni, so please be kind. i also don’t know much about gardening so some of the language might not be accurate. you can read it on ao3 (here) or under the cut. i hope you enjoy :>

I’m not afraid of anything at all

If there was one thing constant about Natasha, it was the lack of fear. It wasn’t inherent, but was a habit developed essential for her survival. She learned that pretty quickly. One moment of hesitance, no matter how short, could mean life or death. 

There were other times she felt brave without risking her life though. Like when she first dyed her hair. She chose the color blue because it reminded her of the sky. The horizon always looked limitless, a reminder that there could be more to life than what she had already experienced. She remembers making that choice and following through with it. It made her feel in control of something, amidst all the other things she had no power over.

───── ⴵ⋅ᗢ⋅ⴵ ─────

‘Cause nothing ever shakes me, nothing makes me cry

Not a plane going down in the ocean and drowning

One of her most vivid memories is flying the plane with Melina. The night was normal at first. She was playing tag with her younger sister until she fell and hurt her knee. Then, they watched the fireflies and went inside to help with dinner. Alexei arrived and they started eating. It all felt so nice, so normal until he said they were going on a big adventure. Her appetite disappeared. Yelena was excited, oblivious to what it actually meant. She didn’t have the heart or the chance to tell her.

The drive out was tense and quiet, save for American Pie playing in the background. She watched the scenes change outside her window from the suburbs to highways. They had to move fast, but she felt sluggish, overwhelmed with everything going on. She remembers holding on to a photobooth strip of her and Yelena before finally running to get on the plane after being urged by Alexei. The sound of sirens and the whirring of engines, her heartbeat hammering in her chest, filled her ears. Gunshots started sounding off. One hit Melina’s shoulder.

“I need you up here,” She said through gritted teeth. Natasha clambered beside her. 

She was wincing in pain while giving instructions to pull right. 

“Mom, you’ve got blood on you,” Her voice came out strangled, and that tight feeling came along with tears forming in her eyes. She didn’t cry often but she knew she hated the physiological sensations that came with it.

“It’s okay, baby.” Two more cars directly in front of them appeared in the distance. “Hit the accelerator there.”

She did as she was told, speeding the plane up. She faltered when a few more shots were fired at them.

“Hold it steady, hold it steady.” More shots, the headlights ahead were blindingly bright. “You’re gonna pull back at 55 knots.” They started counting in unison. Alexei popped one of the cars’ tires with a bullet, causing them to crash into each other.

“Pull back, you can do it! Pull back, all your strength...” Part of the plane grazes with the bottom of the now-upturned car. But they were finally off the ground. Flying. A sense of relief washes over her.

Considering the past few hours, the rest of the flight went smoothly. They landed somewhere remote, it felt like the middle of nowhere. Alexei carried Melina to a stretcher held by some soldiers she and Yelena ran after. After a short exchange of words with the older woman, she remembers wrangling a gun from someone, unwanted tears threatening to fall from her eyes again, and Yelena’s small form hiding behind her.

“I don’t wanna go back there.”

A needle was buried deep into her neck. She was then thrown into a shipping container with other girls. Masked people were pointing rifles at them, shouting and violently wrenching Yelena from her hold. There was a man, he knelt to meet her eyes. Rough and calloused hands held her face. 

“The Red Room is your home now.”

───── ⴵ⋅ᗢ⋅ⴵ ─────

Watched the world from the sidelines

Had nothing to prove

Natasha had just started getting used to being “normal,” just another child in midwestern America. She was going to school, being around other kids, having a family until it was all ripped away. Even though it was all a lie, she couldn’t say it wasn’t important to her.

Being back in the Red Room was a regimented, isolating existence. No one was able to speak to each other for long. Schedules were planned down to the minute. Excruciating physical training, including hand-to-hand combat, ballet, acrobatics, and weapons training, pushed them to their limits, sometimes even beyond. 

The mutilation, both psychological and physical, was the worst of all. They broke down each girl’s hope and willpower if any were even left. They were treated like objects, mere faceless weapons they could manipulate as a means to an evil end. The ones who survived were considered lucky, the prime of their batches, and given an operation. They called it “graduation,” but everyone knew what that meant.

At some point, she was able to get out. Her time with the KGB, then in S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers was filled with twists and turns. It was a lot of battles, moral disputes, and political agendas. There was even a time when she had to expose her own seedy past, much to her discomfort, but it was for the greater good. She didn’t mind as long as it was for the well-being of others.

───── ⴵ⋅ᗢ⋅ⴵ ─────

‘Til you came into my life

Gave me something to lose

Now that she thinks of it, the first time she interacted with Wanda was horrible. The witch inflicted a vision, memories that she was trying to bury and leave behind, when she was weakened and vulnerable. There were snippets of a conversation with Madame B. The graduation ceremony. It made her feel like a monster all over again.

The next time they interacted was in the Battle of Sokovia. She remembers regrouping with Steve, but not expecting the very same witch to make an appearance. Despite all the chaos, the jacket she wore looked familiar.

“Is that my jacket?” Natasha gestured at the younger woman, frowning slightly.

“She’s with us,” Steve said.

“That still doesn’t explain the jacket.” 

Natasha was persistent. She didn’t shop for clothes often, never dressing up unless she wanted or had to, so this red jacket was special. It was one of the first few things she bought for herself. Wanda, now awkward and unsure of what to do, ran off. The rest of the battle felt like a blur of robots and rubble.

Since then, Wanda joined the Avengers. The younger woman mostly kept to herself when not on missions, watching sitcoms in her room. Vision would talk to her sometimes. Other times, the widow herself would do so. Natasha understood she needed space and time to cope with everything she’d been through but didn’t want to leave her fully isolated. 

Their conversations, if you could even call them that, were awkward at first. Natasha would ramble on about whatever, trying to fill the silence.

“There’s breakfast in the kitchen.”

Wanda looks up from her book only to be met with a small, warm smile on the assassin’s face.

“It’s the usual American stuff. Eggs, bacon, sugary cereal, some fruit. Pretty sure Clint’s making waffles too,” Natasha points to the door with her thumb. “You should eat with us. Bond with the team, all that stuff that Steve goes on about. We’ll have training after.”

Wanda hums in contemplation. Then, she nods. It’s the slightest motion that one would miss if they didn’t pay enough attention. Natasha nods back and turns to leave the room. The witch’s voice catches her off-guard, though.

“I’ll come with you.”

It’s raspy in the best way possible, with a hint of her Sokovian accent lingering. It’s a sound that Natasha decides she would like to hear more often. Her smile grows ever so slightly as she gestures for her to walk together.

───

When Natasha started helping in Wanda’s hand-to-hand combat training, the two became closer literally and figuratively. In one memorable session, from when Wanda still wasn’t as skilled at combat as she is now, Natasha was able to pin her down. Her lithe fingers wrapped around the other woman’s wrists while she used her thighs to straddle. All to restrict movement, of course. The flustered expression on the witch’s face could not be more obvious.

Their sessions consisted of a warm-up, some rounds of sparring, and a cooldown. After barely surviving this particularly challenging one, Wanda lands on the bench with a sigh. “Fuck… You kicked my ass today, Tasha. No fair,” She says through heavy breaths, leaning back and wiping the sweat from her brow.

Natasha shrugs and smiles as she sits beside her, reaching for a bottle of water across from the younger woman. Her torso brushes with her thigh, making the Sokovian lose her breath all over again.

“Please. I went easy on you. Besides, it’s revenge for taking my jacket,” Natasha says as she sits back up and takes a sip of water.

Wanda stands on slightly wobbly legs while a breathy laugh escapes her lips. “You’re really still holding that grudge?” She raises her hands playfully, “In my defense, Steve threw it at me and told me to put it on. It was a hectic time, you know.” 

Natasha smirks and shakes her head as they both move to gather their bags and leave. The assassin offers her hand. 

“Let me carry your stuff. It’s the least I can do. Look, you can barely stand.”

“It’s okay, Tasha. I go—” 

“Come on,” The widow urges. A knowing look is on her face. 

Wanda’s face becomes flushed, more so than it already was. It looks like she hopes Natasha won’t notice, but she does anyway. She raises her eyebrow teasingly.

“Did the workout take you out that bad, Wands?”

The nickname doesn’t help at all. Wanda rolls her eyes playfully as she hands her duffel bag over. Natasha slings both bags over her shoulder and they start walking together.

“Remind me again why I have to keep doing the hand-to-hand stuff? I literally move things with my mind.”

“If you use your mind, why do you do the thing with your hands then?” Natasha tries to mimic the witch’s signature hand movements with her free hand. This earns her a lighthearted push. 

“Oh, you know I’m just kidding. We both know you can’t just rely on your magic all the time. I want you to be able to fend for yourself if anything happens. Yeah?”

Wanda groans exaggeratedly, “Ugh. Okay, yes, you have a point.”

She chuckles at this. The pair, now embraced by a comfortable silence, walks to the elevator of the compound. As they enter, Natasha wraps her free arm around Wanda’s shoulder. She squeezes slightly, firm muscles under her touch, bringing her closer and looking into her eyes. 

“Wanna have lunch with me today?”

Wanda raises her eyebrow, “Can we watch I Love Lucy while we eat?”

Natasha nods and hands over her bag. “Of course.”

They smile warmly at each other, parting ways to freshen up before meeting again later.

───

Natasha and Wanda have seen each other at different points in their lives. Happy, sad, and everything else in between. But the Lagos Incident was a whole other thing. Natasha herself was a witness to how Wanda had been doing so well before it. To watch the immense guilt, self-loathing, and depression come over the witch after the incident, after slowly building herself back up, was heartbreaking for the widow.

Old habits die hard. Wanda becomes a recluse again. However, instead of sitcoms accompanying her, it was the news. She couldn’t help but keep watching coverage of it as if being constantly reminded of this tragedy was helping anyone.

Steve already spoke with her, Natasha knows this, but she decides to give a different type of comfort to the person she’s grown to love. A silent one, one that speaks through actions. 

On days Wanda doesn’t leave her room, Natasha knows she isn’t eating so she goes up and brings food. Nine times out of ten, it’s a peanut butter sandwich because it’s all she can make without setting the kitchen on fire. Ten times out of ten, it’s returned with just a few bites taken out. It doesn’t matter, Natasha is just happy to provide her with even the littlest bit of sustenance.

On nights Wanda can’t sleep, evident by the faint light escaping from her room, Natasha stays up with her. She takes it upon herself to change the channels on Wanda’s television or switch it off. She puts on some music instead, knowing that noise is a welcome distraction to her spiraling thoughts. Other times, Wanda motions for Natasha to her bed. The contact of skin on skin, the physical reminder that she isn’t alone helps Wanda relax even if it’s only for a few hours. Most nights, the feeling of Natasha’s body pressed up against Wanda’s is enough to lull her to sleep. 

And when it’s not, when she falls into that spiral once more, Natasha’s always there to wipe away her tears and pull her out of it.

“So many people… All those lives lost because I-I couldn’t—” Wanda sobs, breaking down in the familiar hold of strong arms.

Natasha squeezes just a little bit tighter. She speaks softly, interrupting the younger woman, “I know, Wands. I know. But you have to stop blaming yourself, okay? We’ve all hurt people and we’ve all made mistakes. Even if we mean well. And you did mean well. It’s just sometimes things work out in ways we don’t anticipate.”

The consoling words fall on deaf ears. Wanda shakes her head and cries even harder while burying herself deeper into the embrace. Her voice is muffled, repeated pleas of repentance, “It’s my fault, it’s my fault, it’s all my fault… T-tasha, it’s all my fault…” Unsure what to say now, Natasha resorts to her instinct instead. It has never failed her. She starts to rock Wanda gently, pressing a soothing kiss to the top of the younger woman’s head. A quiet, melodic hum resonates from her lips. She continues until Wanda’s breathing evens out and until sleep takes over both of them.

───

A soft stream of sunlight seeps into the room, awakening the Russian. She looks down at the sleeping figure in her arms. Wanda looks so peaceful right now, Natasha thinks. She would do anything to conserve this moment, this feeling of serenity for her. To take away all her pain, heartache, and afflictions. Realistically, she knows she can’t accomplish that. The best she can do is just be there for her. 

It’s been a few minutes since and she feels Wanda stir slightly, who immediately snuggles closer and remains asleep. A warm feeling settles in her body, first in her chest then it spreads all over. She recalls feeling this way many times before, but only ever with Wanda. It’s at this exact instance she finally fully realizes what this is.

I’m in love. 

She bites her lip in contemplation, quiet realization, as Wanda’s eyes flutter open. Hazy green eyes look into clear ones and a mumbled phrase reaches her ears. “Your thoughts are getting loud, Tasha. Are you okay?”

Broken from her trance, she looks down at Wanda. “Yeah, I am. Um. I just… I have something to tell you.” She shifts to lean against the headboard. Now is as perfect a time as any, she thinks. 

Wanda’s eyebrows stitch together in a frown as she rubs the sleep from her eyes. She sits up, mostly leaning her weight on the other woman, while trying to decipher the look on her face. The Russian waits for a sign of approval from the Sokovian. Wanda nods and hums.

“I’m going to be direct about this, Wands.”

She takes a deep breath in.

“I like that we’ve grown close, that we consider each other as friends. I like doing things for you and with you and I like helping you, giving you what I have. Time, insight, comfort, whatever. Watching sitcoms with you, sleeping next to you, and waking up in your bed. I like your voice and your ringed hands, how graceful they look when you use your powers. The way your nose scrunches up and your bunny teeth show when you smile. How your accent slips when you say certain words and how you say my name. The way you carry yourself. How you care so much about others… If you let me, I would care for you for the rest of time.”

Natasha finishes with a sharp exhale, only now realizing her rambling. Losing control was one of the things she never wanted to experience again, but this time was different. Finally letting these thoughts flow through and out of her felt cathartic. 

Wanda’s voice is quiet, “You would?” 

Natasha nods, “Always.”

She says it without hesitation. Because she is wholly certain that she has no other answer. Why would there be?

Wanda becomes silent. An unreadable expression appears on her face as she takes in Natasha’s words. Her posture straightens slightly. Tension is now in the air and a silence begins to settle. 

Natasha screws her eyes shut, willing the tears in her eyes to stop forming. She was just about to take everything back, apologize for even saying anything, before getting interrupted. She feels slim fingers gently hold her face. Wanda strokes Natasha’s cheek, her thumb moving in slow, circular motions while she speaks.

“Tasha, hey, please don’t cry,” Wanda looks at her pleadingly, leaning in closer.

Natasha blinks rapidly, brows furrowing together. “I’m sorry. I got nervous because you weren’t saying anything and I… I don’t want to lose you.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. I just had to take a minute because I didn’t realize you felt this way. Trust you won’t lose me, please.” She looks away. Her touch slows down and ceases as her hands fall to her lap. “I just don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“You didn’t have to do anything, moya lyubov.” Natasha holds Wanda’s hands, “I mean everything I just said. I love you, Wanda.” 

She waits for a response with bated breath. Before she knows it, she feels supple lips capture her own. 

It’s tender yet electric. It’s everything she’s ever imagined and more. It’s simply perfect.

Natasha closes her eyes and deepens the kiss. She cradles Wanda’s jaw and feels the brunette melt into her touch. They pull away seconds later, foreheads touching as they catch their breath. Wanda says softly, “I love you too, Natasha. You don’t know how long I have been wanting to say that.”

───── ⴵ⋅ᗢ⋅ⴵ ─────

Now I know what it feels like

To wanna go outside

It was a calm morning, both women following a routine established over the past few months. Natasha would wake up early and then proceed to training, leaving Wanda to sleep in. By the time she’d be back, Wanda was up and just finishing preparing breakfast. They’d eat together, talk about their plans for the day, and decide what to do from there. Some days they’d spend together while, on others, they’d have separate activities. 

“Detka! Come here, please!”

Natasha was working on some reports when she heard Wanda call out. She looks at the clock and decides now is a perfect time to take a break anyway. She hums as she stands up and stretches her limbs before leaving the room.

Wanda had been tending to the garden in the compound for some time now. She started with small pots of herbs and then moved to random vegetables after discovering she had a gift for raising plants. Lately, she also added flowers and various houseplants to her catalog. Being out in the sun, getting her hands dirty, and nurturing these plants was hard work, but it was work Wanda loved.

Natasha makes a couple of peanut butter sandwiches and pours two glasses of cold water on a tray, then carries it over to the sliding door leading to the garden. She places it down on a table outside and her eyes immediately search for Wanda. It’s an irresistible sight, her beloved’s face beaming and surrounded by greenery. She even thinks she sees her talking to the plants.

She smiles to herself while appreciating the view until Wanda realizes she’s arrived. She gets waved over, “Tasha!” The excitement in the witch’s voice is barely contained as Natasha walks towards her. 

She wraps an arm around Wanda, bringing her closer and kissing her forehead, “Hi, kotenok. I brought over some snacks and water if you wanted them. What is it you wanted me to see?”

Wanda pulls off her gardening gloves, places them in her pocket, and brushes her hands over her pants. She mumbles a quick thank you before taking Natasha’s hand in one of her own and using the other to cover her eyes.

“Close your eyes. I want this to be a surprise.” 

Natasha plays along, using her free hand to help cover her eyes. “Okay. Just make sure I don’t trip, yeah?”

Wanda giggles as she leads Natasha by the hand, “Don’t worry, detka, I got you.” 

They walk slowly, up a few steps, and stop. Wanda takes a deep breath, “Okay, now.”

When their hands uncover Natasha’s eyes, she is met with vibrant blooms of various colors against a green background of bushes. It’s a masterful arrangement of asters, marigolds, hydrangeas, wildflowers, and many more. She gasps, breath taken away by the gorgeous sight. 

“You did all this by yourself?” 

The Sokovian nods sheepishly, “Yeah. I read somewhere that getting them all to bloom like this would be challenging, but I think I did decently.”

Natasha squeezes her hand, “It’s more than decent. It looks stunning, Wands. You did an amazing job.”

Wanda’s arm wraps around Natasha’s waist, her head rests on her shoulder. A satisfied sigh leaves her lips. They remain silent, basking in each other’s presence and the garden view.

“If you’re like this with plants, I can only imagine how well you’d be with kids,” Natasha muses. 

Wanda lifts her head and looks at Natasha, her shoulders raised slightly, “What if, at some point, you won’t have to imagine?”

Small smiles grow on both of their faces. They share a knowing look before assuming their previous positions. “Someday, lyubov, someday.”

Natasha used to feel the need to keep busy, keep moving because she thought anything too constant would be taken away from her again. Though she never admitted it to anyone, not even herself, the thought of settling down and starting a family of her own was terrifying.

But not anymore. Everything felt so much easier with Wanda. It now truly felt like anything was possible. The lack of fear forced onto her when she was younger came from a dark place of abuse and indifference. Now, it comes naturally. It comes from love.

[aestheticaltcow]

What Happens in Vegas Doesn't Always Stay in Vegas

A four-part series about a drunken mistake and realizations starring our favorite neurotic chef.

The Bear Masterlist

Next part

Part 1 - Those are legal?

