#and they deserve fresh cage after this time

[theostrophywife]

focus on me.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader request: I NEED MATHEO OR THEODORE X FEM READER AND SHE JUST LOVES HIS HANDS AND ARM VIENS AND SHE WALKS INTO HIS DORM AND IS GOBSMAKED TO SEE HIS ABS AND SHE WANTS TO RIDE THEM AND SHES JUST SO OBSESSED AND THINKS HES THE HOTTEST MAN IN THE PLANET- AND SHE FOLDS LIKE A PRETZEL WHEN HE GIVES HER THOSE EYES- JESUS IM A CATHOLIC BUT THEO AND MATTHEO COULD BE MY NEW RELIGION- author's note: big thanks to @writingsbychlo for listening to me rant about this man in her inbox. posting this now so she can wake up to her mans. the way that i would fold for mattheo so fast (theo look away). anyways, enjoy this purely smutty fic 😮‍💨

You were supposed to be studying. 

When you came into his dorm, you specifically told Mattheo not to interrupt you under any circumstances. Usually, you preferred the library but some prat had accidentally set off a dung bomb, which meant closure until further notice. 

You tried studying in your dorm, but your fellow housemates decided that there was no better time to throw a back to school bash in the common room than the night before your Ancient Runes exam. Harry and Ron, who shared the same class, appeared completely unbothered as they chugged firewhisky straight from the bottle. 

Your roommate Hermione was long gone. Probably holed up somewhere in the dungeons with Draco. You followed your friend’s cue and snuck into your boyfriend’s dorm, narrowly avoiding Filch. It never seemed fair that the Slytherins got individual rooms, but tonight you had never been more thankful for it. 

Mattheo had set up a whole battle station for you on his desk. There were fresh ink pots, newly sharpened quills, and blank parchment waiting for you when you arrived. After kissing your sweet and considerate boyfriend, you went straight to work. 

By the time midnight struck, the parchment was filled with glowing runes, making your ink stained hands cramp from drawing out the symbols over and over again. To Mattheo’s credit, he kept to himself and read quietly on his bed while you studied. 

You were so engrossed in the material that you barely registered him kissing you on the cheek before leaving to take a shower. That little mistake cost you because as soon as he walked back into his dorm with nothing but a towel on, you nearly spilled fresh ink all over yourself. 

Water trickled down Mattheo’s chest, the little droplets snaking through his perfectly chiseled abs only to disappear beyond his v lines, which pointed like an arrow to what you knew was hiding underneath that towel. 

The fabric hung dangerously low on his hips as he walked over to his dresser to pick out something to wear. You watched with rapt attention as he braced himself against the wood, those delicious, juicy veins protruding from his forearms and nearly making you dizzy with desire. 

Finally, Mattheo turned. The silence had caught his attention and he smirked when he saw you ogling him. 

“See something you like, pretty girl?”

You flushed. “Just got a little distracted.”

Mattheo’s grin grew. He sauntered over to you, leaning over so that he had you caged against the desk. 

“Oh?” he asked, his voice low and husky and absolutely fucking sexy. “Maybe it’s time for a break then. You’ve been such a good girl studying so hard all night. I think you deserve a reward, my love.” 

Your breath hitched as Mattheo’s lips grazed yours. He tilted your chin up, giving you a perfect view of those brown eyes. Then he gave you the look and you knew you were done for. 

It was a look that said he wanted to devour every inch of you until you couldn’t even recall your own name. You gave in. Of course you gave in. How could you not?

“Maybe for a second…”

Mattheo took the opening. One arm snaked around your waist, bringing you up with him as he pressed you against the desk. His other arm crept up your back until he reached the nape of your neck, fisting your hair through his fingers as he kissed you roughly. 

“Do you even know how fucking sexy you are, princess? My smart schoolgirl in her tiny little skirt.” 

Mattheo carefully moved your studying materials aside before picking you up and setting you down on the table. He gripped the top of your thighs and brought you to the edge while sliding his tongue against yours. You whimpered as he grinded against you, showing you exactly how hard he was underneath the towel.

“Been thinking about bending you over this table all night,” Mattheo whispered in your ear. His hand climbed higher up your thigh and you felt your body instantly respond to his touch. “Bet you’re soaking wet for me already, aren’t you angel?”

You moaned as he toyed with the waistband of your panties. “Matty, please.” 

Your boyfriend smiled at your nickname for him, knowing that he had you right where he wanted you. “What is it that you want, darling?”

“Touch me. Please.” 

Mattheo smirked as he tugged your panties off. His lust filled gaze drank you in as he dragged two fingers through your slick folds. 

“Fuck. You’re so wet. Is this all for me, princess?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, nipping at his neck. “It’s not fair. You play dirty, Matty. You can’t just walk in here with nothing but a towel on.” 

“Why not, angel?”

You sighed, tracing the hard planes of his chest. His muscles flexed under your fingertips as you gently raked your nails against his six pack. “Because you’re sexy and I can’t help myself.” 

Mattheo chuckled darkly, plunging two fingers in your pussy. You bucked against his hand, watching in stunned silence as he withdrew it only to stick his middle and pointer finger into his mouth. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he tasted you on him. 

“This is exactly what I mean,” you whined. “For Godric’s fucking sake, how am I supposed to concentrate after that?”

“Maybe we can compromise, angel.” He shuffled through your parchments and stuck one to the wall. “I’m going to trace the runes inside of you and if you get them all right, then I’ll give you your reward.”

You swallowed thickly and nodded. Mattheo grinned before giving you a quick peck. “Pay attention, sweetheart.” 

His fingers dipped through your folds once more and you gripped his arm, fighting the moan from escaping your lips. Mattheo curled his fingers inside of you, drawing a familiar shape. 

“Urus,” you said in a breathy voice. “It means strength.”

“That’s right, angel.” He shifted as you ran your hands down his arms. You could feel his veins throbbing underneath your palm as he fingered you. “Don’t get distracted now. I know how much you love my hands. I promise they’ll be wrapped around your throat by the end of the night if you get all these right. Now focus.”

You nodded, eyes fluttering close as he traced another rune. “Algiz,” you answered. “For protection.” 

“Hot and smart,” Mattheo announced proudly. “How’d I get so lucky?”

His lips grazed yours and you willingly parted for him, fluttering around his fingers as his tongue slid into your mouth. He pumped his digits inside of you, teasing and taunting. 

“Let’s try something harder, princess.” 

Mattheo’s skillful fingers prodded against your walls, sketching a complicated shape. You closed your eyes and focused. It was a tricky one, but you remembered the cris cross pattern. 

“Inguz,” you said decidedly. “Fertility.” 

“That’s right,” Mattheo said with a smile. “You're doing so well, sweetheart. One more and you can have anything you want.” 

“Anything?” you asked with a small smile.

“Whatever that devious little mind of yours desires, my love.” 

“Okay,” you replied. “I’m ready, then.”

Your boyfriend nodded, staring right into your eyes as he marked the last and final rune. It was an effort not to get lost in those warm, brown eyes. But you steeled yourself, determined to claim your prize.

“Rerth. For luck.”

“Good girl,” Mattheo said with a smirk. “Fitting since you’re getting lucky tonight, angel. Where should we start?” 

You bit your lip, cocking your head at him. It was nearly an impossible choice. You wanted to kiss him. Bite him. Lick him. All of the above and more. 

But there was one thing that stood out from all the other deliciously sinful choices. You pressed your palm against his abs and grinned. 

“I want to ride your abs.”

Mattheo’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected it, but fuck he was so down. He would’ve given you anything with the way you were looking at him right now. 

“You never fail to surprise me,” he said fondly. “Well come on then, let’s make your filthy little fantasy a reality.” 

In one smooth move, he lifted you off the table and deposited you on top of his bed. Mattheo reclined against the headboard and watched with hungry eyes as you straddled his stomach. He smiled as you slipped the tie off your neck and looped it around him. 

It was a simple move, but so fucking sexy and possessive at the same time. You were claiming him. Mattheo was yours and you were his. You belonged to one another—mind, body, and soul. 

Mattheo trailed kisses down your neck and throat, leaving marks on your skin as his deft fingers made quick work of the first few buttons on your blouse. He leaned back and admired his work, his hands gripping your hips while you grinded your soaking wet sex against his muscles. 

He didn’t think it would feel this good. There was something about you using his body to get yourself off that fucking turned him on like no other. Mattheo lifted your skirt up, fisting the fabric in his hands and watching as you coated him with your arousal. 

The little whimpers you were making sounded like music to his ears. “My good little slut,” he said, squeezing your tits as you rode him with reckless abandon. “You’re so fucking filthy, baby. Using me to get yourself off. I’m just your fuck toy aren’t I princess?”

“So good,” you murmured. “You feel so good, Matty.”

The desperation in your voice set him off. He gripped your hips hard enough to bruise and bucked forward, smirking in satisfaction when you moaned. The ridges of his abs rubbed against your clit, providing the perfect amount of pressure to the sensitive area. 

“Keep riding me,” he said in a low, rough voice. “Just like that, angel. Such a good girl for me.”

You closed your eyes, lost to the waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Mattheo gripped your chin, his voice rough around the edges as he spoke. “Open your eyes, darling. I want to watch you cum.”

His rich brown eyes pinned you in place, drinking in every detail. That sexy smirk curved against his lips as he hooked his arms behind his head, admiring the view of his girl riding him. 

“Look at you, baby. You’re making such a fucking mess. Such an innocent face, but you turn into a filthy whore when you’re with me.” 

“Only for you, Mattheo.” 

“Damn fucking right,” he said, sliding his hands under your skirt to rub at your clit. 

You bucked against him, riding out the high. Heat exploded in your core and seeped into your veins. Mattheo kissed you roughly, staking his claim on you as he devoured your moans. 

“That’s it, princess. Cum for me, pretty girl.”

The orgasm felt like a lightning strike. It hit you all at once, making your walls spasm as you came all over Mattheo’s abs. He cursed when he felt you soaking him through, utterly turned on by the mess that you’ve made. Mattheo had never been harder in his life. 

Your boyfriend peppered kisses on your face, pulling you taut to him as you came down from the high. Mattheo brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, tilting your chin up so he could press his lips against yours. He groaned and held your hips down, grinding his boner against your ass. 

“I’m not done making you cum, princess. You’ve got one more in you, don’t you angel?” 

As sensitive as you were, your pussy throbbed at his words. When it came to Mattheo, you could never really get enough. 

“I thought I only got one reward. You’re spoiling me, Matty.” 

“There’s no question about it. You’re my spoiled rotten little princess. But this reward isn’t for you, it’s for me.” He smacked your ass, gesturing for you to get up. “Now come on, angel. I was serious about that desk.” 

He smirked as he walked you back to his desk, his hands disappearing underneath your skirt as he massaged your ass. Mattheo kissed you roughly before he flipped you over, bending you on the desk so you were face down and ass up. He flipped your skirt up, hissing when he found you soaking wet again.

“You just can’t help yourself can you, princess?” He pumped himself in his hand before sliding the tip of his cock along your folds. “Gods, you’re fucking wet. Are you ready, baby?” 

You whimpered, rocking your hips against him for more friction. Mattheo held you in place, fisting your hair in his hands. 

