#and she seemed to think my wrist problem (i have to basically keep snapping my wrist back into place to stop it hurting) is occupational

[silhouettecrow]

365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 354

Adjective: Mammoth

Noun: Library

Definitions for those who need/want them:

Mammoth: huge; pertaining or relating to a mammoth (a large extinct elephant of the Pleistocene epoch, typically hairy with a sloping back and long curved tusks)

Library: a building or room containing collections of books, periodicals, and sometimes films and recorded music for people to read, borrow, or refer to; a collection of books and periodicals held in a library; a room in a private house where books are kept; a series of books, recordings, etc., issued by the same company and similar in appearance; a collection of films, recorded music, genetic material, etc., organized systematically and kept for research or borrowing; (computing) a collection of programs and software packages made generally available, often loaded and stored on disk for immediate use

[diamond-coral]

Bargaining Chip

Hello! This is my first time posting on Tumblr ever:) I pulled this one-shot from a fic I posted on AO3 a few months ago but the plot is irrelavent and I changed it from first person to second as well as some details so it can be read as a stand alone. There’s some plot from the actual story but you really don’t need to know it at all.

There might be a few errors, especially because I changed the entire point of view and converted it to present tense from past tense so sorry:) 

Loki manages to get his hands on you and exchanges you and your body for his ticket to independence from the Avengers. Bucky gets to go first.

Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Characters included: Loki, and a little bit of Tony, Steve, and Thor

WARNINGS: 18+ ONLY!!! SMUT (NON-CON TOUCHING, FORCED ORAL SEX (m receiving), KNIFE THREATS, DARK! AVENGERS, BUCKY’S AN ASSHOLE IN THIS, DEGRADATION, BASICALLY FORCED PROSTITUTION) READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

You awake in the passenger seat of your own car with only foggy memories of you and your partner before everything had gone dark. Your mission from the CIA...breaking and entering the motherfucking Avenger’s facility and managing to escape...you were so close. If it weren’t for him. In your haze, you look to see who could possibly have the audacity to be driving your car, and there sits Loki, the God of Mischief, who you had only scene on the news, driving one hand and inspecting something in his other.

“Good evening my lady. Sleep well?” he mocks without taking his eyes off the item in his hand which upon further inspection from you looks to be... a red leash?

What the hell?

“I do hope you like your outfit,” he continues. “I think I assembled quite the get up for you.”

Looking down, you let out a muffled scream that was cut off by a strip of duct tape. Your hands are bound in your lap, but that isn’t what horrifies you. It’s what’s underneath them. You take into account your bare legs, fully on display, with a black dress leaving little to the imagination. The top half is just as horrifying with it’s plunging neckline. Your legs end with a pair of strappy gold heels that ensures any chances of running away to be futile while your upper arms are adorned in golden bracelets accented with emeralds. Whether the emeralds were real or fake, you could care less. You have bigger problems to worry about.

“What the fuck?!”

Is what you try to say, but the gag only makes it come out as a mangled ball of muffled murmurs. Though the chuckle Loki lets out implies he understands your enraged speaking attempt.

“You, my dear, are going to be a bargaining chip. I heard about your little escapade at the Avenger’s facility last night. Impressive, I must say, but my brother and his little hero posse had been looking for you relentlessly after that. They are practically obsessed with catching the women that managed to break into their high security building.”

Loki takes a sharp turn into a parking garage, narrowly missing the wall. You squeal as your precious car runs over the curb.

“I forgot how much I hate mortal transportation devices. But Stark had to build this tower in the middle of New York to feed his ever-growing ego and now I’m the one that has to rely on a car to get me there,” he grumbles while pulling into a parking space. He takes a deep breath once the car is parked. “Now, I’m going to remove that gag out of your mouth, and if you scream, I will peel your skin off of your body in the slowest, most painful way imaginable. Understood?”

You nod frantically and he rips the tape off, extracting a whimper from your now stinging mouth. You open your mouth for him to take the wad of cloth out that was under the duct tape. As he extracts it, you snap your mouth shut in an attempt to bite him, but he’s quick to evade and grabs your jaw harshly.

“What did I say before?” he seethes. 

“You said not to scream. I didn’t scream. Now let go of my face.”

Loki roughly throughs your face to the side, letting go, and looks around the surroundings of the car, probably checking for any unwanted onlookers.

“Out of the car. Now,” he orders and you hastily oblige using your bound hands to open the door.

As you shut the door, you catch a glimpse of your own reflection and grimace. You look like a hooker. Aside from the skimpy outfit, your hair was pinned up and intertwined with gold strands. Your makeup is done as well. Sultry eye shadow and dark red lipstick.

“I didn’t know the God of Mischief was a makeup guru,” you jab.

He ignores you and harshly pushes you forward. “Walk.”

“Where’s my partner?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Loki replies. “She has other uses than the one I currently need you for.”

“And what use am I needed for?”

“I already told you. By the gods, you mortals are stupid. You are to be a bargaining chip, (Y/N).”

Your blood runs cold. “How do you know my name?” you ask.

“I know everything about you. Including your peculiar abilities.”

You stop dead in your tracks.

“Now, don’t worry,” he adds. “As amusing to me as it would be, I have no interest in enlightening the Avengers to your secret identity. As far as they will know, I am simply giving them the criminal that broke into their compound.”

“And what’s in it for you?” you ask as he guidesyou into an elevator.

After pushing a button, he goes to fix his dark green tie. “Clever girl now aren’t you?”

“Answer the question.”

“How about-no?” he muses and a soft ding resonates through the elevator.

The doors opened and, for a moment, you forget the predicament your in. Inside was the most beautiful penthouse you had ever seen. The opposite wall was made entirely out of glass allowing a view of the New York City night skyline. Everything little piece of furniture each looks as expensive as your car, but your focus becomes drawn to the minibar. The Avengers were all sitting there, laughing, and most were obviously drunk.

“Here James, try some of this,” Thor booms.

Bucky makes a face. “Why would I drink something from another planet meant for Gods?”

“Jeez Buck it’s the only thing that can get you and I drunk,” Steve slurs and claps Bucky on the shoulder. “It’s your birthday. Live it up a little.”

Bucky hesitates before grabbing the flask Thor offers him and throwing his head back, downing the flask in one go.

Loki seems to have enough of the party scene as he clears his throat to interrupt them.

“Gentlemen-”

Before Loki uttered another word all the Avengers clambered from their seats to grab their weapons, but their intoxicated state just makes it a comical sight. Captain America falls over in an attempt to reach for his shield below the table. Tony Stark’s iron man mask smacks him over the head as he fails to turn in time to catch it on his face. Sam Wilson chokes on his drink and falls backwards off his barstool in shock.

“I come bearing no ill tidings.” Loki spread his arms.

“Then why bother coming at all?” Thor growls, shifting his hammer to his right hand.

“I’ve come to make an offer.”

With that, Loki snatches your wrist and throws you towards him and the other men. You stumbled in you stilettos and let out a yelp as you land on the floor looking up at the 5 present Avengers: Thor, the Winter Soldier, Captain America, Iron Man, and the Falcon. They all look down on you with perplexed looks etched onto their faces.

“You guys have been so caught up and stressed about finding your security breaches that I was generous enough to do some finding myself,” Loki explains.

“And how do we know you didn’t just pluck some prostitute off the street?” Caps eyes rake up and down your body.

Loki scoffs. “Always the skeptic captain. Does this answer your question?” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a flash-drive.

Tony snatches it from his hands. “Jarvis, what’s on this drive?” he asks, holding the drive up to a scanner in the glasses he’s wearing.

“It appears to be the files you have been collecting the 2 vigilantes you have been tracking and-.”

“Okay thanks J!” Tony interrupts quickly before Jarvis could spill any more information. He proceeds to storm up to your cowering and kneeling form that hadn’t dared move and harshly grabs your jaw.

Jesus, what was with these men and your poor, bruised jaw?

“Why would you possibly need this information?” he asks calmly, but his eyes are feral. He studies you and his brows furrow. Did he manage to piece it all together that you were the alleged vigilante they had been hunting? He lets go of your jaw and throws you back on the floor. “What business do you have looking for them?”

Looking for them? You let out a sigh of relief.

“None of your business,” you spit.

“Anyways,” Loki continues, and the drive suddenly disintegrated in Tony’s hand while reappearing in Loki’s. “I will happily hand over this seemingly important information along with the girl for you to do with her as you please, but…” He pauses. “Only if you stop tracking my current whereabouts.”

“And why would we do that, Loki? You’re dangerous,” Steve notes.

“I was dangerous,” Loki interjects. “I have been a good boy haven’t I? I would like to lead a normal life without you imbeciles tailing my every move. If I slip, Thor here will know within the second if I’m involved with anyone wrong doings, won’t you brother dear?”

Thor grunts at that statement.

“Besides, Stark’s satellite can track any magical energy if I use it. Which I won’t.”

“Fine. Now hand over the drive,” Tony snaps and holds his hand out.

After Loki drops the small gadget into Tony’s hand, he hauls you up and spins you around to face him.

His voice is quiet and low. “Be glad I didn’t tell them about my plans for you friend. It would be a shame if they found out about her abilities...and yours.”

He spins you back around to face the 5 men whose eyes were now raking up and down your body. “Easy on the eyes isn’t she?” Loki mentions, hands falling on your waist making you squirm. “You know, I almost considered keeping her for myself. Her exotic beauty is that of a pleasure maiden on Asgard.” Your struggles are invigorated at his implications. “Enjoy your whore.” And with that, he gives you one final shove before vanishing.

It’s silent for half a minute before one of the men speak up.

“Alright who wants to take her for a spin?” Tony asks, clapping his hands together. “I vote the birthday boy gets first dibs. Huh, Buckaroo?”

You blanch at the idea. Were they really going to go through with what Loki wanted? What happened to the valiant heroes you saw on your screen?

“Wait Tony, you can’t be seriously considering Loki’s suggestion?” Sam Wilson sounds surprised.

Tony shrugs. “Why not, Birdie? It’s either this or high security prison and I don’t think she wants to rot in a cell.”

“She is standing right here and would rather rot in hell than do what Loki had in mind,” you hiss.

“Well it’s a good thing we weren’t asking for her opinion,” Tony says.

“Tony’s right, Sam,” Steve adds slowly. “We bust our asses out there. We deserve something nice.”

“Day after day we save this pathetic world, and no thanks are given. Just everyone saying what we did wrong. We should’ve left the world to fend for itself after they tried shoving those ridiculous accords down our throats,” Thor murmurs

Sam raises both of his hands up in defense. “Fine. Do what you want with her. I’m gonna head out.” And with that he leaves. Your heart sinks, watching the only glimmer of hope, your knight in shining armor, walk out the door. Your self-pity party is cut short by an arm snaking around your waist.

Bucky Barnes, trained assassin, mass murderer, and now current Avenger, puts his face in the crook of your neck and inhales deeply, sending shivers down your spine while you stand frozen like a deer in headlights. “What do you say, doll? Wanna finish what we started the other night?” His hand on your waist slowly drifts down to your ass.

You stomp your heel down on his foot eliciting a groan of pain. “Last time I checked, you were in the dirt, and I was driving away that night after a successful robbery. There’s nothing to finish.”

He moves quickly as he rips your hair out of what’s securing it up, using the opportunity to tangle his hand into the roots and drag you away to a separate room. He wrenches open and throws you in, leaving you to stumble and trip. A searing pain on your forehead signaled that you hit your head.

“How about we use that snarky mouth of yours for something better hmm?” His voice is ice cold with malice as he grips your hair and yanks you up.

You cry out in pain, tears pooling in your eyes.

“Not so tough now, are you?” he sneers down at you. Hearing the sound of a belt unbuckling and pants unzipping, you shut your eyes.

A tear escapes, cascading down your face, but his thumb gently wipes it away.

“Open your eyes, doll,” he coos.

You shake your head and screw them shut even tighter.

“I said...OPEN YOUR FUCKING EYES!” he roars and your eyes fly open only to see his member sticking out of his slacks right in front of your face. He’s almost fully hard as precum dribbles out of the tip. “Good girl,” he praises. “Now, since you can’t seem to keep your snarky mouth shut, let’s put it to better use. How bout that?”

You don’t move, and he sighed as you look down to the floor. You hear some shuffling, a small click, and suddenly something cold and sharp is pressing under your chin, tilting your gaze to his steel blue eyes.

“Let’s try this again.” He pushes the knife harder, digging it a little deeper, but not enough to draw blood. A knife. This dirty bastard has a knife. “Suck. My. Cock.”

Pushing all your pride aside, you direct your gaze to the task in front of you. Bucky lets out an approving hum and the knife is removed from your throat. You swallow before opening your mouth and dragging your tongue from his base to the tip before wrapping your lips around him and sucking lightly.

Bucky was no slacker down there, you had to give him that. You ease your mouth down his shaft and his head tilts back.

“Oh fuck that’s it,” he moans. “Take my dick down your throat.” He grunts. His metal hand fists your hair to push your head down, sliding a few more inches into your throat. “Oh-that’s a good whore,” he breathes.

A gag is torn from you and you slap your hands against his thighs to imply you couldn’t take much more. Bucky’s only response is another grunt as he jams the rest of his length down your throat leaving your only intake of oxygen to come from your nose which was now mashed right above the base of his thick cock. As quickly as he pushed you down before, he pulls you back off by your hair, letting you go to wretch, gasping for air and freedom. A strand of saliva still connects from his tip to my lips.

“I’m not done with you yet.” He snags your hair again. “Open wide, slut.”

You do just that and he begins to fuck your throat at his own pace, sliding his entire length down every time. Tears brim at your eyes, not just from the lack of oxygen, but the humiliation of the moment as well. The time passes much too slowly for your liking, minutes dragging on for eternity, before he begins to reach his climax.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” His cock twitches in your mouth.He holds your head with both hands as he releases straight into your mouth, warm thick strands of his release coating the back of your throat. He pulls out  with a pop and smirks down at you. “Good little sluts swallow” he orders.

You glare up at him, making a show of not doing anything.

“Well?” he demands and raises a dark brow.

You spit his own climax onto his expensive shoes.

“Why you-!” He raises his hand, getting ready to send a smack to your face.

“Barnes!” A female voice comes from the doorway as the door flies open. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

There stood none other than the Black Widow.

[theperfectlovestory]

You Are My Home

I DON'T OWN THE PICTURE

Information: This will probably have multiple parts but stand alone (?) I'm a bit nervous to post this cause this is a more personal uhh imagines 😂

Summary: It's been a long time since your friends saw you, a lot has change and you are in a better place in your life. Specially the relationship part

Pairings: Elizabeth Olsen x Reader

Theme: fluff

TW: none (?)

Word Count: 2,241

"Hey guys" you greeted, giving a small smile to your friends. It's been a long time since you all had the chance to talk together

Everyone has been busy and since you left your original city 2 years ago, the best you can do is chat with them once in a while

You are confident that the relationship with them is strong but you are sure many things have changed. But change is good, specially since you left with heavy heart and full of uncertainty

Right now you are in a good position in your life, and everyone is free, or at least made sure to make time. But still, the best you can do is video call for now

After 2 years this is the first time you've seen everyone. While they keep in touch and get together once in a while. You just were too far, both physically and mentally

"Hey, long time no see" Steve teased and you chuckled

"Damn you look good" Natasha commented "been taking care of yourself, I see"

You made a face and nodded "happy now I finally hit the gym like you always nag me to?" She chuckled

"Hey, just want you healthy"

"I know, thank you. Your voice is actually what pushed me in training" you leaned on the table, placing your cheeks on your knuckles "I can just hear you berating me for being so weak"

Everyone chuckled, agreeing that she does do that

"But in all seriousness, you look happy" Bucky complimented

Sighing, you nodded, finally at the position in your life where you can actually see yourself having a bright future

"I am, finally got my shit together, mostly at least"

The topic then transferred to your other friends, enjoying their presence even just from the screen. Laughing together just like the old times

"(Y/n)?" You turn your head to the voice, your girlfriend, Elizabeth calling for you coming from the second floor

"Darling, I'm in the dining" you answered and immediately heard footsteps

Without looking at the screen of your laptop, she smiled, excitedly tilt your head by your chin, kissing you deeply

Every one of your friends are stunned. Of course, you never showed them any public display, not like you had the chance anyway since you never really pursued anyone for years you were with them and now here you are kissing Elizabeth Olsen

Very famous actress, part of big filming companies, a producer as well

"Damn (Y/n)..." Natasha whispered and you laughed when Lizzie finally realized you were actually on a video call

"Oh no, sorry baby" she said wiping your mouth and hers with her sleeves, you shake your head to stop her

"You're fine, or not. But Lizzie, meet my friends" you gestured on the screen and Lizzie shyly waved at them. Blush dusting her cheeks as she pursed her lips into a decent smile. Your taste still lingering on her mouth

They said a quick hi to be polite then suddenly spoke all at once berating you for not telling them you are dating "the Elizabeth Olsen". The actress, the girl of your dreams

Then it was your turn to blush when Bucky mentioned that she's the reason you never had any interest in other people. She was just too 'shiny' to you, the other just seemed dull

Elizabeth looked at you with new found love in her eyes as you got bullied by your friends. She can't help but give you a quick kiss on the cheek before apologizing for interrupting your moment with them again

"Oh no, you did not interrupt at all. We probably wouldn't even know she's dating if you didn't come" Tony said and everyone told him to shut up

"It's not like how it sounds, Ms. Olsen. (Y/n) is very proud of you, she just really doesn't like speaking about her relationships" Peter explained and Elizabeth chuckled

"Oh I know, that's why we are not in public anyway" she patted your head "but it's okay. I don't want to drag her in the mess of Hollywood so if you can just keep all this between us" she gave everyone a small smile and they either shrugged or nodded

"No problem" Natasha answered "I'll make sure these idiots don't slip up"

Elizabeth gave them a big smile before she left to get breakfast. Once she is gone though they started attacking you with questions again

"Fine fine" you sighed, finally giving up "we met a few months after I left, I applied to the Marvel Studio as set decorator. I was fixing up the set the night before with a bunch of my coworkers so the shooting will proceed with ease. I'm usually just there at night so when she came looking for her phone, which I actually picked up and was planning to give to the lost and found before leaving, they pointed her to me. I gave it to her, she thanked me and that was it'' you shrugged

"Then how did you two got together"

Pursing your lips, knowing they wouldn't stop anyway you told them

It was the wrap up of the filming for Endgame. The biggest movie you will ever work with if you are honest

A bunch of A-listers are there and a lot of demands have to be met so for the first time, the whole movie you had to be in and out of the sets. You barely slept or ate in the past few months. You apartment even collected dust since all you did there is go home, take a shower, then go out

You mostly slept on set. By the end of the filming your body is screaming for rest. But you kept going anyway. This project is a very big deal for you, specially you lead the look of the set. anything that needs to be changed, moved, removed, added to the set goes through you

So basically, all day you stand in front of the set, watching the designers work their magics and you requesting changes, assessing the atmosphere in pre production and etc. and at night, clean up and set up is a bitch

One morning you were so tired you wanted to pass out there and then when Elizabeth enter the area. She was shooting all her parts today that can be soloed

You tried to keep yourself awake and alert to anything and everything so when you noticed an uneven ramp and props that she will unfortunately stepped on, your body started running before your mind can comprehend what's happening

She let out a squeal when she broke her ankle and fall but before she hit the ground and risk further injuries on her wrist that is sure to break her fall, you were catching her

But your body felt so weak that instead of staying up right, she fell on you. At least she wasn't hurt at any part of her body but you were, you hit your head on impact but it was minor

If ever, it only made you dizzy

She stood up and you did as well. You rubbed your hand on your face, ordering staffs to re-arrange and clean up the set so no more obstacle can cause accidents

You didn't even dare look at her eyes knowing those green orbs will suck your life out of you. You asked her if she's okay, also apologizing for the dangerous set up. It was overlooked that she would be indeed walking in heels, boots but heels nevertheless

"It's fine, I'm fine" she said, smiling but her eyes are full of worry "are you though? You hit your head when you broke my fall" she said, even unconsciously touching it

"Uh yeah..." you awkwardly smiled at her "it doesn't hurt, thanks" you then slowly back away. When the props have been arrange, the shooting started but your body felt so weak you had to call your assistant to cover for you

You went to the area where you always rested and slept. You were out for almost 2 hours when a cough woke you up. You sat up, rubbing your eyes and ask what they need without even looking at them

"I...brought you food, and coffee" your head snapped, looking at the voice you only dream of talking . She had a small and awkward smile and shy look in her eyes directed to you

"I was looking for you where you usually stand but noticed you weren't there" she explained, your face obviously gave your confusion away "I wanted to thank you again, the stunt director said that if it weren't for you, I would most likely break my wrist in that fall"

You slowly nodded, giving her a small smile "well, it was our fault for not triple checking the set"

"No no, please don't do that, accidents happen, I'm just here to thank you. It was me being clumsy too" You look at her with newfound admiration, a firm believer of 'never meet your idol, it will disappoint you'. But it wasn't the case with her at all

You are aware of the rumors that she's actually very kind, down to earth and serious with her job. It's a good rumor considering she is well known and if you are honest, you know deep in your heart it is true, but you never get your hopes up high

If only you met in a different circumstance, maybe you would think of trying to flirt a little but you know your place. This is a work situation and you need to be as professional as you can be. She is still an actress after all, you need to respect her space

It doesn't mean that she is being kind to you, it's an invitation to step into that space of hers. So you muster the most professional smile you can

"Well thanks, it's really no problem" you said with indifference and if you are actually not too much in your head, you will see her frown with the change of tone

She then handed you the food and the coffee "I'd actually like to talk more again sometimes" she said, swallowing the tightness in her throat "maybe for a coffee?"

The invitation did wonders in your body. Your heart is just beating a tad bit faster, your stomach filled with butterflies, your cheeks turning red. All the cliché reactions you can feel, it's there but then you moved and you groaned, your body sore from over work

You were so sure you wanted to say yes, but your body clearly wanted to say no. After this shooting, you just want to drop dead in your apartment and maybe wake up 3 months after

"I'm just so tired recently, I will be no fun" you chuckled, exhaustion dripping on every syllable "but hey, maybe a few weeks after the filming is done, if you are still up for it?"