“I’m sorry, what do you mean ‘I’m married’?” Ellie questioned the FBI agent in front of her. “Well, with Jack’s security clearance, we took his marriage license application very seriously. Elanor Marks, you’ve been married to a man named Carmen Berzatto for the past eight years.”. Ellie turned to look at Jack, who was just as dumbfounded as her, “You two got married in 2016 at Quickie Vows in Las Vegas.” the agent handed Jack a folder. “Here’s all the information, sir.” Jack nodded without saying anything. 

“How did you not know you were married?” Jack laughed as he got into bed that night, “I didn’t think those Vegas weddings were like real marriages.” Ellie sighed, sinking deeper into their mattress. Jack frowned, realizing just how upset his fiance was, “Hey, get over here.” he opened his arms. Ellie sighed and scooted closer to him in bed, “This is one of the things I love about you, Ellie. You’re spontaneous and eclectic. You love life and have never said no to anything.” he kissed her head making Ellie sink deeper into his chest. “When I met you in Germany, I knew you were goin’ be my wife one day. This whole Vegas marriage thing is just a hiccup. I’ll call Bren, and we’ll get all of this figured out… you’ll get your spooky October wedding, I promise.” 

Ellie opened her locker the next morning and shoved her backpack in before sitting on a free chair to change into her non-slip shoes. “There she is, the blushing bride.” Ellie rolled her eyes at her friend’s greeting. “Hey, Maddie.” “You good?” “I’ve been better…”

Maddie shot her a quizzical look. “Wanna talk about it?” Ellie sighed “Do you remember Carmy Berztto?” “Wow, that’s a blast from the past…” “Yeah, that’s what I said… we’ve been married since that Vegas trip.” Maddie was lost for words, “You know what I have to feed my sourdough…” she awkwardly laughed, scratching at the back of her neck. “Lunch break?” Ellie laughed, knowing Maddie wanted to know what had happened that trip “Yes. I have so many questions.”

“CAB, you’re like the best.” “I don’t know ‘bout that, El.” Carmy laughed, taking another swig from his bottle of tequila. Ellie snaked her arm around his waist as the two walked down the Vegas strip. The two found themselves separated from the main group of friends they’d come to Vegas with; it wasn’t something unheard of for the two of them. “You’re a kid but got the fuckin’ James Beard! You’re the best.”Ellie hiccuped. Carmy rolled his eyes, “You’re only like a year older than me, babe.” Ellie giggled and playfully hit his chest. 

The two ended up sitting on the edge of a fountain, exchanging stories of childhood trauma and fears of the future between kisses. “My mom used to call me a whore back in high school-” “You’re my whore…” Carmy whispered as he kissed down Ellie’s jawline, making her giggle and hit his shoulder “You’re so stupid.” “Fuck I love you.” Carmy laughed, burying his head in her shoulder nipping at her collarbone. Ellie giggled and gently tugged at his hair “I fuckin’ love you too.”

In New York, this evening would end in sex on the kitchen floor or the ratty old couch in Carmy’s bare apartment. In Vegas, it was a different story. Neither Carmy nor Ellie realized who’d suggested it, but they found themselves at Quickie Vows. They both went through the motions, thinking it was the funniest joke in the world. The two returned to the group’s Airbnb and went to the backyard to get into the hot tub. The next day, Ellie got the call she’d been waiting for.  She was going to Europe to be a commis chef. After a quick stop in New York, Ellie was off and thought she’d never be back in the States, at least until she met Special Agent Jack Aubrey.

The two met in Germany five years ago; it was love at first sight for Jack. Ellie took a couple of months to warm up. He was everything Carmy lacked; he actively made time to be with her. They weren’t together out of convenience; Jack was proud to be seen with her. He encouraged her to be herself and grow as a person. But of course, Carmy needed to make one last appearance before Ellie could live happily ever after.

[untitled5071]

I'd definitely love one shot requests

Well, ask and you shall receive! Here's the answer to your earlier ask, a Reverse AU of Lisa Frankenstein where she's the creature! Hope you like it!

🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦

“Alright, I think this is everything.”

He could barely see where he was going over the stolen sewing supplies piled in his arms, but he knew he was headed in the right direction thanks to the soft hum of acknowledgement coming from inside his bedroom. Tottering his way over to the corner, he deposited all of his mom’s supplies onto his bed before selecting the thickest hot pink thread he could find and a sharpened upholstery needle and turning to face his guest. 

“What about this one?”

The corpse of the young lady stood there, hair still a little wet from her first-ever shower and completely entranced by the feathered sleeves of his mother’s flowy pink nightgown. He stood there for a moment and watched the dead girl wave her arms slowly back and forth to watch the sheer fabric of the sleeves follow in their wake, and took a moment to wonder just when his life took a turn into Mary Shelley territory. 

He had been totally scared out of his wits earlier; all he had wanted was a night alone on the couch while his brother, mom and stepdad went to a movie, able to start re-watching through his VHS collection without fear of judgment when a absolutely filthy being crashed through the window, stumbling after him and groaning as he tried and failed to flee. After finding the creature-who he quickly realized was, or at least once had been, a woman-sitting apologetically in the living room and looking at him with sad eyes, he decided that he might get further talking to her than running from her. 

And any reservations against connecting with the woman died away when he realized that she was the one whose grave he had been tending to for the past few months, the reanimated corpse of a person buried under a tombstone that only said “Unmarried”.

And so he helped her get cleaned up, letting her shower the nearly century of grime away until he could see slightly bloodshot eyes, a shy smile, frizzy hair teased and tangled within an inch of his life and with a deep and disturbing gash in her left shoulder that needed attention. 

Hence the sewing supplies. 

“I have no idea which of this stuff is…quality or whatever, but my mom has very high standards in terms of the things she buys and especially for her hobbies, I mean, you should have seen how much she spent on fake rhinestones last year, but I think this might be the best stuff to use? I don’t think neon existed in your time but I think you might like this color judging on how much you like that robe.”

The corpse looked up at his voice, locked eyes with the thread and immediately smiled, excited by the vibrant color and opening her mouth to speak, but upon remembering that decay had taken that ability, she began gesturing wildly, clapping and pointing at the thread and then to her butchered shoulder. He got the message quickly enough and cleared the rest of the sewing supplies off of his bed, sitting down by his pillow and gesturing for her to sit on his left. She complied, and he gently guided their torsos so that he was looking at her back, with her turned towards the door to allow him access. 

He unraveled much more thread than necessary and stared at the eye of the needle, completely lost. She must have noticed his hesitance, because she silently reached a hand back and made a ‘give me’ gesture. He placed the needle and thread in her freezing palm and watched over her shoulder as thin fingers-clumsy with a century of deterioration-threaded the string through the eye of the needle and tied it for him, handing it back to him with a small smile. He returned the gesture. 

“Thanks.” 

She bowed her head slightly, and lowered the shoulder of the robe and the nightgown underneath, brushing her wayward hair out of the way to expose the gash that he presumed had killed her. He didn’t want to dwell too much on it, head already spinning with the implications of such a wound, so he gently rested his hand on the robe, the threaded needle poised in the other hand. 

It was only then that he realized that he had no idea what he was doing. 

“Uh..how do I…?”

The corpse’s shoulders shook like she was giggling, and she turned her head to lock eyes with him. Slowly, with the stump of one hand and the fingers of the other, she mimed stabbing something with a needle, then pulling the thread through, then the nice, even stitching and repetition of the motion, and then finally pulling the stitches tight and tying off the work, complete with biting the thread to cut it. He nodded, taking the offered needle and thread. 

“Okay then, let’s…let’s do this.”

She nodded and turned back towards the door, letting him work in peace. It took him a few moments to prepare himself for what he was about to do, and, as gently as he could, stuck the needle in her skin. 

He flinched and expected her to do the same, but she sat perfectly still, examining the feathers on the robe a bit more. 

“Did that hurt?”

His voice was edged with concern, but when she turned her head to look at him, her eyes were gentle and calm. She shook her head minutely. 

“Do you feel…anything?”

She thought for a moment, gaze wandering away from his before she shrugged, settling back with her face to the door to signal the end of the discussion. He took a moment to absorb this new knowledge, then let out a shaky exhale and turned back to his work. 

“Okay then. Here we go. I;m sorry if this comes out…totally terrible but you have to understand I’ve never done anything like this before but I am far from a trained professional.”

The corpse hummed her assent and continued to play with her sleeves, and he could see the smallest corner of a smile playing on her gaunt lips. He tried to ignore what that sight did to his heart and got to work, slowly stitching together the corpse who had quite literally crashed into his life and correctly guessing it would not be the last time he did so.

[zipzapzopzoop]

There's a Great Big Beautiful Tomorrow

Chapter 25: Fear is a Liar

He was having that stupid dream again.

“I can’t believe I was dumb enough to think you were my friend!”

Why did this keep happening?

“I am your friend!”

The winds began to pick up and thunder rumbled above.

He looked down at his hands, watching in terror as they began to dissolve. That never happened this early! Was his dream changing? Why was it changing? 

“Mom! Help!”

Wilbur turned back to his family and the dark expressions they all gave him. He felt his heart drop. A small part of him knew it wasn’t real, but logic was being ignored in favor of survival.

He lunged towards Grandma Lucille, trying to grab her hand, but she only shook her head in disapproval and walked away. “Please! I’m sorry!”

He tried to grab at Uncle Fritz’s sleeve, but his hand had already dissolved. Panic choked the boy, and he tried to reach towards someone, anyone for help.

They all ignored him and walked away… All except for Franny.

Tears spilled down Wilbur’s face. He looked to his mother one last time. She only watched him with a glare that could freeze hell over.

“Goodbye, Wilbur.”

He took a step back and collapsed to his knees. The clouds spiraled above. 

This was his fault. 

This was all his fault.

Wilbur cried out in anguish, his voice echoing as he was ripped from the fabric of time and space.

“Wilbur!”

Someone had him by the shoulders.

“Wilbur! Wake up!”

Wilbur opened his eyes and screamed out.

“It’s okay! It’s just a dream!”

“Laszlo…?”

His cousin was shaking him.

“It’s just a dream, Wilbur.”

Before Wilbur even knew what was going on, he lunged forward and hugged Laszlo, clinging to his cousin like he was the only thing stopping him from disappearing.

Laszlo understood immediately and held Wilbur close.

“It’s okay. Whatever it was, it’s gone.”

His hands held onto his cousin’s coat, focusing on the texture to distract him. 

“When did you get here?” 

“Late last night. Aunt Franny and I accidentally scared the hell out of each other,” he chuckled. 

“Is that what that was? I just remember she was freaking out about something.” 

“Yeah,” Laszlo chuckled, sheepish. “That something was me. Sorry for causing such a fuss.”

“Dude, you’re fine. We’re all getting our bearings.”

A bit more calm, Wilbur took a deep breath and let go. He yawned and wiped at his face, glancing around the room. The sun had come up, but the day was still very fresh. The pillows and blankets from the family’s makeshift camp were still scattered around, but it was only him and Laszlo in the room.

“Where’s everybody else?”

“Downstairs. You were out cold, so we thought we’d let you sleep a little bit longer. I was just coming up to get my helmet and you were freaking out. What was that about, anyway? Are you okay?”

“Yeah… yeah I’m good. Is someone making bacon?” Wilbur dodged the question. 

“Oh yeah! Past Uncle Bud and Aunt Lucille left for work earlier, so Uncle Art’s making breakfast for everybody! We’re downstairs coming up with a plan!”

“Oh hell yeah!”

Perhaps it was because he jumped up so fast, or because he had only just had a nightmare moments before, but a painful shock of electricity shot through Wilbur, and he very nearly collapsed back down. Laszlo caught him, but like a conducted electric current, it spread to the artist as well. They both glitched, both boys crying out and lighting up a bright blue. There was a half a second Wilbur thought he saw something on his cousin, but it was too quick to tell what. But there was something covering part of his face, and a bright red glow.

As quick as it came, it was gone, and both boys were left clambering to their feet.

“What happened?! What the hell was that?! Wilbur, are you okay?!” Laszlo grabbed at his goggles.

Wilbur took a deep breath and turned to face the artist. There was no hiding this one.

“...I’ll explain at breakfast.”

------

Check out the chapter on my Archive!

[p0nyisgold]

Quotes from The Outsiders that stuck with me...WARNING:SPOILERS:

This is basically THE OUTSIDERS quotes that stick with me and that are my favorite. There also are some quotes with some Curtis brother love and appreciation:)) In no order BTW.

"Soda just put his hand on my shoulder. "Easy, Ponboy. They ain't gonna hurt you no more.""(Hinton, 08).

"I would. I'd help her and Randy both, if I could. "Hey," I said suddenly, "can you see the sunset real good from the West Side?" She blinked, startled, then smiled. "Real good." "You can see it good from the East Side, too." I said quietly. "Thank, Ponyboy." She smiled through her tears. "You dig okay." She had green eyes. I went on, walking home slowly." (Hinton, 130).

"Dally raised the gun, and I thought: You blasted fool. They don't know you're only bluffing. And even as the policemen's guns spit fire into the night I knew that was what Dally wanted. He jerked half around by the impact of the bullets, then slowly crumpled with a look of grim triumph on his face. He was dead before he hit the ground. But I knew that was what he wanted, even as the lot echoed with the cracks of shots, even as I begged silently-Please, not him. . .not him and Johnny both-I knew he would be dead, because Dally Winston wanted to be dead and he always got what he wanted." (Hinton, 154).

""Darry!" I screamed, and the next thing I knew I had him around the waist and was squeezing the daylights out of him. "Darry," I said, "I'm sorry. . ." He was stroking my hair and I could hear the sobs racking him as he fought to keep back the tears. "Oh, Pony, I thought we'd lose you. . .like we did Mom and Dad. . ." That was his silent fear then- of losing another person he loved. I remembered how close he and Dad had been, and I wondered how I could ever have thought him hard and unfeeling. I listened to his heart pounding through his T-shirt and knew everything was going to be okay now. I had taken the long way around, but I was finally home. To stay." (Hinton, 98-99).

""I'm pretty bad off, ain't I, Pony?" "You'll be okay," I said with fake cheerfulness. "You gotta be. We couldn't get along without you." The truth of that last statement hit me. We couldn't get along without him. We needed Johnny as much as he needed the gang. And for the same reason. "I won't be able to walk again," Johnny started, then faltered. "Not even on crutches. Busted my back." "You'll be okay," I repeated firmly. Don't start crying, I commanded myself, don't start crying, you'll scare Johnny." (Hinton, 121).

""You want to know something, Ponyboy? I'm scared stiff. I used to talk about killing myself. . ." He drew a quivering breath. "I don't want to die now. It ain't long enough. Sixteen years ain't long enough. I wouldn't mind it so much if there wasn't so much stuff I ain't done yet and so many things I ain't seen. It's not fair. You know what? That time we were in Windrixville was the only time I've been away from our neighborhood." "You ain't gonna die.""(Hinton, 121-122).

""We're all proud of you, buddy." Johnny's eyes glowed. Dally was proud of him. That was all Johnny had ever wanted. "Ponyboy," I barely heard him. I came closer and leaned over to hear what he was going to say. "Stay gold, Ponyboy. Stay gold. . ." The pillow seemed to sink a little, and Johnny died. You read about people looking peacefully asleep when they're dead, but they don't. Johnny looked dead. Like a candle with the flame gone. I tried to say something, but I couldn't make a sound. Dally swallowed and reached over to push Johnny's hair back. "Never could keep that hair back. . .that's what you get tryin' to help people, you little punk, that's what you get. . . " Whirling suddenly, he slammed back against the wall. His face contracted in agony, and sweat streamed down his face. "Damnit, Johnny. . ." he begged, slamming one fist against the wall, hammering it to make it obey his will. "Oh, damnit, Johnny, don't die, please don't die. . ." He suddenly bolted through the door and down the hall."(Hinton, 157-158).

I love you all and Stay Gold~

[dandelion-blues]

#3 PJO One-shot

A Test of Madness

Now on Ao3

Broken glass. Shards embedded in my skin. Coppery blood marked my skin, yet I gripped the shards harder, and it cut deeper into my palm. I wanted to feel pain. I wanted to feel alive. To feel my heart pumping and ignore that golden tint in my blood. To ignore the sea and ground and sky humming their chaotic tune for me to leave natural disasters in my wake, to scream and shout out all my frustrations.

Breath in…

Breath out…

Everything is fine. I'm Percy fucking Jackson, I can't afford to have a breakdown right now. I need to be on my best behavior, so the gods don't have an excuse to kill me. I need to be strong, I have to be the one to fulfill the prophecy, so Nico can live. I-I can't afford to be vulnerable, when could I ever be?

Everything is fine. I am 14 and ½ years old, and I just held up the sky last week, and the gods voted to kill me. Everything is fantastic!

Just breathe. Why is my vision blurry? Oh, I realize, as I taste salt on my lips, I'm crying. I start sobbing. Why am I crying? I grip the shard in my hand harder. The pain is stabbing, biting, and I bleed more.

Then, panic shoots through my veins. I don’t want this. I don't want to hurt anymore. Why am I doing this? I drop the shard from my hand. It clatters and breaks on the floor.

My knees fall to the floor as if the weight of the world is on my shoulders again. The broken pieces of the mirror dig into my pants, but all I feel is the overwhelming fear and hopelessness as I sob. My breath comes in shuttering gasps, and I cry and sob for the first time since I was twelve and thought I lost my mom.

Men can’t cry, shut up I told myself.

Aw, looks like brain boy is a coward too, no I’m not. I’m not! Still, the smell of rancid trash and beer bottles hit my nose, and the fear and nausea instantly came to me.

There was a purple haze in the air.

My tan skin became pale, and my green eyes sickly. Now I could only see as Smelly Gabe leered over me.

“Please no!” I screamed, “I’m sorry!”

I sobbed and awaited my beating. There was nothing I could do. Even as the son of Poseidon with all these powers, I was powerless. I was weak, useless trash, just like I’ve always been.

I felt his meaty hands grab me, I felt them on my throat. Black spots filled my vision, and I couldn’t breathe.

I thrashed around, choking and desperately trying to get some air. I wanted to live. I needed to. I couldn’t just leave the prophecy to Nico; he is only a little kid.

I grabbed onto Gabe’s fingers around my throat, and I pulled hard. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, and I remembered the minotaur’s horn in my hand — snap.

Gabe screamed in rage and pain, his fingers bent in broken and purpling.

“You little monster!” Gabe screamed, frothing from the mouth, “I’m going to kill you!”

I was still gasping for air, kneeling on the ground, but I looked at Gabe, my green eyes dark as the deepest seas and I said, my voice but a whisper but still it echoed around, “No you aren’t.”

I gritted his teeth and closed my eyes, focusing on air and the water around me.

“Go away!” I pushed my powers through. Water in the air and from the cabin came in, washing the blood from my skin and healing my mind and body. I shouted now with renewed energy, “You aren’t real!”

The haze cleared away from me, and I saw there was no one in the cabin with me.

Still, the leftover essence permeated the air, and I would be hard pressed to not recognize it, and I seethed, “Dionysus.”