“Use your words, darling. I want to hear you beg like the good little slut that you are.” 

“Please, Matty,” you whined. “I need you so badly that it hurts.” 

He kissed the base of your spine, grinning as he eased his length inside of you. Still sensitive from your last orgasm, you gripped the edges of the table as Mattheo buried his cock within your walls. Your legs felt like they were going to give out any minute, but he kept you upright, cursing when he felt how wet and tight you were. 

“Fuck,” he grunted as he thrust into you slowly. Mattheo gripped you from behind, picking up the pace. Your pussy clenched around him like a vice. “Gods, pussy’s so good baby. You’re doing so well. Taking all of me like my perfect little whore.” 

Mattheo fucking adored the way you blushed at his filthy words. He leaned over, capturing your lips in a sloppy kiss as he fucked you into the table. He thought he was going to pass the fuck out when you grinded back into him, meeting his movements to take more and more of him. Mattheo leaned over and shielded your head from the wall, making sure you were protected as the table shook underneath you. 

The sound of skin slapping against skin mixed with your breathy little moans was enough to send him over the edge, but he wanted to make good on his promise. Mattheo always put his girl first. The boys were right. He might be just a little bit pussy whipped. 

Even without the sex, you could’ve asked Mattheo to kill for you and he would’ve done so without question. 

“I fucking love you, darling. I’d kill for you. I’d die for you,” he said, every word laced with conviction. “Forever and always.” 

“I love you too, Matty. Forever and always.” 

He kissed your cheek, the action surprisingly soft compared to how rough the sex was. You felt like you could’ve melted onto the floor. 

“Cum with me, my love.” 

Mattheo wrapped his arms around you as that familiar heat spread burned in your core. He held you as the orgasm rocked through your body, sharing in the euphoric high while the two of you finished together. His grip around you only tightened, hugging you from behind while he slowly pulled out. You were barely keeping upright as it was, your legs threatening to give out under you. 

Without a word, your boyfriend scooped you into his arms and brought you back to bed. He cradled you against him, whispering praises and encouragement while stroking your hair. 

“You did so well, baby. I’m so proud of you for remembering all those runes. You’re gonna ace your exam tomorrow.” 

“You really think so, Matty?” You snuggled against him, burying your head in the crook of his neck. Mattheo stroked your back and placed a kiss on your temple. 

“I know so, darling. You have no idea how proud I am for having such a smart girlfriend. I love bragging about you to our friends.” 

You flushed. “Well, I couldn’t have done it all on my own. I had some help from my smart, sweet, and sexy study partner.

Mattheo grinned and kissed you gently. “Glad to be of service, my love.” 

taglist: @annaisabookworm @marina468

please let me know if you'd like to be added.

[astaroth1357]

Sick Days:

*MC is in the Croytus Hall kitchen, trying their damnedest to keep from coughing their lungs out while carefully monitoring a pot of simmering soup. They hear the footfalls of their housemate, Solomon, as he comes up behind them*

Solomon: Oh MC~! I have everything ready. Thankfully, the Devildom still has TV these days, even if the shows are out of d-... da-....

*a hankerchief flies out of his pocket and quickly covers his nose*

Solomon: ACHOO!!

*the hankerchief does its thing before flying off behind him to go put itself in the laundry, swapping places with a fresh one that finds its way back to his pocket once again*

MC: *keeps their back to him* Bless you.

*Solomon comes up and slings his arms over their shoulders, leaning against them like he's a sagging backpack. His head rests alongside theirs*

Solomon: Is it still cooking?

*he reaches out to lift the lid on the pot but MC, already knowing better, swiftly smacks his mit back down*

MC: Don't touch.

Solomon: Oh! Right, I'm sorry. Forgot the rules for a second. I'm sure it smells good... not that either of us would know.

*he contently sways their bodies from side-to-side while MC clears their throat, grumbling dryily*

MC: Y-ou know, you could cure us at any time, right...?

Solomon: So could you, yet here we are! You're just playing hookie from the brothers right now, aren't you?

*the MC tries to groan, but ends up regretting it as it stresses their already aching throat. They cover their mouth with their elbow to catch their raspy coughs before responding*

MC: U-ugh! Okay, fine... You're right. How about you stop breaking my balls and pick what we're watching...?

Solomon: I already have. Beel told me about this wonderful cooking show the other day! I think we can start with that, then maybe move onto a few movies Leviathan recommended...

Solomon: I have the TV set and heated blankets on the couch. Plenty of water, a few boxes of tissues (mostly for me), your favorite sweater, a plush Asmo bought me-

MC: ...

Solomon: -and anything else we need, I'll have my wand in reach! I figured for dinner, we can order out. It's lovely that you're making us soup, but let's not push-

MC: Sol?

Solomon: -Hm?

*MC wiggles him back until they can turn themselves around and wrap their arms around his chest. They rest their head up against the soft fabric of one of his old sleep shirts snugly*

MC: .... Thank you.

*Solomon looks taken aback by their sudden tenderness, but doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around them further and lightly cage them to his chest*

Solomon: Of course, MC... You take care of so many people. You deserve a break.

*a comfortable silence spreads between them for a minute or so, before MC starts to feel Solomon's cheek rubbing against the top of their head like a smothering cat*

Solomon: Oh, my adorable apprentice, you're just so cute when you're sick~

MC: *snaps their eyes back open and glares at his words, but doesn't let go yet*

MC: Sooool....

Solomon: If I didn't know better, I would almost want to keep you like this...

MC: *snorts* Good luck. The brothers would kill you for it. *they drop their arms from his chest, but he doesn't let go*

MC: Sol?

Solomon: I'm sure they would try, but you wouldn't let something bad happen to your beloved teacher, would you MC?

MC: *rolls their eyes* You wouldn't need my help, anyway. Let go.

Solomon: *squeezes a little tighter* Uh-uh! That wasn't my question.

MC: Sol, I need to stir the soup.

Solomon: And I need to hear an answer.

MC: Solomon, I'm serious.

Solomon: Oh? What's this? I think I'm gonna... ahh...!

MC: Wait, what are you-?

Solomon: Ahhh...!

MC: Solomon, let go!

Solomon: AHHHH....!!

MC: OKAY OKAY, I WOULDN'T LET THEM HURT YOU! Don't you DARE sneeze in my hair!!

Solomon: AHHHH- Just kidding~

*he finally lets them go and they lightly slap his shoulder before turning back around in a huff*

MC: Get out of my kitchen!

Solomon: Then I'll meet you on the couch again?

MC: Only after the soup is done.

Solomon: Then we can cuddle?

MC: Not if you misbehave!

Solomon: What if I steal the blankets~?

MC: *rubs their pounding temples at their teacher's childish antics*

MC: Solomon, I'm serious. Get. Out.

[yourlocaltreesimp]

hello! I read your yanlinks and wanted to know if can be possible some hc of the links (+deity and dark link) with darling taking mask as their child? like I always wanted to hug and punch the goddess for what the poor kid suffer, imagine that traumatized kid just being take of that doomed world and just the reader just ‘this my child now, he will have the childhood all of you deserve but had’ so they better accept it. sorry :( if you can’t is okay

AHH OMG I LOVE THIS

ofc i can do this

thank you for sending this in-

so i didn’t do headcannons (so sorry) but I’ll definitely write more with mask ((i had too much fun)) and could make hcs!!

Also, funfact, my hotel had to evacuate while i was writing this

TW: Yandere content

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

There are few times you were separated from the chain anymore. As the trip progressed and their mental states began to spiral, you began to notice more and more how much they’d begun to infringe on your time. There was always one of them there, vying, hoping, tripping over themselves if they could just be of use to you. It was because of that you couldn’t leave. There were always eyes on you and a hand lingering somewhere on your skin.

A loving quirk, you may call it.

And you’d be willing to dismiss it if it were simply a matter of chance— there are plenty of them and one of you, it seems perfectly reasonable there’d be someone near you at all times… right?

The time you’d returned from bathing without telling them only to find Wind backed into a tree explaining he didn’t mean to lose sight of you says that thought is wrong. Time hardly ever yelled. Never at you and never again in your presence, but you’re reminded thinking back to that just how dangerous these boys are beneath their sweet smiles and reverent gaze.

And you may think that they simply wish to protect you. The woods are dangerous, afterall. The woods crawl with creatures that intend to bite. To take you and harm you.

Wind spent the rest of that night crying and huddled into you. He had not much more than a sliced lip, but he certainly was shaken. The others didn’t do much to hide their glares, after all they were justified.

Weren’t they?

They just wanted to keep you safe.

It’s exactly those prior events that made this specific circumstance so… unsettling.

You were alone.

The woods were quiet.

There were no monsters.

Your legs were shaky and weak beneath you as your hands pulled you up. The bark on the tree you’d used for support was wet and the earth smelled of fresh rain. The back of your clothes stuck to your skin, the cold seeping in.

Slowly, the world began to move at a pace that made sense. You didn’t realise until a gust of wind had shook the gnarled trees that the air was stagnant and dead.

Nor did you realise the sound of a hiccuping child, crying over the buzz of cicadas.

Internally, you struggled. This is the exact kind of fae trap you’d expect waking up in Hylia knows where, it’d be dumb to go blindly walking into that.

But the worst that could happen is you move from one cage to another, so your get began to tread across the muddy ground.

You certainly weren’t expecting what you got.

A boy. A link. Curled up at the base of a tree, crying. The sight was rather painful to bear, his fragile shoulders shuddering as he tried to choke everything back. his face his scrunched up, and he bares a snarl that is missing a few teeth when you kneel to help.

“Hello Li…” You trail off, quite unsure how he’d react to seeing you know his name when he was already quite unhappy at being interrupted.

“Hello, little one” You settle on that, pulling the sleeve of your shirt up and over your thumb to wipe the tears and snot off his face. He’s backed into the tree as far as his legs can manage to push him. You pause to gather exactly who you’re looking at, and if there’s anything to guess by the bright green tunic, ocarina and collection of masks, this is the young time you’d originally thought him to be.

“Are you alright? What happened” You try your hardest to soothe him, but it’s clear the distrust has already been so deeply woven within him. He just shakes his head and shoves you away.

So, without much else to do, you set up camp.

You talk aimlessly as you work, noticing that despite his stubborn silence, the young Link (Mask, as you decide to call him) was awfully perceptive. You hope, somewhere in his little mind, he can gather through your subpar attempts at starting a fire and your light-hearted ramblings that you’re not a threat. That the food you made was not poison and you were someone he could rely on.

You saw what the world had done to those boys.

Maybe you could help this one meet with a better fate.

It’s hours into the night before he’s cheered up. He chews happily on some chicken skewers you made, the world easing its grip on him. He recounts his own tales about Epona and Navi, ones Time wouldn’t usually be vulnerable enough to share. And even then he never spoke with such the same spark. This little boy in front of you, beaten down as he was, had so much life in him.

You would not let anyone take it from him.

Not Hylia, not the people, not whatever evil incarnate found him, not even the world.

He does nod off in time. It’s far later than you’d expect his little body to endure, but he falls asleep slumped against you. It seems with just the notion of safety, he gave out.

He’s just hardly light enough to carry, so you were able to unpack his bedroll and drape whatever fabric you could find to make a blanket.