The sadness of rejection from earlier was turned into a big grin. Her excitement sparkled on her eyes "sure, I'd give you my number then"

You nodded and gave her your phone. She didn't even have to ask for a password because you never put one in. It's easier since you give your phone to your assistants all the time to contact people for updates on props shipments and other business related matter

She excitedly tapped her number, saving it as 'Scarlet Witch' and that made you giggle. Using her screen name that's not even canon yet

"Okay, Scarlet Witch, I'll call you when I finally get some well deserve hibernation, then maybe I'll be more fun to talk to than a usual" She laughed and nodded and you are so sure you can never be more in love with her voice

She then said a few more things before leaving you to rest. You thanked her again for the food and coffee before she disappeared

"I can't believe you almost rejected her" Steve said wide eyed "she's like, your dream woman"

"Oh I can" Natasha said "(Y/n) doesn't hit uncertain, have you ever played with her on anything? All her hits are aces!"

"But it's like the chance of a lifetime!"

"Yeah! That's why you make sure you attack when you know it will hit!"

The two started bickering and you all just watched, laughing at their same old antics. Elizabeth then walk to your side, offering you a fruit bowl for breakfast, you thanked her and then invited her to seat besides you and she did, you kissed her off camera

"What was that?" She chuckled but tried to catch your lips again when you pulled away, you giggled at her pouty face

"Nothing, just suddenly can't believe I'm actually dating you" she sighed, giving you a small smile

"You might think that you're the lucky one but it's actually me" she said, pressing a hand on your cheeks and squeezing it lightly "you make my life whole, (Y/n), you filled the space in my heart where money or popularity cannot"

"And you picked up and fixed my broken pieces" you countered, leaning on her hand that's now just slowly rubbing your cheeks

"I guess we are both lucky then"

"Yeah"

Your eyes both glint the same way. Feeling like you finally found where you belong, in each other. You are home

[babybluebex]

everyone loves an outlaw [arvin russell x reader smut]

➽ pairing: mob!arvin russell x fem!reader(y/n) ➽ word count: 2.2k ➽ summary: arvin works for your dad and you have to keep your relationship a secret. ➽ warnings: NSFW/MDNI. smut, explicit language, age gap (reader is legal tho!), fingering (f!receiving), praise kink, breeding kink ➽ a/n: mob!arvin goes brrrr hehe​

In small towns, there weren’t many ways out. A job was the usual way-- graduate high school and get a job out of town and leave Coal Creek in your dust. Sometimes, though, the job search was fruitless and many people, young and old, were left to rot in West Virginia. That seemed to be the case for Arvin Russell. We went to high school together, him being a senior when I was a freshman, and I remember my father going on about him. “Gonna get him when he graduates,” Daddy said. “Not lettin’ somethin’ like him get outta here.” 

Legally speaking, my dad’s business was in bail bonds. We had family in Chicago that we worked for, and the line of work that my father did was less on the end of selling the bonds and more towards extracting the payments. Coal Creek had a few names for what my family did-- “mob”, “mafia” (which were technically two different things, but the people in Coal Creek had no hope of ever distinguishing the two)-- but we preferred to call it family. 

And, God almighty, Arvin Russell was in need of family. When he graduated, he had a bright future ahead of him, but that flame was put out when his little sister died. Lenora was a year ahead of me, quiet and reserved and very bookish, and it took the entire town by surprise when we heard that she had died. Rumors flew around as to why; she was sick and didn’t want to burden her family with her illness was a popular one. When Lenora died, Arvin lost his way. Wayward young men looking for protection and acceptance was my dad’s type when it came to employment. 

He had me do it. I usually was the one to go out and hire young men. Papa realized fairly quickly that men would do basically anything I asked of them, including signing themselves into our little family, so, one day in my senior year of high school, I went to the garage where Arvin Russell worked. He split his time between road construction and the garage and, when I met him properly, he had grease all over his hands. “Hi, Arv,” I said sweetly. 

His pink mouth had quirked into a smile. “Hey, doll,” he said. “You’re Y/N? From high school, ain’t ya? Ya daddy’s got that bail bond thing goin’?” 

“That’s me,” I said. “I, uh…” I had a script that I had to stick to. “I… I was just wonderin’ if ya wanted to get dinner sometime. Maybe go to a drive-in? That car you’ve got is pretty neat.” 

“You like my car?” Arvin asked, and I giggled out a yes. “Ya sure it’s the car ya like, doll?” 

“Not as much as the driver,” I said, biting my lip. ‘C’mon, Arv, this is takin’ a lot of courage to ask ya.” 

Arvin sat up from the rolling creeper he was at and wiped his hands on the thighs of his pants. “You really wanna go out with me?” he asked. His voice was dripping with absolute sarcasm, but his honey-colored eyes held something more hopeful. I knew, right then, that we got him. 

“Well, yeah,” I mumbled sheepishly, picking at a loose thread on my blouse. “I’ve kinda had my eye on you since… Forever, I guess. I-I just think you’re outta sight, Arvin.” 

Arvin’s eyes glanced over me, still wearing my clothes from school, and he gave me a smile, much more sincere than ever before. “Sure thing, doll,” he said softly. “What d’ya say to Friday night?” 

Friday night came, and it was quickly obvious that the movie would be forgotten. Instead of that, Arvin and I ended up in the backseat of his car, his hand up my shirt, making marks on my neck that my dad would be mad at. I never planned on fucking Arvin and, while I had no qualms about doing so, I stopped when his long fingers began to dance at my panties. “Arvie,” I panted, grabbing his wrist. “I ain’t ever done nothin’ like this before. I-I just--”

Arvin kissed me softly, his hand holding my cheek tenderly. “No sweat, doll,” he told me. “We’ll go as fast or slow as you want. I’m here for you.” 

I was supposed to break it off with him after that, but I just couldn’t. There was a bit of truth to what I said when I asked him out initially, that I had my eye on him for a while. I had always thought that Arvin was pretty cute, and I enjoyed the time I had with him. We had to sneak around, though, because my dad would have cast both of us out if he knew. While I was supposed to fluff up their egos and convince them to join the business, I wasn’t supposed to fool around with the guys my dad hired. Arvin was different, though, in a way that I couldn’t put my finger on. He was kinder, a gentler soul than most, hidden behind a gruff exterior. 

School was grueling, but the sight of the old Chevy waiting in the parking lot for me brought me comfort. Arvin stood near the door of the school, smoking a cigarette as he waited for me, and a smile passed his face when he saw me. 

“Arvin, you know damn well that you aren’t supposed to be here right now,” I hissed quickly. “My daddy’ll kill you.” 

“I reckon he’d have to catch me first,” Arvin chuckled. His smile promised illicit moments in the coming minutes, and he added, “It looks like it’s gonna rain and I was thinkin’ of offering you a ride. Wouldn’t want ya to walk and get all wet and melt.” 

“Why would I melt?” I asked. “I ain’t no witch.” 

“Nah, but you’re all made of sugar,” Arvin told me. “C’mon, babydoll. I know you want to. I might even buy you a milkshake if you’re good to me.” 

“Good to you?” I laughed. “Right, ‘cause that’s my goal in life, Arv, is to please you. Fuck off.” 

“Dolly’s got an attitude today,” Arvin drawled around his cigarette. His dark eyes were full of energy and promised nothing but fun, and the fact that he hadn’t given up his advances yet let me know that he saw right through my fake resistant measures. After all, he knew that I would give in no matter what, just as I always did. “Jesus, woman, you’re makin’ me work for it today, huh? This is fun for you, yeah?” 

“Oh, so much fun,” I assured him. “I love makin’ ya dance, Arvie.” 

“Shit, do I gotta get down on one knee?” Arvin laughed. “I was hoping that you’d be all graduated first but--” 

I tugged Arvin close by his worn leather belt and I silenced him with a kiss to his cheek. My pink lipstick left a mark on his skin, and I said, “We can talk ‘bout that later. Thanks for the ride, loverboy.” 

“Never a problem with you, doll,” Arvin told me. 

As usual, we ended up parked at the river, with Arvin’s hand up my skirt. My hips bucked up into his hand as his skilled fingers found home inside me, and a soft whimper fell from my lips. “Vinny,” I whispered quickly; that name was reserved for moments like this. “O-Oh, fuck!” 

“Such a good girl,” Arvin whispered in my ear, gently nipping at my earlobe. “S’fucking tight, doll. You really ain’t been lettin’ other guys fuck ya, huh?” 

“I only want you, Vinny,” I said. “Nobody makes me feel the way you do.” 

“Good girl,” Arvin told me, and my body went warm with the praise. Arvin had always been so good to me and I truly didn’t want anybody else. But I had always imagined getting out of Coal Creek, leaving my family behind and having a good and honest life. I wanted to get married; maybe to Arvin, but maybe to someone with no ties to my family. I was lovestruck, I’ll admit that much. I was so pathetically in love with Arvin that I had doodled his name during class, even going as far to put his last name with mine. Mrs. Y/N Russell was enticing. If Arvin were ever to propose, I would be compelled to say yes. 

“Vinny,” I said, and I grabbed his strong arms. “I-I’m gettin’ close, baby.” 

“You hold that shit in,” Arvin growled into my neck. “Want ya to come on my cock, babydoll.” His fingers fell from me quickly, and he made light work of undoing his belt and jeans. My thighs were quivering around his hips, and I sunk down onto his hard cock with a satisfied keenness in the back of my throat. Arvin’s moan in my ear was heavenly, and he mumbled, “Pussy’s so good, doll. Fuck.” 

“Fuck!” I squealed as he snapped his hips up into me. “Vinny, I-I--” 

Arvin’s mouth met mine in a greedy kiss, and I whimpered my way through a blissful orgasm. Arvin swallowed every single noise I made, his hands raking my blouse up to feel the skin of my back, and I felt myself shaking so hard in his grasp. “Good girl,” Arvin shushed me, kissing all over my face. “So good for me, babydoll. Gonna help me now?” 

Even though my legs felt like liquid and my hips ached, I rolled my hips down onto him. Arvin quickly got rid of my shirt fully and tugged my bra up my chest to expose my tits, my nipples hard at the feeling of him. His mouth latched into my tit quickly, and I pushed his curls off of his forehead as I watched him suck on my tit. Arvin looked up at me through his dark eyelashes and gave my nipple a quick bite with his front teeth, and I yipped. “Vinny!” I cried. 

“Aw, dolly,” Arvin cooed. “I only do it ‘cause I like the pretty little noises you make.” 

I chuckled breathlessly, and, with his lips back on my nipple, Arvin winked at me. “Arv,” I sighed. “Your cock is literally inside me right now. You can knock it off with the flirting.” 

“Can’t help it,” Arvin said, biting his bottom lip as he cupped his hands around my breasts. “Just an instinct.” 

“It’s a good thing I like it,” I whispered, and I leaned down to kiss him. His breath was hot against my mouth, and I clutched his hair as he continued to fuck into me, and I finally pleaded, “Vinny, please come. Want you to come inside me, Arvin, please.” 

Arvin took a fistful of my hair and tugged my head back to expose my neck, and he kissed all over the soft column of my throat as his thrusts became quick and sloppy. “Fuck,” he whispered and sucked a mark onto my neck, but I was too far gone to chastise him for it. Arvin huffed out a heavy breath then, and I felt him spilling himself inside of me, painting my walls with his hot cum. I gasped aloud at the feeling of it, and Arvin set a kiss to my lips to silence me. “Ya like that?” he whispered. “Like being fucked like this? My good girl, my best girl.” 

“Christ, Vin,” I whispered with a giggle. “I love you, you fuckin’ square.” 

“Hey, I’m not a square,” Arvin laughed. His arms were circled around me, holding me tightly, and his cock was still inside me as he laid his head on my chest and tried to catch his breath. “But I love you too, babydoll.” There was a quiet that blanketed the car then, the only sounds being our rasping breaths and the faint radio that we had left on before climbing into the backseat. Arvin was right; it had begun to rain. 

“Think it’ll take?” I asked softly. 

“What?” Arvin asked. His brown eyes were still blown out as he looked at me, and a smile split his face. “Oh, dolly. Is that why you wanted me to come inside ya?” 

I shrugged sheepishly, and I hid myself in his neck. Arvin laughed and readjusted us so that he was laying on his back, making sure to stay inside of me all the while. 

“You wanna have my babies?” Arvin chuckled. “Your daddy’ll kill us.” 

“I jus’ wanna be yours, Arvie,” I told him. “Want everyone to know I’m yours.” 

Arvin pulled my face from his neck and captured my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “No more hidin’?” he asked hopefully. 

I shook my head, and Arvin smiled. “No more hiding,��� I agreed. 

Arvin gave a content sigh, and he kissed my mouth once more. “My pretty girl,” he whispered. “My pretty wife, maybe?” I nodded, and he laughed. “Shit, that sounds pretty nice. Having a pretty little wife to come home to, gettin’ all big with my baby… Jesus, I love the thought of that. But you ain’t even graduated yet, doll. Are ya sure…?”

“There’re girls who dropped out ‘cause they got married,” I told him. “I think the fact that I’m engaged and pregnant, and still manage to graduate won’t be a problem.” 

Arvin kissed my forehead, and he whispered, “Just a few more minutes, baby. Wanna make sure, ya know. Then, I’ll get you that milkshake I promised.” 

[shoutoismybaby]

Omega Shame Part 2

Part 1 / Part 3

Thank you guys for all your interest! It made me super happy to see so many people excited about my writing, so I hope you enjoy and stay tuned for the last part soon!

Warnings: Angst, depression, mentions of fighting (bc hero training)

***

The classroom didn't smell right.  Not only was your serotonin inducing scent the class had gotten accustomed to in the past couple months missing, but a certain caramel smell had a hint of burnt rubber and ash to it. Despite some of the girls hearing commotion coming from your room, you didn’t answer their calls or knocks, so no one knew what was going on. The only knowledge the class had was that you weren’t in class and Bakugou was upset. Well, more upset than he usually was.

Even his best friends, whether or not he would admit that’s what they were to him, would earn growls and bared teeth if they got too close. Other than that though, Bakugou was generally unresponsive. Only caring when people got too close, but he didn’t respond when Aizawa called on him, or when the lunch bell rang. Only shoving the teachers hand off his shoulder when he came to check up on the blond.

Bakugou was just too caught up in his thoughts to really be aware of his surroundings as he followed his class aimlessly to the cafeteria.

Even though his body was in the P.E Training grounds, his brain was back in time to your dorm room. Back when your body began to tremble at the sight of him, the way salty tears rushed from your eyes when he started to speak. Your throat squeaking as you begged him to spare the nest you had constructed. It was beautifully made, if you had asked him. The way your soft blankets were woven together with your favorite weekend clothes, pillows being used to stable the walls. It looked incredibly comfortable.

Bakugou knew that Omegas could get upset if their nest was intruded without permission. But he also knew he was nowhere near your circular haven. Yet, you were crying, shaking, and begging.

It was then that it dawned on the hothead that you were scared of him. His omega was Terrified of him. It made his heart beat erratically, how could he make someone he cared about so scared of him? Especially his own omega. It was his job to keep you safe, to take care of you and make sure you were comfortable. You trusted him to fulfill this role, but you thought he was going to destroy your nest?

It made Bakugous’ buzz in confusion. It made no sense that you would be freaking out just because your alpha walked in your room.

Unless you weren't even his omega by choice. What if you just accepted his courting gift because you were afraid he would hurt you? He had been told multiple times throughout his life that he needed to stop being so aggressive,  that he would scare omegas away, but he had always brushed those comments off. He had thought that he would find someone who liked him despite his anger, and he thought you were that person.

Clearly, though, you were too fearful of him to even reject his proposal. Your trembling body inside of your nest was undeniable proof of that. You were too scared to even tell him you were nesting, and if the sight was evidence enough you didn’t seem to have or want his scent anywhere close to your nest. He should have noticed it before. What kind of alpha scared those they were supposed to protect?

You probably just got off of your meds to make him happy too. You had made so many sacrifices to keep him happy, and the thought of that made his blood boil. He had been a terrible alpha to you. He had to end this, he couldn’t put you through anymore pain. His inner alpha cried at the thought of having hurt you.

His large hand moved towards his opposite wrist, gently shimmying the bracelet that sat on it off. It was your courting gift to him, since you insisted on making him something in return. It was simple, made of skillfully twisted threads in his hero costume colors. His heart had skipped a beat the moment you presented it to him, not that he would tell anyone that. Especially not now, not when all the memories he shared with you were put into perspective.

He remembered how it felt as though the threads burnt his skin on its way past. How it dragged his heart down with it as it fell to the floor. Since then, he felt numb to the outside world. It didn’t matter how many times Kirishima tried to get him involved in their 1-1 match, he mostly just stood there, letting his instincts do the bare minimum to protect his body.

“Come on man!” His body dodged another hit just enough before slacking again, causing the redheaded alpha to growl. “You’re not responding to anything and you smell, honestly bad bro. What’s going on with you!?”

The only thing “going on” in Katsuki’s brain was replaying the pain in your eyes over and over. Replaying how you were scared, no, terrified of the person who was supposed to protect you. His omega wasn’t his omega anymore, and his alpha felt broken. He felt alone.

He could only focus on how he failed to do his basic duties. How he failed you. Everyone had been right when they critiqued his anger. He was too aggressive to deserve an Omega. Clearly he couldn’t treat one right no matter how much their smile made serotonin speed through his brain. If he couldn’t protect you from himself it was ridiculous to think he would do anything but fuck up protecting Japan from villains. He was a terrible alpha who couldn’t even treat an Omega properly, so what was the point? He wasn’t even good at his innate purpose.

By now Kirishima was getting desperate. All day his best friend had been growing more and more despondent, and he was scared for what that meant. He just needed Bakugou to talk to him, Kirishima wanted to be reassured that he was okay. And he had an idea of how to pull Bakugou back into the present, even if he didn’t like it.

“I don’t want to do this but, I’m really worried about you. Bakugou is this about (Y/n)?” The blondes alpha perked up at the mention of your name, drawing Bakugou’s head up with it.

“The girls said something happened in (Y/n)’s room last night and,” He hesitated, ruby eyes falling to Bakugou's large wrists. “You’re not wearing the courting bracelet she made for you anymore”

His words caused a whimper to leave Katsukis throat. Kirishima had no idea what kind of pain that reminder brought to Bakugou, but he could guess. The way the blonds hands clenched and brows furrowed made Kirishima's heart drop, he hated bringing up things that could hurt Katsuki. But he could only fix the problem if he knew what was wrong, and for that he needed Bakugou to talk to him.

“Did, did you guys break up?” Kirishima kept his distance, afraid of what Bakugou would do once he snapped out of his trance. But all Bakugou did was begin to shake, blinking furiously as he became aware of his surroundings once again along with the hot tears that flooded his eyes. Kirishima ran towards his friend then, placing a hand on the other alphas shoulder in a hope to be any bit comforting without overwhelming his friend. He analyzed the way Bakugous nose scrunched, causing his large canines to show as the first sob burst out of his trembling frame. It was so powerful that the blond lost his balance, falling into the stunned redheads arms. Face tucked into his friends chest, shielded from the attention his sobs were bringing from his entire class.

“Bakugou…” Kirishima ran his hands up and down Bakugous back gently feeling the way the blond fisted his shirt in desperation, “What happened? You can tell me.”

“I’m a terrible alpha,” Bakugous voice was shaky and Kirishima almost felt guilty at how relieved he was to hear it. “No you’re not man, wha-” “Yes I am!” Bakugous voice reached the same volume as his sobs that interrupted his speech. “She thought that I was going to destroy her nest, she was scared of me. I was supposed to defend her when really I’m the one she wanted protection from.”

Krishima didn’t know how to respond to what his friend said. Eyes too wide in confusion as he looked towards his teacher for answers. You had always been absolutely smitten with Bakugou, just his presence in the room made it seem like you radiated love and positivity. It didn’t seem that Bakugou needed any further encouragement to continue though, as his next statement sent ice down the spines of the whole class.

“I failed as an alpha… I don’t want to be alive anymore.” All Bakugou wanted to do in that moment was curl up and die. He didn’t have a purpose anymore, so he didn’t see the point of existing. It was then that his body seemed to shut back down in order to conserve energy, he began to slack in Kirishima's arms leaving him sitting on the ground despite the redheads' many protests. The revelation of how his best friend felt bringing tears to his own eyes, and a recognition to his teachers.

“Aizawa, what's happening to Bakugou?” Kirishima asked, struggling to hold himself together as he knelt in front of his friend. Bakugou’s eyes seemed more void of life than ever as he stared aimlessly at Kirishima's shirt.

“Someone call Recovery Girl, I fear that Bakugou has developed an Alpha depression.”

***

Tag List:

@pasteldana-blog @fandomtrash1616 @cyntinaaa @my-neighbor-todoro @anime-weeb-bnha @professionalreblogs @thenerdyrebel @weeb-reading-trash @procrastinatingmurder @myherotrashbin @spicyfoodboi @tspice283 @inumorph @rubyreds-stuff @mscarterakaviola98 @arcticsakura

[thefanficmonster]

More Than You Know

The Curator (The Dark Pictures Anthology) & Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Comfort Fluff

Summary: When university stresses get to you, you can only face them properly if you have a helping hand of a good friend to help you stand to your feet no matter how many times you’ve been knocked down or discouraged.

Requested by 💀 Anon. Hi dear! I know you’ve been enjoying my fics for our ominous Curator so I hope you enjoy this one just as much as the previous. That is if you’ve stuck around long enough to read it. I don’t blame you if you haven’t it’s been a long wait but if you have indeed stuck around - please enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

Seeing the flurry she was when she basically barged into the Repository, he knew right away he was no match for her force and didn’t even make an attempt to stop her when she took off on the impossible adventure of looking for a on her own. Truth be told, she is yet to even take proper notice of his presence, but he doubts she’d ask him for help even then. She’s a pile of pride, self-encouragement and curiosity, and though that’s a firm building of emotional stability at a first glance, it’s fragile and easy to knock down. All she is relies on her mind and skills and as little as one bad day could send her crumbling and spiraling downwards.

And Lord knows he’d never let that happen.

He’s given her the space her and her haywire mind clearly need right now, taking after cleaning the messes she makes behind herself after looking through individual shelves for something he’s yet to understand what. To be perfectly honest, he’s not even sure she knows what she’s looking for, but he wouldn’t dare say it to her, not when she seems one thread away from snapping completely.