The god shimmered in the air in a purple haze and soon became flesh before me, and I didn’t recognize him at first. He wore a purple chiton instead of leopard print and was slim and fit. He looks pretty and has purple silky hair that curls around golden leaves in his hair. Still what truly gave him away that this was Dionysus was that he drawled in his usual tone, even if his voice was clearer and less nasally, “Yes, Peter Johnson.”

I glared at the god, and he smirked amused. I snarled, “Why did you do this?!”

Dionysus rolled his purple eyes, “I’m the god of madness, and well who am I not to encourage someone’s descent into madness.”

Still, I saw the way the god wouldn’t meet my eyes, as if he was ashamed.

“That isn’t it.” I said.

Anger filled Dionysus eye’s and he glared at me but he saw the damage in my eyes. The way I put on a brave face, but was still trying to hide my fear — the way the god always reminded me of my worst fears of alcohol and madness.

Dionysus gritted his teeth, still he answered in a monotone voice, “It was a test set up by the King to see if you would fall into madness and thus could be killed off.”

I sat there numbly, blood pounding in my ears. How dare he?! How dare the King do that? After everything I’ve done for them, even after I won the vote to spare my life! Zeus truly is a dictator, isn’t he?! He wants to kill a 14-year-old just because he’s afraid.

Are the gods even worth saving? Well, Kronos sure isn’t any better.

I sigh still seething, I’ve always done this for the demigods anyways. What’s one more reason to hate the gods?

Still, I glance up at the camp director who is once again avoiding my eyes. I breathe in deeply and ask, “And what about you? Why’d you agree to do this?”

Dionysus clenches his fists, still avoiding my gaze, “You cannot avoid an order from the King, lest you risk unimaginable punishment.”

So that’s it, isn’t it?

I start laughing, hysterically. Tears rolling down my face as I laugh so much, I wheeze.

Dionysus stands there shocked, double checking that he isn’t using his domain once again on the boy.

Percy looks at Dionysus, “We are both just scared of our father figures, aren’t we?”

Dionysus' eyes open wide and shock, and anger starts to light his purple eyes, but he deflates when he sees the sincerity in Percy’s eyes.

Dionysus sighs, “Yes, I guess we are.” And Dionysus looks away pained, “The only difference is you beat yours and he’s not some immortal that can just come back.”

Percy stands up on shaky limbs and the god lets him approach, “I know that we don’t get along, but I wouldn’t be Sally Jackson’s son if I didn’t reach out to help.”

Dionysus snorts, “I guess that’s why you got on my nerves by not acting like I always expected heroes to act. You’re not really Poseidon’s son, the way you are your mortal mother’s are you?”

Then, Dionysus' visage changes back to looking like a trailer park cherub, “Also, Peter Johnson. You have a week of stable cleaning to do because you broke your mirror.”

My mouth hangs open in shock and I yell at Dionysus as he leaves, “No fair!”

The god just laughs back.

I just smile back. Perhaps things won’t be so bad, but I have a feeling that worse things are yet to come, but I’ll get through them anyways, just as I always do.

Notes:

I usually don't write in first person, but I thought I'd try it here.

I also feel like Dionysus is deeply misunderstood as well. Yes, he is a flawed character, but the chance for growth is there. Percy isn't Theseus, just as Dionysus isn't Gabe.

First - Previous - Next PJO One-shot

[tooktheladdedgbtq]

Parallels.

Pairing: Netflix!Nathan Byrn x Male!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: several mentions of blood, angsty toward the middle but sweet at the end. spoilers for episodes 2-3

Summary: starting on your chaotic journey, you and Nathan become closer when you realize how much you have in common.

A/N: sooo it’s been a whileee. a loooong while. but I love this show, and nathan brought me a lot of comfort. If nobody reads this it’s fine. I just needed to get this out. I’m sure i’ll come back here and laugh once I’ve actually read half bad.

(gif not mine)

A little over a week. Nine days to be exact. That’s how long you had to receive your family’s blood before you met an ill and gruesome fate on your giving day. You were a fledgling blood witch who’d become a victim of circumstance at an even younger age. A casualty of a war you had nothing to do with. Just because of the side you were born on. You thought it was unfair, but still tried not to have a chip on your shoulder. All of this was on your mind before you took a deep breath and opened the door to room 186 to meet the witch Gabriel. I was told he’d be expecting me, you thought as you walked through the hallway of lights. It’d all been arranged by your stepfather, who merely warned you not to be too trusting on your journey. Seeing as how his power was vague foresight, this should’ve clued you in that you wouldn’t be traveling alone. But you had no idea what was coming. “Come in! Come in! Welcome.” You heard his voice calling from the front room. “You must be Y/N, your uncle told me all about you. I will be your guide to my boss, a witch called Mercury.” Hearing your name pronounced in a french accent for the first time brought a giddy smile to your face. You nodded quickly hoping he didn’t notice and saved your questions for later. With that, Gabriel told you to make yourself at home while he started preparing for the journey. You complied. I wonder what his powers are. I wonder if I'll be like him. Or like mom. Watching Gabriel pull out and scatter materials across the counter and stove made you wonder. You’d seen your stepdad do this before but that wasn’t a witch's true power. You were told your mother was a powerful witch. Gabriel spoke again, pulling you from your thoughts. “You’re awfully quiet. That’ll be good for us.” Choosing not to ruin your newly acquired reputation, you continued watching in silence as he worked in the kitchen. The truth was you just had a lot on your mind. Your giving day was approaching soon and you were overwhelmed with excitement, grief, and fear all at the same time. All of this came before your entire life was further derailed by a knock at the door.

Remembering your stepdad’s caution about trust needing to be reserved, the knock shook you. That was before you’d even seen who was knocking, which worried you that much more. It was a lad your same age named Nathan Byrn and a girl called Annalise. The son of Marcus Edge. You wouldn’t be able to tell from looking at him, and while you found him quite attractive immediately, the warning you’d received repeated in your head. He doesn’t seem too menacing from this angle. Doesn’t help that he’s coated in blood though. You scanned him before he started with a subtle wave. “Hello, there was a map… on my hand.. led us here...” Before you could break your given vow of silence with a response, Gabriel intervened. Explaining how he’d been expecting Nathan to seek him out, how he worked for Mercury, and expressing confusions about Annalise’s presence. You took this as your opportunity to interject. “Wait, they’re coming with us?” you shot your head toward Gabriel with a look that said “are you kidding me?” But Annalise was the one to answer, announcing that, “Nathan needs family’s blood.” Gabriel then explained that Mercury was a powerful witch that kept samples of blood from all of the witch families, and that it shouldn’t be a problem getting it for you both. Nathan’s head cocked towards you after hearing this, realizing you needed your blood too. While Annalise started asking about changing her power, your mind pinpointed on Nathan still. So he needs his blood just like I do? What happened to him? He’s obviously on the run, so I can only imagine what the fairborns have done to him. Poor boy. The sympathy in your thoughts was almost oozing out of you as you glared at him. Meanwhile Gabriel continued explaining that you’d all have to go to Paris, France. You’d stop relaxing a while ago, sitting up at the sight of the two young witches. But this was the first time you’d heard anything about a destination, prompting you to speak again. “I’m fine with going to Paris, but didn’t mention there’d be others.” Both young witches turned to you. “Not that I don’t want you to come, it just would’ve been nice to have a head’s up”. Gabriel shuffled back into the kitchen before answering you. “You both are my assignments and I’m to bring both to Mercury” he offered, with you and Nathan turning to look at each other. That led to a short back and forth between him and Annalise about letting her tag along, ending when accepted her declaration and shooed both her and Nathan towards the bathroom to clean themselves up. Nathan taking the opportunity of walking by to make short eye contact with you again. There was unspoken tension between you two already, and you’d just met.

You sank back into the couch until it was the four of you in the front area again. That position didn’t last long though. With a knock at the door the two newest traveling buddies explained that you were right about your assumptions and they’d been on the run from the Fairborn council. Reactions were quick with Gabriel grabbing his revolver and firing back after they tore down the door, and Nathan showcasing his combat training by taking them down. You watched on from a good hiding place. He knows how to fight. That’s a good thing… right? Whatever, It’s impressive. “Where’d you learn to do that?” you questioned. Annalise voiced a response as praise. “Fairborn hunter training lessons went well.” Leading Nathan to crack a smile at you both and let out a breathy “Yeah, I guess they did.” It all happened in a flash, but seconds later Annalise’s true identity was revealed, and a second argument about whether she should go ensued. “We have to go! Now!” you snarled at them both. The Fairborn hunter outside had started a countdown and there was no other visible option. So, Gabriel shot out the window, grabbed both you and Nathan, and jumped off of the balcony.

Needless to say the three of you didn’t die, instead falling through a portal screaming, and landing about 3 feet off the ground. Pausing, still in each other’s arms, looking at one another for just one second before finally making contact with the concrete. Annalise shared a similar experience not long afterwards. So, after Gabriel made the three of you swear that you weren’t hiding anything else, you headed off. First stop was a convenient store where you overheard Nathan say Annalise wasn’t really his girlfriend. “I really don’t know what we are.” That’s good to know, you thought. Still finding him rather attractive. You didn’t hide your thoughts as well as you thought you did because a laugh sprung out of you when Gabriel replied that Nathan’s explanation wasn’t worth the wait. Nathan faced you and blurted out “What?” which only made you snicker harder. “Oh, nothing! It’s nothing at all, really” you jested. “Real great choice in partners” you jokingly whispered with a hint of jealousy. Gabriel had bought a bottle of vodka that you all shared on a toast to misadventure. Nathan chuckled watching your reaction after taking a sip. Making it obvious that you hadn’t had much experience with alcohol before.

Finding yourselves walking again, Annalise and Nathan both started with more questions. Annalise went first, asking “Okay, what now?” and getting her answer in the form of a boat decorated in lights that Gabriel pointed out. “Now, we wait.” Nathan followed up with another question. “Are there a lot of blood witches in Europe?" Keeping pace with the rest of the group, you saw fit to answer this time. “Besides the two you’re looking at right now, thousands.” The look on both your and Gabriel’s face had spelled out he’d asked a bit of a ridiculous question. Didn’t know he was a blood. Had my suspicions. Wonder how he ended up with Gabriel though, he thought. Nathan didn’t know you all that well but from what he’d heard about blood witches all of his life, he could tell you were different. He continued with a second question. “…and the fains don’t know?” Gabriel answering this one, and pausing when you’d gotten to the dock. Introducing the three of you to a pirate named Habir. Annalise took it upon herself to return the hospitality by introducing the three of you. “I’m Annalise, this is Nathan, and that’s Y/N.” With that out of the way, the three of you made your way aboard and to where you’d be spending the night. After settling in with a joint Gabriel asked Annalise about her power, which she revealed to be Decimation. Seeing her clear discomfort with talking about her power as an opportunity, Nathan changed the subject to you. “What about you, Y/N? What’s your story?” No matter how much you wanted to guard yourself, his voice had a boyishly charming tone that you couldn’t deny. If I want to get to know him more, it’s only fair I tell him about myself I guess. I just didn’t expect to be the one starting off. Your inner dialogue ended with you taking a deep breath and explaining your origins. “Both my real parents were bloods, sentenced to die by the Fairborn council. My mother for being accused of something she didn’t do, and my father for trying to save her. I was only an infant. Before all of this, I was staying with my stepfather. He knew my mom well and raised me after the Fairborns couldn’t find me. But obviously he couldn’t give me my blood, so here I am.” All three witches hung on your words. Nathan especially, related heavily to them. Annalise wondered what crime your mother had been accused of, Gabriel wondered if you wanted revenge against those who’d wronged you. But Nathan was just filled with empathy. I don’t think I’m a blood, and I still don’t want to be. I’m not sure what I am really. But it seems like Y/N has gone through just as much as me. I knew he was different but we really do have a lot in common. His thoughts permeated with feelings of sympathy for you. Unable to hide it for very long, gawking at you with a sorrowful expression, he broke the silence exclaiming “I’m sorry that happened to you, Y/N. My mom’s gone too. So is my grandmother, who took care of me for as long as I can remember. I know how you feel.” You’d been hanging your head for a bit after telling your story, but after hearing his response your head shot up. He lost his family too? Well, we’ve got about the same amount of luck I guess. Then, after gathering yourself a bit, you broke the short silence. “Thanks, it’s nice having someone who understands.” Your words were a cover for the inner turmoil you felt in the moment. Nathan smiled at you before shuffling off with his soup still in his hands and you couldn’t resist the urge to follow behind him. Choosing him over the joint Gabriel had offered you.

You found him taking in the night sky and decided to quietly join him, not wanting to pry into his life. The silence wasn’t awkward but calming. You’d felt like you just took off thirty pounds of extra weight you’d been forced to carry, and the sound of the waves eased your nerves. “When’s your giving day supposed to be, by the way?” His words caught you by surprise and you crept closer to answer. “Um.. it- it’s in 9 days.” You tried your best not to seem too bothered by earlier. “What, really? two days after mine?” You nodded. Yet another thing you’d had in common. “For bloods, you guys don’t seem so bad,” he joked. “Well, for whatever you’re gonna turn out as, you don’t seem so bad yourself,” you fired back with a nudge. “Thanks for sharing back there, you didn’t have to do that.” You spoke up. “I felt your pain. Been treated like a blood my whole life without even having powers yet. It ain’t fair.” His words moved you. Being shoulder to shoulder with him and seeing his smile up close when his eyes met with yours didn’t hurt either. For the first time during his entire incident, your mind wasn’t darting in multiple directions while trying to keep you safe. All you thought of at this moment was Nathan and how close the two of you had now become over such a short period. You could tell he was feeling similarly as he looked down at your lips, glancing back up only for a second, before connecting them to his. The kissing was sweet, with him taking the lead and letting his hand tenderly cup your jaw as you made out for a few seconds. His tongue dancing with yours after you decided to kiss back. Parting from your lips, he rested his forehead on yours and slid his hand down to your shoulder. You thought, is this really happening? He’d taken your breath away, giving your next sentence a breathy tone. “Nathan.. Do me a favor.. and try not to die.” Both of you were still mere inches apart from another kiss. “I will. I- I mean I won’t.. or god..” Nathan scrambled. The corner of your lips curled into a small smile before you responded. “Good,” cuffing the underside of his jaw this time, and meeting his lips one final time before backing off back to your sleeping arrangement. Earlier today I was more untrusting than ever before. Now I’ve gone and made out with him… Nathan shared your sentiment of having passionately kissed someone he’d only just met. But that wasn’t all the two of you shared. Deep down, you both were glad to finally have someone that understood what you were going through. The kiss was just a happy consequence of latent feelings that were planted the first time you met eyes with him. Although you mentioned nothing of it for the rest of the night, and both Annalise and Gabriel could tell you both were behaving off of sorts, the kiss still lingered in your minds. You’d already let the waves serenade you to sleep, while Nathan couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. He watched you rest peacefully, and wondered what sort of dreams you were having as your chest rose and fell with deep breaths. After all that’d just happened nobody on board knew for sure what was coming next in Paris. One thing was certain though. You had Nathan, and you were sure you could trust him now.

[determinedwriter]

Whumptober 2023 Day 9: Polaroid

Ro

Peter and I clean out my room together after Dad becomes a little too frustrated with my mess. After telling Peter about my overwhelming task, he offered to come over and help. I gladly accepted.

“Shoebox under the bed? Looks like a pretty good place for secrets.” He teases, opening the box.

“Quit it.” I reply, grabbing the box from him. “I don’t even know what’s in here.”

He takes a photo out of it. “Whoa, that looks so much like you. Is that…you?” 

Peter points to the baby in the photo and I take a closer look. “Yeah…Yeah, that’s…me and my mom.”

His eyes widen slightly. “You never talk about your mom. What’s she like? If…if you don’t mind me asking.”

I slowly nod. “She was…God, she was a beautiful person. Her name was Ivy. She’s the one who raised me until…until she was killed. When I was nine. And that’s when I met my dad. It’s kind of…a long story. But she’s gone now.”

Peter frowns. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

“It’s okay,” I tell him. “You didn’t know. And honestly…if I stop talking about her, I’m afraid I’ll forget about her. But if I start talking, I might not stop.”

He gives me a sympathetic look, hand moving towards mine as if to ask permission to hold it. I allow him to do so, Peter squeezing my hand gently. “Ro…you can talk to me about anything. You know that, yeah?”

I nod. “Yeah, I know. I just…I don’t want to scare you away.”

“You could never do that. There’s nothing I won’t understand.” He says. “I’m an orphan, Ro. I get what it’s like to lose that. At least a little. I was young, but I do miss them.”

“Is it too hard for you to talk about my mom because of that? I guess I’m pretty lucky to have my dad.” I reply softly.

I sit down on my bed and he sits beside me, still holding the Polaroid picture in his hand. “Tell me about her. Anything you wanna say.”

I take a deep breath. “She was amazing, Peter. I…I wish she was here. If she still was, I’d probably be in the middle of nowhere where I grew up. My mom and her parents before her…they had to go on the run from HYDRA. It’s a long story. Then my mom met my dad and…she gave birth alone. My grandparents both got killed before I was born. And my mom never told my dad I existed. She was terrified. But then…HYDRA caught up with her. And she was killed. In front of me. She was shot and…”

Closing my eyes and letting some tears fall, I feel Peter rub my back. “It’s okay. Take your time.”

“She was shot and I ran. She gave me a letter right before she died…with my dad’s address on it. And that Polaroid was inside.  And the rest is history. If I was stronger, maybe she’d still be here. I couldn’t s-save her.” I explain.

Leaning onto Peter’s shoulder, I apologize for my tears. “I’m sorry. Thank you for being here. That really means the world to me. Can I ask…what happened to your parents?”

“Plane crash.” He says. “Nothing anyone could do about it. I was six. I…I understand your fear of forgetting. It’s been ten years and I…I don’t remember their voices. That’s when Aunt May lost her sister and had to take in her nephew all at the same time. She’s been through a lot just to give me a home.”

I slowly nod. “I’m sorry, Peter. I know Aunt May must be glad that she’s been able to give you a place to live. And after losing her sister, I’m sure you were a comfort.”

Peter wraps his arm around me. “For the record…you were nine. You couldn’t have saved your mom. That’s not your fault.”

“Thanks…I just wish you could have known her. That my dad could remember more about her. He met her and they…well, made me. And then he never saw her again.” I explain. “I miss her so much.”

“You look a lot like her. Same eyes.” He comments.

I grin sadly. “Thanks. It’s hard for me to feel connected to her anymore, so…it’s good to hear I have a piece of her forever.”

There’s a knock at my bedroom door. “On a scale from one to ten, how clean is your room right now?” Dad asks.

I look around, seeing that our efforts were paused by me and Peter talking about the photo he found. “Umm, zero?”

He opens the door. “You invited a friend. I should’ve known you’d get distracted.”

Dad glances at the photo in Peter’s hand, playful and slightly annoyed facade dropping. “I forgot you still had that. You okay?”

I nod. “Yeah, we bonded over our shared dead parent trauma.”

He puts his hand up for a high five. “Welcome to the dead parent club, kids.”

Peter suppresses a laugh but doesn’t leave my dad hanging and high-fives him. “Uh, thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“No problem, kid,” Dad replies. “Get to cleaning or I’ll sell your gaming laptop.”