The world goes sickeningly still again. The wind stopped and it felt as though the forest died. A voice, too loud and too encompassing cuts through the dead air. It’s multiplied and shifting, as though it can’t tell how it wishes to portray itself. It’s thousands of people.

But also just one.

“Hello, Little one” It mimicked your tone in every manner from soothing to mocking. You reach slowly to your side to grab your dagger.

“You needn’t be frightened. I have no need in harming you” The voice comes from in front of you instead of behind you. Your breath is stagnant in your lungs the moment you think you’re caught— that Time had found you.

No. He had not.

But the deity had.

He stands, impossibly tall and almost incomprehensibly grand. He has no pupils in the vast whiteness of his eyes, but you know he’s looking at you. You know because something in you freezes up. He sets down his sword with a thump, the intertwined metal heavy and ebbing a sense of power equal to the man who wields it. You purse your lips to start saying— something, but he holds up a single hand in dismissal.

“I know who you are. I know why you’re here” He kneels across from you, the fire licking each contour of his bold features. He’s comparable to many of the great roman or grecian statues, striking and yet too perfect to be human. The warm light casts his skin in a warm highlight to almost convince you that his body, his vessel holds warmth, but it’s the cold moonlight and the shadows that creep around his edges that remind you who it is you’re speaking with.

“You truly must forgive my… abrupt course of action. The others left me without much time.” He quiets his voice, eventually managing to mimic something close enough to human. It’s uncanny, but ignorable.

“So… you know about-“ You choke on the thought, “the others?” It is quite odd that despite this being some split into the past he knows not just of you, but he knows you— your situation.

“The hero never truly ridded of me, you know.” His lips curl halfway between a snarl and a smile, “I was always there. Watching. Observing. Learning.” As he speaks, his words feel as if they curl around you, cinching in.

“If I hadn’t taken you when I did, it might’ve been fair to say you would’ve been stuck.” Each syllable is sharp. Concise.

“What do you-“

“I’m sorry if you’re not feeling well. Time travel truly isn’t something the mortal body is accustomed to. Especially into such an obscure timeline. But I had to be sure I kept you safe. Hidden.”

One cage for another.

“There are no monsters in these woods anymore, my flower. Don’t worry. I ensured it” He whispers, that menacing grin branding into your mind.

But there was a monster in these woods.

Because not always are they agents of evil and incapable of causing anything but harm.

Sometimes they bare their teeth in grins. They take you and harm you. They hide their worst intentions behind sweetened tones and good intentions while they hold a knife to another.

[heartfullofleeches]

[Violence, Murder, Hints of Past Abuse but nothing mentioned in heavy detail]

AU with Human Rascal and Bunny Hybrid Creep Reader where Rascal is some freaky slasher dude who stalks and later kills Bunny Reader's previous, abusive owner. The violence enlivens the hopeless Bunny as they believed they'd always be under the watchful eye of their owner even if they escaped. Seeing their blood spill into the carpet and their fur gives them more of a rush than the treats their owner fed them to adapt better to their situation.

They ask Rascal politely if it will let them join him. Rascal doesn't really need a partner, but they have always wanted to pet. Bunny is cute enough, adorableness magnified by their red stained coat and the shine in their eyes when Rascal leaves them their knife. It isn't even a week until their new lives together before Rascal is developing a crush- Bunny is supposed to be their pet, they can't feel this way about them!

Since this is sorta a reversal of their roles, I'm kinda leaning towards Rascal having a more dominant role in their relationship - but Human or Rabbit Monster - Rascal is absolutely whipped for their darling and I can see Bunny gaining the upper hand simply because of how cute they are which fries Rascal's brain because it has never been admired by a cute person, but also the fact Reader might not want to be someone's pet after everything they've been through... So Rascal will just have to be theirs.

The gimp mask is a vital part of their character because I say so, so human Rascal is just a weird guy in bondage gear.

-

Is it really over?....

Crimson dye seeps into the curly fur of your bent legs, trickling through the bars of your enclosure. It all happened so fast- A broken window. Earth shattering footsteps thundering through the house. You think it came from the kitchen. Your owner had promised to bring you a snack not long before they ran into the bedroom, covered in small cuts with a busted lip to match. The light in their eyes as the knife shredded through their jugular faded so swiftly... As swift as the fear eating away at what's left of you vanished from your body.

It's over... Isn't it?

"Give it to me....."

Your fingertips itch- palms heavy yet empty at the same time. The knife... Yes, the knife! The intruder dropped it when they saw you cowering in your cage. It's impossible to make out their expression with that strange mask their wearing. You don't care. About them. About what happens next. Even if they kill you after- you have to make sure.

"Let me out. I need to make sure.. Make sure that they're gone. They'll never let me alone if I don't... The keys.. They should be in their pocket."

You'll rip them apart with your teeth if you have to. Your nail have been filed too short to use though. If you have the strength left, you'll make this stranger pay for taking this away from you. It should have been you who got the first stab- and the last. They didn't deserve to be the one who got to do them in. Hurry up. While that rotten excuse of a human being still has a pulse. So much has been taken from you already. They can't have this-

"Let me out! Let me out! LET. ME."

"Shhhh..."

The knife hits the bottom of your cage, cold blood splashing against your face as it lands. The allure is magnetic - your hands welded to its handle as the door of the metal prison creaks open. You wait no time, crawling out on your hands and knees into the light of their bedroom. The joints in your legs ache as though you've been stabbed with pins as you rise to your feet - body uplifted by a pair of arms before you collapse. A gentle squeeze steels your grip on the knife. The intruder guides your steps towards the limp husk of your owner, gingerly lowering you to your knees at their side.

They lift their hand to pat your ear, recoiling like a snake in the grass as you wince from the freshness of your stitches. You like to believe if they tried that again they'd be at the end of the knife, but you know they met well.

"Thank you....."

Blinking back tears, you face your former owner - silently praying for a just a little fight left in them as you raise the knife over your head.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

of rage and ruin - chapter three

of rage and ruin series

chapter three

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

werewolf!alpha!Joel Miller x f!omega!reader

word count: 3.3k

summary: you cannot escape the call of the moon.

chapter warnings: dark, dead dove do not eat, a/b/o, alpha/omega dynamics, omegaverse, captivity, canon-typical violence, genre-typical violence, horror themes, graphic violence, allusions to/threats of torture, abuse by captors (not by either joel or reader), depiction of injury, body horror, typical raider/hunter behavior, mention of cordyceps, angst, viewer discretion is advised, menstruation, slow burn

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Joel knows he’s a coward. He knows he’s making your life harder by staying wolfed out. 

But the thing is, he just can’t be fucked to care. He wants to. He wants to want to, anyway. But he didn’t ask to suddenly be responsible for the emotional well-being of some random fucking omega.

He was pretty sure there was no right move, anyway. You’re scared of him; you’re scared of the wolf. You’re scared. 

As you should be.

Not of him, no, but of this life. This life that has been his reality for the last three years. Now it’s yours, too. 

And fuck, if that thought doesn’t make his stomach clench and his chest draw tight. You don’t deserve this. He, arguably, deserves some of it. But not you. 

No, not you. He can tell. He can tell you’re so soft, on the outside and the inside. Not soft in the way that you’d give easily beneath his teeth, though that’s true as well. But too fucking soft to have been living in the goddamn apocalypse, let alone here. With him.

Here, which, as far as he can tell, is an abandoned high school turned raider camp. There are a lot more of them than he ever sees. Certainly, they all know about the beast in the belly of their home, but it’s only ever the same small group that takes him out or comes down into the sublevel. 

They’ve taken you away again. After his failed attempt at playing human, you’d stayed curled and cold in your cage for a day, and then they swept you off again to the room across the hall.

He tries, oh, he tries to ignore you. To forget that you’re there, that you’re so close, that the concrete cannot keep your scent from him or the throb of your heart or the salt of your sweat from the air. 

He fails miserably, of course. Strokes his cock daily, sometimes twice, to the sweet smell of you, to the way your pulse races when you hear the wet, sloppy sounds of his seed splattering against the drain. The way your own slick spreads and leaves him salivating. 

Until, one day, it doesn’t. One day, as the moon lazily waxes, drawing more and more of the wolf out to play, he wakes up to a new wave of sharp metal, and your essence is cut with a flood of bitter salt, not unlike the time last winter when one of his molars cracked and the abscess burst and he had to let them pull it from his mouth without giving into the urge to snap down around the bony wrist and condemn himself to death by dental infection. 

You’re woken by your new least favorite sound—the haunting howl of your neighbor. The timbre usually fills you with terror, but today, oh fuck, today, you can’t fucking take it.

You groan, crawling out from where you’d been curled up under the bench that had been protecting you from the horrible fluorescent lights. It did nothing for the ache in your lower back, or the ache in your neck, or the ache, well, everywhere. 

And you feel it. Hot and sticky. Not that you’re surprised, given the state of the rest of your body. Before you can muster up the will to care, the room spins, the tug in your navel moves up, and last night’s broth ends up back in the bowl it came in. Mostly. 

The howl comes again, longer, seemingly endless. At least, until you groan again and mutter, “shut up.” 

He does.

You freeze.

“Can you hear me?” you say just as quietly.

There’s a quiet whine.

“Holy shit.” 

You feel a fresh gush of heat between your thighs, and he howls in a way you can only call mournful. 

You ignore him in favor of figuring something out. There’s no good option in this room. You pull down your soiled panties and set them on the ground to sit, leaning up against the frigid tile wall in a corner where, hopefully, some of your dignity will be maintained when they come in and out with food. 

He howls a little more insistently this time.

“Look, please stop. I have such a fucking migraine,” you whisper with your head in your hands. 

He falls quiet and stays that way for a while. It takes you an embarrassingly long time to put two and two together, but he whines or howls each time fresh blood leaks out.

When it hits you, you freeze, heart scattering as you first assume that his noises are hungry. Once you calm, though, you know, somehow, that isn’t the case. Something—and you really don’t want to think too hard about it—tells you it’s concern. 

“Can you smell it?” you ask hesitantly.

He whines again, and you hear just the slightest change in his pitch and inflection. 

You’ve got to be fucking losing your mind. You’re talking to a wolf. 

Only… you’re not, really. Right? Unless you hallucinated it in fear-borne delirium, he was a man for about ten minutes. 

A man who said he wouldn’t hurt you.

Yeah, right. 

He whines again softly, and you scowl.

“It’s my period,” you say, feeling stupider by the minute. 

But he makes a loud huff of a sigh, and then the room across the hall goes quiet.

When they bring you back to the cage, there’s no man. Not a hint of him. Only the wolf. And they’ve tired of acclimating you, of letting you cower in the corner of the cage. 

With delicate gloved hands (who the fuck manicures their nails in the apocalypse, Cheryl!?), your rope is swapped for a shiny pair of handcuffs, the chain of which is clipped to the front of the cage. You’re stuck on your knees, hands in front of you. 

You consider clasping them and praying to your new lunar goddess for mercy. But there won’t be any. She can’t control her change any more than he can control his. 

You’re all beholden to your nature, now. 

He notices immediately, stalking over on all fours, ambling with his back hunched and teeth bared.

You flinch and close your eyes just before he slobbers on your wrist.