With the third pile of books on the floor cleared up, each book placed in its previous spot with care, the Curator walks over to his luxurious, old-timey desk near which Y/N dropped her bag upon entering, some of its contents spilling out onto the floor. He hadn’t noticed it before, but now that he has, he’s taken it upon himself to clean it up as well and store all the items and the bag somewhere safe as to avoid the risk of her losing something important. She’s already stressed enough as it is, he’s afraid of finding out how another inconvenience will affect her already unstable mental state. Kneeling down to lift the bag as well as the two folders that have fallen out of it, he can’t harness his curiosity before he opens one of them and looks through the lines of handwritten text looking back at him, some jumping out thanks to a coat of highlighter signaling their importance. The folder’s pages, in contrast to it’s cover, is vibrant and colorful as a result of the many lines highlighted and underlined with colorful pens. That sight alone speaks volumes about Y/N’s personality - vibrant, colorful, cheerful, but with a few shadowy and dark spots here and there. Every person has them, and for her they are the result of her need to achieve more and more, a result of her inability to be satisfied with how much she’s done for herself, her career and for the people in her life. Her flaw is that she wants to be flawless. But no one can achieve that, of course. It’s not like he hasn’t tried to explain that to her, but his attempts have proven to be hopeless, rendering him overall helpless whenever she gets like this - in need of being in control of her destiny completely.

Yet deep down inside she knows she’s not nor will she ever be.

Apparently, she’s already come to this realization, as evidenced by the soft spots coming from the next room over where she had moved her scavenger hunt.

Without another second to waste, the Curator sets the bag down on one of the chairs before quickly making his way through the doorway and into the wide open room with books lining all the walls from ceiling to floor. There he sees Y/N sitting on the floor, surrounded by books she’s trying to put into small neat piles while trying and failing to stifle her sobs of exhaustion and disappointment. Sobs that tear his heart to pieces.

“Y/N...“ He approaches he cautiously as though she’s a wounded wild animal, “Mind telling me what’s going on? I don’t know how to handle the situation if you keep me in the dark, you know?“ He finally settles on saying, afraid he might hit a nerve by using the wrong terminology in his expressions.

Y/N wipes the tears from her cheeks almost angrily. Not angry at him, but at herself, that’s perfectly evident. “See, that’s the problem. I’m tired. I’m tired of so many things, some of them aren’t even related to one another. Like, I’m tired of having others handle my situations and deal with me.” She motions toward him with and almost limp with exhaustion arm, “I’m tired of university and my studies, they drain the life and the will to live out of me.” She motions to the books surrounding her. “I’m tired of being a nobody. You know, the typical stuff.”

“The stuff you always sweep under the rug, you mean?“ He questions, not allowing himself to dwell on her words long enough for them to hurt him too much, “You see, none of the things you just counted down would be big problems if you looked at them differently.“ He kneels down opposite her, taking the book she’s holding from her and taking  hold of her hand instead, causing her to look him in the eye. “For starters, you’re not a nobody. You’re Y/N Y/L/N, someone who has more determination than all the people I’ve met in my life combined. And trust me, I’ve met plenty of people.“ He nods knowingly at her before continuing, “Secondly, I can’t recall a single time I’ve done something for you. You never allow me to, in case you’ve forgotten.“ He points out, raising his eyebrows to put extra emphasis on his point, earning him a small laugh from the teary-eyed girl, making him smile, “You’re so much more than you give yourself credit for, Y/N. You know a lot more than you know. You have the ability to do a lot more than you think you can. But, it’s a slippery slope - you need to remember you’re not superhuman. Chasing that image of perfection will drive your sanity off the ledge and send you in the complete opposite direction of perfection. So, why don’t you stay what you are and do the best with what you possess and what you’ve been given. Stay human, Y/N. Lord knows I wish I was. I wish I knew what that felt like.“

The two stare at each other in silence for a few moments, one confused and the other shocked. Y/N’s confused by what he’s just said, not sure she’s grasped the meaning of his words correctly and the Curator is dumbfounded he said that. He’s never thought he’s say it, never thought those words would leave the confinement of his mind, but now they are out in the open, much to his dismay. All he has left to do is pray she doesn’t think much of it.

Luckily, she doesn’t.

“You’re so ominous and weird sometimes.“ She scoffs, shaking her head, pushing one of the book piles to the side.

Covering up a sigh of relief, the Curator springs up to his feet, offering her his hand to help her to her own. She gladly takes the offered helping hand and stands up, dusting her jeans despite there being no dust on them. There’s never dust on any surfaces in the Repository.

“Alright, now, what was the reason you felt the need to ransack my dear Repository?“ He asks in a mock-offended tone and a furrowed brow.

Y/N rolls her eyes, “I have a paper I need to write by the end of this week. You know me, I like outdoing myself, so I started being a little...frantic.”

He hums, nodding sarcastically, “Ah yes, frantic. Well, seems like this book you’re looking for is not a specific title, is it?” She shakes her head, “In that case, we better go on this scavenger hunt together, don’t you think? I mean, two pairs have more insight than one, two brains work better...”

“Ok, ok, I get it.“ She laughs, cutting him off, “I accept your help, but just this once.“ She points a warning finger at him.

He can’t help but smile at her, “Progress. Come on, let’s find your book.”

Just as he starts to turn around, he feels Y/N’s fingers wrap around his wrist, stopping him mid-motion. He turns back to face her but has no time to question her actions because, before he’s even processed any of it, her arms are wrapped around him, in a tight embrace. “Thank you.“ She whispers to him and lets go of him just as quickly as she had initiated the hug, turning on her heel and walking off further into the heart of the room, leaving Death himself speechless behind her.

Only Y/N Y/L/N can do that. And yet she still has the audacity to say she’s a nobody.

[depressedacadamia]

How do you passive aggressively say Fuck you in flower?

Summary:Nico walks into a flower shop asking for a hateful bouquet. Will cannot help but wonder who on Earth it’s for.

A/N: Oh my gosh, another on time weekly update??? WHaaaat? I have exams coming up so I'm procrastinating by writing instead of revising. I plan on making a part 2 so watch out for that! Besides that, comment, follow and enjoyyy  <3 from mee!

Read on A03

“How do you passive aggressively say fuck you in flower?”

Will did not expect that to be the first request he had when he started his morning shift in the local florists that he worked in on Saturdays to help earn some more cash on the side. Med school was expensive and half his friends already thought he was crazy to work while studying Medicine but he had assured them that he could do it.

This customer was both proving his point and not.

Afterall, he wasn’t a professional florist or anything, he just knew the basics- figuring out how to say fuck you in flower sounded like something out of his range and he figured it would take a while.

“Uh, excuse me? Did I hear you correctly?” Will asked, rubbing the back of head, slightly unsure.

The boy in front of him simply sighed. “ I said, how do I passive aggressively say Fuck you in flower?”`

Will couldn’t tell if his jaw had actually dropped or if he was just remembering the moment incorrectly. Looking back, he really hoped he hadn’t dropped his jaw.

“That, uh well- you see, I’m not really a professional, I just work here on the weekends and the actual florist doesn't come in on Saturdays- but she’ll be here tomorrow. I could take down your name and request for her if that’s okay?”

The boy grinned and nodded. He picked up his skateboard and left the shop with the bell ringing on his way out.

What had just happened?

Did he actually just get asked how to say fuck you in flower?

Will couldn’t say he was very surprised when the same boy showed up the next day with a blonde haired girl by his side. From his perspective, they seemed close- Was that his girlfriend? He does know that giving her flowers that say Fuck you without tellling her is extrremely passive aggressive?

Will brushed his hair out of his eyes and snatched a hair clip from the girl who stood behind the till. She frowned and threw a pen at him.

“Oi! Get your own clips sunboy,” Meg snapped. Will stuck his tongue out at her and walked straight into another figure before hitting the floor with a thud and groaning in both annoyment and agony. His eyes snapped open on remembering that he had walked into someone.

He glanced upwards and was surprised to find a hand shoved into his face and so let his eyes follow the arm upwards to find the face of its owner. It was the passive aggressive boy from yesterday. Unlike yesterday, he was sporting a lip piercing and was wearing black ripped jeans flawlessly like some magical idol from some manga or anime.

Will couldn’t help but gape, staring at him. The boy looking at him simply tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into a small smile.

“Aren’t you gonna take my hand?” The boy mumbled, his gaze averting when he noticed Will staring at the lip ring. Will, on realising he had been staring, heaved himself up on the hand and started apologizing profusely.

“I’m so so sorry, I didn't see you and I needed to tie my hair up…” He patted his head only to feel that his hair was still down but then he hissed and felt a small shot of pain across his palm. Raising his arm to take a look at his palm, he noticed their hair clip had broken and slashed a cut across his hand.

He gave another groan and ignored his hand. As he was left handed and the wound was on his right hand, it couldn’t be too bad. Besides, he had already embarrassed himself in front of the cute boy and his girlfriend and kept them waiting, he didn't want to cause more problems.

“Oh, yeah- your flowers. Boss told me- she said it was not as uncommon a request as I thought it was-”

“-You thought it was a weird request?” The boy's voice was smaller, less cheery. There was an element of melancholy to it and Will immediately realised what he had said.

“Uncommon, not weird. I just thought it was awfully passive aggressive.”

Nico grumbled, “I mean I did ask how to passive aggresively say Fuck you in flower…”

Will let out a warm, throaty laugh, flinging his golden hair back and batting his bloody hand in the air. “ I guess you’re right.”

Nico thought he could feel butterflies trying to force their way out of his body after listening and seeing the flower boy laugh- it was the most magnificently gorgeous thing he had ever seen and heard. His laugh sounded like honey- sweet and addictive.

However, he then caught sight of Will’s bloody hand and frowned. He was pretty sure that his hand wasn’t supposed to be bleeding and it really looked like it hurt.. Besides, how would the poor kid be able to write with a gash like that?

Will moved his hand to pick out the flowers he needed and just as his hand reached out to grab them, he felt another hand wrap around his wrist. It was undeniably cold. The fingertips had calluses and he saw a few tattoos lurking on the hand, a couple in a language that he recognised to be Greek.

However, before he could read the words, his hand was snatched upwards and splayed out. The cute customer with the lip ring was holding his wounded hand out.

“You’re bleeding,” He pointed out.

“Why yes, I am. Thank you for that very insightful observation. Are you an artist?” Will sarcastically asked, his voice still light implying he was joking. Nico raised his eyebrow in appreciation of the sarcasm.

“I’m pretty sure you’re not meant to be bleeding- What are you, a doctor?”

“I will be,” Will said smugly.

Nico snorted. “Should I be alarmed for your future patients that their doctor doesn’t know how to keep their own wound clean?”

Slightly salty and pouting, Will snatched away his wrist and turned away slightly in a huff.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“It wasn’t an opinion. It was a fact- You could get tetanus walking around with a cut like that and handling these gardening tools- Aren’t you meant to know that, doc?” Nico smirked teasingly, right behind Will, his lips teasingly close to Will’s neck.

Will shivered, feeling the warm breath on his neck. He closed his eyes and for a second leaned into the warmth coming from behind him before remembering he was meant to be professional.

Professionalism, Yes, professionalism.

“You know, not to interrupt whatever soulmate bond you two are having,” Annabeth drawled, “I’m just saying, for once- Nico is right. That cut looks nasty. Let Nico clean it up for you, he’s gotten good at it after all these years.”

“Annabethhh,” Nico half groaned, half whined under his breath. Annabeth knew what it meant- Why did you tell the cute guy that?

Will glanced at the gory sight on his hand, grimacing slightly. He knew that he could go and sort it himself but if someone was offering to fix it for him, he wasn’t really one to object. Afterall, if Nico knew what he was doing, then his hand should be in good hands?

Will did not get the chance to make that joke out loud.

He sighed and nodded at the wise words from the blonde girl and led Nico to the back room- despite what it said, was not at the back. In fact, the ‘back room’ had its door right by the front of the shop, tucked away neatly in the front corner of the shop.

“Uh, I think the med kit is somewhere here.” Will rummaged about in the corner next to the high shelves, holding his bloodied hand above his head as to try and stop the bleeding faster- In med school he had been recently studying cardiology and he wanted to see if certain tips really worked.

“You don’t need to hold your arm all the way up there ya know? Just high enough so that it’s above your heart.” Nico stood right behind Will so when he turned around, they were face to face. Nico leaned closer, so close that their noses were almost brushing and Will panicked-

-Suddenly, Will placed his hands on Nico’s chest, in an effort to slightly push him away, which worked successfully. However, in the few seconds his hands had been pressed up against Nico’s chest, he had felt the firm planes of muscle- So he definitely works out.

“Hey! That’s kinda uh, quick isn't it?”

Will risked cracking one of his eyes open and saw Nico smirking with a med kit in hand. His mind faltered for a second wondering Where on earth did that come from before figuring that Nico had reached for it while they were pressed up against each other. He felt blood rush to his cheeks and his eyes darted anywhere but Nico’s face.

“What’s too quick?” Nico suddenly had Will’s hand in his and was stroking his hand softly, beckoning him to open it.His head was tilted downwards but he let his eyes catch a small glance of Will’s flushed face. Curtained by Nico’s dark and thick eyelashes, Will could see a sliver of light reflecting off the onyx eyes staring at him.

“Did you think something was going to happen?” Nico asked innocently as he began cleaning the wound. Will hissed at the sting of the antiseptics and so to distract himself, he answered Nico’s questions.

“No. I didn’t think anything was gonna happen.” Will winced again in pain. “ Could you be a bit lighter with that please?”

Nico mumbled out a ‘sorry’ and began applying a dressing around the hand he was holding. Will’s hand was freckled, with a golden tan that Nico could declare perfect. The freckles looked like rain spotted across his skin- so perfect, a force of nature.

But then the artistic side of Nico had another thought- the freckles look more like tear drops than rain. A force of humanity.

Nico continued talking, his voice lower. “ Did you want something to happen?”

Will wasn’t listening though. His mind was...away. Distracted. Missing.

Nico saw it in Will’s eyes, he saw it as the rain began to hit the window gently, killing it softly. He looked at Will again- it was killing him softly.

“Hey?”

Will shook his head and looked at Nico and let a smile overtake his face. “Sorry…. Tell me, how are you so good at this? What did your girlfriend mean when she said you were good at this?”

Nico sighed, ignoring the girlfriend comment but was still slightly hesitant. One secret couldn’t hurt him too much- after all, he was gonna be in and out of here and then he’d never see this cute guy ever again… or so, he thought so.

My sister and I, we used to go to summer camp. We got into a lot of fights there, learnt to stick up for ourselves- and I, well, I learnt how to clean up the aftermath of those fights.”

“I used to go to summer camp! Well, I was like 13 at the time.” Will beamed at Nico and pointed to his lip ring. “ Did that hurt? Oh, and you have a sister? Any other siblings?”

Nico gave Will an odd look. He’s asking me about myself? He wants to know more about me?

“Uh, well.. I have another sister. What about you?”

“Ah, that’s a good question.” Will shrugged.

“What, you don’t know?” Nico asked, his voice slightly confused. Will let out a little snort of laughter.

“My Dad’s good at one thing and it’s sleeping around, so god knows how many half siblings I’ve got lurking around.. For all I know, there could be a mini army of us.”

“Well, my Mum’s dead,” Nico offered. Will immediately looked at him with an alarmed look; Nico sighed in return and explained.

“I thought we were talking about dysfunctional families, maybe that would make you feel better.”

“As a future doctor, It really does not. Thanks for trying- although you might wanna see a therapist with your definition of ‘cheering someone up’.”

“Meh, I’d rather not. ” Nico batted his hand nonchalantly, the greek tattoo showing up in front of him again. Will’s eyes caught it but he still refused to say anything.

“You know,” Will’s voice was significantly lower when he spoke this time, borderline flirty. “You still haven’t told me if that lip piercing hurts.”

“Of course it hurt a bit, but I’ve gotten piercings and tattoos before that so it wasn’t as bad. And you’re done.” Nico gave Will his hand back. Will held it up, impressed with the job Nico had done.

“Nice wrapping. What does it feel like? Is it cold?”

“Kiss me and find out,” Nico mumbled under his breath, not intending for Will to hear- or course, Will did hear.

“Kissing someone in a dark and empty room calls for all kinds of trouble and potential situations.”

Nico felt his jaw drop and could feel the tips of his ears burn red. His eyes darkened and he could only hear Will’s teasing chuckle as he felt him slide a finger under his chin.

“Darling, close your mouth unless you intend to use it well,” Will murmured, his texan accent growing stronger. Normally he wasn’t this confident, but he decided to act on his impulses- besides, teasing people… it was fun sometimes.

Nico, knowing Will had caught him, was determined to get him back. He wrapped his hand around the back of Will’s head and yanked his head down and his head down to his lips so they could meet. For a second, Will was frozen in surprise, his eyes open and startled before he felt Nico’s lips moving against his, encouraging him to kiss back and relaxing while his eyes fell closed.

The kiss wasn’t calm or sweet, It was hard and rushed. It wasn’t special, it wasn’t magical, it was just the result of unresolved tension within two people madly attracted to each other. Will could feel the lip ring against his and relished in the cool feel of the ring compared to Nico’s hot lips. Nico’s other hand reached to pull Will closer and next thing he knew, he was lying with his back on the couch and with Will on top of him.

They paused for a second before slamming their lips together. Will slipped his un-injured hand under Nico’s shirt, feeling his body. His other hand went to his hair, wrapping his hand in it as if his life depended on it. He gripped with such ferocity, Nico thought he might rip some of his hair out.

Will teased Nico, tracing his tongue across the black haired boy's lips before lightly tugging on the lip ring in front of him. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting but he sure as hell wasn’t expecting a full on moan from Nico.

Immediately, the two of them broke apart, panting and gasping for air. They stared at each other, their faces flushed and Nico could swear his ears had never been so red and hot as they were right now. Will was literally on top of him, now straddling him with his hands resting on Nico’s chest.

Nico covered his face with his hands and Will, on realising their position, got off him and settled for sitting next to him.

“Ah…. so,” Will started.

“So….”

“You’re a good kisser.” Nico looked at his shoes.

Will wanted to get it done and over- rip off the bandaid, right? “Are you going to tell your girlfriend?”

Nico gave him a questioning look. “What girlfriend?”

“The blonde girl you came in with?” Will scoffed. Dude’s got a thing for blondes. First that poor girl, now me. Who’s next? Jason? Octavian?

Nico let a bubble of laughter leave his lips as he tilted his head back. Annabeth, his girlfriend! What a ridiculous thought!

“Oh sunshine, you’ve got it all wrong. Annie is a good friend of mine, we’re here together because we’re getting flowers for her boyfriend.”

“She’s getting her boyfriend flowers that mean Fuck you?”

Nico shrugged. “They’re romantic like that.”

“So why are you here with her? Surely if she’s going to boldly tell her boyfriend fuck you in flower, she doesn’t need you to be here?”

Nico felt his cheeks grow hot. He rubbed the back of his head. “ Ah well, she uh, she said I’d like the guy who works here on weekends.”

“She wasn’t wrong, was she?”

“Watch yourself. You’re the person who almost willingly gave themselves tetanus,” Nico warned.

“Watch yourself- You’re the one who moaned when I touched your lip ring.”

“You were literally on top of me! You were straddling me and your hand was under my shirt, you were pulling at my hair and at my lip ring- how could I not moan?”

“It wouldn’t be that hard,” Will argued.

“We’re testing that next time.”

Will froze up at those words- next time. This god like guy with his beautiful locks and snarky comebacks wanted to see him again.

“Next time?”

“You think this is the last time you’re gonna see me?” Nico let out a little scoff to himself. “Trust me, you’re going to be seeing more of me and my friends then expected- In fact, you’ll probably get so sick of us by the time this year ends.”

“I’ll definitely look forward to it.” The sarcasm was evident in his voice. Nico rolled his eyes at the sarcasm and got up, reaching into the tight pockets of his jeans. He pulled out a hair tie and reached for Will’s hair before Will caught his wrist.

“I’m not that useless, I can still tie my hair ya know.”

“I was helping you, you’re welcome,” Nico snorted. They left the room and were met by a very smug Annabeth and annoyed Meg- The boys could tell theft was in trouble from the violent look on Meg’s face.

“What have you two been doing here? Please don’t tell me that I will have to bless this place after what you’ve done.” Meg sounded slightly desperate.

“Depends what you think would require blessing.” Will gave her a sweet smile.

“Will!” Meg complained. “ This is the 4th guy you’ve brought to the back room with you!”

Nico’s eyebrows shot up when he heard this. “ And here I was thinking I’m special.”

“You can’t talk either, mister. Poor Meg had to assemble the flowers herself because of you two,” Annbeth scolded holding the hateful bouquet of flowers in her grasp like her life depended on it- and if you wanted to be technical, Annabeth's pride was her life and these were going to prevent her pride from falling downhill, so yes- her life did depend on these flowers.

“He’s the one with 4 secret lovers!”

Will added quietly, “Those are only the ones I’ve been caught with.”

Nico gave a faux gasp of disbelief, his voice mimicking a tragically upset character. “ Like father, like son!”

“Fuck you,” Will grumbled.

“I fully intend to.”

“NOT HERE YOU TWO, TAKE IT OUTSIDE,” Meg screamed. “This place is a holy sanctuary- therer will be no sex of any sort in my shop!” The pair of the boys glanced at each other, walked outside and burst into laughter.

They, however, did not expect to see each other the next day at Uni.

[damonsvftie]

“𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐓𝐨 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮”

MASTERLIST☁️

Summary: Draco Malfoy casually flirting with you for the whole semester has already swept you off your feet but what happens when it’s just the two of you, alone?

NOTE: 1.8k Words AND this is for @approved-by-dentists aka Clarissa’s 400 writing challenge! This was so much fun to write and congrats on 400 you deserve it 🌈

Warnings: SOME SEXUAL TENSION, kissing, tongue and that’s pretty much it i guess THIS IS 1.8K WORDS

“Y/n are you down to go to Hogsmeade this week?” Questioned Pansy as we walked down the crowded corridors trying to shove our way to our next lesson.

“I’m down... so who else is going to be going?” I asked as curiosity delved deeper into my mind.

“I assume Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle are tagging along,” she replied as she clutched onto her books against her chest making sure she didn’t drop them.

A wave of relievement rushed through my body as I deeply exhaled. I was glad that Draco Malfoy wasn’t going to be going especially after the past few weeks of constant flirting over this current semester. Purposely being touchy, muttering sweet things into my ear, wanting to work with me during lessons, all that jazz. You name it and I assure you he was doing it all.