“I’ll sell your soul, old man.” I tease.

“Can’t sell something I don’t have.” He counters.

“Damn it,” I mumble.

I love the people in my life. I can’t lose them. I really, really can’t lose these two. I don’t know what I’d do without them around. 

I don’t know if I’d survive.

[helliontherapscallion]

Safe

Pairing: SBI family x reader (platonic, one shot), BASED OFF FROM CHARACTERS NOT ACTUAL PEOPLE

Warnings: child abuse/neglect, bullying, alcoholism, death of a parent, mentions of panic attacks, injury, mentions of a dog’s death, mentions of eating disorders, mentions of suicide attempts, depression

Word count: 7,730

(A/N): if you’re not feeling safe at home or are being abused, please contact the proper authorities. Here’s the abuse hotline: 1-800-799-7233, my DMs are always open if you want to talk 

You met Tommy and Tubbo when you were in third grade. You were a relatively quiet kid, the type to always keep to themselves and abstain from social activity. Mrs. Jansen, being the nice woman that she was, let the entire class choose their own seats.

“Welcome to your first day of third grade, class! I’m Mrs. Jansen and I look forward to getting to know all of you. As you can see, there are enough desks for all of you. You may sit with who you want.”

You shifted around uneasily and gripped your book in your hands as your classmates hurried to get the back seats. After every seat was taken, you walked to the only seat left in the front. You were between a girl and a boy. They introduced themselves as Dorothy and Samuel, and were relatively kind to you. 

As the class passed their second week, two boys that sat in the back row made themselves apparent very quickly. They were both rambunctious, always disrupting the class with their giggles and whispers. Mrs. Jansen had warned them multiple times that she was going to separate them, but it seemed that they didn’t think she’d do it. One day, she finally had enough.

“Tommy, Tubbo. I’ve given you plenty of warnings, I’m going to have to separate you. Dorothy, Samuel, can you please switch places with them?”

You could feel dread wash over you. Why was she putting you between them?! What did you do wrong to deserve this? You could swear that you’ve done all your chores, you even made your mom smile at you! She never did that. 

They pouted as they sat next to you, Tommy on your right and Tubbo on your left. You already missed Samuel and Dorothy. “Thank you. (Y/n), make sure they behave.”

You shrunk down into your seat as you felt Tommy’s glare burning holes into the side of your head. Tubbo, on the other hand, was watching the lesson with bored eyes and  his chin propped up in his hand. You tried to take notes, but you kept getting distracted by Tommy’s heated glare. You were going to fall behind, you couldn’t have that. Mama wouldn’t like that. 

After the final bell rang, you hurried out of the classroom to avoid Tommy’s wrath. You could hear him shouting for you to stop, but you never stopped until your hand was grabbed and yanked backwards in the empty playground. You fell back onto the pavement of the basketball court and whimpered at the sting in your palms. 

Tommy glared down at you, “you gonna cry? Serves you right. Never tell on Tubbo and I. Got it?”

You tearfully nodded and he grinned maliciously at you, “good. Tubbo, let’s go. Wil and Tech’s probably waiting for us.”

The brunet was staring at Tommy with a shocked expression, unmoving. Tommy rolled his eyes and huffed before he grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the crowd of families. Tubbo looked back at you with an apologetic expression and watched as you looked at your scratched up palms. 

You wiped at your tears as you stood up and started to walk home. Your neighbor’s dog behind the wired fence barked at you as you hurried past it. You never liked that dog; it was a drooling, angry, ugly furball. It scared you, but not as much as Mama did when she drank her adult juice. She was scary when she drank it. You tried hiding it from her once but she grounded you from eating dinner and snacks for half a month. You didn’t try to hide it again. 

You trudged up the creaky wooden stairs of your porch and tried to open the door only to find it locked. You tried to knock on the door but Mama didn’t answer so you just sat on the front porch waiting for her to open the door. She did so when the sun was setting, surprise and then anger shining through her hazy eyes. She yelled at you before she sent you to your room for the night without dinner.

The next day when you were sitting alone at a lunch table, someone plopped down in the seat next to you. You jumped and scooted away from them, looking up only to see Tubbo. He was smiling at you.

“Hey, I’m really sorry about Tommy, he gets mad easily.”

You eyed him warily and clutched your open book, “...it’s okay.”

He grinned and scooted closer to you, peering over your shoulder at the book. “What’re you reading?”

“‘Harry Potter’.”

“Oh I love that book! My favorite character’s Ron, who’s yours?”

Surprisingly, the conversation was pleasant before he was dragged away by a glaring Tommy. You might actually make a friend after all. Later that day after school, Tommy once again stopped you in the school yard. This time, he shoved you to the ground and started to shout at you. 

“You do not talk to him, freak! You’re gonna mess him up, he talks to me and me only. Do you unde-undastunend?”

You gulped and shakily spoke up, “yes, and it’s ‘understand’, not ‘undastunend’.”

His glare intensified before he reared back a fist. You yelped as you curled into a ball with your hands protecting your head. Before he could hit you, you heard the stomping of shoes against the concrete.

“TOMMY STOP.”

You could feel a hand on your back and a gentle voice asking if you were alright. You hesitated before you looked up to see an older boy with a mop of curly brown hair on his head and wire glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He reminded you of Harry Potter. Looking past him, you saw a tall pink haired boy glaring and lecturing Tommy, holding the struggling boy in place with a firm grip on his elbow. Tubbo was just behind him looking down and shifting on the balls of his feet.

“I am so sorry about Tommy, are you alright? He didn’t hit you did he?”

You shook your head and the boy heaved a sigh of relief, “that’s good. I’m Wilbur and that’s Technoblade, we’re Tommy and Tubbo’s brothers. What’s your name?”

“(Y/n).”

He smiled at you, “that’s a lovely name.”

“Wilbur, let’s go. This one,” Technoblade shook Tommy’s arm, “needs to talk to Dad.”

You watched as Tommy’s movements stopped and he looked up with wide eyes. “No, please don’t tell Dad. Please-” 

Wilbur stood and helped you up before grabbing Tubbo’s hand and lead him away, “you aren’t weaseling your way out of this.”

You watched the brothers leave, feeling guilt wash over you. You didn’t want to get him in trouble, punishments were the absolute worst. Even though he shoved you and almost punched you, he didn’t deserve any punishment. With guilt weighing down on your shoulders, you walked home. At least Mama was in a good mood, she made you some mac n cheese for dinner. 

The next day, Tommy trudged up to your desk and put a tupperware dish on your desk before sitting down in his seat and ignored you. Tubbo sat in his seat next to you and smiled at you.

“Open it,” he jumped in his seat slightly as he watched your expression change to shock. In the container laid five chocolate chip cookies. You had only had cookies once in your life and that was during a class birthday celebration a year ago. “They’re our Dad’s secret recipe, I helped make them! Um, Tommy wanted to apologize to you.”

You glanced at Tommy. He was glancing at you over his shoulder and blushed a bright red when he saw you looking at him. Tubbo cleared his throat and gestured at Tommy. The blond crossed his arms and looked off to the side. “Sorry,” he mumbled halfheartedly. 

After that, they started to sit next to you during lunch. Tommy was a bit cold towards you, but you found yourself beginning to relax around Tubbo’s friendly aura. Soon enough, you started to supply him with more than a few words per sentence. Tommy eventually got bored of eating in silence and would join your conversation. You three became thick as thieves that year, you even met their Dad. He was very different from Mama; he never yelled at you, he was always giving you snacks, and he even smiled at you often. 

That house became like a second home to you. Eventually, you ended up spending more time at the Minecraft residence than you spent at home with your mom. Over the years, she got worse with her drinking. She was always passed out on the couch and when she wasn’t, she was swaying on her feet in the kitchen staring at a portrait with dazed, wistful eyes. You can remember when you first realized that she had a problem and always being unhappy and drunk was, in fact, not normal for a parent. 

It was a warm spring day in seventh grade. Luckily, you had your health class with Tommy and Tubbo. You were currently learning about alcohol dependency and the effects it had on the body. The teacher listed all the symptoms your mom had; the uncontrollable urge to drink, the aggression, the shakiness and dizziness, everything. When you came to the realization that your mother might have a problem, the teacher started to explain the disorders and diseases that could come from heavy drinking, most of them having the potential to be fatal if the drinking persisted. You felt like you were drenched in icy water as your body seized up in fear for your mother. You stared unseeingly at your notebook at the symptoms of alcoholism and associated disorders. You didn’t want your mom to die. You had to do something before it was too late for her.

“(Y/n)?” You jumped and looked at the person who called your name. Tommy and Tubbo were giving you worried stares. “Are you okay?”

You shakily started to put your supplies away into your backpack. The class had been dismissed and you didn’t even realize it. “Y-yeah. It’s just- I’m worried.”

“Yeah, I’m worried too,” Tommy laughed as you followed the two out of the classroom and to the courtyard. “That essay’s gonna be awful.”

“Oh god we have an essay?”

“Yeah, Mr. Smithers assigned it to us before the bell rang, are you sure you’re okay? You’re usually on top of this stuff.” Tubbo threw a worried glance towards you.

“Yeah, just a bit distracted today. I uh, have to go home. Like right now, my mom wants me home right after school today.”

You sprinted off towards your house. When you reached your neighborhood and ran past the wired fence. The bulldog that lived there was now old and gray. You found out that his name was Buster and he was actually a total sweetheart if you slept next to him on the other side of the fence on more than one occasion. Buster watched from inside his doghouse as you sprinted into the house. Luckily for you, the door was unlocked and your mother was passed out on the couch surrounded by glass bottles. You locked the door behind you as you rushed over to her intensely watching for any sign of movement. She looked dead, her skin was pale, her hair matted, and her mouth gaping open showing off her yellow stained teeth. She wasn’t moving, were you too late?

Just as you started to panic, she snorted and started to breathe. You slumped in relief as you stepped over the beer bottles into the kitchen. The table was sparkly clean with a pristine picture frame resting in the middle, a stark contrast of the beer bottles that littered the floor and the piles of dirty dishes in the sink. It was of a man standing stiffly in a military uniform saluting at the camera with a stern expression. He was an exact copy of you. Well, you were an exact copy of him; that man was your late father.

“Hey Dad, how was your day? Mine was awful, I learned about alcoholism and cirrhosis today and- and I’m worried about Mom. She’s been drinking a lot lately.”

You stared at your dad’s face behind the glass as if expecting a response. You wanted some reassurance from the man. You wanted him to tell you everything was going to be okay and that he’d handle it so you could be a normal kid. Like usual, his steely expression didn’t budge one bit. 

You sighed to yourself sadly and trudged to the refrigerator opening the door. The beer bottles stared back at you tauntingly. Your fingers twitched on the fridge door as you contemplated the consequences of throwing away the offending glass bottles. You remembered in second grade when you hid your mother’s alcohol she punished you by withholding food from you. She’d probably do worse this time, but the consequences were worth it if you were going to save your mother’s life. 

It took you ten minutes of tossing alcohol into the garbage can until the fridge was left barren of the drink. Without the green bottles, the fridge was completely empty with the exception of milk and a few probably rotten eggs. You struggled to take the trash out to the curb and started to work on homework in your room. 

At seven at night, you could hear her roll off the couch and stumble into the kitchen. A series of frantic rustling and banging sounded downstairs before you could hear pounding footsteps storm up the stairs. Your door flung open to reveal your red-faced, livid mother. 

“What the fuck did you do?”

“M-mom I hid them because we learned about alcoholism and cirrhosis and-” You cut yourself off when she walked over to you with her arms extended towards your trembling frame. You tried to scoot as far away from her as possible, but she grabbed your shoulders with clammy but firm hands, shaking you roughly.

“Are you saying I have a problem?! You spoiled fucking brat, you’re the problem! Everything was amazing before you came and fucked up my life. You took him away from me. YOU FUCKING KILLED MY HUSBAND.”

You could feel tears start to drip down your cheeks as you remembered that day in first grade when you begged your dad to get you some McDonalds for dinner. When he relented, you cheered and your mom laughed at your excitement. She was so full of life back then; her hair was shiny and bouncy, her skin was unmarked and flawless, her eyes were lively and bright. Her laughter was perhaps your favorite memory of her. Then everything went to shit when your dad never came home and your mom got a phone call saying that your dad was killed in a car wreck on impact. You could remember your mother’s heart wrenching sobs as she collapsed to the floor and pulled you tight against her body. As if she was trying to protect what was left of her husband.

You were snapped back to reality when your mom shoved you back onto your bed. The happy, beautiful woman that you saw was replaced by the shell of a broken woman. Her silky hair turned dull, her smile turned into a grotesque scowl, her loving eyes turned cold. She truly was a husk of her former self. 

“Stop crying, you’re not the one who’s life was ruined. I want you out of my house in ten minutes. You’re gonna not step foot anywhere near here for two weeks. If I even see you on my property before those two weeks are up, you’re fucking dead.”

You frantically nodded and watched as she stumbled out of her room. You packed what you would need in your spare backpack and ran out of the house past your mother sobbing and babbling incoherently to your dad. You flinched when you could hear a bang and the sound of glass shattering when she threw a bottle at your retreating figure. 

You ran until you couldn’t run anymore. Your legs brought you to the park where you spent most of your childhood. Everywhere you looked, you could see glimpses of your mom and dad pushing you on the swing, Tommy and Tubbo running from you playing tag, Mr. Minecraft putting a bandaid on your scraped knee. Tears streaked down your cheeks as you pushed yourself up and went to your safe place. It was a little nook deep in the vegetation where nobody could see you. You originally found this place when you were playing hide and seek with Tommy and Tubbo. They never knew where you hid.

Tears moistened the soil underneath you as you pulled out a blanket you had hid in a plastic grocery bag and spread it out on the floor. You curled up on it and cried freely into your hands. You didn’t sleep much that night. 

That was the first time she had kicked you out for that long. You barely ate in those two weeks, wolfing down any food you could get your hands on at lunch. Lunch for you was the small scraps of food that Tommy and Tubbo shared with you. Mom never packed you lunches or gave you money to buy things anymore. To make matters worse, they had told their dad that they thought you had some form of eating disorder. 

About a week into your exile, you finally visited the Minecraft residence after avoiding them for a week. You remembered how the blond man pulled you aside into the kitchen. He gently sat you down and pushed a plate full of chicken and vegetables in front of you. You looked at him confused as he gestured towards the plate.

“Eat that, I heard you haven’t been eating much lately.” When you made no move to eat, he smiled at you. “Go ahead, it’s okay if you don’t eat it all. Just eat some of it.”

That was all you needed to hear, you began to eat quickly like a starving wolf. It’s been a while since you had more than half an apple to eat, let alone an actual homemade meal. When you were done, you looked up to see the older man looking at you worriedly. 

“...Are you not getting enough food at home?”

You scrambled to find a lie, “my- my mom is away a lot on business trips. We don’t really eat much.”

His worried expression grew tenfold as he moved to kneel in front of you and put his hands on your shoulders. “You need to eat three meals a day, especially now that you’re growing. You’re always welcome here when your mom’s away, our door’s always open. Is she away now?”

“Yeah, she won’t be home until next week.” You felt bad for lying to the man that put bandaids on your scraped knees and took you to the father daughter dance in fifth grade when he heard that your dad was dead. He was always so kind to you, which you never quite understood. Despite feeling bad for lying to him, you felt incredibly relieved that you didn’t have to be alone anymore. 

From then on out whenever she kicked you out, you went to the Minecraft residence. They welcomed you with open arms and treated you like you were a part of the family. You and Techno bonded over your love for reading and mythology, Wilbur made sure you took care of yourself, and Philza (he told you to just call him Phil at that point) treated you like his own child. You didn’t think that it was possible for you, Tommy, and Tubbo to be any closer than you already were, but you three became inseparable. You told them everything one night when you couldn’t sleep. You told them how you felt like you were the cause of your mother’s decline and your dad’s death, how she would usually punish you, her ‘hobby’. They were about to tell Philza, but you begged them not to. After a while of pleading and assuring them that she’d never hit you, they hesitantly agreed and made you promise to call them whenever you felt unsafe in your home. 

You kept to that promise, calling them whenever she would get too drunk to know what she was doing. They would calm you down from panic attacks late at night and invite you to their house in the daytime. They felt like your actual brothers and you started to refer to them as such. You three gave each other a shoulder to lean on and gave each other comfort when needed. One night when you were in your freshman year, however, your mother caught you sneaking out to see them after she sent you to your room. That was when she started to hit you.

Just as you were about to sneak out the front door, your mother started to scream at you incoherently. When you flinched away from when she got up in your face, she became even more enraged. 

“WHERE WERE YOU GOING? I BET YOU’RE WHORING YOURSELF OUT, AREN’T YOU LITTLE SLUT?”

Without thinking, you yelled back at her, “I would never! Why-” You were cut off by a harsh slap to the cheek sending you to the ground. She quieted down and stared at you and her hand, a glint of shock shining through her dazed eyes. Without a word, she turned around and left to go talk to your dad. You sat there listening to her rant about how she failed as a mother, how she wanted to do better but she didn’t know how, how she wished that he was there with her. You scrambled up and ran to your room. You looked at yourself in the mirror, there was a bright red mark on your cheek in the shape of a hand. There was a small cut where her wedding ring connected with your cheek. A single drop of blood dripped down your cheek and curved down the dip of your chin before dripping onto your shirt. Without doing anything else, you plopped down onto your bed and sobbed into your pillow, crying yourself to sleep.

When you woke up in the morning, you realized that you slept through half of the school day so it was useless to go to school now. You reached up to run a hand down your face only to hiss and pull your hand away. You once again looked at yourself in the mirror.

You looked terrible. Your eyes were bloodshot and swollen like you were crying in your sleep. Hair was sticking up in all directions and matted slightly. The slap mark was gone, but the cut had bruising around the edges with dried blood crusted on your cheek and on your pillow. It was a small cut, but it bled a surprising amount overnight. You couldn’t see Tommy or Tubbo like this, they’d flip out. Luckily for you it was a Friday and you had the weekend to heal. 

Your mother gradually started to hit you more and more. It started off as a once-a-week thing whenever she was really angry, but then it divulged into something that would happen daily over the smallest things. You became her punching bag for her to release some steam. Makeup became your best friend at that point; you used what little savings you saved over the years for dollar store makeup.

Soon after it became a struggle to hide the cuts and bruises from Tommy and Tubbo, so you gradually started to avoid them. Your face, once synonymous with the Minecraft residence and Tommy and Tubbo, became a rarity. They tried their hardest to contact you, but you always dodged their calls. After a few months of you dodging Tommy and Tubbo, you finally told them that you didn’t want to be friends with them anymore. 

It broke your heart to say it, but it had to be done. They were getting too close to the truth and you couldn’t have that; the government would take you away from your mom and she’d end up dead. You were the only one keeping her alive at this point, she lost all motivation to eat. The only thing she did nowadays was hit you, drink, and hug your dad’s photo to her chest. 

The beatings got to the point where you could barely walk without feeling pain. School became something that you’d rarely attend. Tommy and Tubbo stopped trying to talk to and call you. Buster, your previous confidant, had long since died so you were truly alone in the world. The neighbor’s yard looked barren without the dog house and the graying dog. The only person you had left was your mom. 