When you force yourself to look, you find him crouched, snout shoved up to the bars, and the long coil of his tongue flopped out. He’s lapping at the raw rope burn, and even though it’s wet and thick and disgusting, you don’t hate it. 

There’s something almost soothing about it. His saliva is a cool balm on the inflamed flesh.

So you just stare. He doesn’t stare back, though. His murky eyes stay fixed on the wounds, and he growls in warning when you shift almost out of his reach. 

So you hold still, a tugging in your sternum urging you to sit. Stay. Obey. 

Later, you’d think about how unnaturally natural it all felt. The way he seemed to lasso you in with those big brown eyes and the way you fell silent when he growled. The way your body moved as if through water back into his reach. 

The way you sit still for hours and let a creature more monster than man taste you in a way that should not be intimate, and yet, the slick pooling between your legs seems to disagree. The rough slip of his tongue on your raw flesh, the pleasant tingle his saliva leaves behind—it sits just on the right side of painful, the slight sting and then cooling relief stirring feelings you’ve been trying so hard to ignore. 

His eyes go as black as a cove whose lighthouse has long burnt out. And as the smallest whimper of a moan slips from your lips, you dash yourself upon the rocky cliffside. 

There’s one moment where you think he’s going to follow you into the depths. One long, fertile moment that’s over in a flash despite the way it gives him time to chew you up and spit you out. 

He’s on the other side of the room before you know it, blinking stupidly with your mouth hanging open. 

Oh, god. You can’t even turn your back and hide your face, cuffed as you are. He takes pity and doesn’t look at you. 

Tommy Miller had seen a lot of shit in his life. Between his stint overseas, his tendency to stick his head into dangerous situations, and the fucking apocalypse, he’s seen—and done—terrifying and disturbing things. 

Watching his brother turn into a storybook monster? Well, that takes the spot of the second worst thing he’s ever had to remember. 

Laura, the woman in the woods, the woman he’d made a widow, had warned them. The turn, she said, would never be easy. But the first time? The first time would break anyone’s heart.

There was no way to know how he’d be. Some of the alphas, she’d whispered, lost themselves. The wolf was stronger and drowned the man. 

Tommy wasn’t worried about that. Not with Joel.

No, it would have been better, maybe. There was a chance he wouldn’t have remembered it, wouldn't have remembered the agony and fear, had he been buried in his own body for the night. 

They’d chained him up in Laura’s basement. Tess had gone back into the QZ, keeping up with deals they had to deliver on. So Tommy was alone in the mildew with his big brother manacled to the cement wall. 

That was hard enough. 

As the sun set and the moon rose, fat and ethereal, Joel whimpered. 

Tommy set down the shotgun to get up.

“Don’t,” Joel snapped. “Do not put down that fuckin’ gun.”

“Jesus,” Tommy sighed and sat back down. He should have known his martyr of a brother was about to go off on a self-sacrificing soliloquy, but somehow, he was still caught off guard when Joel spoke again.

“I mean it, Tommy. First sign this isn’t going to hold me, you shoot,” Joel was saying when Tommy realized what he was going on about.

“Oh, shut up, Joel,” he groaned.

Joel was not going to shut up, actually, until that choice was taken away from him. The first in a lifetime of so many choices that would fall away, slip from his grasp and leave him tethered to someone else’s will. 

Something snapped inside of him. It burned like a motherfucker, and he grunted. Tommy made to stand up again, brows creased, and a hand outstretched, but when Joel tried to scold him, the only sound was a snarl. Ferocious and rough, with teeth too big and a crinkling, stretching snout. 

Tommy’s scent spiked sharp, and Joel won. His instincts tamped down the wolf’s aggression. He may as well have been staked in the heart for putting that fear on his brother’s face. 

When his limbs were done stretching, his spine snapping, his—oh, lord— his hair growing, he settled on four legs. 

Mine, he thought vaguely when he looked at Tommy, blinking his shiny brown eyes at the small man and ignoring him. He was too distracted by the thunderous mutiny of his achingly empty stomach. His eyes flicked once again to Tommy, who looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m not gonna be very tasty,” Tommy said wryly.

The monstrosity that was his brother, now, snorted and rolled its eyes. Tommy couldn’t stop it, couldn’t swallow down the laugh that bubbled up. It was a little unsteady, maybe, but he felt he was entitled to a little hysteria, given the circumstances.

“You can understand me,” he said. 

The creature stared at him blankly. It was like he could hear Joel saying no shit. 

Tommy scratched the back of his neck and took in the full, grotesque thing before him. “It’s fuckin’ weird, man.”

And that was it. It was that easy. 

As long as Tommy was around, Joel was still Joel, even when he was the Wolf. They were one symbiotic creature balanced on the pillar of their baby brother, guided by the inherent protective instincts that drove both man and beast. 

But he still wouldn’t return to Boston. Wouldn’t risk it, wouldn’t play games with Tess’ life. He wished he could say it had been to protect all the innocent people around him, but he had long since been that kind of man and was even less so, now that he wasn’t really a man. (This was a sentiment Tommy took issue with, but Joel had always been his own worst critic.) 

It would have been easy, he thought, to slip into place at Laura’s. To fill the gap they left behind that night. To soak in her sweet scent and raise another man’s children as his own. But easy didn’t matter, and in the end, he returned to the little cabin in the woods where Tess and Tommy would cycle in and out with the ebb and flow of the trades. He kept to himself, he kept quiet, and he kept his killing to the creatures of the forest (okay, and the stray raider, but really, that wasn’t so different than his life before). 

And then they came for him.

When you are returned to the cell, your cage is missing. It’s gone. There’s just an empty rectangle of dirt outlining where it used to live, like a flag. An abandoned roadside sign. No safe haven.  

The lackey, a Jim Morrison lookalike—if Jim Morrison had survived the apocalypse, shaved his head, and never skipped leg day—shoves you into the room with no kindness, watching as you stumble and catch yourself on the wall. The door clangs and clicks, chased by the clunky thump of the heavy bolt, and you look around in bewilderment. 

It’s empty. For now. 

They didn’t even leave your little fucked up mattress, so the only place to sit that isn’t the dirty, broken floor is his bed. And there’s no way in hell. You’re not fucking stupid. He’s superpowered and something of a man, but he’s still a territorial creature. 

Also. With the amount that he jerks off, you can only imagine the mattress has the qualities of a saturated sponge and would ooze if you put pressure on it. Unfortunately, this mental image doesn’t trigger your gag reflex but instead a horrible intrusive thought. 

You want to roll around on it. You want to kneel down on his mattress with your ass in the air and your face pressed in to suffocate yourself with his rich scent. It gnaws at your spine like a dog with a bone. 

Ouch. Too apt a metaphor. You retreat to the corner that formerly held your cage and sit with your back against the wall and knees drawn up, like you’re still trying to fit in its invisible confines. 

When the door opens again, you stop breathing. But it’s not the monster that enters. 

It’s the man. 

His only response to what Cheryl is saying is a nasty sneer; his lip curled enough to expose a much blunter canine than you’re used to seeing him sport. He knows you’re there, of course. But he doesn’t look at you; just scrubs a hand over his beard as the door shuts behind him.

You resume drawing shallow breaths, as if afraid to startle him with too sharp a sound. But the tension in his corded muscles tells you he’s already on edge, waiting. Waiting for you to do something. Anything. 

It’s the first real look at him you have, terrified as you were before. His nose twitches like he’s about to sneeze, and you realize with no small horror that the sticky slick is leaking from your core again. 

Your traitorous body doesn’t care that he’s terrifying most of the time. Because right now? Oh, right now… 

He’s still dripping from being hosed off, his dark hair slicked back and eyes shining under the sickening fluorescent lights. His body is solid— heavy. You think about how it’d feel pressing down on you, and another gush of fluid has your cheeks burning. 

He’s thick and veiny and covered in hair—and you haven’t even looked at his cock, yet. There’s a soft layer of fat over his abdomen, betraying the relative safety he lives in despite the constant danger. You kind of want to lick it, to trace your tongue up the path of hair to his chest.

You very carefully do not look at his cock, but as you’re taking in the breadth of his meaty thighs, he turns just so, and you get an eyeful of it anyway.

You’d like to get more than an eyeful.

Oh, Jesus. What the hell is wrong with you?

He sits down on his ass on the mattress and pulls the sad excuse for a pillow over his lap. “Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he grunts. “Not used to havin’ a stranger around.”

You stare. You hadn’t expected him to talk to you, given how well it went last time. Why aren’t you more afraid? Why aren’t you hyperventilating, crying, pissing yourself in terror? 

Somehow, you believed him last time. And you do now, when he repeats it. 

“Ain’t gonna hurt ya,” he says quietly. 

And all you can do is stare. Finally, you wrench your gaze away and stare down at the ground. He’s staring at the wall, both of you trying to give the other a sense of privacy that simply does not exist here. 

You know his eyes lingered for just a moment on your breasts, where the frigid air of the sublevel has your nipples hardened and pushing against the thin sports bra. He dragged his eyes away like it hurt not to look.

“Okay,” you say after it becomes clear he’s waiting for a response. 

“Alright,” he says, just as gruffly. 

The silence is humid, sliding sticky across your skin. You try not to look at the naked man across the room, but you can’t quite keep your eyes to yourself. “So… what are you?” you finally ask, wincing as you do. What a dumb fucking thing to ask.

“I’m an alpha,” he says, like it was a dumb fucking thing to have been asked. 

“Cool,” you say quietly. “That clears up absolutely nothing,” you mutter, forgetting that he can apparently hear you across the hall and through two steel doors, so the little room isn’t likely to be an issue.

He raises an eyebrow. “Whoever bit you didn’t tell you anything, huh?”

“Whoever bit me? ” 

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, which you think is a little rude, actually. “Yeah, you know. With teeth.” He pauses. “Wait. You’re from one of the test groups, ain’t’cha?”

“You mean the vaccine tests? Yeah.” 

“Nobody told you what it means? Any of it?” 

“I’ve heard people say alpha before,” you say defensively, even though you know you’re defenseless. “And I’m an omega, or whatever.”

“Yeah, that’s about right,” he said. He scratches his beard again and regards you. “Shit, so you really don’t know a damn thing, do ya?” 

You burn hot. “Guess not.” 

“Ain’t your fault,” he says with a lackadaisical wave of his hand. But he doesn’t offer any explanations, either. 

Great. Glad we had this talk. You keep your thoughts to yourself this time and clam up otherwise, resting your head where your arms are folded on your knees. The air is chilly where the slick is drying on your panties, and you shiver a little.

“You’re cold,” he says, his brows pinched together and disdain in his eyes.

“No shit,” you mutter.

He sighs. “Thought you’d run hot, too.”

“Thought you knew everything.”

He rolls his eyes and then heaves a weary sigh, as if your ignorance is a burden he must bear. “Fine. I’ll tell ya what I know. What do you want to know first?”

“How about your name?” You raise your eyebrow. 

His head jerks back a little, eyes widening by a few degrees, before relaxing almost imperceptibly. He takes a moment, an uncomfortably long moment, where his eyes narrow and one corner of his lips twists. Like it hurts him, somehow, to think about.