But I couldn’t lie that a part of me didn’t also want him to be there. Over the whole semester,I developed some sort of crush on him but I assured myself it wasn’t anything serious. Because it wasn’t.

“Earth to you y/n,” she muttered as she nudged me slightly causing me to snap out of my thoughts.

“Uh yeah?” I mumbled as a a tiny frown painted across my lips, making me look in the opposite direction.

“I forgot to mention that Draco’s also coming,” she added casually as I turned my attention back to her, almost instantly.

“You mean Malfoy-,” I stuttered as other students bumped into the two of us.

“Uh yeah.. Malfoy..,” She responded, her face puzzled.

I could feel the sweat that was starting to form under my uniform, from hearing his name roll of the tip of her tongue and my hands were beginning to slightly quivering. Maybe it was because I was sat next to him in the lesson that I was heading for now.

Making my way into class, i plopped down onto the seat next to Malfoy wearily.

“Ah..look who do we have here?” He stated playfully as he scooted his seat closer to mine.

“I’m not in the mood Malfoy,” I groaned back as I shoved my books out of my bag.

“Ooh not so friendly,” he added almost as if he was trying to get on my nerves until I gave him a deathly glare making him back up a bit.

There were moments during class where our knees would accidentally touch or his hand would graze mine making me fluster at the sudden contact.

When class finished he began pestering me again. “I heard you might be going to Hogsmeade with us,” he stated as I simply ignored him.

My perception of things were like ‘let’s ignore him and hope I can easily get myself out of this’ sort of thing. Therefore I kept blanking him every single time he tried to talk to me.

As I was exiting the classroom, he held onto my wrist loosely making it compulsory for me to turn around and face him. “Let go of me,” I spoke through gritted teeth.

“Not until you tell me what’s your problem?” He countered as he furrowed his brows, his grip becoming tighter.

“It’s none of your business,” I responded quickly before turning on my heels ready to leave until he leaned towards my ear from behind.

“Are you sure it’s none of my business?” He whispered as a playful smirk appeared on his face.

—

“That looks ridiculously perfect on you,” complimented Pansy as I came down the stairs to the common room. I was wearing a basic,black, midi dress paired along with matching high thigh boots, topped with a winter formal coat.

“Thank you, you look gorgeous too,” I said as my cheeks glowed with a rosy coloured tint.

—

Making our way to Hogsmeade, me and Pansy met up with the boys. As soon as I walked in, Malfoy’s mouth was hung slightly open as he stared at me in awe.

“What’s good?” Asked Blaise to the two of us as my heart started beating rapidly. I could have sworn at some point Draco was checking me out. His eyes darting up and down at my figure as I stood their biting on the inside flesh of my cheek as a coping mechanism.

“I think it’s better if we go and explore in pairs,” blurted Draco. Unluckily, I knew where this was headed. Blaise’s and Pansy left for Honeydukes and Crabbe and Goyle headed to the shrieking shack ,leaving me with Draco Malfoy.

“You uh.. you look beautiful today,” he pointed out his cheeks slightly flustering.

“Are you saying that I don’t look beautiful on a regular day?” I questioned my face distorted in confusion.

“No! That’s not what I meant, I mean you look beautiful every day.. you know,” he answered hastily before jamming his hands into his pockets, glancing up at me every now and then.

“Oh do I really?” I taunted. If he thought that this game could only be played by him, then he was wrong. This was a game for two.

—

Somehow convincing me to hang out with him, we ended up in the three broomsticks each with a cup of butterbeer, that tasted like cream soda with an extra thick layer of whipped cream on top as we sat opposite one another.

“So are you going to tell me why you keep ignoring me or what?” He insisted before placing his cup down.

“Nah, I think I’ll keep it to myself,” I replied smugly as I took a sip out of my frothy drink.

out of no where, he started giggling making my heart explode with overloaded cuteness. “Why are you giggling?” I questioned as I wrinkled my nose.

“You’ve got some cream on your nose.. here let me help you,”. He leaned across the table as he started to clean me up. I couldn’t help but stare at his gorgeous,pale face. My gaze wandered above as I stared into his soft,grey eyes.

When he noticed, a small smile crept up his face as he observed me for a quick second, before pulling away from me.

“Thank.. you,” I said as the words were stuck in my throat.

“Don’t be,” was all he replied with before getting up from his seat, extending his hand towards me.

“Shall we?” He asked, before I took his hand in mine.

—

Letting my guard down, I actually enjoyed Draco’s company. He was just so much fun and he hadn’t even yet failed to make me laugh. I felt as if In the last two hours, I had gotten to know the more adorable, dork side of him as he himself put his bad boy demeanour to the side for once.

“You know Malfoy.. your not so bad as everyone makes you out to seem,” I spoke as we strolled down Hogsmeade quietly.

“I’m glad,” was all that he said before moving on to the next thing. “So are you going to tell me why you kept ignoring me now?” He questioned as we stopped near a desolate area.

I chewed on my lip as my heart started thumping at the question. I couldn’t avoid it now. I had to tell him the real reason.

“If I tell you... you have to swear on Merlin that whatever I spill doesn’t affect whatever we have going on,” I said defensively.

“I mean if you put it that way then sure, I swear on Merlin it won’t affect whatever we have going on,” he sweared. I could feel my muscles tensing up as I clutched on the fabric of my dress.

“Draco I- ... I really like you,” I huffed as my arms folded against my chest. He let out a confused giggled before responding.

“I like you too y/n,” he stated abnormally.

It came to my conclusion that he had gotten the whole situation twisted.

“No, Draco.. what I mean when I say I really like you is that ... it’s more than just like,” I exhaled deeply in disappointment, hanging my head in shame as I exaggerated the last word.

His eyebrows raised slightly as his mouth opened when it had finally hit him. “Too bad were not together then,” he murmured, just loud enough for me to hear him.

“You gotta stop saying things like that,” I complained.

“Saying things like what?” He interrogated, before smiling down to the floor.

“Saying things that ...make me want to kiss you,” I disclosed, as the last of my words turned into a whisper.

“Maybe you should... maybe you shouldn’t,” he played,as he took a few steps closer to me, closing the gap that was formed between the two of us, his face an inch away from mine.

“Golly gosh y/n, your heart is beating so fast,” he laughed as he threw back his head a bit.

“I can’t help.. help it,” my breathing hitching continuously as I pursed my lips together into a fine line.

“Is this how I make you feel?” His voice purring into my ear as his hand travelled down my thigh.

His mouth dipped lower down my neck, sending me tingles down my spine as I felt his minty breathe fanning my sweet spot where I needed him the most. I felt as if I were putty whenever he laid his hands on me. Resting his hand on my thigh, he bought it back up as he softly moved my hair over the other side of my shoulder continuing to tease the life out of me.

I just couldn’t take it anymore. Grabbing his face with my hands I instantly pressed my lips against his. His eyes were wide open at the sudden action, since it was so unexpected but going along with it he enjoyed the sensual moment.

His lips tasted like a hint of butterbeer as he wrapped them around my lower lip slightly tugging and nipping at it softly with his teeth causing me to slightly open my entrance.

Taking advantage, he slipped his tongue into my mouth causing me to jolt pulling away from him, my hands now on his chest as we giggled before going at it once again.

This time it wasn’t so violent, it was sweet and sensual as he sucked on my top lip.My hands wrapped around his waist as I pulled him closer until he could hear my rapid heartbeat once again. This caused him to deepen the kiss further as his hands found their way to the ends of my hair lightly tugging at them.

Pulling away panting, his hands made their way to my waist as we looked at one another in utter awe.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” my face flustering in his presence.

“Really? Because I saw that coming,” a smug look across his face. “Maybe I should continue saying things like that,” he added as he pulled me closer.

“Saying things like what?” I asked as my fingers toyed with the buttons on his coat.

“Things that make you want to kiss me”

[hairrington]

Walk Halfway Home

Summary: After a failed attempt at being friends with benefits, Steve is able to bounce right back into being just your friend again, moving on as if nothing ever happened between you two. The only problem: it’s not as easy for you.

Author’s Note: Based on ‘boys r dumb! duh!’ by Silver Sphere. Basically I love this song and just wanted to write a WHOLE LOT of angst!

Despite the abandoned try to be friends with benefits with Steve (the memory of you two calling it quits had broken off a pretty sizeable piece of your heart), he had managed to easily salvage the “friends” part of the title; inviting you to his parties and acting like you two had never done so much as kiss.

When it came to moving on, Steve left you in the dust. While he was continuing his carefree life and pursuing other girls, you watched from the sidelines, replaying every moment with him, wondering what it was about you that made you so easy to get over. 

The timing of your “break up” couldn’t have been worse. It was supposed to be just another typical night of him sneaking in to your bedroom, but you’d worked up the courage to tell him that despite the discussions you’d had about keeping things light, you’d developed feelings and wanted to give it a real shot.

But any chance of you even getting to that was shooed away when he suggested you should end things and go back to being friends.

So, with that, weeks passed and you were now standing at another Harrington pool party, words and cheap beer swallowed.

Safe within your circle of friends, you watched the party from the wall as Steve flashed a goofy grin at a girl you didn’t know. She playfully tousled his hair and you swore that if the music wasn’t so loud, you’d hear your heart break even more.

You thought back to just last month, when you were at this exact pool with him on a Saturday afternoon, lazing together on a lounger after a swim. You were combing back his wet hair and he was looking at you with warm brown eyes and it was in those little moments that you felt a spark of hope - maybe, just maybe, Steve was feeling something as deep as you were.

But then, your touches grew hungrier, and you were reminded of your agreement and how far from being his girlfriend you actually were.

You snapped out of the memory when you realized Steve’s figure was moving closer to you, navigating through the crowds. You suddenly became fascinated with your shoes, staring down at the smooth pavement beneath your feet.

"Hey.”

You looked up to the same brown eyes you’d just been thinking of.

“Hey,” you reply.

“You have that angry look on your face again.” The concerned wrinkles on Steve’s forehead betrayed the forced smile on his face.

“I already told you - that’s just my face,” you tried to joke. You looked up at the night sky, noting the moon was half full. “But I am pretty tired. I’m gonna head home.”

“What?” Steve said. “I thought you were crashing here.”

“I- I can’t,” you replied. “It’s too loud to sleep and I don’t think this is ending any time soon-”

“I’ll kick everyone out,” Steve said.

You shared a smile with him, feeling the fluttering in your heart that you thought you’d gotten rid of. You cocked your head.

“Steve,” you mumbled.

“You don’t even have a ride home,” he protested. You watched him for a second, the summer breeze ruffling his hair ever so slightly.

“I’ll walk,” you said. You’d done it before, as your house was barely a ten minute walk from his, but Steve seemed eager to convince you. 

“Just stay,” he said. “I’ll even give you my bed.”

You felt his warm hand on your wrist. After a beat, you spoke again.

“I can’t,” you told him. “Go enjoy your party, okay? That- that girl is cute.”

Steve loosened his grip and you turned before you could look at him again, tossing your empty cup in a garbage bag on the ground.

You quickly said goodbye to your friends and exited through the yard for what felt like the hundredth time. This time, though, you were choking back tears and telling yourself that seeing Steve like this was too much, too soon.

Halfway home, you found yourself on the curb, feeling like you’d rather sulk there for a while first. You looked across the street, eyes travelling over a massive tree in front of a random house, listening to the rustling of leaves in the summer wind.

Your traitorous memory took you back to the night of a thunderstorm when Steve had snuck into your house.

He was lucky with his timing - only a few minutes after he found his way to your bed, the thunder had crashed and the pellets of rain had started to slam against your window. He had held you tightly, wrapping you into a hug, giving you a chance to take in how good he smelled, how Steve he smelled.

“Don’t be scared,” he had whispered, making you laugh.

“I don’t think I’m the scared one here.”

“Can we pretend?” Steve had asked. You only nodded, feeling like pretending had been all you’d been doing, pretending you were still okay with the arrangement you had with him.

Trying to convince yourself that you didn’t care was pointless. Steve Harrington had stolen your heart, and it felt like he had no intention of giving it back.

“Forget where you live?” you heard. You jumped, snapping your gaze to the source of the sound behind you. Steve stood with palms up.

“What the fuck, Steve!?” you sharply whispered. “You scared me.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, slurring a bit. He sauntered closer to you, sitting next to you.

“I was only... enjoying the quiet,” you said. “That a crime?”

“It is when sitting on some random curb is more fun to you than staying at my party.”

“Ego bruised?” you teased.

“A bit,” Steve joked back.

“What are you doing out here?” you asked, interlacing your fingers to keep yourself from fidgeting.

“Wanted to talk to you,” he answered. “Thank God you made a pit stop. I don’t think I would’ve caught up.” He laughed and your heart throbbed against your chest the way it always did when you were close to him.

“Okay, well... talk,” you said.

“Things have just been weird... with us, I mean,” Steve began. He played with his shoelace. “We haven’t been ourselves.”

“Ourselves?” you chuckled. “Probably because ‘being ourselves’ meant hooking up, and uh, we’re not doing that anymore, remember?”

“You know what I mean,” he pushed. “Even without that, we’ve always been... you know. Having fun, making jokes.”

“Oh, sorry I haven’t been fun enough for you lately,” you defensively said. “By all means, go back to your party.”

He only said your name, finally looking up at you with doleful eyes. 

“I...” You sighed. “Sorry. It’s not as easy for me to go back and... and be normal again like it is for you, okay?”

“Like it is for me?” he echoed.

You only nodded.

“It hasn’t been easy,” Steve mumbled. His lips turned down as he frustratingly scratched the back of his neck.

“Could’ve fooled me,” you said. “You’re acting like... nothing ever even happened between us. Flirting with other girls and everything.”

The twist of jealousy in your chest and the alcohol in your system had betrayed you.

“What other choice do I have?” Steve muttered. “I just... I don’t know... have to act like... like everything’s normal but... it’s not-”

“Yeah, no kidding,” you said between his words.

“-and what else can I do? It’s better to just go back to how things were. I couldn’t keep it up. You kept saying how there were no strings attached between us, how- how we had to keep it light.”

“Okay, I said that once-”

“You said it a lot.”

Silence settled between you two. You thought back to the references you'd made to keeping things relaxed throughout your short-lived relationship. He was right. There had been a lot, but those were only your attempts at protecting your own feelings so he wouldn’t know you were falling for him and bolt.

“What’s your point?” you asked.

“My point is...” Steve took a breath and stared ahead across the street. “I couldn’t keep it up. I started... wanting more with you. And I knew that was a fucking long shot, so it’s better to end it and try to act normal again because I’d rather do that than just... lose you.” Steve kept his gaze frozen ahead, leaving you stare at his profile. “But if this is what’s happening... if it’s unfixable and you can never be... be you again with me... then... shit, I don’t know.”

“Steve...” you mumbled. He was saying what you had dreamed he’d say. It took a second to fully sink in, but it was really happening.

Without thinking, you put a hand on his arm, fingers tightening on his bicep, as if coaxing him to look at you again. He did.

“That night that you ended it...” you said. “I was going to tell you that I had feelings. Real feelings. It wasn’t ‘light’ for me anymore. And I didn’t want it to be. But then, you...”

Steve stared at you, blinking as if he had to confirm that what he was seeing was real.

“Then I said we should stop,” he said.

You nodded, knowing your glossy eyes were completely giving you away, but not caring because this was the time for honesty, for vulnerability.

“Yeah,” you said. “So I couldn’t - and I can’t - act normal.”

“Do you still feel...” Steve moved closer to you. “Am I too late?”

You gazed at him, the moonlight and streetlamps highlighting his features, hitting every edge of his face, casting shadows.

“No,” you answered, stomach numbing. “And for the record, it was never a long shot. Never.”

The corners of Steve’s mouth twitched up as recognition dawned over his face.

“You’re serious?” he asked.

“No, I’m joking,” you sarcastically said with wide eyes.

The two of you laughed for the first time in what felt like ages.

Steve’s warm hands cupped your cheeks and he kissed you tenderly, like if he pressed any harder, he could break you.

This was the first kiss you shared with him where you didn’t have to worry about him breaking your heart. And it certainly wasn’t your last.

[thisisthefanfic]

Okay this wasn’t a request but I had to do it because 1) it wouldn’t leave my mind and 2) I’m trying to get my groove back.

Eyes on the Prize

Pairing: Boba Fett x reader

Warnings: 18+ SMUT and fluff Mandalorian spoilers

You had gotten pretty used to your friend Fennec’s new work partner, even if that job used to be reserved for you in a way. You had Fennec had met years ago and would partner up for missions and do help give each other leads on your work. You were basically sisters at this point, so when you got a message from her saying she and her new partner needed your help, you were pretty confused. Of course once you figured out her new partner had saved her life after she’d been shot, you were much more eager to meet and thank him.

“Where is he?” You had asked, and were quickly answered when a man in a cloak walked up behind you, nearly making you punch him from instinct.

“(y/n), this is Boba Fett. I am bound in service to him after he saved my life,” Fennec explained as she gestured between you to. “Boba, this is (y/n), my good friend.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” He had said, his voice almost a growl as he shook your hand, you suddenly felt very nervous.

“Nice to meet you too.” You gulped, hoping you hadn’t offended him in any way.

“Now back to business, (y/n) can help us with tracking down who took your armor. Tracking happens to be her speciality.” Fennec spoke up before a staring match started.

“Good, let’s get to work.” Boba said with a small smirk on his face as he walked back to his ship, leaving you and Fennec to trail behind.

“Is this guy...trustworthy?” You blurted out, making your friend raise a brow. “He rebuilt my guts, I don’t think you should be worried.” She said as she walked past.

You looked up to see Boba waiting at the ship entrance, you squinted curiously at him a bit before he glanced over, sending a jolt through you.

“Whatever you say Fennec...” you mumbled as you went past him, flushing and feeling a bit frightened at the same time.

That had been so long ago, and despite being used to Boba now, he still made you shiver and feel weak in the knees when he was around, you figured it was because he was still scary to you, which would make sense considering how he demolished the stormtroopers he had fought awhile back. You hadn’t seen him in awhile actually, he and Fennec were going to do some business on Tatooine, and you went to do business elsewhere, but now Fennec requested you to come back.

Walking into what used to be Jabba’s palace, you descended the stairs and tried to control your nerves. Was it weird you were thinking about seeing Boba more than you were Fennec? It was just because he always kept you on your toes and you couldn’t figure him out, that had to be it.

“Hey—“ you started, until you took in the sight in front of you.

There sat Boba Fett, in his shiny beskar armor, sitting on a throne in the middle of what used to be Jabba’s throne room. He had a glass of spotchka in one of his fists, lounging on his throne with his thick, muscular thighs spread apart as he leaned back. Something in your gut started burning as you stood there, taking it in, until he turned his head towards you, making you jump. You could swear you saw his helmet tilt up and down almost as if he was studying you, but that wasn’t possible, but damn did he look good. I’d love to sit in that lap, you thought, snapping out of your daze as you walked closer.

“Good you’re here,” Fennec interrupted as she walked in, wiping down her rifle as she came to pat your shoulder. “Now you two can get going.”

“Going..?” You sputtered.

“Fennec is going to hold down the fort while we go out on a mission.” Fett grunted as he got out of his chair, grabbing his weapons as he went.

“Boba needs you to help him track down an Imperial ship carrying beskar,” Fennec explained as you watched the Mandalorian stomp up the stairs. “You’ll be fine, just try to keep your hormones in check.”

“E-excuse me?” You gasped.

“Don’t take it to heart, but the tension is thicker than beskar.” She snorted, walking over to sit down in the throne. “Just keep your eyes on the prize and the plan will go without a hitch.”

“If you say so.” You grumbled, feeling some deja vu as you walked to the Slave 1, seeing the stoic Fett waiting on the ramp for you.

************

The mission had gone pretty smoothly amazingly enough. You located the Imperial transport, and you and Boba went in and got the beskar. The only issue was when a squadron of TIE Fighters came out of nowhere and starting flying after the Slave 1, making your initially easy escape suddenly more complicated.

“Hold on!” Boba growls as he continued to steer the ship away from the blasts.

“Of course I am!” You shouted from below, holding onto the crate of beskar as support. “Can’t you blast them?”

“I’d love too, but there appear to be a dozen more on their way here.” He said as steered the ship to the right sharply, making you stumble back a bit. “I’m going to release a charge, that should hold them off for awhile.”

“Try to steer towards the planet we passed on our way,” you shouted. “There are hidden caverns in the mountains, do you think you can maneuver into those long enough to hide?”

“Time to see princess.” He snapped as he continued to swerve around, making your heart jolt too at his words. Did he really call you princess?

Releasing a charge, he sped the ship up as he steered the ship straight down, making you fall on your ass before grabbing a hold of one of the chairs. You quickly buckled into the seat as he continued to race into the planet’s atmosphere, nearing the mountains you’d spoken of.

The sounds of TIEs had quieted and you turned in your seat to see that you appeared to be in one of the caverns, and your suspicions were confirmed when the ship jolted from hitting a small stalactite. “Careful!” You blurted out right before he landed the ship with a loud thud, shaking you around as it rocked a bit in the icy cavern.

“We should be safe here like you said,” he grumbled from above. “We’ll wait a few minutes and then leave.”

You sighed and unbuckled, moving your knees up to hug them to your chest as you waited. The minutes dragged on until you finally heard him grumble. “Well there’s a slight problem. This damned cavern is so cold most of the ship’s functions are frozen.”

“Damn it!” You slammed your hand on the seat. “How long until this planet’s sun rotates to this side of the planet? I’ve heard it usually melts a lot of the ice on the mountains, maybe we can leave then?”

“Awfully optimistic of you,” he replied. “It should be a few hours, in the meantime we need to stay warm.”

“How do we do that?” You asked, jumping a bit when he jumped down from the cockpit, walking towards a panel on one of the walls. After hitting it with his fists several times, a bed swung from the panel, creaking as it settled.

“It’s karking uncomfortable, but the blankets are warm.” He sighed as he sat down on it, spreading his knees a bit as he got comfortable. “Come here.”

“There’s no room.” You said hesitantly, trying not to look at his spread legs.

“That attitude will get us both dead, sit on my leg, I won’t hurt you despite what you think.” He grumbled, seeming to be pretty indifferent despite offering you to basically sit in his lap.