When you had accidentally burnt dinner late at night, she completely snapped. She grabbed your arm and held it on top of the burner. Pain hit you immediately as you screamed and cried apologies to her. When you instinctively hit her with your other hand, she dug her nails into your arm and pushed your arm closer onto the burner. Nerve endings screamed at you to get away from the pain. The pain was becoming too much, so you looked on the countertop next to you for something to defend yourself with. A metal fork was lying close to your other hand. 

You grabbed it and, with a distraught apology to your mother, drove the prongs deep into her arm. She screamed in pain and let your arm go. You ripped yourself out of her grasp and started to run for the front door. A force collided with the back of your shoulder making pain explode in the area. You didn’t know what happened at first, but after hearing the shattering of glass, you realized that she threw a beer bottle at you. You could feel the sting of alcohol and glass mingling with your open wounds on your shoulder. The sting was almost as bad as your arm, but you didn’t stop running especially when you glanced behind you to see her running at you with a knife raised and the fork protruding from her arm.

You flung open the door and sprinted out without bothering to close the door behind you. As your bare feet hit the sidewalk, you could hear your mother stop at the end of the stairs and shout at you to come back. You never stopped.

You didn’t stop until your feet took you to the Minecraft residence’s front door. Nobody was on the street as it was about eleven at night. You hesitated to knock on their door, you ignored the family for the past six months, and you weren’t sure if they even wanted you there. After five minutes of thinking, you just sighed as you walked back down the wooden stairs and walked back towards the sidewalk.

“(Y/n), what are you doing here?” You froze up at Tommy’s sleep riddled voice. You stayed frozen as you heard him stomp over to you. He placed a firm hand on your injured shoulder and forced you to turn around. His angry expression faded into a concerned one when he heard you start to sob and flinch away from him. 

“Wha- shit are you bleeding?” You nodded slightly and he gently turned you back around to see a patch of darkened cloth on your shirt. You could feel him shaking as he grabbed your arm and pulled you into the house. He plopped you at the dining room table and told you to wait there. With that, he sprinted up the stairs and brought back a serious Philza holding a first aid kit. 

When he saw you bruised and battered, you could hear him take in a sharp intake of breath and saw unbridled anger flash across his face. You flinched away from him when he approached you. 

“Hey,” he said in a gentle voice, “I won’t hurt you. Can you show me where you’re hurt?” 

You eyed him warily like a scared wild animal and reluctantly moved your burned arm away from your chest and showed it to him. This was the first time you saw your forearm; it was an ugly red that expanded up the majority of the underside of your forearm with skin burned off at the edges. Yellow, fluid-filled blisters were starting to form. 

You could hear Tommy’s horrified gasp as he turned to run out of the room. You kept your gaze downwards as Philza warned you that he was about to put disinfectant on your wound. He apologized to you when you whimpered in pain at the sting of the alcohol on your exposed nerves. After he was finished wrapping your arm, he asked you to show him where else you’re injured. You turned around so he could see the growing patch of blood staining your now ripped shirt. You could feel him gently move your shirt to the side and heard him wince. 

“Shit, there’s glass in here. I’m going to have to get some tweezers to get it out. Stay here, I’ll be right back.” You were then alone in the kitchen for a moment before he came back with a worried Wilbur and Techno in tow. The brunet pulled up a chair next to you and asked if it was alright to hold your hand. After you hesitantly nodded, he grabbed your hand and started to run his thumb over your knuckles. Techno held a light close to your shoulder as Philza started to tweeze out the green tinted glass from your shoulder. 

Every time you would suck in air through your teeth and muffle your yelps with your other hand, Wilbur would whisper reassurances to you and hold your hand tighter. After the glass was out, the wound was disinfected, and wrapped in gauze, Philza told the boys to leave the room. He grabbed both of your hands and gave you the best reassuring smile that he could.

“Tell me what happened.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you felt tears well up in your eyes, “I tried Phil, I really did. She never got better no matter what I did.”

“What do you mean, are you talking about your mom?” You could hear the angry undertone of his voice. You tensed up and nodded.

“She… she needs help. She was never the same after Dad died, she started drinking. It started off with only one beer a day, but after seventh grade she was going through an entire case in a day. She’d punish me if I said or did anything about it. No dinner for a week was a popular one until she started to ban me from the house for weeks on end. She never went on business trips, Phil. She got a knife today. I-I thought she was actually gonna kill me this time, I was so scared.”

Without another word, he pulled you into a tight hug, letting you sob freely into his shoulder. “It was my fault, I couldn’t help her! She- she needed me and I couldn’t help her.” You said between sobs. He hugged you tighter and started to rub your back, making sure to avoid your shoulder. “None of this is your fault, you can’t help someone if they don’t want help. Sometimes you can’t fix someone who’s too far gone.”

“Am I too far gone?”

“No, you aren’t. We’ll help you through this, we won’t let anybody hurt you ever again. You’re gonna go on to live a good life.” You passed out in his arms after a while of crying. 

When you woke up, you were in Tommy and Tubbo’s room. The two boys jumped to your side and pulled you into a tight group hug. After you tried to apologize to them for how you treated them in the past six months, they shushed you and just sat there in silence hugging you. 

Later that day you found out that your mother was found by your neighbor on the front porch with her wrists slit and empty beer bottles surrounding her. She was breathing, but just barely. Currently she was in an unstable condition in the hospital. You had a full breakdown when you found out that she almost killed herself because of you. You had run out of the house and to your safe place in the park. You hadn’t been there in a few years, so you hoped that it was still there. 

Sure enough, it was still there albeit a bit overgrown. The blanket in the plastic bag was in the same place where you left it. You had no idea how long you were sitting there crying and having a panic attack, but when you came to your senses it was dark outside. You could hear crickets chirping and the rustling of leaves in the entrance of your hideout.

A brunet head poked itself in and smiled when he saw you. Tubbo fully came into the nook and gestured for someone to follow. Tommy’s blond hair made itself apparent before he joined you two inside.

“Nice little place you have here. It’s… homey.” Tubbo rubbed his hands together and blew warm air on them. You threw one side of the blanket at him and pulled your knees up to your chest. “Thanks, I used to sleep here sometimes… How’d you find me?”

“We could hear you,” Tommy pulled out his phone and typed something on it before pocketing it and sitting next to you. He covered himself with the blanket as Tubbo followed suit. You sat in silence before Tommy broke it. 

“How long has she been hittin you?”

“Tommy!” Tubbo scolded him.

“She started about six months ago.”

“Six months ago… that was when you cancelled plans! I knew something was wrong Tubbo.”

Tubbo said nothing as he looked at you with a helpless expression. Just as he was about to open his mouth, you interrupted him. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. Everything’s my fault. I’m the reason my mom’s in the hospital right now fighting for her life. I wasn’t there for her.” You would’ve started crying if it weren’t for the fact that you just felt so drained and numb.

“The fuck do you mean? She was about to kill you! You told us that she was about to stab you, what else were you supposed to do, just let her kill you?!” Tommy exclaimed.

You shrugged, “maybe. If she did she’d be happy, I was just a burden to her. I- I just wanted her to be happy and I would never be able to do that as long as I’m alive. If she killed me she wouldn’t be in the hospital right now.”

“What the fuck (y/n),” Tubbo shouted, startling you. He never shouts, let alone swears. “How could you even say that? I don’t know what I’d do without you, everything would be so boring and nothing would be the same without you. Fuck her happiness, she’s a wretched woman if the only way she can be happy is when you’re dead. Fuck her.”

You and Tommy stared at the seething boy in shock. He never shouted when he was angry, he only did that once when he found out that Tommy was being bullied. Whenever he sweared, that’s when you knew his emotions were hitting him at full force. Tommy quickly recovered from his shock to join him, “yeah fuck her, man! She can go suck a dick.” He was interrupted by his phone buzzing.

“Dad’s here, c’mon he’s worried sick about you.” After they helped you out of your safe place, they both wrapped an arm around your shoulders and walked you to the parking lot. You could see the headlights of the lone car in the lot turn off before the door swung open and a figure rushed towards you. You pushed yourself behind Tommy and Tubbo and hid behind them fearfully. They both turned around and put a hand on your shoulders. “It’s okay, it’s our dad.”

You peeked over their shoulders and saw a mop of disheveled, long blond hair. Philza looked like he was just told that there was an antidote for a fatal poison he just ingested, despite the flash of hurt that showed on his face. His blue eyes were accentuated by the redness of his sclera and you can see the relief painted in them. A gentle smile was on his face as he moved his arms up. Without another word, you launched yourself at him and pulled him into the tightest hug you could manage with your shoulder.

“Are your accusations true, Mx. (L/n)?” 

Your gaze flickered over to your mother sitting on the other side of the courtroom. She looked at you with no expression on her face. Her wrists were wrapped tightly in a white bandage that was a stark contrast to the bright orange prison uniform and the silver of the handcuffs. She wasn’t the woman you knew when your dad was alive. The life was sucked out of her the second she picked up that phone call.

You looked back at the lawyer, “yes sir.”

“I have no further questions, your honor.”

“You may return to your seat, Mx. (L/N).”

You stood up and walked as confidently as you could past the dull eyes of your mother and back to your seat between Tommy and Tubbo. You held their hands tightly as the trial moved onwards. Buster’s owner even stepped up to the witness stand to give his testimony. Apparently he knew about the abuse from your late night conversations with Buster. He had contacted CPS and the police multiple times but the case was always dropped for some reason that you couldn’t bring yourself to ponder. A few of your previous teachers even showed up to give their testimonies. Their words, though true and slightly sweet, rubbed you the wrong way. If they ‘knew something was happening at home with you’, then why didn’t they do anything when it was happening? You tried to focus on the rest of the trial. 

Your mother’s only witness was herself, and she did a piss poor job at it. She was basically digging her own grave with every word that came out of her mouth. The entire time, she was staring at you with her infamous dull eyes. 

“Do you have any further points you would like to add, Mrs. (L/n)?”

“Yes, I have always loved my child. They were my husband’s pride and joy, the splitting image of him. Their rightful place is safe with their real parent at our home.”

You could feel Tommy attempt to stand up, but you pulled him back down; now was not the time for him to start yelling in anger. Tubbo squeezed your hand in reassurance and glanced at you. You were staring at the woman you called your mother with pain and hate filled eyes. You wished her words were sincere, but you knew fully well that they weren’t. The words that left her mouth would’ve been one hundred percent true  and genuine when your dad was still alive, but he’s buried six feet under in a military cemetary now and he has been for years. You would’ve given anything, even your own life, for those words to be true a month ago, but you knew better now. Mothers don’t treat their kids like this, they’re supposed to give their children their unconditional love and take care of them. As far as you were concerned, she was no longer your mother. She forfeited that title the second she turned to the bottle. Philza is and will always be more of a parental figure than she’ll ever be. 

After the jury left to discuss, the court was in a recess. You slipped out of the room and speed walked to the bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror. You could see heavy eye bags under your dull eyes. The dullness of your eyes, to your horror, reminded you of your mother, so you splashed your face with water. That fixed it, your eyes were slightly brighter. You could still see the faint outline of the scar on your cheek from when she first hit you. Small scars littered your face from the more recent wounds she gave you before you ran.

A knock sounded at the door, “(y/n), the recess is almost over.” It was Techno.

You patted your face dry and went to leave the bathroom. The pink haired boy that you now saw as your older brother was waiting patiently for you on the other side. He put a gentle hand on your shoulder and led you back to the courtroom. There, the rest of the Minec- no, your family was waiting for you. Just as you reached them, the judge announced that the jurors would be arriving back. The entire courtroom stood as they walked in.

“Have you reached a verdict?” The judge asked.

“We have.”

“Mrs. (L/n) and Mr. Langsburg, would you stand and face the jury? You may read the verdict.”

“We the jury of the state court find the defendant guilty under the charges of child abuse and child neglect.”

Tommy clapped a hand on your shoulder as Tubbo squeezed your hand. They both smiled widely at you. You, however, didn’t acknowledge them. You were only staring at the empty eyes of your mother as she was looking at the jury. Her reaction was akin to her breaking a pencil, like it didn’t matter to her. Like all the years abuse that she put you through didn’t matter was as trivial as breaking a pencil. 

“So say you all?”

“Yes, your honor.” 

“I hereby sentence Mrs. (L/n) to twelve years in the state penitentiary with no opportunity of parole. Mr. Philza Minecraft shall be bestowed the custody of Mx. (Y/n) (l/n) as they do not have any next of kin. Court is adjourned.” With that, she banged the gavel and the courtroom exploded in the bustling of people. You never took your eyes off from your mo- no, the monster with the dull eyes as she picked at something in her nails boredly. Just as she looked up to meet your gaze, Tommy pulled you into a tight hug, lifting you off the ground slightly. You were passed around the family in the courtroom for their individual hugs. Philza’s was comforting, Tubbo’s was congratulatory, Wilbur’s was warm, and Techno’s was slightly awkward, yet soft. 

At home, you spent most of your time in the spare room Philza had given you. He had offered to help you decorate it, but you had no idea where to start. You were never allowed to have decorations in your old room. You kept the room simplistic and your possessions light. 

You often stared at your dad’s portrait on your nightstand wondering what your life could’ve been like if you never asked him for McDonalds that day. Your family probably would’ve been stationed in who knows where and moved around often, as is customary in most military families. You probably would’ve never met Tommy and Tubbo in third grade. You probably would’ve never met your now older brothers and new father. You didn’t want to imagine a life without them. 

After a few days of you being locked up in your room, Tommy and Tubbo came into your room with mischievous grins. You knew them like the back of your hand, so you knew the second you saw their faces that they were about to do something. You sat up and looked at them suspiciously. 

“What are you doing?”

“We’re not doing anything, (y/n). Right Tubbo?”

“Right Tommy.” Tubbo nodded curtly. They still had grins on their faces. They walked over to your bed before they picked you up and walked you out of the room. You didn’t have the energy to fight them, so you laid limp in their arms. They eventually took you down to the living room and plopped you down onto the couch between them. Techno tossed them a blanket when they then used to wrap you tightly into a blanket burrito. The home screen of Disney Plus was pulled up on the TV and the curtains were drawn. Philza and Wilbur exited the kitchen with glasses of water and two big bowls of popcorn.

They smiled widely when they saw you squashed between your brothers, putting a bowl of popcorn in your lap and three glasses of water nearby. The two next to you dug into the popcorn as the rest of the family made themselves comfortable on the couch. 

“What are we doing?”

“Movie night! We’re gonna binge the Marvel movies, your favorite!” Tubbo grinned at you, practically bouncing in his seat.

“Just double checking, the order is Captain America, Captain Marvel, Iron Mans One and Two, Incredible Hulk, Avengers, Thor-”

You cut Wilbur off with a mumbled “first Thor, then the first Avengers movie.”

“Glad I asked then! The timeline would’ve been thrown off.” 

As the movies progressed, you started to finally feel like you belonged as a part of the family. Laughter came easier to you, mingling effortlessly with the family’s laughter. Every time you laughed at a scene, they would give you a smile and laugh alongside you. Eventually after about halfway through Captain America: The Winter Soldier, everyone had fallen asleep on the couch. Soft snores and the quiet sounds of the occasional fight scene filled the room as your eyelids started to close involuntarily. You looked around the room at the rest of your family. They all looked peaceful in their slumber. Tommy and Tubbo’s protective hold of their arms around your shoulders made you feel safe. It was in that moment that you realized that they would never let anyone hurt you ever again. You were a part of an actual, loving family. With that, you let yourself fall asleep into a peaceful slumber surrounded by the people that loved you the most. 

General taglist:

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[slowpoke-fics]

Sacrifice

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairing: Pack x Reader

Request Summary: You're Scotts twin sister and make a sacrifice for the good of the pack

Warnings: death, panic attack, angst, murder described, death described, reader death; I know for a fact I've missed some and this one is pretty fucking rough, as always read at your own risk.

A/N: This one is angsty, and just a tad longer than normal, consider it my apology to nonnie for taking so damn long on this request. I hope you guys love it, and again, this one is rough, read at your own risk.

You're able to grab one of the fucking resilient demonic ninja's off of Isaac. You could smell his pain, his blood, and you could smell Allisons determination. The second one on Isaac was shot with Allisons arrow, it's glowing green, fighting with the clear pain it's experiencing. With a split decision you're next to Allison, pushing her out of the way, a sharp pain through your chest, and then you're numb.

Allison's face is rampant with fear, her shirt holding a tiny cut that didn't grace the skin. Good, she's okay, and then you're falling.

You don't hit the ground though, your brother, Scott, holding your face with a stray tear falling down his face. You reach up and wipe it away, "It's okay Scotty, it doesn't hurt." Scott chokes back a sob, his hand gently rubbing yours, "Is everyone else okay?" Scott starts to speak, his voice betraying him, sounding mangled, "Yeah, everyone is okay Y/n, you're gonna be okay too." You shook your head, "Not in the way you think I am," Scott finally releases a sob, "no, no, big brother," he tries to laugh, trying to give you a little peace with your joke that even though he's minutes older, he's still older, "it's okay, yeah? Me and you, fighting tooth and nail. This was the best gift I could've ever gotten, I love you, and I love the pack. This is okay." You reach behind him, fingers tangled into his hair, you pull him to you and kiss his forehead. "Don't let them blame themselves, and don't blame yourself," another kiss to his cheek, "I love you big brother."

Scott's memories with you flashes before his eyes as the color in yours goes out, how did we get here?

"Scott! You okay?" You look over his body for injuries, he hisses at you making contact with his torso. "Scott, what's wrong? Did you get bit by something too?" Scott's eyebrows raise, "What do you mean 'too'? Did you get bit?" You roll your eyes and turn around, shirt stained with blood, "Yeah, I managed to get away from the fucker while rolling down some hill, now let me see yours." You swat him away, lifting his shirt and taking a good look at the bite mark, "Okay, not too bad, you fix me up and I'll fix you up? Not a word to mom, got it?" Scott nods, walking with you into the house to take care of the bite marks.

Scott can't feel anything, surrounded by you, your lifeless body. His anger, no, pain, soars through him as his eyes glow, a roar deep within him. The only thing anyone in his pack can hear is the scream from Lydia's lips and the roar of pain from Scott.

Isaac barely notices the sound around him, only his own heartbeat in his ears as he listened to yours fade away.

"Isaac you fucking idiot!" You slapped Isaac on the back of the head, he looks at you with lost, glowing, puppy dog eyes, "Sorry, Y/n." His eyes dull to his normal brown and you frown, "You've gotta do better honey, you can't lose control like that, you'll kill someone and I know that's not what you want." Isaac sits on the metal bench in the locker room, head in his hands, "I don't know that I'll ever be able to."

You sigh, sitting next to him with your hand rubbing his back, "You will, just give it time, until then, you've gotta find something that works for you, something that prevents you from breaking someone fucking ribs Isaac." You voice becomes elevated again towards the end, irritated at Isaac's recklessness. "Yeah," he leans his head down to your shoulder, "I know firecracker."