“It’s… Joel.” 

next chapter

[samwhump]

a (very inexhaustive, wincest-heavy) sam whump reclist

@transfemmesam asked me for Sam whump recs a few days ago, and I've had other requests in the same vein before (I can't imagine why.../s) so I thought I would throw this together, since these authors deserve all of the love and support for their contributions to our li'l fandom corner.

like I mentioned in the title, this is not at all a comprehensive list; I have at least ~200 more fics in my to-read queue that could thematically fit here, but alas, I have stupid shit like a job and a body and a dog to take care of, so. I'm always happy to get recs along these lines, so if you notice anything important missing, hit me UP. (and don't take any omissions as any specific commentary by me -- it's likely I just haven't had the chance to read it yet, haha.)

disclaimers:

some (most, honestly) of these contain potentially triggering and dark content, including but not limited to rape/noncon, torture, and suicidal attempts & ideation. I have tried to note content warnings where applicable, and most of the works are hosted on ao3, so the tags should have most of the information you need to make an informed decision. that being said, tread with caution. all of the summaries provided are from the original author, with warnings added after by me.

the list is in alphabetical order and separated into wincest and gen categories. a lot of the gen is also focused on the sam & dean relationship, because...I am what I am. and what I am a sucker for these two dipshits. there is also a brief section at the end with a few fics that don't fit into either category.

gen

All That Goes Unspoken by amnesiawife:

A case forces Sam to confront something long kept buried. (Set nebulously in season 12.)

CW: discussions of past rape/noncon, victim blaming

Beneath the Trees 'verse by Lise (5 works total, starting with Beneath the Trees, Where Nobody Sees):

Sam doesn't go to Stanford. Everything goes downhill from there.

CW: suicidal ideation

a boy is a cage by ad_castra:

After expelling Gadreel from Sam's body, Dean thinks they're in the clear. If only they were that lucky. // S9 fic wherein Gadreel's grace causes some adverse side-effects in Sam's mind.

CW: past referenced rape/noncon, body horror

body of proof by Askance (doomcountry):

There are things Sam hasn't told his brother. They're all in the envelope laid on Dean's pillow.

CW: heavy discussion of past rape/noncon

break these bones 'til they're better by redskyatmorning:

After Sam’s torture at the hands of the British Men of Letters, the latest in a long string of violations, he is rescued by Dean and Mary – and forced to ponder his broken relationship with his own body. Months later, when Sam is resurrected and tormented by Lucifer yet again, Dean confronts Mary and Sam gets his revenge against the devil.

catching my death (staring out an open window) by ad_castra:

Sam gazes at the window, catches the faint pink hue tinting the sky. It’s so realistic - he could breathe in the fresh air if he were really here. ----- They got Sam out. Sometimes, just knowing that isn't enough.

CW: implied past rape/noncon

Death of Convenience by WilsonTheMoose:

It should have been easy. Wendigos are no joke but daylight slows them. The weather's been unpredictable though and perfect, idyllic hunts don't exactly stay that way where they're concerned. Or Sam has one card to play and never stops to think that Dean would care if he killed himself.

CW: suicidal ideation, references to suicide

Echoes of Hell by The_Nightbreaker:

It wasn't real. He wasn't in Hell anymore. That's what he tried to tell himself over and over. But two centuries of torture don't disappear in a day. Sam struggles with visions of Hell, fighting to maintain his grip on reality. Dean hates that he can't protect his brother from what isn't real—but curse him if he doesn't try. When the boys stumble on a case with ties to the Devil himself, will they be able to pull themselves together in time to stop the sacrifices? Or will the echoes of Hell finally overtake them? Aka, season 7, but the plot is Hell trauma, not leviathans.

CW: suicidal ideation

Evening Shadows by withthekeyisking:

Sam is hallucinating the monster who tortured him for nearly two centuries, Dean feels like he's failing his brother, and a diner waitress bears witness.

CW: past rape/noncon

Everything Dies Given Time by Lise:

AU from 5.03. Sam discovers something wrong with himself, and learns to live with it. Only a lot less functional.

CW: suicide/temporary character death

The Freedom to Be Loud by jribbing:

It hadn’t occurred to Dean that maybe Sam remembered so much about that little nowhere town because something memorable had happened there.

CW: referenced past rape/noncon

golgotha by redskyatmorning:

There’s a vacancy on the throne of hell, and Sam is desperate enough to save Dean from Michael’s possession to give into the abyssal depths of his own darkness.

Head Space by ameliacareful:

A witch curses Sam leaving him blind, deaf, and bedridden. Left with only the inside of his own head and the occasional touch, Sam begins to unravel.

CW: suicidal ideation

Hiraeth by inkandpaperqwerty:

(n.) a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past "Dean... I made a really big mistake." For a second, Dean actually thought things were going okay. He was out of Hell, Sam agreed to stop drinking demon blood, they had just wrapped up a successful hunt... for once, everything was okay. And then it wasn't. "I overdosed." Not at all.

CW: suicide attempts, suicidal ideation

if i could leave (i would've already left) by serendipity0930:

“I have a mission from God for you,” the Angel whispers to the man. “It is time for you to do what you were born to.” The man’s face twists into a smile, delighted over being chosen by Him, a purpose from God digging into his heart, carving out a place to fester. “Hunt.” ... 05x03 AU where Zachariah is even more determined to keep the brothers apart and hunters are all too willing to take Lucifer's True Vessel off the board for good

CW: referenced suicide

It's A River (But Not In Egypt) by Lise:

He's still a liar. Maybe always has been.

CW: toxic Sam/Lucifer dynamics

Kindred Instruments by PinBitch:

They’re in a tug of war and Sam is the rope. He doesn’t need to be alive for that. OR Sam dies in detox, being flung against the walls of a metal box will do that to you. Dean and Ruby pick up the pieces.

CW: temporary main character death, permanent supporting character death

lazarus trick by katsidhe:

Sam's alive, so everything is gonna be okay. 13.22 coda.

Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence by Lise:

Sam's back. He's in one piece. That's the problem.

CW: self-harm

love is like ghosts by redskyatmorning:

I’m poison, Dean had said instead of I’m sorry. Well, Sam wants to say, what does that make me? What the hell does that make me? (A look into Sam's mind in the aftermath of the Gadreel possession.)

The Other Brother by RadioFriday:

Sam and Adam are pulled from the cage at the same time. Sam is not right, and Adam, stuck as his caretaker, is not pleased.

Oxygen by inkandpaperqwerty:

“Cas! Cas, please! Please, answer me! Cas!” Castiel ignores Dean for several minutes, but then Dean gives him an opening that might help him complete his mission. So, he goes to investigate, and what he finds is a very bloody, nearly dead Sam. Dean tells him where the injuries came from, and Castiel quickly becomes confused. It doesn't make sense, but Dean tries to explain it to him, and slowly... Castiel begins to understand.

CW: suicide attempt

Post Hoc, Ergo Propter Hoc by AmberSock:

Sam waits, kneeling, for his execution. What if Dean hadn't missed?

CW: temporary character death

Safety In Distance by GalaxyThreads and SpiritClusters:

The Mark of Cain is a brand of violence. Sam was an idiot to think that he'd be exempt from it, just because he and Dean are siblings.

sometimes a kind of singing by adi_rotynd:

Sam gets cursed. They're dealing with it. Jack can see souls. That one they're not dealing with quite as well.

CW: past referenced rape/noncon

Soul Windows by GalaxyThreads and Spirit Clusters:

A few months after his birth, Jack learns how to see souls. Then he comes to a realization about the Winchester brothers, Sam in particular, and it's not a pleasant one. (gen)

Starry Night by keepcalmsmile:

Sam attempts suicide-by-monster. Dean tries to help. It sort of works...until it doesn't.

CW: suicide attempts, suicidal ideation

such fragile, broken things by The_Bookkeeper:

Sam wishes that Dean would just get it over with already.

The Tale of Sir Galahad by keepcalmsmile:

Sam once said he could never be clean like Sir Galahad. Dean assumed he was just talking about the demon blood. Turns out, Sam was talking about something else too. WARNING: Extended discussions of the aftermath of rape and childhood sexual abuse (but NO description of the actual events). Happy(ish) ending, but potentially very triggering.

CW: past rape/noncon, mentioned CSA

They Hammered in His Teeth by jribbing:

Sam has a secret.

CW: suicidal ideation

today's troubles (are history tomorrow) by a_good_soldier:

"It's not really something I know how to share," Sam had said. In which Dean figures he ought to help Sam out a bit.

Touch and Go by themegalosaurus:

Tag to 9.19 (Alex Annie Alexis Ann) in which Dean realises why, exactly, Sam is so angry about what happened with Gadreel.

trust fall by ad_castra:

“I’m nothing like you,” Sam hisses. Nevermind relating to the anguish of going it alone. Nevermind that he knows what it is to be strapped down and forcibly cleansed against his will. Sam wonders if these trials are purifying Crowley as well. 

Words Like Glass by broken_cinders:

Dean never figured the cage wouldn't leave a mark. He was prepared for memories, flashbacks, and nightmares. He wasn't expecting the words Sam brought back with him or the way they made him seem just a breath beyond Dean's reach.

Wound and Unwound by fascra:

Sam stops eating spring of his freshman year.

CW: eating disorder

wincest (dean/sam)

Brittle by thecapn:

Sam Winchester has an eating disorder.

CW: eating disorder

Don't You Cry No More by sixtysevenlmpala (schittyfic):

The first time Sam gets badly hurt on a hunt, he doesn’t cry. Dean does.

Fall On Your Knees by dollylux:

Sam doesn't quite make it home on the last day of school before winter break.

The Fall Will Probably Kill You by killabeez:

Set between 7.04 and the aftermath of 7.07. Dean is not as okay as he'd like you to think. Neither is Sam.

CW: self-harm

Feels so good to feel again by Trojie:

The pain keeps Lucifer at bay, at least to start with.

Follow In Your Form by withthekeyisking:

Sam is hallucinating Lucifer in the wake of Cas bringing his Hell Wall crashing down. To make matters worse, it seems like this has his dormant powers flaring back to life.

Last Temptation by merle_p:

Sam is running a fever again, the kind of fever no Ibuprofen or cold compress will bring down, the kind of fever that is eating him up alive, eviscerating him from the inside. He is too hot and too cold and too pale, delirious and shaking, resonating with whatever divine energy the trials are subjecting him to, and Dean is not sure how much longer he can stand to see him be in this state. Because Sam is quite possibly dying, and there is nothing Dean can do to stop it. Because Sam is dying, and he just. Won’t. Shut. Up.

CW: mentioned past rape/noncon

leeches by Anonymous:

Sam discovers a spell to make everybody forget him. He’s convinced it’s for the best. Pre-Stanford.

CW: attempted kidnapping/torture

Make Thick My Blood by themegalosaurus:

“You’re going to kill me, Dean,” Sam says, eventually. And all Dean can say is, “I think I am.” A season 10 AU, set after 10x14 ('The Executioner's Song'). Cas finds a solution that might cure the Mark of Cain; but if they're going to go through with it, Sam has a terrible price to pay.

CW: mentioned past rape/noncon

Prophecy of an Abomination by ashitanoyuki:

Sam is kidnapped by fanatically religious hunters and crucified. Coming back from this won't be easy. Canon-divergent from midway through season 2.