With a sigh, you got up and walked over to the bounty hunter, keeping a scowl on your face the whole time. You moved to sit across his knees, but he grabbed a hold of your wrist gently, halting your movements. Wrapping an arm around your middle, he lifted you up onto one of his thighs despite your indignant squeaks.

“What are you doing?!” You protested.

“Trying to get you up here,” he said nonchalantly. “You seem to dislike looking at me, so I’m keeping you facing forward, so you don’t have to look at me.”

You felt a bit guilty at the way he snapped the last part, but complied as he sat you down with your back to his chest. He settled to lean against the wall, keeping his arms at his sides as you fidgeted to get comfortable. Your legs were spread from the way you were straddling his muscular thigh, and you tried not to think about it too much as you pressed your legs against his knees to seek warmth.

After a bit, you couldn’t stop a shiver from the cold, but you refused to lean back, that would be overstepping. But a large hand splayed across your stomach and gently dragged you back further against his hip and chest.

You barely bit back a moan at the friction as your womanhood brushed over his thigh as he pulled you back, and Boba must have just seen you stiffening because he stopped and whispered. “Is this ok?”

“Yeah sorry.” You blushed as turned your head to look at his mask. “And...sorry about being rude. I didn’t mean to seem like I don’t like you, you’re just kind of...intimidating.”

“Understood,” he nodded, loosening his grip on you. “My apologies for that.”

You smiled softly and got a bit more courage as you scooted back further to lay your back on his chest, but your ass was met with something stiff that was definitely not beskar. Barely biting back a gasp, your hips twitched back by instinct, making your whole body flush as realization came over you.

Boba Fett was hard and you were straddling his thigh, and he had suddenly gone as stiff as a board behind you.

“My apologies, this is karking ridiculous, let me just move.” He sputtered a bit, trying to move a bit, but you reached back and gripped his wrist. You remembered how courteous he always was with you despite being grumpy and scary as hell, and you suddenly felt much bolder.

“Please don’t move.” You whispered, looking down.

“Little one,” he groaned low in his throat. “Tell me what you want, I won’t do anything unless you say you want it.”

Wiggling a bit under his gaze, you sighed. “Boba please, I want you, I have for awhile, if you don’t want to we don’t have to but—“

He cut you off by tilting your chin up, forcing you to look at him as he rumbled. “You sure you want me? I want to give you everything you deserve, and you deserve better, I’m not exactly the fine specimen you should have.”

“No, I want you.” You said, clenching your jaw in determination as you turned to face him completely, bucking your hips a bit against his hip by accident. “All of you, you’re perfect to me.”

“Show me.” He ordered, gripping your hips. “Ride my thigh.”

You didn’t have to be told twice, clenching your thighs around his, you rocked against his leg slow and hard, panting as you picked up speed, your heart racing as sweat started to form on your forehead and a moan escaped your lips.

“Fuck, cum for me Princess.” He groaned as he gripped you tighter, one of his hands roaming down to snake down your pants and stroke at your clit.

Gasping you shook as you came in your pants, shivering from the high as you slumped against his chest.

You barely had enough time to regain your senses before you let out another gasp as he flipped you around, leaving you laying on your back as he leaned over you.

“Beautiful,” he growled as he tugged at your pants, waiting for your shaky nod before he yanked them down with your panties, making you whimper as the cold air hit your sensitive privates.

Ripping his helmet off, he leaned down to kiss you, but stopped at the last minute, hesitating as he became a bit self conscious until you leaned up and kissed him softly. Groaning into the kiss, he pushed you down into the bedding as he deepened the kiss, licking into your mouth as he rutted against your thigh, making you arch into him.

He pulled back and smirked down at you, chuckling as he undid his belt buckle. “What a gorgeous display we have here, little one. Your absolute wrecked and I haven’t even filled your pretty pussy yet.”

He swiped his fingers against your pussy lips, gathering your wetness to taste as he pulled his cock out of his pants. “You taste delicious too, I can’t wait to make you scream for me mesh’la.”

You whimpered desperately as he stretched you with two of his fingers, listening to his deep voice whisper to you, shushing you as he worked you open. You trailed wet kisses down his neck as you gripped his shoulders, making him growl as he pulled his fingers out and lined up his cock.

Moaning lewdly as he entered you, you arched up and gripped him harder as he groaned from your tightening walls. “I’ve got you cyar’ika.” He shushed you as he bottomed out, laying his forehead against yours as he let you adjust, both of you panting.

“You’re so big,” you gasped out with a small laugh. “Fuck please move Boba please, I need you.”

“As you wish.” He smirked as he snapped his hips into you, starting slow and deep thrusts into your tight heat.

Your nails dug into anywhere not covered by beskar you could find as one of his hands trailed up your shirt to tease one of your nipples.

“You ok there?” He snickered as he pinched at your breast. You clenched around him in response, making him gasp and moan as you smirked. “So that’s how you want to play princess?” He growled in your ear as he gripped some of your hair.

Speeding up his thrusts, he drove into you harder as you gasped and let out a pleasured scream as you threw your head back, shaking as your orgasm came close.

“Fuck—(y/n), I’m going to come.” He growled as he bit your neck, shivering as pleasure coursed through his body.

“Come in me—please!” You yelped, wrapping your legs around his ass, forcing him deeper.

At your words, he let out a loud moan and convulsed as he spilled his cum inside you, moving his hands down to stroke himself, pumping more in you as his other hand pinched your clit.

Screaming, you clenched around him tighter as you came, your vision blurring as you shook from the waves of pleasure rolling through you.

You must have fell asleep, because you woke up a bit later, faintly remembering him getting up to get a clean cloth and promising to be right back. Now you blinked your eyes open to see that Boba was laying next to you, a blanket sling over you both as he stroked your hair.

“You alright princess?” He whispered, frowning a bit from worry.

“More than alright,” you smiled sleepily. “Thank you...I love you.”

He blinked several times from shock at your confession, before he relaxed in relief and pressed his forehead to yours again. “I love you too (y/n),remind me to buy you a nice dinner later.”

“Oh I will.” You laughed before drifting off to sleep again

******

A few hours later, Boba woke you up telling you the sun was melting the ice and you were able to leave, he let you rest a bit before he prepared to leave.

“Want to sit up here?” He purred, patting his thigh as he sat in the cockpit.

“If you insist.” You shrugged coyly as you climbed up and sat in his lap. “Try not to attract more TIEs.”

“Someone is feeling less shy,” he teased. “If I knew fucking you would get you to talk to me I’d have done it sooner.”

He laughed as you tried to slap at him, barely containing himself at the expression on your face.

*******

“Ah you got it.” Fennec said as you arrived in the palace, Boba carrying the crate as you set both your weapons down. “It took you awhile...everything go according to plan?”

“Yes!” You smiled, feeling a bit more peppy since you and Boba’s “romantic” encounter and playful banter on the way back.

“See I told you, just keep your eyes on the prize.” She responded.

“Oh I did,” you smiled wider, glancing at where Boba was sitting on his throne, he caught you and smirked as he called. “Cyar’ika, quit eyeing me and try out my chair.”

You blushed and stomped over. “Okay, move over then nerfherder.”

“Nope,” he replied as he pulled you into his lap again, making you let out a string of curses as you tried to swipe the smug look off his face. “That will be all Fennec, why don’t you visit your lady friend at the cantina.”

“Gladly,” she huffed as she walked off. “At least she isn’t ridiculous like you two. Took you long enough.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that as you settled against his chest. “You’re an ass.” You said, which earned you a slap on your ass.

“Awfully bold of you to say, just because you’re cute doesn’t mean you can get away with that,” he growled, but his eyes shined with more mischief than malice. “Now how about we go to my quarters.”

“And do?” You asked.

“Go the fuck to sleep,” he huffed. “I’m not gonna break you my princess, now shall we sleep?”

“Of course, I love you nerfherder.” You smiled as you gave him a kiss before hopping up.

Grabbing your hand in his, he led you to his quarters, laying you in bed before he settled in with you.

“I love you too my princess.”

[thewidowsghost]

The Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 7

(Y/n)'s  POV

The next few days I settle into a routine that feels almost normal if you don't count the fact that I am getting lessons from satyrs, nymphs, and a centaur.

Each morning I take Ancient Greek with Annabeth, and we talk about the gods and goddesses in the present tense, which is kind of weird. I discover that Annabeth is right about my dyslexia: Ancient Greek isn't hard for me to read. At least, no harder than English. After a few mornings, I can read a few lines of Homer without too much headache.

The rest of the day, I'd rotate through outdoor activities, looking for something Percy and I are good at. Chiron tries to teach Percy archery, but the three of us find out pretty quickly that he isn't any good with a bow and arrow, but I find that I was pretty okay at it.

The only thing Percy and I excelled at is canoeing, and that isn't the kind of heroic skill people expect to see from the kids who had beaten the Minotaur.

I know the senior counselors are watching the two of us, trying to decide who our dad is, but they aren't having an easy time of it. Percy and I aren't as strong as the Ares kids, or as good at archery as the Apollo kids. I don't have Hepheastus's skill with metalwork or - gods forbid - Dionysus's with vine plants. Luke tells me and Percy one night that we might be children of Hermes, a jack-of-all-trades, master of none. But I get the feeling that he is just trying to make us feel better. He didn't know what to make of us either.

One day, I am out by the canoe lake, just sitting on the dock, when I look over my shoulder to see Annabeth walking down the dock. She silently sits down beside me.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Annabeth wonders and I gather my thoughts before speaking.

"What if I'm not good at anything? What happens if I never get claimed?" I look over, my sea-green eyes meeting Annabeth's stormy-gray eyes.

Annabeth's gaze is slightly sympathetic and when she answers, her response doesn't really make me feel better. "You'd stay in the Hermes cabin."

I nod before gazing down the calm water of the lake again.

. . .

Thursday afternoon, three days after I'd arrived at Camp Half-Blood, I have my first sword-fighting lesson. Everyone from Cabin Eleven gathers in the big circular arena, where Luke would be our instructor.

We start with basic stabbing and slashing, using some straw-stuffed dummies in Greek armor.

I can't feel a blade that feels right in my hands. Either they are too heavy, or too light, or too long. Luke tries his best to fix me up, but he agrees that none of the practice blades seem to work for me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Annabeth and Chiron standing at the entrance of the arena.

We move to duel in pairs and Luke announces that he would be my partner, and Percy would have an older camper since it's our first time.

"Good luck," one of the campers tells me. "Luke's the best swordsman in the last three hundred years."

I face Luke, an uneasy expression on my face and he shoots me a reassuring smile.

3rd Person POV

Annabeth and Chiron watch (Y/n) and Luke's demonstration, and even Chiron is slightly interested as he watches (Y/n).

Luke thrusts his sword forward and (Y/n) instinctively sidesteps, and Luke, expecting to hit (Y/n)'s shield, stumbles forward.

Luke's eyes narrow and he presses her with more force.

(Y/n) steps forward and tries a thrust of her own and Luke deflects it easily.

The two's blades clash over and over again for a minute or so when the sword in (Y/n)'s hand grows heavy; the balance not quite right.

She tries the disarming maneuver that Luke had been talking about earlier.

(Y/n)'s blade hits the base of Luke's and she twists, putting her whole weight into a downward thrust.

Clang!

Luke's sword rattles against the stone; (Y/n)'s blade is an inch from his undefended chest.

The other campers are silent.

(Y/n) lowers her sword. "Sorry," she says sheepishly.

For a moment, Luke is too stunned to speak.

"Sorry?" his scarred face breaks into a grin. "By the gods, (Y/n), why are you sorry? Show me that again!"

This time, there is only a little bit of sparring before Luke hits the hilt of (Y/n)'s sword and sends it skidding across the floor.

After a long pause, someone in the audience says, "Beginner's luck?"

Luke wipes the sweat off his brow, appraising (Y/n) with an entirely new interest. "Maybe," he says. "But I wonder what (Y/n) could do with a balanced sword. . ."

. . .

Friday night, after dinner, there is a lot more excitement than usual.

At last, it's time for capture the flag.

When the plates are cleared away, the conch horn sounds, and all the campers stand at their tables.

Campers yell and cheer as Annabeth and two of her siblings run into the pavilion carrying a silk banner. It is about ten feet long, glistening gray, with a painting of a barn owl above an olive tree. From the opposite side of the pavilion, Clarisse and her buddies run in with another banner, of identical size, but gaudy red, painted with a blood spear and a boar's head.

Percy turns to Luke and yells over the noise, "Those are the flags?"

"Yeah."

"Ares and Athena always lead the teams?" (Y/n) asks curiously.

"Not always," he answers. "But often."

"So, if another cabin captures one, what do you do - repaint the flag?" Percy asks.

He grins. "You'll see. First, we have to get one."

Luke fives Percy a sly look, as if he knows something the other two don't. The scar on his face makes Luke look almost evil in the torchlight. "We've made a temporary alliance with Athena. Tonight, we get the flag from Ares. And you are going to help."

The teams are announced. Athena had allied with Apollo and Hermes, the two biggest cabins. Privileges had been traded —shower times, chore schedules, the best slots for activities—to win support.

Ares had allied themselves with everybody else: Dionysus, Demeter, Aphrodite, and Hephaestus. From what Percy'd seen, Dionysus's kids were good athletes, but there were only two of them. Demeter's kids had the edge with nature skills and outdoor stuff, but they weren't very aggressive. Aphrodite's sons and daughters he wasn't too worried about. They mostly sat out every activity and checked their reflections in the lake and did their hair and gossiped. Hephaestus's kids weren't pretty, and there were only four of them, but they were big and burly from working in the metal shop all day. They might be a problem. That, of course, left Ares's cabin: a dozen of the biggest, ugliest, meanest kids on Long Island, or anywhere else on the planet.

Chiron hammers his hoof on the marble.

"Heroes!" he announces. "You all know the rules. The creek is the boundary line. The entire forest is fair game. All magic items are allowed. The banner must be prominently displayed, and have no more than two guards. Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged. No killing or maiming is allowed. I will serve as referee and battlefield medic. Arm yourselves!"

He spreads his hand and the tables are suddenly coated in metal equipment: helmets, bronze swords, speaks, oxhide shields covered in metal.

"Whoa!" Percy says. "We're supposed to use these?"

Luke looks at him as if he's crazy. "Unless you want to get skewered by your friends in cabin five. Here — Chiron thought these would fit. You'll be on border patrol, (Y/n), you're with me, I want to see what you can do with that sword."

Luke hands (Y/n) a circular shield and she straps it onto her arm. She tests the weight of the shield and is satisfied with the fact that it's not too light or too heavy.

Annabeth yells, "Blue Team, forward!"

The Blue Team cheers and shakes their swords and follows her down the path to the south side of the woods. The Red Team yells taunts at them as they head off to the north.

Percy manages to catch up to Annabeth, (Y/n) at his heels, without Percy tripping over his heavy equipment.

"Hey," Percy says; Annabeth keeps marching. "So what's the plan?" he asks. "Got any magic items you can loan me?"

Annabeth's hand drifts towards her pocket, as if afraid he'd taken something.

"Just watch Clarisse's spear," she tells Percy. "You don't want that thing touching you. Otherwise, don't worry. We'll take the banner from Ares. (Y/n), come with me."

With a blink, the two girls had ran forward, leaving Percy in the dust. . . .

Once they're in positions, a conch horn blows, and (Y/n), who Annabeth had left with Luke, sneaks forward.

She moves forward a few yards and instinctively raises her shield against an Ares camper. (Y/n) thrusts her sword and the Ares camper sidesteps. Changing her momentum, (Y/n) does a spin, hitting the Ares camper in the stomach with her shield; the camper falls to the ground.

Feeling more confident in herself, (Y/n) slinks into the shadows, her shield and sword low as not to glow from any lights nearby.

(Y/n) makes it across the boundary into enemy territory and sneaks forward a few more yards until she hears Clarisse's voice, "Give him a haircut. Grab his hair."

(Y/n) changes direction, breaking into a run and then bursting from the line of trees.

The five Ares campers turn on her and three advance, Clarisse and another continuing to beat on Percy.

(Y/n) swings the flat of her sword and hits the first guy's head and he crumples to the ground.

Two other guys come at her and she slams her shield into one's face and uses her sword to shave off the horsehair plume on his helmet.

(Y/n) steps into the water and pulls her twin to his feet, feeling as though she'd eaten some of her mother's double espresso beans.

Clarisse and the fourth guy advance and the guy swing his sword, catching (Y/n)'s shield arm and leaving a huge cut, from her wrist to elbow.

Percy catches Clarisse's electric spear with the edge of his shield and sword and snaps it like a twig.

"Ah!" she yells. "You idiot! You corpse-breath worm!"

She probably would've said worse, but Percy smacks her between the eyes with his sword-but and sends her stumbling backward out of the creek.

Then the twins hear yelling, elated screams, and see Luke raising towards the boundary line with the red team's banner lifted high. He is flanked by a couple of Hermes guys covering his retreat, and a few Apollos behind them, fighting off the Hephaestus kids. The Ares folks get up and Clarisse mutters a dazed curse.

"A trick!" Clarisse screams. "It was a trick."

The Ares kids stagger after Luke, but it's too late. Everyone converges on the creek as Luke runs across into friendly territory. The Blue team explodes into cheers and the red banner shimmers and turns to silver. The boar and spear are replaced with a huge caduceus, the symbol of Cabin Eleven. Everyone on the Blue Team picks up Luke and starts carrying him around on their shoulders. Chiron canters out from the woods and blows the conch horn.

(Y/n)'s POV

The game was over. We'd won.

Percy and I are about to join the celebration when Annabeth's voice, right next to me in the creek, says, "Not bad, hero."

I look, an eyebrow quirked, but Annabeth isn't there.

"Where the heck did you learn to fight like that?" Annabeth asks. The air shimmers, and she materialized, holding a Yankees baseball cap as if she'd just taken it off her head.

"You set me up," Percy says, looking slightly angry. "You put me here because you knew Clarisse would come after me, while you sent Luke around the flank. You had it all figured out."

Annabeth shrugs, "I told you. Athena always, always has a plan."

"A plan to get my pulverized," Percy retorts.

"I came as fast as I could. I was about to step in . . ." she shrugs. "You didn't need help."

Then she notices my wounded arm. "How did you do that?"

"It's a sword cut," I respond. "Where do you think it came from?"

"No. It was a sword cut," Annabeth says. "Look at it."

I look down. The blood is gone; where the huge cut had been, there is a long white scratch, and even that is fading. As I watch, it turns into a small scar and disappears.

"I - I don't get it," I stutter.

Annabeth is thinking hard. I can almost see the gears turning. She looks down at my feet, then at Clarisse's broken spear, and says, "Step out of the water, (Y/n)."

"What -" I question.

"Just do it."

I step out of the creek and immediately feel bone tired. I almost fall over but Annabeth steadies me.

"Oh, Styx," she curses. "This is not god. I didn't want . . . I assumed it would be Zeus . . ."

Before I can ask what she means, I hear a canine grows.

A howl rips through the forest.

The campers' cheering dies instantly. Chiron shots something in Ancient Greek, "Stand ready! My bow!"

Annabeth draws her sword.

There on the rocks, just above us is a black hound the size of a rhino, with lava-red eyes and fangs like daggers.

And it's looking right at me.

Nobody moves except Annabeth, who yells, "(Y/n), run!"

She tries to step in front of me, but the hound is too fast. It leaps over her - an enormous shadow with teeth - and just as it hits me, as I stumble backward and feel its razor-sharp claws ripping through my armor.

There is a cascade of thwacking sounds, like forty pieces of paper being ripped one after another; from the hound's sprouts a cluster of arrows.

The monster falls dead at my feet.

By some miracle, I am alive. I don't want to look underneath the ruins of my shredded armor and sway a little. My chest feels warm and wet, and I know I am badly cut. Another second and the monster would've turned me into a hundred pounds of deli meat.

Chiron trots up next to us, a bow in his hand, his face grim.

"Di immortales!" Annabeth says softly. "That's a hellhound from the Fields of Punishment. They don't...they're not supposed to..."

"Someone summoned it," Chiron murmurs. "Someone inside the camp."

Luke comes over, the banner in his hand forgotten, his moment of glory gone.

Clarisse yells, "It's all Percy's fault! Percy summons it!"

"Be quiet, child," Chiron tells her.

We watch the body of the hellhound melts into the shadow, soaking into the ground as it disappears.

"You're wounded," Annabeth tells me. "Quick, (Y/n), get in the water."

I'm too tired to argue and I step back into the creek, the whole camp gathering around me.

Instantly, I fell better; I fell the cuts on my chest closing up.

Some of the campers gasp.

"Look, I - I don't know why," I say, trying to apologize. "I'm sorry . . ."

But they aren't watching my wounds heal, they're staring up at something above mine and Percy's heads.

"(Y/n), Percy," Annabeth says, pointing. "Um . . ."

By the time I look up, the sign is already fading, but I can still make out the hologram of green light, spinning and gleaming.

A three-tipped spear: a trident.

"Your father," Annabeth murmurs. "This is really not good."

All around me, campers start kneeling, even Ares cabin, though they don't look happy about it.

"Our father?" Percy asks, looking completely bewildered.

"Poseidon," says Chiron. "Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus and (Y/n) Jackson, Son, and Daughter of the Sea God."

Word Count: 2641 words

[holidaywishes]

Ravage Me

  Requested: 👍

  Summary/Request: Ahh you’re the best! So basically I was thinking a super angsty fic where the reader is friends with Auston, like around his age, has tattoos, dresses on the edgier side, and Freddie has a massive crush on her but doesn’t think he can compete with Auston because he’s not as interesting?? I adore you 💕

  Warning: angst as requested, little bit of fluff, language (but that’s par for the course -- I have a tiny bit of a sailor’s mouth), maybe a hint of smut near the end?

  Author’s Note: I love this request so much. It’s not super angsty but I hope it’s angsty enough for ya! I’m sorry that I’m just getting to it now, I had planned on doing it last week but just couldn’t, anyway, I’m writing it now and I think I like the way it came out. I tried to make this character the cool alter ego I wish I had -- instead my alter ego is a Southern Belle named Daisy. I had fun writing this and I hope you enjoy it! Stay Golden, loves! <3

  masterlist

  the other masterlist

xx

Freddie’s P.O.V

  The first time you met her, you were a bit taken aback by her boldness. For only being 23, she was incredibly sure of herself and she was one of the only people you knew that knew who they were; it didn’t take long for you to fall for her.