Scott is blind to the feeling on his bloody hand, only noticing it when Allison's tears hit it. Allison brushes a hair out of your face, you looked peaceful, she's eternally grateful for you, for what you did for her tonight and what you've done for her up until this point.

"Allison, fuck," you huff, pulling yourself up from the ground, "let's do it again, I know that this isn't you, your aim is perfect, let it all go and focus on me okay?" She sighs, shaking the bow in her hand, "Maybe the fact that I could actually hurt you isn't helping." You're eye to eye with her, both hands on her face, eyes glowing, "No, you won't hurt me, I'm invincible remember?" She laughs, shaking her head, "Alright, last time." You grin ear to ear and took off running. Allison brings the bow up, listening to you run. She sees glimpses of you, through the trees, and the arrow is gone. She sighs, she didn't hit you, she's shouting at you "I told you! I can't do it!"

You touch her back, startling her, she lets out a small yelp and turns to you. Her eyes go wide when she sees the arrow sticking out of your shoulder. "Oh, Jesus Y/n," her bow drops and she's bringing her hands up to try and get it to stop bleeding. "Oh quit being a pussy and pull it out," you rolled your eyes, grabbing her wrist and bringing it to the arrow in your shoulder. "I'm so sorry I hit you-" she pulls it out and you let out a long groan, already feeling better with the object dislodged. "Don't be sorry, you hit me, let's do it again." Allisons eyes widen, if that's even possible, and shakes her head, "No, absolutely not." You laugh, "Lighten up buttercup, I'm invincible remember? And this time I'm not going easy." She scoffs at you, "Easy? Oh I see how it is, run little wolf, run." With that, you take off running, Allison laughing at your excitement.

Kira is frozen, she feels like she died, you were her best friend. Over anyone else, you'd been the first to accept her, the first to fight for her, the first one she'd confided in.

"Kira, what the hell are you saying?" You're sitting with your arms crossed at a picnic table, nose in your homework. "I-I know that we were friends first, so I was going to tell you first, before I said any-" You slam your hand one the table, "Kira, baby, spit it out, fuck." This is the you realize that Kira's scent holds fear and anxiety. "Kira, what's wrong?" You're more serious now, waiting for the bomb to drop that there's another fight to be had. "I like Scott, like like him, Jesus please don't be mad." You burst into full laughter, tears streaming from your eyes.

When you calm down Kira is staring at you, piddling with the strings on her sleeves. "Oh, my god," you laugh again, trying to calm yourself. "You're not mad?" You laugh harder, smacking the table a few times, "Jesus Christ no, I can't believe-" you stand up still laughing, hugging her. "I don't give a shit," rubbing her back, "you had nothing to worry about, as long as you don't get mad if I fuck your dad." Kira jerks back, shock on her face, "Y/n!" You laugh harder, "I'm fucking kidding, jeez," you sit back down, "fucking sit down and gush to me about my brother."

She shakes herself out of it when she feels her mother enclose her in a hug. Tears finally falling.

Lydia's scream has finally ended, and she's inconsolable. Memories flooding through her head as she lays her head on an unconscious Stiles.

"Lydia god dammit," you truck to the pool, "did you find another one?" You stop at the strong scent of blood, rushing to Lydia, Stiles right behind you. "Are you hurt?" Lydia shakes her head, staring at you, "I already called 911." Stiles looks hurt, arguing with Lydia over why she should call him before the police, but you push him to the side. "Heya honey," you wrap your arms around her waist, "it's okay, don't listen to Stiles grumpy ass, let's me and you go sit." You're not sure why you aren't phased by the body next to you, but you let Stiles do whatever he needs to do for Scott while you try and get Lydia's head back down to Earth.

"Hey Lyds, dontcha think you're a little overdressed to come to the pool?" She lets out a small chuckle and you relax a little, "This can't be my new normal, Y/n. Finding dead bodies? I can't take this." You hold her hand, sighing, "None of us asked for this Lydia, I'm so sorry. If you want I can stay with you for a few days, follow you if you zonk out again?" Lydia just nods, and she feels for the first time that you're as much her best friend as Allison.

Lydia can't stop crying, Scott is trying to get ahold of himself, Kira is crying with her mother, Isaac is breathless and in pain, and Allison is held by her father.

"She did it for me dad," Allison sobs, her father already made sure she wasn't hurt, "she did it for me and I don't know why." Chris shushes her, running his fingers through her hair, grateful for your sacrifice so his beautiful girl could live. "She did it because she loved you," Allison sobs harder, "I know sweet girl, but listen, we have to deal with this. You can cry, scream, break things later, but now? Now we get our stories straight." Allison nods, and her dad is off to Scott to prep him.

When Stiles finds out, it's like every cell in his body failed him. Scott caught him and pulled him into a hug, tears streaming down his face. "I know. I know brother." Stiles can't breathe, it's been a long time since he's had a panic attack, but here he is, without you, panicking.

"Stiles," you sigh, throwing a ball against his ceiling and back into your hand, sprawled out on his bed, "you've gotta stop." Stiles shakes his head, "No, no there is something here!" He tosses the books to the floor, you get off the bed, wrapping your arms around him from behind, "You'll find it but you're not going to without sleep. Come on." You tug him back to his bed, "Let's nap, and then we'll come back to all," you gesture to his board covered in multicolored string, "this." Stiles sighs heavily, letting you pull him to the bed. It's not the first time, and certainly wouldn't be the last, that you've convinced him to sleep. He crawls in next to you and you throw your arm open, allowing him to lay his head over your heart. He falls asleep to the lull of the thump thump thump.

Stiles shakes himself out of the memory, remembering that he'll never hear that beautiful sound again and vows to hold onto it. He lets out a pained, choked sob, "Scott-" Scotts arms are around him still, Scott can smell the guilt coming off of the small man, "Don't - It was not your fault Stiles. It wasn't anyone's fault." Scott lets Stiles cry, mourn his best friend, the woman he's come to love like his own sister. "Have you told Derek?" Scott sighs, Stiles already knows the answer.

When they get to Derek's place, Derek opens the door, already smelling them and their horribly displaced emotions. "What is it?" Scott lets himself in, Stiles following close behind him and he's checking for his little flame, and when you're nowhere to be found, his heart sinks. "Where's Y/n?" Derek can smell the grief coming off of Scott in waves, not missing the anger that hides beneath it. "Fuck, my little flame," his voice sounds broken, barely audible to the human boy who stares sorrowful at him.

"Derek Hale!" You kick the door open to home, "Derek Hale! Get your ass out here!" Derek almost materializes behind you, but you're just as quick as he is. "Derek Hale! I oughtta kill you, you son of a bitch!" You march to him, taking him off guard by your fist that collides into his face. He's knocked back a couple feet, staring at you with glowing eyes. Your eyes match his, "I am not afraid of your eyes, wolf boy! You turned three people!" Derek shrugs, "So what if I did?" You go for a second punch, this time caught by Derek, he can't smell a single ounce of fear, only fury.

"They knew what they were getting into," Derek lets go of your hand. "Oh, fuck you, Derek," you shove him back, "you can spin that stupid story to whoever you want, but you and I know better." Derek shrugs, "So what? They're better now, stronger, and they like it." You let out a deep growl, "Did you tell them about the death?" You step forward towards him, "Did you tell them how they'd be pulled into every murder in this town?" You shove him back again, following his step backwards, "Did you tell them of the pain? Did you? Of course not." Your hand grasps his chin, squeezing painfully with your claws out, making him look at you, "Hear me Derek Hale and hear me good. If anything," you squeezed him harder, bringing a hiss from him, "and I mean anything, happens to them, I will hurt you." You back away and head out of his house, stopping at his door, "And trust me, I'm a fire you can't put out." He laughs, watching you walk away, but mumbling just where you can barely hear, "I have a feeling I don't want to be burned by your flame."

A growl explodes from his lips, pain filling his entire being. You've been the glue that holds them all together, bringing them back from the brink again and again. How could they survive without you?

Months after your death, they've settled back into the groove of things, nothing ever feels the same without you though.

They talk about you all the time, Stiles has a tendency to try and calm people down like you did. Trying to help keep everyone grounded. He's nowhere near as good at it like you were, but he's trying. Allison keeps your memory around by never changing her lock screen, a picture of everyone in the pack resting on the screen she checks every five minutes. Isaac has found a new anchor, with Scott's help, using himself to be able to control the rage that flurries inside of him after your death. Lydia lives for adopting your fire, absolutely never keeping her mouth shut much to everyone's dismay, but it's a way to keep your image around. Kira has become closer to Allison and Lydia, but she knows they'll never replace you. They don't laugh at her like you did when she talks about Scott, and it's a painful memory. Derek's become much more involved with Scott's pack, dedicated to doing what he can for not fighting by your side the right you died, a debt he'll never repay. Scott finds his peace in his pack, but the hole in his heart for his sister will never fade, like the newly placed fire tattoo on his forearm will never fade.

They are all eternally grateful.

They all know it'll never be the same.

They all hate your sacrifice.

[crankynewt]

Life Could Be a Dream - Chapter 2

Live in Living Colour Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Summary: (Y/N) slowly begins to remember their life with “Pietro” before WestView as they move through the decades, but sometimes knowledge is a curse rather than a blessing.

Pairing: Pietro (Peter) Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warning: WandaVision Episode 6 spoilers! Read at your own risk!

Author’s Note: Here’s the highly requested second part to Be Okay! You don’t have to read it to understand this story, but it does fill in the gap during the 80s episode and give a little more context into the reader’s mind. Also, the reader’s powers and Halloween costume are highly based off of Starlight from the boys even though I did my best to make it gender neutral, but that’s what I kinda envisioned!

(Not My Gif!)

Your hips swayed as you danced around the kitchen, the sound of The Chords’ “Life Could Be a Dream” filled the room from the record player in the corner your beloved vinyl was spinning on. Chopping pineapple for the jell-o in the bundt mold beside you, you hummed along to the familiar tune as your feet shuffled back and forth on the checkered floor.

A whooshing sound and light breeze behind you tore your attention away from the task at hand. Turning around quickly, you were met with the smiling face of your loving boyfriend, relaxing in a chair with his feet propped up against the kitchen table. His dark jeans were complimented by a letterman jacket adorning his shoulders, his shades of grey complimenting your own and those surrounding the both of you.

“My partner and their impeccable taste in music.” He smirked, arms crossed behind his head.

“My boyfriend and his faster-than-a-bullet superspeed.” You retorted, shuffling over to your man and giving him a playful smack on the leg. “Feet off the table! We’ve gotta eat here in a few hours!”

Pietro whooshed once again, this time with one hand in your waist while the other held yours, finally slowing down enough to gently rock you to the music. Life really could be a dream, and you were experiencing it first-hand.

“What is happening? Where did this come from?!” Agent Woo asked, watching the dancing couple sway as a hexagon framed the image and the words ‘Pietro(Y/N)’ shone across the screen.

“I don’t know! When Wanda recast Pietro an extra broadcast started from inside the hex and this is what the channel’s playing.” Darcy explained, taking a sip of her long awaited coffee as the end credits began to roll. “She must have somehow created another storyline for them.”

“But, wait… Didn’t somebody say that (Y/L/N) went missing before the blip?” Monica commented, pointing at your smiling face on the screen.

“Last I heard was that they got beamed up on that spaceship in New York with Spider-Man and Doctor Strange, but nobody’s seen them since.” Jimmy added, crossing his arms with a furrowed brow.

“Well wherever they were, they’re back in action.”

You woke up with a gasp, shooting straight up as a cold sweat adorned your body. Your nightmare had been something that you couldn’t believe your mind had imagined, it was so real, so dark… 

You had been on a strange planet surrounded by shades or orange and red, weirdly dressed people fighting all around you. At the centre of it all was this purple giant, a metallic glove adorning his hand as he fought the group of you away. 

Before you knew what you were doing you were rushing towards him, hand raised as a tingling feeling ran down your arm while golden light formed around your hand. But your attack was to no avail as with a clench of his fist the giant had opened a red hole in front of you and you began free falling.

“What? What is it?” Pietro grumbled, slowly waking up at your sudden outburst. He sat up as well, rubbing his hand on your lower back soothingly. 

“It was just a dream, babe.” You brushed it off, turning to face Pietro and leaning closer towards him. His eyes still held worry and a bit of disbelief as you played it off, but rather than argue, he just held you close as the two of you laid back down until sleep took it’s hold once more. 

“How much longer ‘till he calls?” Darcy whined, spinning in her chair as the boredom of watching reruns overtook her. You and Peter had just finished your ‘80s episode, meaning that the two of you had just reunited with Wanda and Vision.

“Don’t worry, he’ll call.” Monica replied, and as if on cue the name ‘Jimmy Woo’ was flashing upon her phone screen. She was quick to answer and eagerly pressed the device to her ear. “Woo? What’d your guy say?”

“Scott said that (Y/N) hasn’t been seen since they were on a planet called Titan fighting Thanos. Stark apparently told him that they got tossed in some hole he opened and they couldn’t get them back.” Jimmy explained, the sound of a car moving filling the background as he was already on his way back from talking to Lang.

“You don’t think that he sent her to wherever this new Pietro came from, do you?” Monica responded, Darcy shrugging her shoulders in response.

“I mean, it’s well within the realm of possibilities?” 

“What are you boys doing?” You called from the bottom of the stairs to where Pietro and the twins were playing some video game on the tv, laughing and shouting as they shot at each other. “Piet, why aren’t you in your costume?”

Your boyfriend finally turned to face you and your Halloween costume had his jaw quite literally dropping. You adorned a white costume with a golden star and accents on the front, meanwhile your cape was white with countless smaller stars decorating it’s entirety.

“Wow! Babe, you look… Wow!” He ogled, speeding over to you as his eyes took in your costumed appearance. He ignored your question, Wanda having to bug her brother once more for him to drag Tommy with him to make their matching Quicksilver costumes, their hair slicked up on the sides in an odd way.

Before you knew it the five of you were making your way down the street bustling with costumed kids. Pietro and Wanda were a couple steps ahead of you with the twins, you making the decision to take a minute to appreciate your domestic life while the siblings caught up.

“Unleash hell, demon spawn!” Pietro yelled as the twins went running off to fill their buckets with candy. You weren’t trying to eavesdrop, however you weren’t very far behind them and neither twin was making any effort to speak quietly.

“Do you remember when we were at the orphanage when mom and dad died?” She asked, the duo stopping to talk to each other in the middle of the busy road. While you didn’t intend to stop yourself, the sudden confusion that struck your mind left you no other choice.

Orphanage? Why would Peter have ever been in an orphanage when both his parents were still alive?  Wait, Peter? Where was all this coming from?

Suddenly your life was quite literally flashing before your eyes. Getting your powers, joining the Avengers, falling through the portal to another reality, meeting the X-Men… Oh, and Peter. Your relationship with Peter came back in moments, from your first meeting to the day he kissed you after you almost died on a mission. And how could you ever have forgotten your wedding day?! 

“Peter?” You asked out loud. Whether you were calling out to the man who you now remember to be your husband or questioning the memories that you had just regained you weren’t sure.

Your sudden comment caused Peter/Pietro to scoff in disbelief and furrow his brows, meanwhile Wanda’s expression darkened as her eyes glared daggers into your head. 

“Did you just call me Peter?” He asked incredulously, but his face quickly softened as he saw the fear in your eyes. You were utterly dumbfounded, How did you get back here? Last thing you remembered was being at the school, then all of a sudden you were living in some sit-com town.

“Why doesn’t he remember me? Wanda, what have you done?” Your voice wavered, your gaze shifting from Peter to Wanda, who would have already murdered you if looks could kill.

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” Her eyes flashed red, meanwhile Peter was standing there as if everything around him was completely normal.

“I think you do. Don’t make me do this, Wanda.” Your eyes began glowing as well. There was no way this would be ending well.

[cherienymphe]

Gangsta’s Paradise (Michael Gray x Reader)

WARNINGS: DUB-CON BORDERLINE NON-CON, blackmail, loss of virginity, (for the sake of this fic let’s pretend that Finn Cole is taller than what he is okay)

! DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU !

➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

summary: an agreement with the Peaky Blinders is almost a done deal...until you catch the eye of Michael Gray. You’re suddenly thrust into the equation, and your father must decide between losing everything or losing you.

~

Soft lips brushed over your bare shoulder, even softer hands guiding the strap of your slip down your arm, fingers dancing along your skin. Despite the cold weather outside, your room was sweltering, and you pinned it onto the man behind you...the man who was currently unwrapping you like a gift. With fear coursing through your frame, you realized that in a way, you were a gift. A pretty little gift given to the big bad gangster in exchange for resources and protection and whatever else your family needed.

Your eyes fell closed, and you thought back to the day where your father’s desperation had first begun. Desperation that you had ultimately underestimated.

You had been nervous as you tended to the dishes that day, glancing at the clock every now and then. Cleaning and tidying up was how you coped, how you attempted to calm yourself. It normally worked, but today was an exception. Looking around, you realized that there was nothing else to clean, and with a sigh, you leaned against the wall, biting your lip.

The rest of the family had gone to Birmingham. They’d gone to handle...business, and you being the only girl in the family since your mom died, you weren’t allowed to have a hand in the business. It had been a great deal of bitterness for you for years, ever since you were old enough to understand what was really going on, but now you had gradually accepted your father’s reasoning.

Your father and brother and uncles had left early, taking some of their best men with them. You knew they only did that for serious matters, and you had been worried ever since you saw them leave. You had scrubbed the house from top to bottom, and now you had nothing to do but wait. It was fortunate that you didn’t have to wait for much longer, hearing several cars come down the driveway.

No one greeted you when you opened the door, faces pinched and sullen, and you knew then that things didn’t go as expected. The only one to acknowledge you was your father, the older man pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before trudging inside with the rest. You swallowed, conflicted on whether or not you should say anything, but your worry got the best of you.

“How did it go?”

Before your father could answer, you heard your brother slam his hand into the wall, the pictures shaking from the force.

“Peaky fucking Blinders,” he spat, and your blood ran cold.

Your eyes met your father’s, and he gave you a look as if to say leave it alone, but you were in shock. You had never imagined that your family would start doing business with the likes of them. Everyone had heard of them, knew who they were and what they did, and the thought of your family being involved with them in any way was a terrifying one.

Everything those men touched turned to poison

“Father,” you had chided as soon as you walked into his office moments later.

From behind his desk, he held a hand up, the other pressed to his forehead as he sighed.

“Not now, Y/N,” he said, sounding tired.

“You promised that things would be different,” you whispered, ignoring his words. “You told me that we would start becoming legitimate, legal. That we’d start doing things right.”

“Y/N-.”

“You promised.”

He slammed his hand down onto the wood, making you wince.

“They’ve got their hand in every cookie jar that matters. Thomas Shelby is a political man, now-.”

You cut him off with a scoff, folding your arms over your chest.

“Only a fool would get mixed up with the likes of them.”

He shot you a scathing look, and you swallowed, looking away with a sigh.

“We need their influence, their resources...their allyship.”

Your eyes widened at this, realizing that your father intended for much more than a one time business deal.

“You can’t be serious,” you murmured.

He didn’t respond right away, simply heaving a sigh before turning his attention to the paperwork before him.

“I will do my best to keep you away from all this, but prepare yourself for seeing a lot more of them, eh?”