Recall by De_Nugis:

Sam's having a hard time telling what's real and what isn't, especially when it comes to some voicemails from Dean.

The Room Upstairs by brokenlittleboy:

Sam comes back from hell, but he’s inside-out and all wrong, and Dean can’t fix him.

CW: mentioned past rape/noncon

Ruin You (and its companion fic Worth) by Mumble_Bee:

Cole fucks Sam with Demon!Dean watching from a devil's trap, snarling that anyone would dare touch what was his. “I told you I don’t care what you do to his face or his blood or his fucking nose,” Dean growled, “but you put your dick anywhere near him and I will end you.” “Better hurry up then, Dean, because I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

CW: explicit rape/noncon

Snowed In by HelloStarlingFics:

When working a case, Sam and Dean get stuck out in a shack in the woods when the snow comes in hard and fast. Trouble is, Sam’s hated the cold ever since the Cage. Time for Dean to step up and look after him.

Wake by minchout:

Gadreel has had Sam for four years, and Dean, lost in guilt and obsessed with finding a way to get his brother back, has isolated himself in a cabin in the Missouri Ozarks with nothing but the woods, a stray dog, some chickens, and all the books the Men of Letters had to offer to keep him company. Then Sam shows up one day without his passenger, and Dean learns quickly that it doesn't matter that Sam is with him again - there is still a lot of work to be done before they can find their way back to each other.

Wanting to Forget by morganaDW (morgana07):

1-shot. S1 fic. After getting Sam freed from the Benders Dean thinks all he has to cope with is some bruises and cuts. He learns quickly just how wrong he is when Sam wakes up with a nightmare, reliving his brief but bad captivity in every detail. Sam just wants to forget & Dean has to try to get him to let him help. Will one night of cruelty and pain ruin what’s been formed between them?

CW: referenced past rape/noncon

when I wake up I'm afraid, somebody else might take my place by quake_quiver:

Sam doesn’t remember the last time he cried for Dean like he did that night. And now it’s been…two weeks. Maybe more. Sam is tired, and in pain, and starting to doubt that Dean’s going to show up. He’s weak and shaking from a combination of constant pain and hunger. Sam longs for Dean. Dean would make it better. Dean would fix it.

CW: rape/noncon, body horror

Wire Inside Me by merle_p:

There are a lot of things Sam hates about his current condition, to the point where he sometimes feels for the gun under his pillow at night, blindly toys with the safety, imagines pressing the muzzle into the underside of his chin and pulling the trigger just to make it stop. But there’s nothing he hates as much as the shadows he sees in Dean’s eyes whenever his brother is looking at him these days. It’s not an expression he remembers ever seeing before, but Sam thinks it’s probably something like revulsion. Horror. Disgust. What else could it be.

CW: referenced past rape/noncon, body horror, forced pregnancy

Worth (and its companion fic Ruin You) by Mumble_Bee:

Episode 10x01 "Black" where Dean is a human, and very, very, pissed off to hear someone has hands on his brother. “It’s nothing personal,” Cole whispered into Sam's ear, too quietly for Dean to hear, “but I need to kill your brother, and I need him off his game when he gets here. I don’t wanna hurt you, kid, but I’m going to, anyway. I’m going to hurt you a lot."

CW: explicit rape/noncon

you'll never see us again by according2thelore:

Then finally, his eyes trail over to Dean. His pupils are pin-point thin, and his hair is straggling in his face so Dean can’t see most of what expression lies there. Sam usually wakes up from nightmares in one of three attitudes: confusion, fear, or calm. A scary, sense-prickling calm that Dean hates more than anything else. Resignation, almost. Or: Sam suffers from nightmares and touch starvation post-Cage. They do their best to deal.

other Sam/Lucifer noncon

Cage Fight (No Way To Do This Right) by Dyed_Red:

Sam’s visit to the cage is already going awry, but Dean’s one-man rescue ends up skidding it sideways into territory neither him or Sam are ready for. (Gratuitous episode scene re-write. If Cas hadn’t come till after, if he hadn’t been there yet when Dean ran down to the 'parole' cage after hearing Sam scream - how bad could it have got for the brothers before he made it?)

CW: graphic rape/noncon

Into Being by withthekeyisking:

When Sam wakes up in the cave on Apocalypse World after having been killed by vamps, it's not just to find Lucifer there with him. It's to find him in him.

CW: graphic rape/noncon, necrophilia, forced pregnancy

Reggie/Tim/Sam noncon

a pointless resistance for you by withthekeyisking:

Sam doesn't know how long he's been with Tim and Reggie by the time Dean shows up and tries to take him out of there. Long enough that's he's already lost one baby and is pregnant with the next. Long enough that this life is starting to feel like all he knows.

CW: graphic rape/noncon, forced pregnancy & miscarriage, victim blaming

screaming birds sound an awful lot like singing by withthekeyisking:

Sam has done his best to move past what Tim and Reggie did to him, pretending it never happened at all. But running into them again makes that very difficult—especially when Dean gets involved.

CW: referenced past rape/noncon

Waste 'Em All by withthekeyisking:

When Tim and Reggie try to force the demon blood down Sam's throat, he spits it back out. He has no interest in being turned into their own personal attack dog. They don't...take it well.

CW: explicit rape/noncon

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — KATSUKI BAKUGOU. all my life i’ve dreamed of you.

about. you think that he was made for you. im in the mood for some fluffy husband!bakugou !!

warnings. none. sfw, fluff & gn!reader.

“i don’t mean to be corny,” you say late one night, nosing up the side of katsuki’s neck. “but i think i dreamt you up.”

it’s routine for the two of you to be up together for at least an hour before your husband drifts off — bakugou is old fashioned, he doesn’t believe in blue light and phone screens before bed so you’ll often catch him reading a book recommended by momo in the time leading up to his beauty sleep.

you’ll never understand how he manages to fall asleep upright, but for tonight you convince him to lay back with you in the sheets so you can nuzzle your face into his plush chest.

you feel his ruby gaze on you before you meet it — pulled away from the words in his book. “whaddya mean by that, gorgeous?” bakugou chuffs in amusement, a faint smile tugging on the corner of his lips while he shoves his thumb into the spine of his book to bookmark the page.

“when i was little, i dreamt of someone who loved me,” you start by choosing your words carefully — bakugou has always been a man spooked by love he doesn’t think he deserves and even after all this time together, he still has his doubts as to whether or not he believes you should waste an ounce of time on him. he’s come a long way since when you first started dating. but sometimes even the strongest of people need convincing of why they should get to be loved.

bakugou doesn’t run or flinch away, instead he stills his lungs locked away in his chest and waits with baited breath for the blow you might deal him. the doubts start to cloud his mind. “someone who cared for me the way that they do on tv, someone who adored me the way my grandpa loved my grandma…you get it.” you continue, drawing a heart on his stomach with invisible ink.

“yeah, i get it.” the blonde rasps apprehensively.

you push yourself up, bracing yourself on the tussled fabric on bakugou’s side of the bed to cage him in — glassy, tired eyes searching through the soul that swirls in his own. “what i’m trying to say, is that i’ve dreamt of moments like this all my life and now i’ve finally found the person to share it with. no one has ever loved me the way i wanted to be,” from this position you can see the faded constellation of barely there freckles that decorate bakugou’s skin. you see the war he lived and died through etched into worry lines and creases in his skin. you see it all and you love it all. perfectly imperfect just how you imagined it to be.

“not until i met you, kats. you’re the only person who’s loved me enough for me.”

the exhale your husband lets out expels the fear from his chest and replaces it with a glowing feeling — a happiness in the shade of warm toned yellows and oranges. it illuminates katsuki’s face, eases his stress lines and fills him with reassurance.

“i’ll love you enough f’the both of us. always.” he respond, folding a doggy-ear into the corner of the last-read page in his book. bakugou shoves it to the side and let’s his calloused hand cup the back of your neck — it’s weight reminding you of his presence, letting you know that he’s not going anywhere. katsuki is your dream and yours alone.

swooping down, you paint his lips with a feather light kiss and hum at the taste of minty fresh toothpaste intertwined with his promise of forever on them.

“you’ll have to let me give some of that love back,” you say, contentedly. “i need you to know how much of me still loves and dreams of you.”

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[muiitoloko]

I actually feel nauseous at the ending of the last chapter of difficult woman HE NEEDS TO BELIEVE HERRR

Title: A Cage of Emotions

Summary: Karl's strict measures to keep his wife close lead to a clash of wills and a moment of unexpected intimacy.

Pairing: Karl Hoffmeister × Fem! Reader

Warnings: none.

Author's Notes: After a whole lot of effort, sweat, and probably more tears than I'd like to admit, I finally managed to write this! 😅 I’ll confess it’s not my finest work, but I’m satisfied enough to send it out into the world. Enjoy!

First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, Seventh and Eighth part here.

Also read on Ao3

The next morning, Karl woke up and turned to look at you, sleeping peacefully beside him with Mouse nestled near your head. The sight stirred a mix of emotions within him—sadness, anger, and a sense of betrayal. You had tried to leave him without a second thought, and the wound was still fresh.

Karl slipped out of bed quietly, careful not to wake you. He locked the door behind him as he left the room, determined to prevent any further attempts at escape. He then made his way to the guest room where he had been sleeping previously. The cool water of the shower helped to clear his head, and he took his time, letting the steady stream calm his turbulent thoughts.

After dressing in a crisp white shirt, a dark waistcoat, and trousers, Karl descended to the dining room. Elisabeth was already seated at the table, her expression one of nervous anticipation. Hans stood near the table, his posture rigid and attentive.

Karl glanced at Elisabeth briefly before addressing Hans. "Hans, bring [Your Name] her breakfast in the bedroom. From now on, all her meals will be taken there. Also, move my belongings to that room."

Hans furrowed his brow in confusion, his eyebrows knitting together. He hadn’t believed the boss was serious when he mentioned confining Madame the day before. Hans had assumed it was just something said in the heat of the moment. But now, it appeared the boss was actually serious. “Will Madame really be confined to her room, Herr Hoffmeister?” he asked hesitantly.

Karl's face hardened as he met Hans's gaze. "Yes. She has everything she needs there. There is no reason for her to leave."

Hans's expression turned incredulous. "But sir, that's cruel."

Karl's eyes flashed with anger and disbelief. "Cruel?" he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. "She tried to leave me. She lied and deceived me. She deserves to be punished."

Before Hans could respond, Johann entered the dining room, his steps unsteady and his face pale from the effects of last night's indulgence. He groaned, rubbing his temples as he took in the tense atmosphere. "Why does everyone look so tense?" he asked, his voice rough. "What did I miss last night?"

Elisabeth's eyes flicked to Karl, a hint of satisfaction in her gaze. "There was a bit of excitement after you retired, Johann," she said, her tone carefully neutral. "But it's being handled."

Johann raised an eyebrow, looking between Karl and Hans with curiosity. "Handled? What happened?"

Karl's jaw tightened as he spoke. "My wife attempted to leave me. She will be confined to her room until further notice."

Johann's eyes widened, a mix of surprise and concern crossing his features. "She tried to leave? Why on earth would she do that?"

Karl's gaze was cold and unyielding. "Because she is unhappy, Johann. But that does not give her the right to deceive and betray me. She will stay in her room until she learns her place."