  “So, Fred!” Auston yelled over the loud music in the bar as (Y/N) hung off his shoulder, “what do you want to drink?” You looked between the two of them and scoffed before heading to the bar yourself to get a beer, “or you know.. do that.”

  “Can I get anything for either of you?” you asked, looking back to your friend and the girl you were falling for

  “I’ll grab a beer” Auston laughed as (Y/N) walked toward you

  “Get him the worst beer they have,” she joked, “I’ll just have a tequila soda.” You smiled at her response, ordering the drinks and following behind the two as they found a table to sit at. (Y/N) and Auston sat across from you, laughing about something that you weren’t in on and you just sat there drinking your beer trying not to look too awkward. When she got up, you found your eyes wandering across her body, finding new tattoos hidden beneath her ripped and tattered clothing.

  “Dude,” Auston said, bringing your attention back to him, “stop staring!”

  “Sorry,” you replied, shaking your head, “how many tattoos does she have?”

  “She’s going on like 11 or 12?” he smiled, “I keep telling her she should just get a sleeve but she likes having them in ‘secret spots’ she says”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call her wrist or her neck a ‘secret spot’” you smirked

  “That’s only two, Fred,” he chirped, “think about where the other places could be...” Before you could respond, (Y/N) sat down and, as if it were planned, Auston stood up, leaving you alone with his friend. She shifted in her seat, her long hair cascading over her shoulder, forcing your eyes to wander to examine her outfit; her faded plaid shirt had small tears in it lending the perfect peekaboo for the black lace underneath while her shorts only covered half of her thigh, exposing a sun and moon tattoo. You realized neither of you had spoken when she changed seats to sit in front of you before taking off her unbuttoned plaid shirt and tying it around her waist

  “So Fred...” she started, forcing you to look up at her and smile awkwardly, “why are you friends with Auston?”

  “What do you mean?” you scoffed

  “I don’t know,” she chuckled, “you guys are just so... I think it’s the age difference for me”

  “Because he’s younger?”

  “Yeah” she laughed

  “He’s a good kid, he needs a little guidance,” you joked, “and I guess I need to get out of my comfort zone a little”

  “Oh yeah?” she smiled and you felt your face flood with heat, “how exactly has he helped you do that?”

  “You two talkin’ about me?” Auston asked as he sat back down, his hand creeping around (Y/N)’s waist, pulling her close to him

  “Don’t be so vain” she joked

  “We were just talking about (Y/N)’s tattoos” you countered

  “Is that right?” Auston smirked

  “Yeah...” you hesitated, trying to figure out what to say

  “Yeah, he was just asking me about the sun and moon on my thigh,” she replied, “what it meant...” You were surprised that she was going along with your fib but you weren’t complaining

  “She was just about to tell me when you interrupted us”

  “Well then... don’t let me stop you” he said, taking a sip of the beer he’d left on the table and gesturing to (Y/N)

  “It’s for me and my brother. My parents used to always say we were like night and day but that we complimented each other,” she answered, “he was this bright ball of energy that seemed to light up every room and I was... a little on the darker side. He was really important to me, so, when he passed away last year, I wanted to have something to remind me of him...”

  “I’m so sorry,” you sighed, “I didn’t mean to ma--”

  “Don’t be sorry,” she smiled, “it’s okay. I’m okay. It’s good for me to talk about him.”

  “Why don’t you tell him about this tattoo on your spine” Auston interjected, tracing his finger down her back

  “and miles to go before I sleep...” she said softly, “it’s from a Robert Frost poem. I wouldn’t say it’s my favourite poem but this line, the last line, always kind of stuck with me. Like, there’s so much life to live before we all ‘sleep.’“ She smiled as she air quoted the word sleep

  “What about this one on your arm?” you asked as you pointed to the back of her bicep, near her elbow

  “It’s a lotus flower,” she smirked, “it was my first one actually. I thought I was being so original but then I saw literally everyone getting a lotus flower tattoo and suddenly, I just felt... Do you have any tattoos Freddie?” she suddenly asked

  “Me?” you questioned, “no, none”

  “Yeah, tattoos aren’t really Big Red’s thing”

  “I’m sure they could be..” (Y/N) said, “if he tried. We should take him to get one, just a small one. Like.. a piece of LEGO or something.” You chuckled at her suggestion, preparing yourself to say something, “I can always use another tattoo...”

  “I don’t know..” you faltered

  “I can hold your hand if you’re scared” she teased

  “Oh yeah, definitely. We’ll both hold your hand” Auston added before rolling his eyes and you scoffed

  “I’ll think about it” you joked just as (Y/N) stood up

  “I love this song,” she yelled, “let’s go dance!” You and Auston looked at each other before she eventually dragged you both out to the dance floor with her, standing in between the two of you as the music compelled her hips to sway. As Auston wrapped his hands around her waist, (Y/N) brought her hands up to your shoulders to pull you close to her; you felt your breath stop in your chest as her eyes met yours and the music continued to pump through your body. Before long, you noticed Auston move his lips closer to (Y/N)’s neck and you couldn’t handle it anymore

  “I.. I have to go...” you stammered before taking off

  “Freddie!” (Y/N) called out

  “FRED!” Auston shouted but you just continued walking, tearing your coat off the back of the chair where you sat until Auston finally met up with you, “What’s going on?” he asked

  “I can’t... this isn’t what..” you growled as you tried to find the words to say that you didn’t want to watch the two of them make out with each other all night, “I need to go”

  “Why?” he asked again

  “Because of you, that’s why!” you finally blurted out, forcing your way through the crowd to dart out of the bar

  “What are you talking about? What did I do?!” he exclaimed, forcing a scoff from you

  “You know that I...” you tried, unconsciously gesturing to the girl inside, “and you are just...”

  “Freddie, nothing is happening. We were dancing,” he sighed, “I was trying to be your wing man!”

  “That was you trying to be a wing man?” you huffed

  “I don’t get what your problem is. You could’ve made a move, you didn’t. She’s not going to wait around all night for you to inch closer to her”

  “So what?!” you yelled, “you decided you would? Because you’ve had her before and you wanted her again?”

  “What?” he sneered and you noticed (Y/N) rush out of the door, finding the two of you fighting on the sidewalk and as much as you didn’t want to say it, you needed to, at the very least, see Auston’s reaction

  “How would you know where all her ‘secret spots’ are? Where all her tattoos are if you haven’t been with her already?” His look told you everything you needed to but when you looked back at (Y/N), you felt a little ashamed of yourself for acting the way you were

  “Freddie...” Auston said quietly

  “It’s... whatever,” you sighed, “I’ll talk to you later.” You called for a cab but before you could close the door, she snuck in.

xx

  The look on Freddie’s face nearly broke your heart but you weren’t sure why he was so upset. He had spent time with you before, you knew him, you liked each other but he had never really had a conversation with you. You couldn’t deny that when you saw him that night, you kept imagining his hands on you, but this... was not what you were expecting to come from the night.

  “SO WHAT?!” Freddie yelled at Auston outside of the bar and you furrowed your brow at the interaction, “you decided you would? Because you’ve had her before and you wanted her again?”

  “What?” Auston replied and you took one step forward to hear Freddie’s response, expecting it to be a whisper

  “How would you know where all her ‘secret spots’ are?” Freddie asked and you blushed at the implication, “where all her tattoos are if you haven’t been with her already?” You caught Freddie’s stare for a second before your gaze dropped to the concrete, hearing Auston try to ease the tension but Freddie wasn’t having it. When you heard the cab pull up, you knew you had to jump in so that at least one of you could help the situation, “(Y/N).. what are you doing?” he asked and you sat beside him in silence while the driver waited for an address

  “I don’t know what happened...” you started quietly, “but I didn’t want you to storm off upset”

  “I’m fine” he snapped

  “Clearly, you’re not” you replied

  “I’m fine” he repeated

  “You’re upset...” you sighed, “I don’t want you to be upset”

  “Why does it matter?” he asked

  “What?” you replied as the car came to a stop and you quickly followed Freddie out of the cab to his door

  “Why does it matter if I’m upset or not?” he asked again as he called the elevator and the two of you waited

  “Because,” you returned, turning your body toward him, “despite what you might think, I care about you.” Just then, the telltale ding of the elevator rang and you two stepped in. You waited for him to say something but when he didn’t, you bit your lip and thought about what he said to Auston back at the bar, ‘if you haven’t been with her before?’ There was almost disdain on the words, causing your forehead to crease as you thought about them, “do you really think so little of me?”

  “What?” he replied, turning his head to you and furrowing his brow

  “That I would just sleep with Auston?” you questioned

  “He just... kept talking about your tattoos..” he stammered

  “Sure,” you countered, “he was with me when I got most of them.”

  “Well...” he hesitated again, “you two were hanging all over each other...”

  “We were dancing,” you argued, “all of us!”

  “So you’ve never slept with him?” he asked

  “No” you answered as the elevator door opened. You followed Freddie to his door, still not sure what he was feeling

  “You can go home. I’m fine”

  “I don’t get why you’re so upset over this?”

  “It doesn’t matter”

  “It does. I wanna know!” you shouted

  “He clearly wants to fuck you” he bit

  “Fuck you!” you snapped back

  “AM I WRONG?”

  “YES!”

  “OH COME ON”

  “YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT!”

  “IT DOESN’T MATTER!” he shouted before you noticed that the two of you had become so close that your chests rose and fell in sync

  “Why do you care so much?” you said quietly, “if it doesn’t matter what are you so... bent out of shape?” His eyes moved slowly across your face before landing on your mouth, leading your eyes to do the same

  “I’m... not like him” he whispered

  “What do you mean?“ you replied

  “I like you, (Y/N),” he admitted, gently placing his hands on your hips, “but I’m not like Auston...”

  “What? American?” you scoffed, “a bit of a narcissist? An overly competitive self-assured mama’s boy? Good.”

  “No... I’m not 23, I don’t have tattoos, I d--”

  “Good.” You repeated simply, “Why would you want to be him?”

  “Because he’s a better fit for you” he sighed, walking to his couch and slumping down, dropping his head to his hands and you were left standing in the middle of the room, flustered and confused.

  “I’ve known Auston for... so much of my life,” you replied, “you think he’s a better fit for me because we’re the same age and we both have tattoos? I don’t want someone who’s a different version of me...”

  “Even if it makes sense?” he grumbled, earning a head shake from you before your feet decided to move toward him until you were standing in front of him, waiting for him to look up at you from where he sat, “what are you doing?” he asked, his elbows resting on his knees as a smirk crept across your lips.

  “Not everything needs to make sense...” you replied, “not if it feels right.”

  “What do you mean?” he stammered, seeming almost afraid of you all of a sudden

  “I’ve seen you looking at me,” you smiled, moving his arms down so you could straddle his lap, “staring at my tattoos, my hair, my clothes...”

  “I..I--”

  “I don’t mind,” you interrupted, moving your hands around his shoulders, “I like when you look at me.”

  “You do?” he countered and you nodded, beginning to move your hands down his body before moving your lips close to his

  “I know that I have to look my best when you’re around...” you whispered, lips caressing his without touching them, “I want to look good for you”

  “You always look good,” he hummed as his hands found your waist and his eyes trained themselves on your chest. “God I want you...” he growled, digging his nails into your skin before looking up at you, only to find you smiling down at him

  “So take me...” you breathed, pushing your chest against his as your fingers hooked onto the loose fabric of his shirt when he stopped you, pushing you off so he could stand up, “Freddie, what the hell?!” You whined

   “You only want me because you can’t have him!”

  “Are you fucking kidding me with this?!” You shouted, marching to where the tall, Danish goaltender stood, “if I wanted him, I’d have him. If I wanted to be with him, I wouldn’t be here with you. But I don’t, I’m not. When I know what I want, I’m pretty damn good at getting it. I want you, Freddie. And I know you want me too.” You let your angry breaths fill the space as Freddie stared at you hesitantly; if he wasn’t going to do anything, you weren’t going to waste your time. You turned and began walking to the door, intent on storming out and never speaking to Freddie again, when he grabbed your arm, stopping you from leaving. He waited until you looked at him, so you could see the intensity of his stare, before he pulled you into him, fumbling into a nearby wall, kissing your lips harshly before he moved down to your neck and further to your chest. Standing back up to kiss you softly before removing your shirt, letting his hands glide back to your bare skin once the fabric had disappeared

  “Are you sure?” He asked, leaning his forehead against yours as your arms circled his neck

  “I’m yours, baby.” You smirked, kissing him quickly before jumping up and wrapping your legs around his hips, “take me, kiss me, ravage me...” you giggled at your own words and Freddie smiled in response, quickly carrying you over to the couch, only so he could set you down and tear of the remainder of your clothes. As he picked you up once more and his lips discovered new spots on your neck that garnered sounds you’d never heard yourself make, you dug your nails into his back, scratching a trail down his sides.

  “You’re not as intimidating as I thought you were” he chirped, throwing you onto his king sized bed and you were forced to smile before shrugging in response

  “And you’re not as safe as you seem.” You returned before biting your fingertip, waiting for him to remove his clothes

  “Let me show you what I can do...” You raised your eyebrows at his words, knowing that you were in for a long, glorious night.

[bibliocratic]

Been thinking about Martin being sad about/hating the way he looks bc he looks like his dad, and he tries to talk to Jon abt it, but he's Too Vague so Jon thinks he's worried that Jon doesn't like that he's fat and consequently comforts him about the wrong thing

This took so long, anon, sorry!

Because of the subject matter, there are content warnings in the tags

The first time Martin sees his own face, limp-eyed, flat and drained in the feeble straining light of the bathroom, he starts shaking. A stretching in his chest, like he's swallowed a swelling balloon that is pushing all the air out of him, bunging up his lungs and throat and mouth. That's how Jon finds him, tears sprung to his eyes as he sucks in scant and skittish breathes, his fingers clenching the lip of the sink and wondering why he can't be stronger than all this.  

After that, Martin takes to avoiding mirrors while he's in the safehouse.

It's not hard. He's had lots of practise recently. The Lonely had displayed many double-edged poisons in its folds disguised as furtive blessings. His reflection had been one of them. Martin had counted it as a grateful novelty, to walk past glass shop fronts and the over-stark bathroom mirrors in the staff toilets and see the refusal of light to grant his image returned to him. Even his exile to the seafront, the rock-pools vacant of crawling life or stubborn salt-encrusted fronds of lichen, had shown him only the eddy of tide, the ripples that his steps barely disturbed in the landscape.

It had been a kindness of sorts, to take his image from him. The mirror had never shown Martin anything but things he hadn't cared to see, his own neurosis writ large and backwards.

The morning is not unusual. The birds had woken him, piping shrill even through the double glazing, and Jon, still dozy and drooling his words into his pillow, had cursed and moaned indignant at the vocal wildlife. Martin had dropped back off for another twenty or so minutes, a smirk raising the sleep-dry corners of his lips, waking up when the bed creaked and Jon had stood and stretched and made all sorts of horrendous cracking noises like some sort of human castanet.

This morning though, Jon is in the bathroom, shaving, and making a worrying racket doing so, and Martin is still in that sort of headachy realm of not quite awake yet, where he still gathering the components than make him functional as he shuffles around in his boxers and waits for the shower to be free. Martin's not sure why today, but he finds himself opening the wardrobe. Inside, on the back of the left-hand side door, there's a full length mirror, pocked a little with age and smeared with dust.

Martin's not sure why he feels strong enough today to look.

The thing he expects to see first: his hair shorn down, just shy of a buzz cut. Martin's been doing it himself for years, every month or so hunching over the sink and bathroom mirror in his old flat in Stockwell and uniformly mowing his hair down to a prickly ginger fuzz.

His mum never liked his hair when he grew it out. Snapped and sniped about how long it was getting whenever it started to bend in a curl,  encroaching over his ears, and he'd not always had the money or time to go into town and go to the barber's. When he got his first job, scrimping aside the little he'd left over at the end of the month, he'd bought clippers from the nearest Boots, attached the first guard he'd picked up and ran it over his scalp until the up-scrub was spiky and even. The first time was a bit of a hack-job, lopsided and uneven, but he's improved his technique with time. The method and cut was cheap and basic and he wasn't fond of the way it made his ears look stuck out, but it was one less thing he had to worry about, one less thing his mum could disapprove of.

His hair now hangs, uninspired, slightly greasy and knotted over his ears. Shaggy-dog over his forehead until he swipes it back, a small curl down to the nape of his neck.

He looks like his dad. Sees the man he barely knew staring back, the image lost that Elias had so viciously returned. Studies his snubnose struck centre, a wide jaw that rounds out his face, ruddy cheeks with sparse and spotting freckles. Some of the hairs of his eyebrows are starting to grey. His eyes seem suspicious, washed out, unhappy. He wonders if this is what Jon sees, a man whose closed-off expression does not appear to trust the world nor its motives.

The sort of man who might just up and leave if the going gets tough.

Jon pads into the room, though Martin doesn't turn round.  He puts all his weight on the front of his feet, always has; even in the Archives, Martin could place Jon's footsteps next to Sasha's sturdier stride, Tim's faster tread.

Jon plants his face against Martin's back, grumbles through a good morning. He's smooth jawed again, his skin baking from the shower, his hair not quite towelled off properly, still dripping.

“Lookin' handsome,” Jon mumbles, throwing out a hand to gesture at the mirror, at the twin men standing awkward and self-conscious opposite each other.

Martin observes at his own hands cast back at him through the mirror. His thick arms, the round and pasty pale of them. He has big hands, he thinks to himself. Broad, weathered palms, the skin cracking dry, short and stubby fingers. Hair starts to grow sparse on the back of his hand close to his wrist and only gets thicker and denser up his arms. Jon slumped standing immediately behind him isn't visible in the reflection; Martin's body takes up too much room, wide and solid, even when he wants to secrete himself smaller. He's tall, like Dad was, he guesses, though he stoops and hunches in his shoulders to try and negate it. Martin thinks he looks like the sort of man that plays rugby and drinks too much. When he's walking home, trudging through the residential streets between the tube station and his flat, people passing him sometimes scrunch their body in away from him, and every time that hurts. In the dark, without his stumbling words and over-eager expression and his clumsiness, something about him looks like it could turn nasty, and Martin doesn't know how to take that.

He went drinking with Tim and Sasha once in Lambeth.  They'd had four or five and Sasha had bought them obnoxiously coloured and overpriced cocktails before dragging Tim over to the pool table, Martin sitting out to the side amiably, sipping his sugar-heavy drink and tapping his feet to the music someone put on the jukebox. Two men came over ten minutes later, drunker than them, arguing that they'd been there first, and Sasha had been fired up enough to snap back. It had looked like a scrap brewing, so Martin had put his drink down and stood up, anxiously ready and willing to urge Tim and Sasha away just to keep the peace. The two had looked at him, eyes roving up before they held up their hands, backing off, saying they'd come back when they'd finish.

“No bother, ey, big lad?” they'd slurred at Martin. “Didn't mean anything by it.”

Sasha had beamed as they left, and called Martin a lucky charm. He hadn't felt very lucky. He'd felt sick at the reminder.  

The problem as he sees it, is that everything about him is big.

Inside: too big heart and too raw-open soul. A great vast reservoir where he keeps every bubbling expression of fear and grief and rage that he's never expressed with his body.

Outside: big stocky arms, an over-hanging stomach matched with a tall spine and the sort of footsteps that announce his arrival well before he enters a room.

Martin's dad never hit his mum. He assumes that's something Elias would have glibly enjoyed sharing.  But sometimes he'd stood too close when they'd been fighting, looming, deliberately crowding in her space, and she'd noticed how much taller he was, how much stronger. She'd thought she saw something mean and nasty in his eyes, the way he clenched his fists that meant he wanted to.

She'd imagined she saw that look in her son sometimes too.

Martin worries about that. Worries what other poisoned legacies his dad left him with.

“Mart'n?” Jon says. He's encircled his arms as far as he can around him, though they don't link up, scratching his nails through the hair on his chest. His hands long-boned but smaller, slighter.

Jon is not a small man nor a tall one, average in appearance in most ways if not for the scars, if not for the way the composite of his image makes Martin's heart something stronger in his chest. But Martin is bigger than him when they lie together, Jon's side of the bed made less by default, shunting him further over to the corners. Martin is stronger than him, because Martin has lifted him bodily to hear Jon's laughing protestations as Martin manhandled him onto the sofa and kissed the veins down his throat, the blush risen in his cheeks.

And Martin's angrier than he used to be. Or angrier than he used to admit to being. His mood pinballing from flat to frustrated as everything the Lonely dulled ploughs back into him, all of Martin's mechanisms, the checks-and-balances he built within himself gone ruinous. Martin can be so angry these days, and he doesn't know how to deal with it.

Martin doesn't like the way that worry fizzes under his tongue.

“My dad had big hands,” he says out of nowhere. “He wore some rings, I think, and he had to get them resized to fit his fingers.”

“You making plans to get us rings already?”

Jon's joke is shy and nudging, but Martin doesn't feel like raising the corners of his mouth in a smile.

Martin moves a hand to squeeze the flesh that bunches around his upper arms, pats his stomach.

“I've definitely got his belly,” he says. “His arms. Prob'ly end up with his hair to boot, he was receding a bit.”

Jon's hands stroke palm down over what stomach he can reach.

“I like your stomach,” he says, and it's not that Martin doesn't believe him, because he's getting better at not doubting people, at allowing himself to trust they might like something about him. It's that that wasn't the point.

“Hmm,” Martin says noncommittally, and glances at his own hands again. Square chewed nails and the small bumps of veins.

“You don't look happy,” Jon says.

“What? No, I mean, it – it's fine, it's...”

“Do you... not like looking in the mirror?”

Martin sighs.

“Not particularly.”

“Because you have a problem with how you look?”

“You don't have to spell it out like that, Jon.”

“Like what?”

“Like you're a – my therapist or something. I don't want to – to be questioned o-or psychoanalysed about it. I just, no – I don't like looking at myself. That's all.”

Jon's arms don't unhook from around him. Martin exhales and feels the frustration like sediment build up.

“I look exactly like my dad,” Martin says finally, bitterly.

“You don't,” Jon replies quietly, into the meat of Martin's shoulder.

“You can't know that,” Martin says, although the words are empty of meaning and they both know it. Jon both can and does, whether he means to or not.

Feeling his Adam's apple bob, he continues: “Elias, he showed me. When I was – er, when we needed him distracted.”