He didn’t say anything more, and when it became apparent that that was the end of the discussion, you turned and left. You could hear your brothers and uncles murmuring in the kitchen, going over the day’s events, no doubt, and you made your way upstairs. You never knew exactly what it was that your father sold, but you figured that drugs and alcohol was the gist of it. He’d been in the business for a long time, and he’d made a promise to you that he was going to put a stop to it. That he’d start making money the right way.

Getting mixed up with the Shelbys, the Peaky Blinders, was not the way to go about it.

You understood the appeal though. They had power, resources, influence. With them as an ally, people would think twice about screwing your family over...but was it worth it? Was it worth the increase in violence? Putting the family in the kind of danger you could never even imagine? Was it worth the devastation and death that seemed to follow them like a plague? The answer was simple.

No.

Your father didn’t seem to care about any of that though. Day in and day out, for weeks, you watched your family leave early in the day and return late in the evening, looking more irritated than they did the previous day. It was safe to say that negotiations with the Peaky Blinders was not going as expected. The frustration and annoyance was plain as day on your father’s features, and even though nary a word was uttered to you about anything, you could feel the tension mounting in the air.

The first time you actually met someone of the infamous family, it was a Wednesday. It was a rare day within the past few weeks in which your father was at the house. He had been holed up in his study all day when there was a knock on the door. You had blinked in confusion, trying to recall if your father had mentioned anything about company, but you had only just begun to move when you heard your father’s heavy footsteps traveling down the hallway.

“Stay back.”

Normally you would have argued against him, especially with a tone as harsh as his had been, but something in his voice made you listen. There was something in his eyes, something in the way he walked that made you understand the severity of the situation. You remained in the living room, listening as your father answered the door, unfamiliar voices eventually joining his.

Two men who you’d never seen before joined him in the hallway, standing between the kitchen and living room. You had slowly put your book down, story long forgotten at the sight of the strangers, and your movement caught their attention. Both of them were wearing hats and long coats, but you could still tell that their hair was dark. The lankier of the two was a bit taller, a mustache adorning his face while the other moved a toothpick around between his lips, a faint smirk crawling onto his face at the sight of you.

“Good afternoon, sweetheart,” the taller one greeted, and you quietly returned the greeting.

Your father cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable.

“Arthur, John...this is my daughter, Y/N. She likes to look after the house when I’m gone.”

It was the truth. After your mother’s death, the house was where you felt most comfortable, and you were more than happy to lock yourself in its walls. Especially while the rest of your family ventured out.

“Darling, this is John and Arthur Shelby. I’ve been doing some business with them, remember?”

You fought the urge to sneer at your father, keeping your gaze on the strangers in your home instead.

“Of course. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you said with a tense smile.

Knowing you so well, your father could recognize the displeasure on your face, and if the other men before you noticed it too, they didn’t speak on it. You watched as they followed your father upstairs to his study, the younger of the two tipping his hat to you before departing. You remained there for a time before slowly exhaling, turning to make your way outside. You paid no mind to how long they stayed, spending the rest of your day away outside in your garden. Your mother always kept one, and you had done the same since she died.

That was the first of the few times you ran across Arthur and John Shelby. They were the only two that ever came by the house, greeting you with tipped hats and secretive smiles. You had grown somewhat used to their presence and faces, but not enough to be completely comfortable around them. You didn’t meet the rest of them, didn’t meet him, until weeks later.

“What?” you had breathed, staring at your father in disbelief. 

You watched as he rubbed his forehead, face pinched and eyes clouded over, telling you that he disliked this as much as you did.

“You’ll come to the next meeting with us,” he repeated, and you let out a sharp breath.

So you had heard him correctly.

“...why?” you eventually asked, sounding much calmer than you actually were.

“I know you hate them, but those Shelbys do have some morals about them. Things have been rather tense lately. It seems that we just can’t come to an agreement,” he sighed out, leaning against his desk. “...and I fear that things could become...rowdy.”

He didn’t continue, but you were smart enough to guess where this was going. When the realization hit you, your heart dropped, and you stared at your father like he was a stranger. The man you knew, the man your mother had married, would’ve wanted you as far away from any business dealings as possible. Somehow, the very same man was standing before you and suggesting…

“You think my presence at the meeting will make them behave...make them think twice about doing anything...violent,” you murmured, more to yourself than him.

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to, and you clenched your jaw.

“...and if it doesn’t-?”

“It will,” he argued.

“...but if it doesn’t…” you repeated with more force. “...then what? What will you do if they bring out the guns and razor blades right there? What will you do if they decide to use me to make you agree to their terms?”

Your father was silent, and you stepped towards him, eyes pleading.

“What will you do then?”

You watched as he straightened, standing to his full height as he looked down his nose at you. It was like you were looking at a completely different person, someone who wasn’t like your father at all. As you eyed him, you could see the stress on his face, the strain in his muscles, the conflict in his eyes. You’d had your suspicions that your family’s business with the Peaky Blinders was more serious than you could’ve imagined, but the toll it was clearly taking on your father confirmed it.

Even if you didn’t agree with what was going on, how your father went about getting what he so clearly needed and wanted, it was obvious that this was important to him. Since the death of your mother, very few things brought your father happiness. Very few things even halfway satisfied him, and hoping that this would, shoulders sagging with defeat, you agreed.

This was how you found yourself seated beside your father at none other than The Garrison. The pub was empty of any patrons or staff, only those important to the meeting present. Thomas Shelby, the man himself, was seated across from your father. He was as intimidating as you always believed he’d be, smooth voice having done nothing to calm you when he introduced himself.

John and Arthur, the two you were familiar with, were on his right while two more men by the name of Isaiah and Finn were on his left. They were one short in comparison to your father, his two brothers, your two brothers, and yourself, but an empty chair told you that one more was on their way. Seeing that the meeting had already begun, you deduced that their tardiness wasn’t a concern. Considering the nature of the meeting, a whole bunch of words that could be summed up into “who controls what”, you envied the mystery person’s absence. 

For minutes now, you had contributed nothing, but then again… That wasn’t your purpose. No, the purpose of your presence was to keep the men in line. Your entire purpose was to play on what few morals the men had, and you fought to hold in a laugh. With every member of your family being armed, you wondered if your father even believed this would work. Too busy stewing over how your father had purposely put you in harm’s way, you didn’t take notice of the pub door opening.

You were only pulled from your thoughts when the sound of footsteps finally registered. Considering that your back was to the door, you couldn’t see their face, and you didn’t want to appear nosey or unprofessional or draw attention to yourself in any way really by turning to look. You only glanced up when he finally came into your line of sight, and you observed him in the same manner that you did all the others.

Something about him reminded you of Thomas, but his features were much softer, not so harsh. However, that made him no less intimidating. He wasn’t sporting a hat, dark hair neatly pushed away from his face, and something about him was different from the rest. On his own, he didn’t look like he belonged with the rest of them, and as Thomas explained that he was their chief accountant, you got the feeling that that was purposely done. He introduced the man as Michael Gray, his cousin, and losing interest once again, you looked away.

You played with your fingers beneath the table, wanting to desperately be anywhere but here. You had a feeling that you’d get your wish very soon, taking note of the change in tone in your father’s voice. He sounded happier, relieved, and you glanced up at him, his relief contagious. As you did so, your eyes briefly connected with that of the newcomer, Michael, and you quickly looked away. Even still, you could feel the weight of his stare, and you reluctantly returned it.

He didn’t look the least bit ashamed at having been caught, bringing his cigarette up to his lips, a thick coil of smoke escaping them moments later. His face was hard to read, and you felt yourself frowning slightly. You blinked, eyes trailing to your brother on your father’s other side, but he seemed invested in the meeting. Everyone seemed to be...everyone but you and the man named Michael.

When your eyes met his again, it was just in time to watch him lean over, lips at his cousin’s ear as he whispered something to him. His gaze held yours the entire time. You glanced around again, feeling as if there was a meeting within a meeting going on, and you were the only one to notice. Brushing off the unease you felt, you sat back in your chair, eyes on the table. It was hard to ignore the heavy gaze that pinned you to your seat, but you fought to manage.

Especially since it seemed that an agreement was finally being made.

However, that sinking feeling in your chest traveled to your gut, settling there as you watched John move to whisper something to Thomas. The man, the leader of this great gang, paused for the briefest of moments. It happened so quickly, and John was back in his seat as if nothing had happened, and while Thomas’ words did not falter, the way his eyes briefly flickered to you had you straightening in your seat.

Your eyes fell onto the blue-eyed newcomer again, and he took another drag of his cigarette. Every single one of them wore smug expressions, from the first moment you’d been introduced to every individual man, you noticed that they all looked as if they owned the world. Michael Gray was no different, but the way he looked at you made you want to be as far away from here as possible. As more tendrils of smoke left his pink lips, you noted that he didn’t look at you like he just owned the world. He looked at you like he owned you too.

“Everything does seem to be in order, but...there is another matter I think we should discuss,” you heard Thomas Shelby say.

You looked to him, watching as he stood, his family following his lead and your family following theirs. You tightened your coat around you as Thomas gestured for your father to follow him into the back. His absence made you nervous, but you simply stepped closer to your brother as you watched him follow the other man.

“Let’s wait outside,” your brother said, and eager to be out of here, you hastily agreed.

Your other brother remained inside with your uncles while you followed Matthew, the middle child of you three, outside. 

“You alright?” he asked you as soon as you were in the fresh air. “You looked a bit tense in there.”

You watched him light a smoke, and you glanced away.

“The other one...the cousin, Michael… How much do you know about him?”

Matthew shrugged, exhaling.

“Not much. Doesn’t say much at the meetings, mostly handles the money,” he told you.

That did little to ease you.

“Why…?”

You were just about to tell him the reason for your curiosity when the door to The Garrison came flying open. You watched in shock as your father came storming out, your other brother and uncles hot on his tail.

“What’s going on?” Matthew asked, just as alarmed as you were.

Instead of an answer, your father simply grabbed your arm, and yanked you along. You almost tripped over your feet, and you looked at your father like he’d lost his mind. His face was clouded over, eyes thunderous, and you wondered what had happened in such a short time.

“What-?”

“Quiet,” he hissed, sounding the angriest you’d ever heard him, and your eyes widened at this.

“...but-.”

“I said quiet! Get in the car,” he spat.

He didn’t give you a chance to listen, opting for shoving you inside himself. Your foot was barely inside when he slammed the door shut, and you stared at the window in shock. Matthew joined you and your father in the car while the rest piled into the other vehicle. Your confusion only grew as the car roared to life, and you glanced up then to rest your eyes on a familiar face.

He leaned against the door to the pub, a fresh cigarette held between his lips as he lit it. His blue eyes were focused entirely on you, even as the smoke clouded his view and your father began to drive off, he didn’t appear to be interested in anything else but your trembling frame.

You sat at the dining table in shock, listening to the muffled sound of your father’s angry voice that traveled from his study. He was in there with the rest of the family, and he’d been in there for hours. He had barely looked at you when you all came home, heading straight for his office as he ordered the rest of the family inside. There was an unspoken agreement that that did not include you.

Still, the uneasiness from the meeting remained. You could still feel the heated gaze of the blue-eyed man, smell the smoke that drifted from his lips, see the way he watched you as he whispered to John. You could see the way Thomas had looked at you as John whispered to him, and this was what made you press your ear to your father’s study door hours earlier. This was what drove your curiosity to discover just what happened when you and your brother left.

“He wants her,” your father had forced out, sounding like he was going to be sick.

There was a long pause, and you had frowned in confusion.

“Who?” your other brother, Nathaniel, had eventually asked.

“The Gray kid! Polly’s son,” he spat as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “He wants her.”

You could hear your father’s heavy breaths, hear him pacing, and the confirmation that the discussion was about Michael Gray did nothing to quell your confusion. The silence that followed was loud and heavy, something unspoken in the air that you had yet to understand.

“...what?” you heard one of your uncles murmur.

Your father heaved a sigh, sounding much calmer now.

“They are...prepared to meet us more than halfway if we let him have her,” he slowly said. “Everything we’ve been working towards, everything we’ve been yearning for… It could be ours in a matter of hours if we let him have her.”

“No!”

Nathaniel’s voice could be heard before your father even finished.

“Absolutely not-.”

“Nathaniel…”

“You’re not considering this...are you? Father…”

“They’ve given us the day to think it over-.”

“What is there to think about? She’s our sister, your daughter, not some whore on the street,” Matthew interrupted, his words making you freeze.

Bile threatened to spill from your lips as you stared at the door, slowly backing away, their voices becoming less clear as you did so. Your back was pressed to the wall as the truth settled over you, and you suddenly felt foolish for failing to put it together sooner. Your stomach swirled, fear settling into your bones, and before you knew it, your head was in the commode, expelling everything you’d eaten that day. The tears had come shortly after, and that was how Matthew found you hours later, sitting at the table with tears in your eyes.

“I know you heard,” he said, sitting across from you.

You hesitantly looked up at him as he poured a glass of whiskey.

“You never could keep your nose out of things. Told you years ago to stop listening in on father’s conversations-.”

“Well, I’m glad I did this time,” you tearfully spat.

Matthew sighed, sliding the glass towards you.

“I think you deserve it tonight,” he said as you threw him an odd look.

Your shoulders sagged, and you gratefully accepted it, scrunching your face up at the strong taste that hit your tongue. The both of you sat there in silence for a while, listening to your father’s muffled voice, and you took another sip.

“What’s he going to do?”

Your fear must have been evident because his hand rested on yours on the table.

“Hey...he’s not going to agree, alright? He would never…”

You shook your head before he even finished, sniffling as you took another sip.

“I don’t know, Matthew. I don’t know,” you breathed.

Your eyes met his, and he frowned at you.

“These past few months or so… He’s been different, and you know it. He’s made deals before, but it’s different this time. Everything he’s ever wanted is so close. It’s different this time, and you know it, Matthew.”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to. You both knew that it was different this time, and you shuddered to think about what tomorrow would bring.

The next day came and went, much to your relief, and although you were glad that your father didn’t give into the Peaky Blinders, into what they wanted from you...what he wanted from you, it was still an unacknowledged elephant in the room. They still left the house for business, but you didn’t know if it was with the Blinders or not. You shuddered to think of how that conversation went when your father refused their offer. 

You got the feeling that they weren’t used to not getting their way.

It was three nights later, three nights since that fateful meeting in which you’d caught the eye of Michael Gray, that you left your room to get a glass of water. The house was dark and quiet, an unusual sight seeing as at least one brother was usually up late in the kitchen, drinking or having a smoke. That wasn’t the sight that greeted you.

The kitchen was empty of anyone else, and you drank your water slowly. You hoped that things would be better now. You recalled how relieved your father had looked over the past few days, how much softer his features looked, and you desperately hoped that it was because the family was finally on the right track. You made your way back into the hall, glass pressed to your lips, when you paused.

The only light in the living room came from the moon, it’s rays bleeding through the windows and onto the furniture. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to take note of the shape that didn’t belong. The shape of a man. Light flooded the room, and all of your breath left you, glass shattering at your feet.

You stared at him in shock, taking in everything from his neat hair to his shiny dark shoes. He was dressed much like he was the first day you met him, a dark grey almost black looking suit hugging his frame. He leaned back in your father’s chair, nursing a glass of Brandy, and it was then that you realized he’d been here for a while.

“Father!”

It was instinctual now, how your father was the first person you ran to. He didn’t respond, and you called for him again, cutting yourself off when a smirk slowly danced along Michael’s lips. Your mind whirled, and dread filled you.

“What are you doing in my house? Where is my father?”

A small chuckle escaped him, eyes twinkling with mirth as he slowly pulled out a cigarette. 

“What do you think I’m doing here, love?”

Your entire body froze, the implication behind his words clear, and you shook your head. You called for Matthew...then Nathaniel...then your uncles and your father again. The only thing that met you was silence, and your throat felt incredibly thick all of a sudden. The weight of your predicament fully settled over you, and you slowly shook your head.

“No,” you breathed in disbelief. “...no.”

The man before you didn’t respond, simply pressing the cigarette between his lips, reaching in his pockets for a light, no doubt.

“I don’t believe you.”

That was what you said, what your lips formed, but your heart and your head didn’t agree. Something didn’t feel right from the moment you woke up, and a part of you that you desperately wished would shut up did believe him. 

“Do you really think your father would allow anyone into his home without his knowledge or permission?”

You watched him pull a drag, smoke filling the air, and you stumbled back, running for the door. You didn’t hear him behind you, and for that you were relieved, but your relief was short lived. Upon swinging the door open, you were met with the sight of John and Arthur Shelby dawdling in your driveway. They appeared to be having a conversation when you opened the door, their voices abruptly cutting off at your appearance. John simply smirked at you from around the smoke in his mouth, Arthur tipping his hat towards you.

“‘Ello, sweetheart.”

With a shriek, you slammed the door shut in their faces, chest heaving with uneven breaths as the situation fully resonated with you. You stumbled back further into the hallway, and Michael was still in the same place as before, nursing a cigarette as you fought to figure out a way out of this.

“You can’t...you can’t do this,” you eventually murmured, glaring at him.

Michael simply fixed you with an even stare, smoke escaping from his nose, the cigarette dancing between his fingers.

“I’m a Peaky Blinder, love. I can do whatever I want.”

He said it with so much conviction that you knew he believed it, and the longer you stared at him, the more you believed it too. You warily glanced around, telling yourself that you might actually have to fight this man, might have to fight to protect what your father had wrongly given away. Even though part of you denied it, you slowly accepted that Michael was telling the truth. Despite the fact that your family’s business and even lives were at stake, your father had no right to trade away what didn’t belong to him.

Michael’s eyes never left you as you stood there, and you finally looked to him again when he cleared his throat. The cigarette rested between his lips as he slipped out of his jacket, and you swallowed at the dark look in his eyes. He took another drag.

“Before you do...whatever it is that you’re about to do…”

He parted his mouth, the smoke swirling in there for a bit before pressing his lips together, tendrils escaping his nose.

“You should know that I’ve shot men in the head with no hesitation. I drug my blade across a man’s throat once and reveled in the taste of his blood on my lips.”

You flinched, taking a step back.

“When Tommy first tried to scare me away, threaten to send me back to the village in which I grew up… I told him about a well there, that I’d blow it up with dynamite if he made me go back...didn’t care if my hands went with it.”

He finished his cigarette, putting the rest of it out, eyes boring into yours as he slowly exhaled the smoke he’d been holding in.

“I just knew it’d be worth it to see those pretty white bricks all over that pretty village green...and I meant every word of that.”

You didn’t respond, and his blue eyes slowly dragged over every part of you, taking you in from your hair all the way to your bare feet, lingering on the thin nightgown in between.

“It’s something about the violence, you see.”

His words unnerved you, and he continued.

“The violence, the blood...the fight...it does something to me. Gets me excited, all riled up, so please…”

He gestured towards you, eyes glinting with something that made your heart stop.

“Do fight back, hit me even… It’ll just make me want to fuck you that much harder.”