Johann opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it, closing it again. He knew better than to argue with Karl when he was in this state. Instead, he took his seat at the table, his mind racing with the implications of what he had just heard.

Elisabeth, sensing the opportunity to solidify her position, leaned forward slightly, her voice soft and sympathetic. "Karl, if there's anything I can do to help, please let me know. I want to support you in any way I can."

Karl nodded, his expression softening slightly as he looked at her. "Thank you, Elisabeth. Your loyalty means a great deal to me."

Hans, still standing nearby, exchanged a worried glance with Johann. The tension in the room was palpable, and it was clear that the situation was far from resolved. The household had been plunged into a state of uncertainty, and the path ahead was fraught with challenges for everyone involved.

Meanwhile, you slowly woke up from your sleep, memories of last night coming back to you in a disorienting rush. Sitting up, you looked around the room, noticing that Karl was no longer there. Mouse, on the other hand, continued to sleep peacefully, curled up on the bed. You sighed, feeling a mix of relief and frustration as you realized Karl had likely locked the door behind him.

You got out of bed, your thoughts a whirlwind of anger and regret. You had been so close to freedom, only to have it snatched away at the last moment. The memory of Karl's grip on you, his possessive words, and his unyielding anger made your skin crawl. You couldn't shake the image of his face, twisted with a mix of rage and hurt, as he dragged you back to the estate.

As you took a shower, the hot water cascading over your body, you mentally scolded yourself. You should have ridden faster. You should have planned better. The thought of Elisabeth, her betrayal still fresh in your mind, made your blood boil. How could she accuse Liselotte so unjustly? You should never have trusted her.

Karl's blind trust in Elisabeth but not you was like a knife to the heart. A rational part of your mind argued that Karl had no reason to trust you, especially after you lied to him. But you didn't want to be rational at that moment. You were hurt, angry, and trapped in a situation that seemed increasingly hopeless.

Stepping out of the shower, you dried off and dressed in simple, comfortable clothes. You looked at yourself in the mirror, trying to muster some semblance of strength. The sight of your own reflection, the dark circles under your eyes, and the determined set of your jaw, reminded you that you were not defeated. Not yet.

You heard the bedroom door opening before Anna announced her presence. "Madame, I am bringing you breakfast," she said softly, entering with a tray.

You turned from the dressing table, your eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Where is Liselotte?" you asked, your voice sharp.

Anna hesitated, setting the tray down on a small table by the window. "Liselotte is fine, madame," she replied carefully. "She will now help in the kitchen and will no longer serve you directly. Herr Hoffmeister has assigned that task to me."

You frowned, confusion and irritation mixing in your expression. "Why?" you demanded. "Why has Karl made this decision?"

Anna's hesitation was palpable. She avoided your gaze as she straightened the napkin on the tray. "Herr Hoffmeister believes it is best for Liselotte to have different duties," she said finally. "He does not want her near you, fearing that you might plan another escape attempt together."

You felt a surge of anger. "It wasn't Liselotte who helped me escape," you repeated, your voice trembling with frustration. "It was Elisabeth!"

Anna nodded, her expression sympathetic but resigned. "Even if that is true, madame, the boss believes otherwise."

You clenched your fists, trying to contain your growing rage. "This is absurd," you muttered. "I will get ready and speak to Karl. He needs to hear the truth."

Anna's face grew tense, her eyes filled with concern. "Madame, you cannot leave this room," she said softly. "Herr Hoffmeister has forbidden it."

Your eyes widened in shock, the reality of your situation crashing down on you. "What do you mean?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "He's keeping me locked in here?"

Anna nodded sadly. "Yes, madame. Herr Hoffmeister is serious about this. He has ordered that you are to remain in your room until further notice."

The words echoed in your mind, a cold chill settling in your chest. You were trapped, truly trapped, and the man who claimed to love you was the one holding the keys to your prison.

"This can't be happening," you whispered, your voice filled with disbelief and despair. "I can't stay here like this."

Anna stepped closer, her expression gentle but firm. "I'm sorry, madame. I will do my best to make you comfortable. But for now, you must abide by Herr Hoffmeister's orders."

You turned away, unable to look at Anna any longer. The weight of your confinement settled heavily on your shoulders, a mix of fear, anger, and hopelessness swirling within you. The walls of the room seemed to close in, the air thick with the suffocating reality of your captivity.

As Anna quietly left the room, you sank down onto the bed, hugging Mouse tightly. The small comfort of his presence did little to ease the storm of emotions raging within you. You were a prisoner in your own home, bound by the whims of a man who claimed to love you but whose actions spoke of possession and control.

Karl confined himself to his office after breakfast, the heavy oak door closing behind him with a resounding thud. He poured himself a generous measure of whiskey, the amber liquid glinting in the soft morning light that filtered through the room's tall windows. He stared into the glass, his mind replaying the events of the previous night. The hope you had given him, the tentative promise of a new beginning, only to make a fool of him by attempting to run away—it hurt him deeply. Karl didn't accept betrayal. Ever.

He took a long sip of the whiskey, the burn of the alcohol doing little to numb the pain and anger churning inside him. How could you have lied to him so convincingly? He had believed you, dared to hope that things might change, and now he felt like a fool.

There was a knock on the door, interrupting his thoughts. "What is it?" Karl responded harshly, his voice edged with frustration.

The door opened slowly, and Elisabeth entered, her expression tentative. Karl's gaze softened slightly at the sight of her. "What do you want, Elisabeth?" he asked, his tone less severe.

Elisabeth closed the door behind her and stepped into the room, her eyes filled with concern. "I just wanted to see how you were," she replied, her voice gentle.

Karl let out a bitter laugh, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "I'm fine," he said tersely, but his eyes betrayed the lie.

Elisabeth moved closer, her expression sympathetic. "No, you're not," she said softly. "I know you're lying, Karl. Last night was hard on you. I can see it in your eyes."

Karl's grip on the glass tightened, his knuckles turning white. "What do you want me to say, Elisabeth?" he snapped. "That I'm hurt? That I'm angry? That the woman I thought I could finally reach out to tried to leave me in the dead of night?"

Elisabeth's eyes flickered with a mix of guilt and determination. "Maybe it's time to consider letting her go, Karl," she said carefully. "She's not good for you. She's making you miserable. You deserve someone who truly cares for you."

Karl's anger flared at her words, and he slammed the glass down hard on the table, the sound echoing through the room. "Enough!" he barked, his voice a dangerous growl. "I will not hear this from you. I don't need your advice on what to do with my wife."

Elisabeth flinched, but she held her ground. "Karl, please," she pleaded, her voice shaking slightly. "I only want what's best for you. You deserve to be happy."

Karl's eyes blazed with fury as he stood up, towering over Elisabeth. "And you think getting rid of my wife will make me happy?" he spat. "You think giving up on her is the answer? No, Elisabeth. I will not let her go. She is my wife, and she will remain my wife. Do you understand?"

Elisabeth's eyes filled with tears, but she nodded, her voice barely a whisper. "Yes, Karl. I understand."

Karl turned away from her, his hands trembling with anger and hurt. "Leave me," he commanded, his voice cold and unyielding.

Elisabeth hesitated for a moment, her eyes lingering on him with a mix of sorrow and frustration. But she obeyed, quietly leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

Karl stood alone in his office, the silence heavy and oppressive. He picked up the glass of whiskey again, downing the rest of the liquid in one gulp. The burn did nothing to quell the storm raging within him. He had to find a way to make you understand, to make you see that you were his, and there was no escaping that truth. No matter the cost.

Karl didn't know how long he sat in his office drinking, seething with silent anger and sadness. The hours passed slowly, the light in the room shifting as the day wore on. Hans knocked on the door around lunchtime, offering to bring him something to eat, but Karl sent him away with a sharp dismissal. The whiskey provided a bitter solace, its warmth doing little to dull the ache inside him.

Karl sat brooding, the silence of his office punctuated only by the ticking of the clock and the occasional clink of glass against wood. His thoughts were a chaotic mess, swirling with the events of the previous night and the sense of betrayal that gnawed at him. He couldn't believe how you had deceived him, how you had shattered the fragile hope he had held onto.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Karl straightened, the interruption pulling him out of his thoughts. "Come in," he barked, his voice rough.

The door opened, and Anna stepped inside, her expression a mix of concern and determination. Karl's eyes narrowed as he looked at her. "What is it, Anna?" he demanded, his patience thin.

Anna took a deep breath, her eyes meeting his with a steady resolve. "Herr Hoffmeister, madame has refused to eat both breakfast and lunch," she stated, her tone firm yet respectful.

Karl felt a surge of anger rise within him, and he stood up abruptly, staggering slightly from the effects of the whiskey. "What is she planning now?" he muttered, his voice laced with frustration. "Starve herself to get rid of me? Does she hate me that much?"

Your words from the previous night echoed in his mind, the disdain and contempt cutting deep. "Fat old man," you had called him. The memory stung, fueling his anger further.

Anna stepped in front of him, her expression pleading. "Herr Hoffmeister, she's very sad that she can't leave the bedroom," she said gently. "Please, consider her feelings."

Karl ignored her, pushing past Anna as he stormed towards the door. "I don't care," he growled. "She will eat, whether she wants to or not."

Anna followed him, her voice filled with concern. "Herr Hoffmeister, this isn't the way to handle things. Forcing her won't help."

But Karl barely heard her, his mind consumed with the determination to confront you. He reached the bedroom door, unlocking it with a swift motion and pushing it open, ready to unleash his fury.

But the sight that met his eyes stopped him in his tracks. You were sitting by the window, hugging your knees close to your chest, tears streaming down your face. You looked broken, defeated.

For a moment, Karl's anger faltered, replaced by a pang of sorrow and guilt. He took a hesitant step forward, his voice softening. "[Your Name]," he said quietly, his tone a mix of frustration and something gentler. "You need to eat."

You looked up, your tear-streaked face filled with pain and defiance. "I don't want to eat," you replied, your voice trembling. "What's the point? I'm a prisoner here."

Karl's heart clenched at your words, the raw emotion in your voice cutting through his anger. He moved closer, his eyes filled with a mixture of determination and desperation. "You are not a prisoner," he insisted, though the words felt hollow even to him. "You are my wife. I want to take care of you."

You shook your head, wiping the tears from your face and straightening your posture, determined not to let Karl see your vulnerability. "You don't understand," you whispered. "I feel trapped. Suffocated."

Karl reached out, trembling as he gently touched your shoulder. But you flinched, standing up and moving away from him. The sight of your retreating form, the rejection, ignited a fresh wave of anger within him.

"I said you need to eat," he ordered, his voice sharp.

"I won't," you replied, your tone taking on a challenging edge. "Not unless you let me out of this bedroom." your sadness dissipated in the heat of the confrontation.

Karl's eyes narrowed, his fists clenching at his sides. "You have no right to demand anything," he snapped. "You will eat, and you will stay in this room."

You shook your head, your resolve unwavering. "I won't eat unless I can leave this room and have Liselotte serve me again."

Karl's face twisted with fury. "That's not going to happen," he growled. "You will eat, or there will be consequences."

"I don't care," you shot back, your voice filled with steely determination. "If you don't let me out, I won't eat. Not ever."