Jon's arms clench around him.

“Elias showed you what he wanted you to see,” he says after a careful moment.

Martin shakes his head, because he saw what he'd known already, what his mum had seen, the trickle of memory gushing torrential. That he has his dad's big fingers, big hands and big anger, and he is frightened of what sort of a man that makes him.

“I could....” Jon's fingers flex and skate over the skin where Martin's stretch marks root down to his hips. “I could look? If you wanted? Tell you if Elias was... if what he showed you was true.”

Martin thinks about it, but Jon feels the silence of his refusal and presses his nose against the freckled handful of skin where Martin's shoulder blades are.

“I'll tell you what I see then?”

“See see, you mean?”

“No. Normal seeing. With my own two eyeballs.”

“I am being blessed with the originals today, what a gift.”

Jon headbutts him with his forehead, and the small laugh and a 'Jon!' is pushed out of him as a scarred palm is held up near his face, an eyelid opening in the skin to leer at Martin.

“Put your bloody Pan's Labyrinth eyeball away,” Martin grouches, and he can feel Jon grinning mischievous as the disconcerting eyeball winks before being sunk closed back into the skin.

“Better?”

“I am never going to get used to that.”

Jon makes a noise of agreement. He unplasters himself from Martin's back, and takes a tugging hold of his wrist.

“Look at me?”

Martin lets himself be turned round. Weak-willed, soft-spined to the last wherever Jon is concerned.

Jon looking up at him now, fringed with damp locks seaweeding down his face. Martin brushes them back out of the way, and Jon captures his hand, meshes their fingers together slowly and precisely.

“Tell me?” he asks quietly. “What you've been thinking about? And I'll tell you what I see.”

“My hands,” Martin says after a moment and Jon nods and hums and holds Martin's captured palm in front of him.

“Bigger than mine,” Jon says, demonstrating, holding the two of them as imperfect reflections of each other.  “You've got short nails because you bite them. The cold's making the skin dry, but they're soft, usually. Sturdy. Even when – even when we were leaving the Lonely, I knew once you took my hand we wouldn't get separated.”

“My – er, my arms,” Martin says after a while, prodding with his free hand at the loose flesh at the undersides of his arms. “Well, my bingo wings.”

Jon frowns, reaches up to encircle his grip around them.

“You've got muscle under there,” he says. “You can lift me, no trouble. The first time you did, I, um, couldn't help but hope you'd do it again.”

Martin finds it in himself to meet Jon's gaze.

“Yeah?” he says, pleased.

Jon is starting to blotch with blush, but he carries on, fingers stroking Martin's upper arms.

“Even if you weren't strong,” he says. “You've got – your, um. Freckles. There's no pattern to them, of course, but I like seeing if I can find one anyway.”

“You're a big softie,” Martin chides roughly, dry-mouthed and watery eyed.

Jon doesn't deny it.

“What else?” he asks delicately.

“I'm – I'm heavy,” Martin says, the words shrivelling quiet on his tongue. “I-I don't mind – I'm not ashamed of being, you know, not the smallest guy, I've never had a-a problem with it, not exactly, but I-I'm bigger than you. I'm stronger than you and I take up more room and, my dad, I look so much like him s-s-so what if – ”

He trails off. Swallowing. Unable to finish.

Jon's arms embrace him and he allows himself to be bent down, the angle uncomfortable and Jon on tip-toe, his face mushed into the side of Jon's throat.

Jon rubs at the broad expanse of his back.

“You'd never hurt me,” Jon says, fiercely. “Whether you look like your father or not. You're not him, Martin. I can't, I know I can't convince you, but it doesn't matter if you've got his arms or his eyes or his hair. He's never been where you've been, or done what you've managed. I bet he doesn't – doesn't write poetry, or whistle the Archer's theme tune, or I dunno, is completely useless at catching things.” Martin gives a wet attempt at a laugh. Jon's hands move comfortingly up and down.

“You're not your dad,” Jon continues after a moment. “You aren't responsible for the man he was, or the man your mother thought she saw in you. That's not – it's not your burden to carry. Fuck whatever shadows Elias showed you. You're not him. It's – I can't make you like what you see in the mirror, but when I look at you, I don't see any of the things you're scared of.”

“You can really just, know all that, huh,” Martin says after a minute, lifting up his head, rubbing his eyes with his hand.

“I don't need to,” Jon replies.

Martin's hugs are crushing and enveloping but Jon clings back as tightly.

Martin pulls back after a minute, wiping his eyes again though he knows they've gone red and puffy, already feeling the crimping heat of self-consciousness in his chest. Jon leans back in to kiss him, first his lips, and then his cheek, quick and affirming, as he trails his fingers through his hair.

“You'll be wanting this cut soon,” Jon says, although he seems disappointed at the thought, combing his fingers through the tangle self-indulgently.

“I might try growing it out.” Martin tests the water of the idea, and Jon looks approving at this, nods and hums and runs his fingers through again.

It's been a long time since his hair was longer. Martin thinks he might suit it.

“What would you say to a beard?” Martin follows up,  just to see Jon try to valiantly quash his dissatisfaction and keep a neutral expression. He almost succeeds.

“If you... If you think it best,” Jon manages stiffly. 

Martin's laugh is a free and booming thing in his chest.

[jackest-jack]

I would very much like to hear about your spooky scary Sirens, pretty please 🥺

AJKSJAKISJAJAJF Ok so I almost had a heart attack when I saw you were following me because YOU’RE SO COOL so thank you

I already wrote about my spooky scary sirens over here, and they have pictures and I would be willing to write a short thing with them later but for right now I’m gonna pick a different thing and blab about it.

The most fleshed out and cohesive thing I have is the vampire band nerd slasheresque story with a police chase followup as well as a separate zombie apocalypse thing, so ig I’ll go with that. More under cut and warning for like a lot of gore and death and angst. I’m also only doing the first part of that because this is taking a long ass time

I came up with this in junior high, and I was in band, and I noticed that each instrument section had different personalities sort of, so I made characters around that and put them in a horror plot where they all die horribly, because what else are you gonna do? This is gonna be a plot rundown and it might get real long. (It is no longer a rundown. Its just unedited word vomit.)

anyways a bunch of friends, who I’m just gonna call by their instrument names, go camping in the woods for a couple weeks. They all take one car and set up in the middle of fuckin nowhere.

Clarinets a vampire pretending to be a high schooler for kicks, because she was 15 when she turned 5 years ago and got dragged away to the magic underworld (basically a series of safehouses and towns for the supernatural) and she wants a letterman goddamnit.

She gets adopted into a friendgroup despite her best efforts, and gets dragged along on the camping trip in the small car and close quarters with a buddy system and she hasn’t eaten anything substantial in like two months and its proving to be a problem when she starts thinking of her friends as snacks instead of people.

one night, percussionist gets up to go on a 3 am lake walk. But, the buddy system. So he takes Clarinet, who never seems to sleep anyways, with him.

They’re on the edge of a lake littered with huge old chunks of driftwood, looking out over the water, when Percussionist steps on something sharp. It went straight through his sandal and he pulls it out without much trouble, but “that nail looks kind of rusty and I’m Pretty Sure I’m bleeding a little bit, oh I hope I don’t need a shot-“

she falls on him like a cat on a wounded songbird. She has enough of her mind left to cover his mouth and stop the screams as he slowly loses blood.

He tries to fight back. He does. he jams the nail deep into her throat and twists away, but she catches his wrist and slams him backward, a sharp stick going through his stomach, sticking him bloody at the base of an old driftwood branch still attached to its old tree.

She stops draining just before he dies. And she waits, and waits, and waits. Finally, hours later, the corpse takes a deep gasp and its eyes fly open. It begins the excruciating process of pulling itself off the tree.

his wound is closed less than a minute later.

he comes to and sees her sobbing on the ground, bloody streaks under her eyes from where she tried to wipe away her tears with hands soaked from putting pressure on his stomach in a feeble attempt to save him.

“Vampires, huh?” He says, half joking, half looking for an explanation.

—-—

they’re sitting around a small campfire, and Clarinet tells him that he’s a vampire, he needs blood, he cant go back to camp or he will eat his friends. She leaves to find him something substantial before he loses it.

back at the original camp, its around sunrise. Flute notices a small trail of smoke not far off, realizes that Percussionist is missing, and gets French Horn to help him look for their idiot friend (and maybe put out a small fire.)

They make it about 3/4th of the way to the smoke when flute trips on a tree root and scrapes his knee. About a mile away, Percussionists head perks up.

He distantly realizes that he just left the campfire that he’s supposed to stay at, but he can‘t seem to care. The hunger doesn’t gnaw at him or hollow him out. Its not like looking for a fix either. Its an itch in his whole body, a near unavoidable function of his being. The hunt is as natural as a cough, a spasm of muscles to take away the awful itch.

He moves faster than he ever could before, and just to see if he can, he jumps up and begins running across the branches of trees. Its slower, but sneakier; his prey won’t see him coming.

Finally, he reaches them. He jumps on the smaller one, sending it crashing to the ground. It’s blood is what brought him here. He sinks his hollow teeth into its neck and begins feeding.

There is a scream and a crash as the taller one runs away. Thats ok. He only needs one.

———

French horn, for her part, is freaking the fuck out. The sun had just peaked over the horizon and orange light was streaming through the trees when everything went to shit.

The pale thing had fallen on Flute, and the noise he made… she was almost certain he was dead now.

She kept running. If she could make it back to camp, then maybe she could get help, or maybe leave before the rest of them died too.

She charges through a thicket, sharp thorns scraping and tearing every inch of her as she shoves her way through. She shuts her eyes as she goes, to avoid the thorns poking them out.

When she comes out the other side, she feels her gut sink.

She doesn’t recognize the trees or bushes around her. She doesn’t see a path.

She’s lost.

She wants to break down, to scream and cry the injustice to the heavens, to kick and punch and fight the thing that killed her friend, to sit down and rest and have a moment to breathe, to be home-

She picks a direction and runs.

———

Percussionist stops draining Flute just before he‘s dead, following the instinct that drove him to where he is.

He wants to be horrified. He does, really. But he was so hungry, and the itch is still there, waiting beneath his skin to pounce on him again. But for now, its gone, and he can think clearly. He can move without the instinct tainting his every twitch.

He turns to look at the person he drained and sees-

He sees his friend. And it hits him all at once.

He killed a person, a person he knew, a person he cared for, and he had been powerless to stop it. He didn’t even know- he didn’t realize- he would never have done it if he-

but he knew he would have. Even if he knew. He would’ve killed Flute, and he hates himself for that.

So he sits by the body of his dead friend, maybe in solace, maybe because some instinctive tick tells him to. He doesn’t want to know. He refuses to.

When Flute sat up and gasped, Percussionist could‘ve sworn he had a heart attack (even without a functioning heart.)

To Flutes credit, he made it through Percussionists halting and confused explanation before letting himself ask about the smell.

”what smell?” Percussionist asked, and lifted his nose to the air.

He got his answer. The smell of blood, salty and sweet and with a coppery tinge to it drifted through the air, leaving a hunger and odd comfort sitting in his gut. It reminded him of smelling baking cookies from the kitchen as a kid.

A leaf crunched, and he snapped out of his trance. Flute had stood up and broken into a run, faster than any human could’ve gone. After the person that had been with him.

After his friend.

Percussionist sprinted after him.

——

He had the chance to notice how fast he was really going, now that he could think through the hunger. He practically flew through the forest, leaping over a fallen log half his size that blocked his way. He ducked and dodged branches that threatened to slash his face, and if he were running for something else he may have threw his head back and laughed.

As it was, he was following the occasional red flash of a windbreaker that he could barely keep up with without being hit by a tree.

He could heal now right? Did he really even need to be worried about being hit by trees?

He let one slap his face just to test, and he felt the stinging pain all across his face as a deep cut opened across his nose and eyes. He faltered as his vision went red with blood. A second later, it was gone, and he could see again. ….And he‘d lost flute. Great.

He sniffed the air, remembering how he’d been able to smell the blood, and tried to look for his friend.

He could smell the whole forest. Sap and pine and rotting leaves, rotten flesh and mushrooms and a skunk miles and miles off, the sweet sting of honey and dew and campfire smoke, and over it all, the most lovely smell-

Well, looks like he couldn’t find him that way. He thought for a moment, and groaned. He could just follow French Horn and get to her first!

He began running again.

———

Clarinet had just made it back to the campsite, a live deer kicking around over her shoulder. She would’ve killed it, but she couldn’t quite figure out how without losing any of its blood, and since she drained and seriously injured Percussionist he would need a lot of blood-

and the campfire had a suspicious lack of vampires around it. Great. She could only hope that no one had cut themselves-

She stopped as the scent of blood hit her nose. She cursed and took off running, dropping the deer as she did.

——

French Horn thought she was going to die when she heard a bush rustle and snap behind her. She had stopped for a rest, thinking she was safe (if very lost). She was braced for her death when Percussionist crashed through the bushes.

”Oh, good, you’re still alive. We need to go like right now.”

Before she could protest, he grabbed her wrist and began pulling her away. With his very cold, very pale hand.

”Wait. Was it you?” She said, planting her feet.

”Yes.” his voice was solemn, and his eyes downcast. “But unless you want Flute to get you, we need to go”

She tore her wrist out of his grasp.

“Flutes dead. Flute’s dead and you killed him!”

And Flute hit her from the side. He sank his teeth deep into her neck, but only for a moment. Then he pulled back, looking horrified and ran away.

French Horn stands up dazedly. “That was…”

”Yeah.”

she lifts a hand to her bleeding neck where the bite is still gushing blood.

A rustle of trees comes from the side, and Clarinet skids to a stop in front of them. She takes in the situation and drops to her knees, tearing loose a piece of her shirt and holding it to the holes in French Horn’s neck.

”Wheres the third?”

French horn points to the copse of trees he disappeared into.

”I think we might actually be jinxed.” A pause, then “That was supposed to be a joke. Go after him. He’s heading towards the camp, and chances are he won’t be able to stop himself a second time.”

Percussionist nods, and then stops. “How do I get there?”

”just run straight! GO!”

and he does.

———

Clarinet gently explains to French Horn that vampires are real, and that she is one. When asked why she isn’t bloodthirsty, Clarinet answers that she has a lot of blood left in her still, and that she’s not all the way changed, and that the change will, in her words, “Stink. Its kind of the worst thing you’ll have to go through, and it’ll take way longer since you have blood, and you may not notice at first.“

French Horn pursed her lips. “Theres no way to stop it?”

Clarinet shook her head.

”Okay. Okay, shouln’t we help Percussionist?”

Clarinet swore. “You won’t be much help in the state you’re in, but I can drop you off by the camp. Pack our things and be ready to go.”

Clarinet scooped French Horn up and took off into the woods.

———

Percussionist got there just as Tuba was ripping Flute off of his neck.

Despite Flute being the smallest out of all of them, and Tuba being the strongest, he was struggling to keep the scrabbling, biting Flute away.

So, Percussionist did the only logical thing and full body tackled Flute, trying to hold him down. It worked, sort of. Long enough for Tuba to start running. Long enough for Sax and Trombone to see what the ruckus was.

Flute burst out of Percussionists grip, grabbed Trombone and ran.

Sax sprinted after them, and percussionist was left in the dust, standing dumbstruck as they all dashed off. He snapped out of it when Trumpet pressed an axe to his shoulder and told him to not move.

———

Flute knows this: he is very hungry. He also knows that blood tastes very good.

His last two meals escaped. He thinks he let the first go, but he can’t seem to remember why. The second was ripped away from him by someone like him, which was rather rude.

But this one won’t get away. He is far to hungry to let that happen.

He feeds as he runs, draining the squirming thing dry, pinning its flailing limbs against his chest. It stops wailing eventually.

He slows as he becomes able to think clearly again. He holds the body in his arms and revels in the fact he is no longer hungry. Then, he looks at the thing he drained.

And it’s his friend. He feels his stomach drop, and a hollow pit grow in his chest. His friend is dead, and it’s his fault. He tells himself there’s nothing to do but run, so he does.

Really, though, he just doesn’t want to see what she’ll become.

———

“What did you do to them.” Said Trumpet, each word slow and dangerous. She lifted the axe off his shoulder, and he felt relief before he realized she was lining up to take off his head.

He may be able to heal, but he did not want to see how far that ability stretched. Not like this, at least.

He swallowed his fear and asked, ”What makes you think I did something?“

She barked out a harsh laugh. “You go missing in the middle of the night with Clarinet, who still isn’t back. Flute and French Horn go to look for you and have mysteriously disappeared. Tuba came running from this direction, bleeding like a stuck pig. And here I find you, in the center of it all.”

Ah. He was fucked. Time to implement the worst plan ever, considering how fast Trumpet was.

”that’s- that sure is some pretty overwhelming evidence that I did something. I swear I didn’t, though but I know you won’t believe me so I’m just gonna RUN!”

He ducked under the axe she swung at his head, and took off running into the trees. He glanced behind him to see her struggling to keep up, and grinned. He was actually getting away with his head, and beating Trumpet in a footrace for once-

He turned back around just in time to see the tree that crumpled his skull.

———

He wished he could say he didn’t feel every excruciating twitch of his skull righting itself as he laid there. As it was, it was painful enough he was functionally passed out.

Which is why he was surprised to see trumpet dragging him by his feet deep into the woods.

Not half as surprised as trumpet, who dropped his feet and swore when he sat up and gasped.

”What the hell? You were dead! that killed you!” She yelled.

Percussionist was still reeling from how much growing his skull back sucked, and latched on to the first thing he noticed.

”Did you steal my shoes?”

”what are you?” She asked in a tone that was decidedly horrified.

He fiddled with a piece of grass somewhere to his left. “A vampire, as of yesterday. Really though, why do you have my shoes?”

“Not important. What do you mean as of yesterday?”

”Last night, really. Me and Clarinet-“

”Clarinet and I.” She said.

”Whatever. We went on a walk and turns out she’s always been a vampire, and then she did the vampire thing, and now I’m a vampire, and things have just been spiraling from there-”

”That explains a lot, actually. Who else is a vampire?”

Percussionist, feeling slightly more alive, realized they weren’t by the camp anymore.

”Where are we? Why do you have my shoes, and why are you so calm about this?”

”oh.” She said. “I may have made an action plan for something like this. You know, in case of murderers, or if supernatural stuff was real.”

”thats cool. Why steal my shoes?“

”I was framing you for murder.”

an awkward silence settled over them.

”We should get back to camp. Stop more people from getting vampired and all.”

”Yeah. Lets do that.“

———

Sax skidded to a stop in front of Trombones body. She was limp, and pale, and by all accounts dead. He whipped out his phone to call anyone, anyone at all, and pitched it into a tree when it read no service.

He sat, and he cried by his best friend, who always made the shittiest puns, who was the worst at sports, who thought anything with soulmates was stupid but still read all the stuff he suggested her. Who was dead.

He was still crying when she sat up and latched onto his neck, draining him dry.

———

French Horn and Clarinet ran across Tuba, who was holding gauze to his neck where he had been bit. French Horn was starting to feel slightly feverish, but otherwise okay.

”Guys! Are you okay? The weirdest thing just happened.” He said.

”We need to leave.” Said Clarinet. “Now.”

”No argument here. Have you guys seen Flute? He was with you last time I saw him.“

French Horn and Clarinet shared a look.

“I’ll go find him. You two pack. we leave before dusk.”

They watched as she disappeared into the leaves.

”Whats going on?” Asked tuba, a hint of worry in his voice.

French Horn took a deep breath in before saying “Vampires are real.”

Tuba burst out laughing.

“Oh. You’re serious.” He said as he hefted a tent into the back of the van.

”you don’t believe me.”

“How could I? I haven’t seen any proof that they exist.”

She threw a bag of trash in the van with more force than nessecary.

“What attacked you then?”

At this he paused. “I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a vampire.”

———

Percussionist and Trumpet made it to where Trombone was crying over Sax, the late afternoon sun reflecting off of their now pale skin.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. He’ll be alright.”

Trombone looked up at him and snarled, all teeth and rage, and Percussionist jumped back.

”He’ll end up like me, won’t he.”

Percussionist nodded.

”I don’t know what world you’re living in, but this isn’t fucking alright!”

Trumpet walked over and knelt in front of Trombone. She held out her hand, and Trombone scrambled away.

”I don’t believe you would hurt me. Not right now. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”

”so what?” She scoffed. “I still did it. Should I just go on existing as whatever I am now? Just kill people so I can live?”

”Actually,“ Percussionist said, “we can live off of different types of blood.”

Trumpet looked back and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Shut up you twatwaffle, can’t you see this is a delicate moment?”

”just figured it would be some good information to have.“ he said.

“Are you seriously telling me my angst fest was for nothing?” She asked.

Percussionist leaned against a tree. “Oh, don‘t worry.” He said. “Theres still plenty of angst about the immortality.”

“Sax did always say he wanted to be sixteen forever.”

Trumpet rolled her eyes. “Lets go home.”

Trombone reached out to take Trumpets hand, and Sax shot up and clamped his jaws around her throat. Trombone grabbed Trumpets wrist and pulled her away as Percussionist peeled Sax away.

”Let him.“ choked out Trumpet. “I‘ll be one of you either way.”

”Absolutely not!” Said Percussionist. “Trombone, go find literally anything else with blood.” Sax kicked and snarled in his grip. “Hurry! I’m not sure how much longer I can hold him.”

———

“Flute!” Yelled Clarinet. She had been looking for him for an hour now, and still couldn’t find him.

She was walking along an old trail that went out of use years ago when she almost tripped over him. He was curled up in the shade of a tree, hiding away in a hollow.

“What do you want.”

”I want to take you home.” She said.

he laughed. “Something like me doesn’t deserve a home. I killed people, and I knew there was another way, but I did it anyway. Just leave me here to rot.”

She remembered when she’d been like this. She had forgotten to eat, had slipped up. Its not a hard thing to do. When you’re a vampire, you brain tricks you into feeling fine by your old standards until you‘re so hungry you can’t stop it.

She believed it was all her fault, though. The only way someone had gotten through to her was something they had called twisting the knife. She had always called it shitty.

She sighed. “I wanted to say sorry.”

He poked his head out a little, peering up at her. “You didn’t do anything.”

”But I did.” She said. “I drained percussionist dry last night, and then I left him to find you. I watched while you attacked your friends, and now, I’m giving you a chance to fix the harm we caused. What will you do with it?”