The tears finally skipped down your cheeks, and you stumbled back as he stood to his full height. With a shaky breath, you staggered up the stairs, running to the last room at the end of the hall, a guest room. You were quick to pull the window up, looking down below in worry. It was high up, that was for sure, but the alternative was worse.

Before you could even get a foot out, warm hands pressed into your stomach, pulling you back against a broad chest. A startled scream left your lips, and Michael’s hands traveled to your arms, fingers pressed into your skin as he held you tight. You leaned your head away from him as he pressed his face into your neck, breathing you in.

“Your father made a big mistake bringing you around us, eh?”

You couldn’t will your lips to move, too paralyzed with fear and nerves and anxiety for the unknown. The way he touched you was foreign, the scent that clung to him, a mix of cologne and expensive liquor and cigarettes, was foreign. The creeping sensation that blanketed your body was foreign. All of this was foreign, and more tears pooled within your eyes as the inevitable drew closer.

“He thought you’d keep us in line, keep us on leashes...but ever since I saw you, the only thing I wanted to do was take you like a fucking animal.”

You jerked in his hold, fighting to get away from him, but Michael tsk’d. 

“Let’s not spoil this, hmm? You seem like a good girl...if you catch my drift.”

More tears fell at his words, and he hummed.

“You do. You strike me as a well behaved lady of the house...and you girls like for this to be special, yeah? All gentle and loving,” he slowly mocked as he forced you towards the bed.

He shoved you onto it, knees pressing down on either side of you soon after, preventing you from going anywhere. Your tears soaked the sheet, and Michael’s fingers ghosted over your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“I want you to look at me as I fuck you.”

He gently turned you over onto your back, and you stared up at the man before you. Even in the darkness, you could see the blue of his eyes perfectly. They were bright and filled with a hunger that scared you, a hunger you had never been on the receiving end of before. Michael leaned over you, caging you beneath him as he pressed his forehead to yours, soon followed by his lips.

You’d kissed men before, but they were soft sweet nothings that could barely be called a kiss. You knew that if you wanted to marry well, contribute something of substance to your family, you had to be smart about your actions...your reputation. All of the men, realizing that you weren’t going to give them what they wanted, left. Accepting that your family and reputation came first, they always left, and it hurt every single time. 

But it will be worth it.

That’s what you constantly told yourself. After every heartbreak, every sneer, every harsh insult thrown your way about what a frigid bitch you were, you told yourself that it would be worth it. And yet...here you were...beneath a gangster, having your reputation ripped away from you by a man who stole and murdered and wasn’t decent in any way.

Life was funny.

After slipping out of his shirt, the flimsy material floating somewhere behind him, Michael guided your hands to his chest. Your trembling fingers danced along his taut skin, taking note of an imperfection. An old bullet wound, you deduced. The dark-haired man groaned into your mouth, pressing into you, and you could feel him hard beneath his trousers. The reality of what was about to happen seemed to slink around your neck like a noose, and you didn’t even realize that you’d started panting until Michael’s hand found your neck.

“I-I can’t- I can’t do this-.”

He shushed you, kissing you again.

“Behave...and I’ll be good to you. Breathe,” he urged.

You slowly did as he suggested, squeezing your eyes shut as his other hand pushed the smooth material of your nightgown up your legs. One hand was still on your throat as that same hand traveled to his pants, the sound of his zipper deafening in the quiet room. Your whole body went numb for a moment, ears ringing and vision blurring, and when you finally came back to earth, Michael’s hips were pressing against yours, nothing in between you.

He was speaking to you, you noted.

“...what?” you murmured.

“What’s your name, love?”

You swallowed, quickly darting your tongue out to swipe over your lips.

“Y/N.”

He repeated it, clearly liking the taste of it on his tongue. He nodded at you, drinking you in as he ran his eyes over your face, seemingly committing you to memory before sliding into you with one quick thrust. Your nails pressed into his skin, and he hissed, your own lips parting to let out a pained gasp. Michael held himself above you, a low groan escaping him as his forehead touched yours again.

“You feel fucking amazing,” he whispered, nose bumping against yours.

He held himself there for a long time, just feeling you. You weren’t naïve enough to think he did it for your sake, and you got the feeling that he wanted to drag this out for as long as possible. When he did finally move, your chest arched upwards, unable to handle the unfamiliar feeling. His hand was still on your neck, and you wrapped your hand around his wrist.

The feel of him inside of you was strange. You couldn’t describe it, but you felt full...you felt stretched...and in a way, it felt unnatural, but the heat that festered deep within your stomach said otherwise. One of Michael’s hands was pressed into the bed beside your head, holding himself up so that he could look at you. You remembered his words, and too terrified to disobey, you fought to keep your eyes on him.

His face was strained with concentration, eyes flickering between your face and down to where the two of you connected. The hand that was on your neck slid down to your chest, thumb brushing over a heaving breast before resting on your stomach, pinning you down as he snapped his hips into yours. It was too much for you, too much at once, and your lashes fluttered. 

“Look at me,” he roughly breathed.

“I can’t...I can’t,” you panted, head twisting from side to side.

You could hardly focus on anything other than the way he was thrusting into you, taking you to heights you never knew existed. He called your name then, and you reluctantly met his eyes, the hunger in them making you shudder.

“That’s right. Eyes on me, love. Keep your eyes on me while I fuck you,” he murmured.

The smugness in his voice and face made you frown, a spark of anger in you.

“Do you fuck all of your girls like this? Huh?”

He didn’t respond, pink lips simply curving upwards into a humorous smirk.

“...or am I special because you get to ruin my life and go on with yours?” you shakily spat.

Michael slammed into you then, forcing a choked gasp from you.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. You just focus on milking my cock, hmm?”

You wanted to hit him, spit at him, do anything other than lay there and take his unrelenting thrusts, but your body seized before you could do any of that. Your toes curled and your stomach clenched and your body shook as stars exploded behind your eyes. You hadn’t even realized what a moaning mess you had become until Michael paused just to listen to you, just taking you in with something akin to awe on his face.

You didn't have time to catch your breath before he was chasing his own high, hands pressed into your waist so hard you were sure you’d bruise. Your nails dug into his wrists, choked moans tumbling from your mouth as you clenched around him again, just in time for him to spill into you, releasing a long breath as he did so. You clung to him, tears catching in your lashes as you laid there, mind whirling at what you’d just done.

You flinched, shrinking in on yourself when his lips brushed the corner of your mouth just before pulling out of you. You winced at the action, staring up at the ceiling as you heard him moving about. You turned your head when you heard the strike of a match and watched as he lit himself another cigarette, pants just barely settling on his waist.

“So what happens now?” you finally asked, voice low in the dark room. 

Would your father and brothers come through that door tomorrow, pretending that they hadn’t sold you out? Would they be able to even look at you? Stomach the sight of you? Fresh tears kissed your eyes just as Michael spoke.

“Well…”

He took a pull, exhaling the smoke through his nose as he neared you.

“...I’m going to fuck you at least three more times before the night is over.”

You sat up at this, paying no mind to the pain in between your legs as you stared at him with wide eyes. Without realizing it, you gripped the end of your nightgown, pulling it to your knees as if somehow trying to prevent that very thing from happening.

“What-?”

“...and then I want you to pack a bag. Just some things that’ll last you a few days. I’ll be buying you a whole new lot of clothes anyway.”

“Michael-.”

“You’re my girl, now,” he quietly said, voice firm as he stood over you, free hand playing with the strap of your gown as the other held his cigarette to his lips.

You shook your head, staring up at him in disbelief.

“I...no. My family...they-.”

“Sold you away without a second thought.”

Your heart clenched as he threw that in your face, and you turned away as he reached for you. His fingers pinched your chin, jerking you to face him, and you swallowed. He bent down, staring into your eyes.

“You won’t have to worry about that with us...with me.”

He took one more pull of his cigarette before placing it on the nightstand, tendrils of smoke escaping his nose and mouth just before he pressed his lips to yours, fingers pressing into your skin as he settled between your legs.

~

tags: @cocoamoonmalfoy @trinittyy @ziamslarry-blog @a531a​ @s-u-t​ @sunshinechim-98​ @callmechannel​ @lil-hungryy​ @oneoftheprettynerds​ @scissorkidscult​  @madamerubrum  

[prodbyblush]

You’re legit my favorite aib blog ;-; i wanted to request hc or reactions to niragi and whoever else you feel inspired for being in the 7 of hearts with their s/o? The way you write nigari is fireee

ｎｏｗ ｌｏａｄｉｎｇ . . .

▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 100%

ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ!

・❥・ requested

AN: You are so sweet 😭

Taglist: @ahahawowwwwww @chishiyaslosthoodie @jnrenner @dorizone @bangtannie7

• you didn't like niragi joining the same games as you • but when you told him that you almost died in the last game you played • he got mad • and then told you that he'll be joining the same games as you from now on • doesn't matter if you say no • if aguni says yes • then its a yes • and now you're the same car as niragi and four other militants • niragi skipped a few game arena's • and settled for an arena that was taking place in a botanic garden • in his defense, he hoped that after the games, the flowers would make you happy or feel calm • holding your hand, he entered the arena with you and a couple of lower ranked militants • grinning at the sight of a table filled with various weapons • when the waiting time is over • the game finally commenced • 7 of Hearts appeared on the screen of the phone • niragi's eyes widened in horror • his hold on your hand tightens • it was a game of sheep and wolf • one is the wolf • the rest are the sheep • the game is easy • one is declared as the wolf • and the player declared as the wolf has to kill all the sheep • players who are sheep must hide • as the game starts • the phone in your hand chimed • "wolf is player 6645539" • you are player 6645539 • 20 minutes • and the big screen inside the botanic garden placed a wolf sticker besides your picture • niragi lets go of your hand • stands in front of you • and points his rifle at the lower ranked militants • "y/n run" • anxiety and fear crept through your skin • the militants all had their guns pointed at you • obviously niragi was outnumbered • "damnit i said run!" niragi barked • you snapped out and finally ran • but a militant tried to shoot you • and missed you by a few inches • that militant died because niragi shot him • the other militants shot niragi in return • in your headset, you heard niragi groan out • the screen on your eyes fogged when tears started to brim your eyes • hiding amongst the red rose bush • sitting on the earthly ground, you brought your knees up to your chest • letting out sobs that niragi and the remaining militants could hear • 15 minutes • "niragi move" • "yeah? and who are you to tell me what to do?" • "i said move!" • you tried to think of an alternative • an alternative wherein not only you would be alive • but multiple gunshots echoed the garden • peaking under the bushes, you saw pairs of feet in front of you • walking around, trying to look for you • "y/n come out" one militant singsonged • you placed both hands on top of your mouth • watching their feet walk away from your spot • "hey y/n" you heard niragi softly speak in your headset • "remember when i asked you to help me study for an upcoming exam? i lied. i knew the lesson but i wanted to spend time with you" • "show yourself, y/n!" one militant shouted • 10 minutes • "so noisy" niragi whined • "i told my mom about you, y/n. she likes you and is proud that i'm with you" • though you couldn't see it, niragi was smiling at the memory • "y/n, don't come out of your hiding spot" niragi says, hearing soft grunts after • not listening, slowly you got out of the bushes and ran back to him • niragi was bleeding by the bridge • bullets piercing his shoulders and sides • judging by what it looks, the bullets missed his organs • but could die of bloodloss if not treated immediately • "i told you to hide, what are you doing here?" he asked • though he was bleeding, he still worried for you • slowly you lifted his head up and placed it on your lap • "niragi, i have a plan" • "there she is!" • your head shot up and saw the militants from the distance • immediately they drew out their guns • "wait please listen to me" • 5 minutes • "why should we?" • "you'd probably want us dead" • "PLEASE LISTEN TO ME" you shouted • that shut them up, even niragi • "don't you all understand? it may seem absurd, but in order for everyone to be the wolf, i would have to look at all of you at once" • niragi was silent for a moment before he muttered out • "mirror" • "this place has bathrooms, if i could look at all of you in the mirror,

then all of you wouldn't have to die" • when the militants understood your plan they helped you carry niragi to the bathroom • your eyes met each and every reflection of them • the female robotic voice announcing all of their player numbers as they become wolves • 3 seconds • you and niragi intertwined your fingers together, hoping that your plan would work • 2 seconds • you shut your eyes closed, fearing the unknown • 1 second • "game cleared. congratulations"

[artzee-bee]

Devil’s got a weak spot | Lucifer Morningstar x reader

Fandom: Lucifer (Netflix)

Request: ”Can you do this please.Lucifer is vulnerable around the reader ,And Lucifer loves the reader. Lucifer is wounded to defend the reader. reader bandages his wounds and blames him because it happened to him for her.And they have been friends for many years and the reader knows that he is the devil ,And asks him why he is vulnerable and injured and finally lucifer confesses to her how much he loves her . Thank you. Your writings are wonderful. ”

Genre: angsty with fluffy ending

Warnings: canon typical violence and bad writting probably

~~~

You laid back the seat of Lucifer’s car as much as you could, hoping to get lost in the shadows. Without wanting to, you got sucked into one of his and Chloe’s investigations, but because you weren’t a cop, you had to stay in the car while they took care of business. Well, Lucifer at least. Decker promised that she was on her way with backup but Lucifer couldn’t wait, so he ventured into the old house alone.

You two were on your way to an art exhibition when Chloe called, all but pleading Lucifer to go investigate this specific house, saying she’d be on her way as soon as possible

“Our guy is there!”

“How could you possibly know that, detective?”

“Lucifer, right now is not the time! Please, you need to go!”

As instructed, he turned the car around and drove straight to the location. He didn’t have time to drive back to the other side of Los Angeles to drop you back home, and you were too terrified to be left alone on the streets like that, so you went with him. He was the devil after all so what bad could happen? He’d take care of you! Lucifer didn’t seem too worried either, as he kept telling you that everything would be taken care of in no time and you two could go on with your night, but the further away you got into the woods, the more unsettled you felt. You didn’t want to alarm Lucifer so you kept to yourself but as soon as he got up and left to look inside the building, you felt your heart beating out of your chest in panic.

You stared at the car ceiling, trying to remember the breathing exercises a friend taught you long ago, to no avail. With every deep breath you took, you could hear your heart beat louder and louder in your ears, until you heard something else. Different. Shuffling.

You tried not to move, knowing the safest thing for you would be to stay where you were, concealed by the darkness, but you had to know what was going on outside! Maybe it was just some animal, rummaging through the woods. You couldn’t be sure it was anything threatening at all unless you took a look!

Standing up in your chair slowly, you peek out of Lucifer’s window and see a man dressed in black, digging a hole in the ground. He seemed to be about your height, but much more buff. Broad shoulder with a thick beard. You pulled out your phone, thinking this is crucial evidence that Chloe and Lucifer must have! You recorded every move of the man, from the car. Your flashlight wasn’t on, obviously, which made the quality of the video pretty sucky, but it was definitely readable. You watched slowly as the man dug out what looked like a backpack or a small luggage. He quickly grabbed it and walked away, down the street you and Lucifer had come from. You tried to follow him with your camera as much as you could but eventually, he left your view. In a spur of curiosity and bravery, you opened Lucifer’s door just slightly. Enough to be able to peak your camera out and continue recording the man! It felt like an important job, like you were part of the team and, curiously, you found the feeling of panic diminishing, replaced instead by power and pride!

The car door swung open suddenly and your phone was snatched away by a tall blonde man, dressed in all black. He quickly dragged you out of the car and gagged you with a cloth. All of this happened so suddenly, you barely had time to react or fight him off. He was much stronger than you anyways, so when he slammed you face first onto the hood of the car, you could resist him in any way that mattered.

“Y/N!!” you heard Lucifer come from behind you. He must have just exited the house. 

Everything was so confusing and you could barely process your surroundings. You got yanked away from the car, and turned to face Lucifer.

His hair was messed up and his nice shirt, the one he had bought just last weekend and had been so excited to show you, was now ruined with blood and gunk and mud. He looked out of breath but his fists were clenched, ready to fight.

“Not a single step further!” the blonde man said, as he glued the barrel of his gun to your temple. Your knees went weak.

“I’m not going to do anything!” Lucifer said, raising his hands in surrender “Surely we can come to an agreement!” “I highly doubt that!”

“There must be something that you want! That you’ve been dreaming of for years now! I can make it happen!” you saw right through Lucifer’s act. His voice was calm and somewhat conspirative, as it always was when he was granting people favours, but his eyes spoke of fear and uncertainty. Uncharacteristic of him. 

“Tell me, what is it you truly desire?”

You repressed a smile as you felt the man slightly relax his grip around you. He fell into the devil’s spell. Eventually, the words flew out of his mouth.

“I want my mom back”

“Oh, well that can be arranged! Just let me know where she is and I can guarantee that…”

“She’s dead”

“Oh…” Lucifer’s smile faded

“Yeah, I’d love to see how you’re gonna do that!” you felt the vulnerability of the man translate into his body language. As you were still pressed against him, you felt his grip loosen significantly and decided this was the one chance you got. You kicked your foot back, hitting the man right in between his legs, forcing him to let go of you completely. You took off running towards the woods behind the car but you didn’t have a chance to get far before you heard Lucifer attack the man. You looked back at the fight, only to see the blonde fire his arm into your friend’s leg. For the first time ever you saw something on Lucifer’s face that you had never seen before: pain. He screeched in agony as he pulled away from the man but before the fight went any further, another shot was fired, hitting the blonde man in the shoulder. This one came from behind you. Chloe had arrived at the luckiest of moments. You were sure that had it not been for her, you would have been dead and the guy would have probably gotten away again. Now however, he was in the back of a cop car, on his way to the precinct. Decker and the rest of her team began scouting the place for evidence while you sat outside with Lucifer, carefully tending to his wounds.

“Why?”

“What do you mean darling?” “Oh, where do I even begin!” you joked, but could feel tears brimming in your eyes “First, why did you get hurt like this? You are invincible! You always have been, I mean hell, I’ve seen you get caught in a crossfire before and walk out of it just fine! What was it about this guy and this guy's weapon that made the DEVIL bleed!” you said, showing him the bloody cloth you had been using to clean off the wound “And second, why did you attack him like that? That was reckless! I mean you got SHOT for fuck’s sake!”

Lucifer took a deep breath before answering “ It wasn’t him or his gun. It was you! I am vulnerable when I am around you”

“How is that even possible?! “ “Amenediel had some ideas about that…” he tried to laughed it off

“Like what?” you could tell he was avoiding the subject but you weren’t having it! You were deeply concerned for the safety of your friend and him keeping secrets from you was not something you could tolerate any further

“He thinks I choose to be vulnerable when I’m around you…”

“Why would you do that? That’s ridiculous!”

“For the same reason that I attacked that man Y/N” he said, meeting your eyes for the first time since you had been left alone “Because I love you. And you aren’t just a friend to me”

You looked at him in astonishment and were unable to suppress the giggling fit that took over you. You shook your head lightly before leaning up to kiss Lucifer’s lips. He tasted of black coffee and cigarettes and fit perfectly against you. He kissed you back shyly, as if he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to.

“You should have just told me instead of taking a bullet in the leg, you know? I understand how some people would find that more romantic. Risking your life for the other person and all that, but I prefer you safe and healthy. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am” he said with a smile

“Come here!” you replied, leaning back into him for another kiss.