”You made me like this?” He asked.

”Yes.”

he lunged at her face, fingers clawing for her eyes. She turned around and ran for the campsite, making sure he was behind her, and praying that he would forgive her for the stunt she just pulled.

———

The campsite was packed, and Percussionist and Trombone had made a game of who could catch the best songbird for Sax. Sax was less murderously inclined, though it was hard to tell if it was because the blood he had consumed or trumpets growing nonhumanness.

After the third or fourth time of watching Sax suck down a bird or squirrel like a juice box, Tuba was forced to admit that maybe vampires were a little real.

(He noticed his neck wound had already scabbed over and was halfway gone. He was afraid to ask if he was becoming one.)

The sun was slipping behind the tops of the trees when Clarinet charged out of the forest, leapt over the van, And yelled “Flutes trying to kill me!”

Flute burst into the clearing and lunged at Clarinet. Percussionist stepped in the way.

”What happened?“

”She did this in purpose! She said she dropped you in the woods to kill us!”

Percussionists blinked. “No she didn’t. She told me to stay where I was while she got something for me to eat.”

he stopped yelling. Now, he just looked confused. “But she turned you.”

”Yeah? It was an accident. She obviously regretted it.”

Percussionist backed off, and Flute looked at clarinet.

”why did you say all that then?”

“You were’t gonna come with me if I didn’t. Besides, you were spiraling and this was the easiest way to stop that.”

”Sounds like the shittiest way to stop it, too.” Scoffed Tuba.

She sighed. “Yeah. It was.”

”Hey,” asked sax. “Are any of us still human? I know me, Percussionist, and Trombone aren’t-“

”Percussionist, Trombone, and I.” Said Trumpet.

”-And I saw you two jump over my van, but whats up with the rest of you?”

”Basically,” said Clarinet, “anyone who was bit is or will become a vampire, depending on how much blood they had left in them after the bite. Was there anyone who wasn’t bit?”

everyone was silent as they all glanced at each other, looking for anyone who could say yes. It quickly became awkward, and was broken by Clarinet muttering “Fuck.” quietly under her breath.

”Who all, um, died today?”

Flute, Sax, and Trombone slowly raised their hands. Clarinet squinted at Percussionist, which prompted him to say “What? I died last night.”

French Horn yelled “past twenty four hours, dingus.”

He rolled his eyes and raised his hand.

”Alright. You three,” -she made a sweeping gesture towards the three with their hands down- “Are going to have the worst couple weeks of your life. Take a few days off of everything. Don’t go to the hospital. Stay isolated. Call me when the pain’s mostly over.”

Tuba’s lips pursed. “What, exactly, is going to happen to us?”

”The way it was explained to me was that your body slowly cannibalizes itself. It sucks.”

”hm.” He said. He looked very troubled.

They got in the van and drove through the night.

For now, they rest. A short break, before they have to figure out the rest of their lives.

[ficforce]

Gokai Part 1

Konro x Reader

SFW

The sun was barely up when Konro left the guardhouse, he gave a yawn and rubbed his eyes, despite having always been an early riser he sometimes took a while to get his bearings. Often his body ached first thing, especially his shoulders and neck, he found that taking a patrol around the neighbourhood was a good way to limber up and check on things. Asakusa had been peaceful lately; Benimaru was behaving like a real Captain and the girls were giving him a break from their games. As he headed through the streets Konro greeted a few of the vendors as they set up for breakfast, a few of them telling him to come back soon so they could treat him to something, he stopped to speak with the night watch as they headed for the guardhouse. By this point, the sun had risen just enough into the sky to give the streets a golden hue.

As he headed toward the river a sound caught his attention, it wasn’t something he was used to in this particular area and he vaguely recognised it as the sound of wood hitting wood.

Clack, clack, clack.

He knew that sound, it was oddly nostalgic and his feet led him toward it, the constant clack, clack, clack became louder until he found himself in a small courtyard shared by the houses there. Silently he watched the back of the stranger - he was confident he knew nearly everyone is Asakusa some way or another - as they struck the side of a young tree over and over with a wooden practice sword.

They had poor form, he noted, they were wasting energy and movement in every strike, it was painful to watch and he cleared his throat to announce his presence before he could be tempted to take the stick from them. The other person paused and turned slowly to face him, he had already figured it was a woman by the clothes she was wearing, her expression seemed somewhat annoyed at being disturbed, “Did that tree piss you off?” He had never been one to start on a negative.

“Konro.” The Lieutenant answered as he walked a little closer and gestured to her practice sword, “You’re gripping it too hard, you should also decide whether you want to use a one-handed or two-handed grip.” He had seen her swap a few times, “Personally, I think two-handed would suit you better.”

Her expression softened and she gave a small breathless laugh at his question, she walked a few feet away from the tree and picked up a water bottle she had left there. Now that he could see her a little better, Konro realised her clothing was from the city, it was machine finished and had that synthetic look to it, not something often seen worn by the local Asasukians. “It’s winning,” she replied after getting her breath back, “Who knew swinging this thing around would be so exhausting, every hit makes my teeth rattle in my head.”

She made no secret of looking him up and down, her eyes lingered on the blue stripes on his pants that identified him as a Fire Soldier, the thing that caught her attention though, was the hilt of his sword on his hip - a real sword. Her grip tightened on her practice sword and she felt suddenly self-conscious that he had been watching. “I, uh… I’m Y/N.”

Not too proud to listen to him, Y/N tilted her head curiously, “And why’s that?”

“The way you place the weight in your feet and legs,” Y/N had a few of the basics down but there were things she could do to make it easier, “You would also double your effect with half the effort. If you have strong wrists and arms you might get away with one-handed…” Konro leaned against the tree she had been assaulting, “Also, it’s my biased personal preference.”

“You look like you know what you’re talking about,” Y/N took another drink from her bottle, “So, how bad am I? Out of ten?”

He didn’t even have to think, “Two.”

Y/N let out a peal of laughter at his blunt honesty, he had just massacred her in one word. At the same time though… he didn’t make her feel inadequate or embarrassed, he wasn’t being arrogant - just honest. “As high as that?”

Y/N supposed she had been too eager to start practising, “I’ll try that out, thanks.” She had only changed a few things but she could already tell the difference.

Konro couldn’t help smiling at her and shrugging slightly, “One point for holding it by the right end and the second point for effort.” He asked her to take up her stance again and stepped to her side, “You’re too loose with your upper body and you’re holding on too tight, relax your grip, take a deep breath and hold that posture…” The man watched her follow his advice and then he parroted the stance, “When you swing your sword, use your whole body, move your feet, follow it through…”

They practised together for a few minutes, he corrected her few times, small pointers that she took on board right away, “I know it’s tempting to hit something, it used to drive me mad when I was a kid, striking at thin air, same speed, same angle, same distance. Over and over and over, hours and hours until it was as natural as breathing, even until I couldn’t lift my arms anymore. Air can be as tough as any tree when you’re starting out.”

“Not a problem, if you’re here tomorrow I could show you a few other things.”

— -

Every morning from early spring, Konro would get up at dawn, as he always did, and head toward the river. That time of day allowed him to appreciate Asakusa in the gentle morning light, his beloved home quiet for a few scant hours before it would become rowdy and alive with its colourful inhabitants. The only difference to his walk was his new detour, he met with Y/N in the courtyard. Konro would tease her for her lack of skill but he always encouraged her with advice and pointers, he showed her a practice routine to follow through - only giving her more when she became better at the routine.

Through their playful banter, Konro was able to learn more about her. He discovered that she was from the city and that she had no love for the place she grew up in. She didn’t like the way the Church and big corporations ran everything, she expressed how she felt like a cog in a massive machine, an insignificant piece that worked a broken society. She had friends who were proto-nationalist, they had invited her on a tour around other groups and eventually on a day trip to Asakusa.

If people didn’t rely on it, then maybe they could break further away from the Empire’s influences and think more for themselves.

He had felt some pride when she revealed to him that she had fallen in love with the Town in that single day. That it had snapped her out of the dull, everyday life she had in the city and showed her that there was more to life than following everyone else. Y/N found him easy to talk to, she felt safe enough to share a few of her childhood fantasies - How she had wanted to do Kendo as a child but her parents hadn’t let her. It didn’t suit the plans they had for her life.

They had wanted her to study, get a good job, meet a man, have some kids… She had postponed as much as she could by specialising in studies for energy sources other than Ameratsu.

Asakusa had been a new start for Y/N. She had hoped it would provide a simpler, happier life for her, maybe her skills could be useful to the Town, for the time being, she had taken a job in one of the busier bars. She had left her engineering positions behind in the city, she had faced her parent’s disappointment and broken off the engagement to a man who she had thought she loved but had really settled for. She wasn’t ready to get married for the sake of society’s norms.

“Wrong,” Konro called out as she made a downward slash, it lacked strength and wasn’t anywhere close to a consistent angle, he watched her repeat the action and called her out on it again, she was way off balance. He could see her getting frustrated at herself and shifted his weight to his other foot, “Take up a basic stance. Always, always go back to the basics before you get too absorbed in bad technique.”

He was nowhere near as strict as his teacher had been with him, he wasn’t even close to the ruthless way he trained kid Benimaru out of bad habits.

She couldn’t think of a single person she had ever spoken to saying a bad word about him. Early on she had learned that Sagamiya Konro was well-loved and respected in Asakusa.

“I am!” Y/N snapped back, “I keep going back to the start, I’m doing it over and over! It’s just not doing what I want it to do and telling me to go back to basics isn’t helping me!” She wanted to throw the practice sword to the ground and scream.

It wasn’t the training and it certainly wasn’t Konro that she was frustrated with, she had so many things going on with adjusting to her new job as a generator technician and gaining the trust of the old men who reluctantly hired her, it was hard to concentrate on practice. Her expression was tense, a frown tugging at her lips as she looked over at the man, Konro showed no sign of being upset with her, he was patient as always. He was always kind to her, he often made her laugh and he was a good listener.

When he had flippantly revealed that he was the Fire Force’s Lieutenant her jaw had dropped. He had so many other things he could be doing but every morning, for two hours a day, he came to teach her. It wasn’t just her he had time for, from the little kids in the street that barely reached his knees to the old folk who remembered him as a baby - he had time.

Konro talked her through the move, he guided her with his hands until she was able to do it on her own and stepped back, “Good… I think that’ll do for today.”

“…Take up your first stance.” Konro told her firmly, he got up from where he had been watching her and stood behind her, “We’re gonna get a little cosy, Y/N, don’t take advantage of me.”

Before she could think of a quip or even laugh at his words, Konro’s chest was pressed to her back, his arms followed the line of hers and he covered her hands with his own, “Get rid of that tension, whatever it is annoying you, throw it to the side for now.” Y/N was surprised by how warm he was, even through their clothing she could feel his warmth seeping into her skin, his voice was so close to her ear that she had to resist a shiver rolling up her spine - he smelt so good… “Concentrate, Y/N.” There was a hint of amusement in his tone and she wanted to elbow him in the ribs.

Y/N nodded, she felt calmer as his warmth lingered around her.

— -

Six months had passed since Y/N had moved to Asakusa.

She didn’t regret a single thing, the people there now treated her like she was family, very few people gave her trouble for being an outsider anymore and she embraced their old country ways gladly. The first time she had tried on a yukata she hadn’t wanted to change out of it, it was comfortable and there were so many ways to wear it. She had adopted the styles of the women her age, something easy to move in with Asakusa’s flare for haoris. The food was always good, she had her favourite street stalls and had caused a small fire in her home when trying her hand at cooking, it had been her kid neighbour who had put it out and given her lecture on fire safety. And despite her initial shyness of the public bathhouse, she had learned to love those too. There was nothing like hanging out with a bunch of other naked women in a hot pool gossiping about who was doing what and with who.

She had attended and enjoyed her first festival at the peak of summer, it had been memorable for a few reasons…

Although his uniform made him appear bigger than he was, Y/N wasn’t disappointed to see that he was still quite broad and toned, he had worn a striped, navy blue yukata that matched his eyes. He had looked so masculine and the woman couldn’t help but be reminded again that he smelt so damn good as he kept her close to him on their way through the crowds.

It had been the first time she met Hinata and Hikage, Konro had spoken about the little girls fondly on several occasions and Y/N had been excited to meet them - she hadn’t quite expected their enthusiasm. The twins had bombarded her with questions, they had criticised her outfit choice and harassed her until she had crouched down for them to change her hair to their liking, afterwards they had dragged her around to play every game, try every festival food and every activity going on during the night.

The thing she remembered most, that played in her mind whenever she had time to indulge, was seeing Konro out of uniform for the first time. His usual clothing exaggerated his bulk and was extremely practical. He had materialised out of the crowds of people to rescue her from the twins. It had also been the first time Y/N had seen the Lieutenant with his hair loose, he had looked so handsome with one side of his hair swept up with a simple comb, she had barely restrained herself from running her hands through the silky looking strands.

Y/N vaguely remembered meeting Shinmon Benimaru. It was hard to recall when all she could think about was Konro’s warm, comforting hands on her lower back and Konro’s laughter as he spoke with the Townsfolk. Since then it had been difficult for her to concentrate when he met her in the morning for practice.

Winter snuck in and the days were getting shorter, her breath now misted in the morning air as she swung the wooden sword with relative ease, her fingers would go numb as the temperature remained cold well into the afternoon. It was a particularly chilly morning when Konro shocked her by drawing his sword and offering it to her.

It should have been something that excited her, she should have wanted to make a grab for it without a second thought but Y/N hesitated. It was such a beautiful sword, finely made, everything perfectly polished and balanced - it had been crafted for him and him only.

Y/N knew how he treasured it, she remembered him showing her once before as he taught her about each piece that made the whole sword. He knew the people who had painstakingly created each part and how long the work had taken, he went as far as to teach her how to keep in from tarnishing. He had worked long and hard to first master swordsmanship and then to be able to pay for such a thing. Konro was very proud of it, even though he was a third-generation fire soldier who had been incredibly strong, he had still trained his whole life fro weird the sword he was offering to her.

“You should at least learn how a real one feels in your hand.” He wished he had his camera, the face Y/N was pulling was absolutely priceless and he was humbled by her appreciation of what he held.

“Konro,” her fingers twitched, wanting so badly to take it, but she fisted her hands and looked up at him with a slightly concerned wrinkle between her eyebrows, “I’m terrified I’ll damage it.”

He smiled at her trepidation, “I trust you, Y/N.”

For a moment, the cold air she had breathed in so suddenly became trapped in her lungs, it stung. It felt like an icy hand around her heart and it made it difficult for her to breathe. When she looked up from the sword and into the man’s warm gaze, the feeling melted away. His eyes were so soft as he looked back that she felt his usual warmth seem to seep into everything from her toes to her frozen fingertips, the cold air in her chest evaporated and her heart beat a little faster.

She had never felt like that before.

Sure, it was just a sword. It could be replaced or mended if she damaged it but he dared to offer her something so precious to him and say that he trusted her with it… it was too much for her to handle.

Not even with the man she had once settled on getting engaged to.

Everything before Asakusa had been for convenience, to follow a routine that everyone else was following. Education, a job, marriage, children, getting old comfortably… forcing that routine on her own children.

Never had anyone so sincerely said that they trusted her.

“Konro.” Y/N murmured almost shyly as she reached for the hilt, her fingers curled around it hesitantly and she lifted it from his hold. It had a comfortable weight to it, lighter than she had expected and balanced perfectly. She was a little starstruck to be holding a real sword that belonged to a real swordsman, she felt her breath stutter a little as she felt the subtle wear in the silk braid that wrapped the hilt - worn there by his hands over time…

“Try swinging it, I swear it’s not going to shatter, Y/N, you don’t have to be that careful.” When she continued to stand frozen to the spot, the man stepped up behind her and covered her chilled hands with his, he was always warm because of his ignition abilities and her body absorbed it gladly. He noted that she tensed in his hold and put it down to her anxiousness over handling his sword, “We’ll go with an upward movement to start, then I’ll show you how to do a reverse… swing…” Konro’s words trailed off as he felt her head move, she looked up at him and he angled his head down to better see her expression.

Konro had thought that maybe she had a question or some objection but he hadn’t thought for a second that she would lean up that extra few centimetres and kiss him.

Her lips were soft on his, the touch was almost shy to begin and as she became a little braver he felt her kiss him a little more persistently. Konro didn’t move. He didn’t kiss her back and after a few seconds, he felt Y/N pull away slowly and duck her head to avoid his gaze. Konro carefully stepped away from her, the cold air wrapped around them both as soon as they were apart and he paused for a moment to think about his next words…

“Y/N…” He didn’t want to hurt her, “I’m flattered, really I am, but-”

Y/N wrapped her arms around herself and looked at him with a tense, forced smile, “I’m freezing!” She said a little too loudly, “I better head back inside - I’ll see you around, okay?” The woman fled as quickly as she could, running toward home all the while berated herself for misreading the signals, for humiliating herself like that. The icy chill in the air made it difficult to tell if her tears were from the cold or her narrowly escaped rejection.

[lire-casander]

if hurting wounds would mend (never left that place inside my head)

[teen and up audiences] [@moviegeek03​, being the amazing human being she is, gave a once-over to this and stated she liked the idea, so here he are!] [title from northern lights by elias] [fluff, angst, mentions of hospitals] [written for @flufftober2021 day #7: meddling friends]

chapter 6 | on ao3

[1000 words]

Wilhelm never thought Hillerska could be this beautiful in the late summer. Last yehe joined a month after the term had started, therefore missing the way the weather changed, turning the days from warm to chilly as the weeks passed.

He wants to enjoy being as carefree as a normal teenager can be while attending school, and he wants to feel happy that he has Simon by his side.

He wants to forget the headaches that keep coursing through his skull, so painful that he ends up hallucinating things that haven’t happened — things like Erik’s death in a car accident. But the headaches don’t go away, although having Simon beside him helps soothe the pain.

The only problem Wilhelm encounters during the first term of his second year at Hillerska is that classes and row practice and choir practice are taking up way too much of their time — they can’t seem to catch a breath, whenever they’re done with their classes they need to rush to one practice or the other, and Simon is still a non-resident. Their time together is limited, and Wilhelm wishes he could change that. But his mother has already told him that she can’t bump Simon and Sara up the line for a grant, no matter what — it would be dangerously close to nepotism, now that their relationship is not a secret. Wilhelm understands, of course he does.

It doesn’t mean he likes it.

One particular Tuesday night, when he’s lying on his bed with his notebook and his Physics book by his side, a knock on the door startles him. He stands up, shaking his head as he opens the door to face Felice standing in the hallway.

“Felice?” he asks stupidly.

She snickers, reaching out and grabbing him by the wrist, tugging at him to follow her. He splutters, protesting that he’s just wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, not ready to go wherever she’s taking him, but Felice doesn’t relent. She guides him through the empty corridors until she stops in front of the music room.

“Felice?” he asks again, confused. He doesn’t understand why they’re standing here when he has a huge test coming up that he’s definitely not ready for.

“We’re all tired of your whining, Your Highness,” she says mockingly, turning the knob on the closed door and basically pushing him inside. “Just—don’t do anything I wouldn’t do in public.”

Wilhelm doesn’t have time to react before she’s closing the door again. Confused, he turns around, only to meet Simon’s expressive eyes staring back at him. “Simon?”

“Apparently we’ve become unbearable,” Simon says in lieu of greeting, even waving air quotes at him. “Our friends thought an intervention was needed.”

Wilhelm chuckles as he approaches his boyfriend and hugs him. “How long till you need to go back home?”

“Sara’s at the stables for at least another hour. Think you could use a break?”

Wilhelm nods, diving in for a kiss and thanking their meddling friends for their intervention.

The knock on the closed door startles them both. Ludvig snaps his head up, awoken from the light nap he’d fallen into. She simply turns to face the door at the same time as Malin, who’s been keeping guard with them despite being still on leave, stands up.

“Johan,” she says.

The voice at the other side comes muffled but sure. “Felice Ehrencrona,” he announces simply, before Malin opens the door to let the girl in.

She remembers Felice, the daughter of Poppe Ehrencrona who had quickly become a candidate to become a love interest for Wilhelm. Now, all her attempts seem futile — her son’s heart lies elsewhere. She stands up, Ludvig mimicking her actions. Felice stops a few feet away from them, glancing warily at the bed.

“Felice,” she welcomes the girl, managing a soft smile. “I’m sure Wilhelm would be very happy to see you.”

“Thanks, Your Majesty.” Felice’s voice is strained, as though she’s trying to keep the tears at bay. She thinks it must be quite a sight for a sixteen-year-old girl, but Felice recovers almost instantly, maybe due to a whole lifetime of putting up a front for the world to see. As Queen, she can relate. “I wasn’t sure Wilhelm—I mean, the Crown Prince was allowed visits.”

“I think he could use a friend,” she reassures the teenager, motioning for her to come nearer. Felice obliges. “And forget about the formalities while you’re here. You’re friends with Wilhelm, after all.”

There’s a pause while Felice looks down at the pale boy on the bed — her baby — before Ludvig speaks up.

“Have you come alone, Felice?”

“Uh, yes,” Felice stutters, looking up. “Maddie—Maddison McCoy, I mean, wanted to come too but she’s currently in New York.”

“I have to admit, I’m surprised,” she finds herself saying, earning a confused look from both Felice and Ludvig. “I’d thought Wilhelm would have more friends.”

“With all due respect,” Felice says in a tone that screams rebellion. “Students at Hillerska only wanted to be close to Wilhelm because he’s royalty. I don’t think he has a real friend outside of Si—”

Her words falter, and Felice looks down at Wilhelm’s hand on top of the white sheet, hooked to the machines keeping him alive.

“And you?” Ludvig questions softly.

“I wish I could change some things. I just wanted to see him,” Felice confesses.

“Malin, make sure Miss Felice Ehrencrona is in the list of allowed visitors.” When Malin nods and skips out of the room, she keeps speaking. “Maybe you can help us, Felice.”

“How so?”

“We’ve tried to locate someone, with no success. Like he’s vanished.” She can tell the moment Felice understands who she’s talking about. Yet, she clarifies, “Simon.”

“I can’t—”

“We’ve made mistakes,” she says. “I’ve made mistakes. I’m just trying to do right by Wilhelm, this time.”

Felice sighs, gaze torn between Wilhelm and the adults looking at her, and in the end she simply nods.

"I—I can try."