Karl's fists clenched tighter, his knuckles turning white. He was torn between his anger and a deep, unsettling worry. "You're a difficult woman," he muttered, his voice barely audible.

"And you're a cruel man," you replied, your eyes meeting his with defiance. "But I won't be broken by you."

The tension between you was palpable, a silent battle of wills that neither of you was willing to lose. Karl's anger simmered beneath the surface, but a flicker of something else—an unwilling admiration for your unyielding spirit—crept into his mind.

Karl's fists unclenched slowly as he took a deep breath, his eyes locked onto yours. The tension in the room was palpable, but there was a glimmer of reluctant understanding in his gaze. He stepped closer, his voice low and measured.

"Fine," he said finally, the words heavy with reluctance. "You can leave this bedroom and Liselotte can serve you again. But you must swear to me that you will not try to escape anymore."

You looked at him, your eyes wide with surprise and a hint of suspicion. "And if I don't?" you asked cautiously.

Karl's eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. "If you try to escape again," he said, his voice low and threatening, "I will fire Liselotte. And this time, there will be no reprieve."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you weighed his words. The prospect of freedom, even within the confines of the estate, was too tempting to resist. You nodded slowly, meeting his gaze with a mixture of defiance and resignation. "I swear," you said softly. "I won't try to escape."

Karl's expression softened slightly, though the intensity in his eyes remained. "Good," he murmured, stepping closer until he was mere inches from you. "Because I can't bear the thought of losing you. You're mine, and you always will be."

You were irritated by Karl's possessive words. You were not a possession, an object that people could possess. "I'm not yours, Karl," you said, your voice trembling with frustration and anger. "I am a person with my own thoughts, feelings, and desires. You can't just claim me like some object."

But Karl didn't even seem to hear you. His eyes were fixed on your lips, a dark intensity simmering in his gaze that you didn't notice while you continued to lecture him. The anger and defiance in your voice only seemed to fuel his desire, the raw, untamed emotions stirring something primal within him.

"Karl, you need to understand," you continued, unaware of the shift in his demeanor. "You can't control me, no matter how much you try. I will never be truly yours."

Karl's breathing grew heavier, his gaze unwavering as he stepped closer, the space between you growing smaller with each passing moment. His eyes roved over your face, lingering on your lips, and for a moment, the world around him faded away.

Without warning, Karl closed the remaining distance between you, his hand reaching up to cup the back of your neck. His grip was firm, almost possessive, as he pulled you closer, his lips capturing yours in a fierce, demanding kiss. The shock of his sudden action left you breathless, your anger momentarily forgotten in the heat of the moment.

The intensity of his kiss sent a jolt of electricity through you, a mix of anger, confusion, and an unexpected surge of desire. You tried to push him away, but his grip only tightened, his other hand moving to your waist, pulling you flush against his body. The raw passion in his touch was undeniable, and despite your anger, you couldn't help but respond, your body betraying you as you kissed him back.

Karl's lips moved with a hunger, a desperate need that mirrored the turmoil within him. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, demanding entry, and you found yourself parting your lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss. The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady mix of whiskey and something uniquely his. The sensations overwhelmed you, the feel of his lips, the heat of his body pressed against yours, igniting a fire that you had tried so hard to suppress.

Suddenly, the two of you were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Startled, Karl broke away from the kiss, turning to see Anna standing in the doorway, her face struggling to maintain a neutral expression as a suppressed smile played on her lips.

You blushed furiously, stepping back from Karl and wiping your lips with the back of your hand. "How dare you kiss me without my permission?!" you exclaimed, your voice shaking with a mix of anger and embarrassment. "You're indecent!"

Karl smiled slightly, an infuriatingly confident expression on his face. "You kissed me back," he stated calmly, his eyes locked onto yours with a smug glint.

"That's a lie!" you shot back, your cheeks burning. You glanced at Anna, who quickly averted her gaze, trying to maintain her composure.

Mouse, sensing the tension, barked sharply from the bed. You moved to pick him up, cradling the small puppy in your arms as if seeking comfort. Mouse's presence provided a small measure of solace, his soft fur soothing against your skin.

Karl's smile widened as he watched you with an air of satisfaction. "You can deny it all you want," he said softly, his voice tinged with amusement. "But we both know the truth."

You glared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. "You're impossible," you muttered, turning your attention to Mouse, who licked your cheek in an attempt to comfort you.

Anna, sensing the need to diffuse the tension, stepped forward. "Herr Hoffmeister," she said gently, "perhaps it's best to give Madame some space for now."

Karl glanced at Anna, his expression briefly flickering with annoyance before he nodded. "Very well," he said, his voice still carrying an undertone of authority. He turned back to you, his gaze softening slightly. "Remember what I said. You stay in the house, and Liselotte can continue serving you."

You didn't respond, your focus remaining on Mouse. The room fell into an awkward silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily in the air. Karl sighed softly, running a hand through his hair before turning to leave.

As he walked past Anna, he paused, his voice low but firm. "Make sure she eats," he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Anna nodded, her expression serious. "Of course, Herr Hoffmeister."

With one last glance at you, Karl exited the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The tension in the room eased slightly, but the lingering effects of the encounter remained. You sank down onto the bed, holding Mouse close as you tried to steady your racing thoughts.

Anna moved quietly to the tray, arranging the food with a gentle touch. "Madame," she said softly, her voice filled with compassion, "please, you must eat something."

You looked up at her, your eyes filled with a mix of frustration and resignation. "I don't know what to do, Anna," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I feel so trapped."

Anna's eyes softened with sympathy as she sat beside you on the bed. "I know, madame," she said gently. "But you must stay strong. Take it one day at a time. And remember, you are not alone."

You nodded, grateful for her kindness. The road ahead seemed daunting, filled with uncertainty and challenges. But for now, you took comfort in the small act of defiance, knowing that you still had your spirit, your loyalty to Liselotte, and the love of a small, loyal puppy.

Anna then got up, ordering you to eat while she would call Liselotte to help you prepare for dinner later. You were excited at the prospect and placed Mouse on the floor, who ran to play with his ball that was in the corner of the bedroom while you picked up your plate to eat your lunch. The warm food provided a small comfort, and you realized how hungry you had been after the emotional turmoil of the past day.

As you ate, Anna left the room quietly, her soft footsteps barely audible. You savored each bite, the simple act of eating bringing a sense of normalcy back to your life. The thought of seeing Liselotte again lifted your spirits, and you found yourself looking forward to the evening despite the lingering tension with Karl.

After finishing your meal, you set the plate aside and watched Mouse chase his ball around the room, his playful antics bringing a smile to your face. There was a knock on the door, and you called out, "Come in." Your heart lifted when you saw Liselotte enter, her familiar presence a balm to your troubled mind. You stood up, moving to embrace her, but she remained at the door, bowing slightly with a professional demeanor.

"Liselotte," you began, your voice filled with emotion, "I'm so glad to see you."

Liselotte's expression was neutral, her eyes not meeting yours. "Madame," she replied formally, "how may I assist you today?"

You felt your enthusiasm deflate, understanding the reason for her coldness. She had every right to be upset, having been wrongly accused and almost losing her job. The guilt weighed heavily on you, but you were determined not to lose her friendship.

"Liselotte, I'm truly sorry for what happened," you said earnestly, stepping closer. "I never meant for you to get involved or to put your job at risk. You mean a great deal to me."

Liselotte remained silent, her posture rigid. "I understand, madame," she said after a moment, her tone clipped. "But it was a difficult situation. I have worked here for many years, and my loyalty has always been to the household."

"I know," you replied, your voice softening. "And your loyalty is something I value deeply. Please, forgive me. I never wanted to cause you any harm."

Liselotte's eyes finally met yours, and you saw a flicker of emotion there—hurt, anger, and perhaps a trace of understanding. "It was a close call," she admitted, her voice quieter. "I have never been accused of something like that before."

You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat. "I promise it won't happen again. You are more than just a servant to me, Liselotte. You are my friend."

There was a long silence as Liselotte studied you, her expression softening just a little. "I hope you mean that, madame," she said finally. "Because friendship is built on trust and honesty, and that has to go both ways."

"I do mean it," you assured her, taking her hand in yours. "I need your friendship now more than ever."

Liselotte nodded slowly, a small smile appearing at the corners of her lips. "Thank you, madame. Your friendship means a lot to me," she said softly.

You returned her smile, feeling a genuine warmth towards her. "I'm glad we can trust each other, Liselotte. We need to stick together in this house."

Liselotte's eyes sparkled with a mix of relief and gratitude. "I agree, madame. It's been difficult, but knowing we have each other makes it more bearable."

Her words reassured you, and you felt a renewed sense of determination. "We will get through this, Liselotte. Together."

Liselotte hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Madame, was it really Elisabeth who helped you escape?"

The mention of Elisabeth's name made your blood boil, and your expression hardened. "Yes, it was Elisabeth," you replied, your voice laced with anger. "She helped me escape and had the audacity to lie and accuse you unfairly."

Liselotte's eyes widened in surprise and disbelief. "How could she do such a thing?" she said, her voice trembling slightly.

"Because she's manipulative and selfish," you replied bitterly. "But she made a mistake by lying about you. Now she has made an enemy of me."

Liselotte looked at you, a mix of admiration and hope in her eyes. "Thank you, madame. Your support means everything to me."

You nodded firmly, your determination strengthening as you let go of Liselotte's hands. "I will take revenge on Elisabeth," you declared, your voice resolute.

Liselotte watched you with a mixture of concern and curiosity. "How will you do that, madame?" she asked softly.

You blushed a little, feeling a rush of uncertainty. "I'm not entirely sure yet," you admitted. "But I will find a way."

Liselotte thought for a moment, then a mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. "If Elisabeth likes Herr Hoffmeister so much, why don't you use his devotion to you to upset her?" she suggested.

The memory of Karl's kiss flashed through your mind, making you blush even more. You shook your head, trying to dismiss the thought. "It's a good suggestion," you conceded, "but I don't want to give Karl false hope. It would only complicate things further."

Liselotte nodded, understanding your hesitation. "Very well, madame," she said, a small smile playing on her lips. "Then let us make you beautiful for dinner tonight. If we can't use Herr Hoffmeister directly, we can at least make Elisabeth jealous and ensure that Karl can't take his eyes off you."

You smiled at Liselotte's enthusiasm, feeling a spark of excitement at the prospect. "Alright," you agreed, standing up. "Let's do it."

Liselotte led you to the vanity, her hands deftly arranging your hair and selecting the perfect accessories to complement your features. As she worked, you felt a sense of camaraderie and support, knowing that you weren't alone in this struggle.

Liselotte’s skillful hands worked quickly as she finished arranging your hair, a delicate yet sophisticated style that framed your face beautifully. She then selected a deep burgundy dress from your wardrobe, its rich color and elegant design accentuating your figure in a way that was both understated and alluring. The fabric felt luxurious against your skin as Liselotte helped you into the dress, adjusting the fit to perfection.

When you were finally ready, Liselotte stepped back, her eyes filled with pride. “You look stunning, madame,” she said softly, a smile playing on her lips.

You glanced at your reflection in the mirror, surprised by the transformation. There was a certain confidence in your appearance that hadn’t been there before, a reminder that even in the midst of your confinement, you still had control over how you presented yourself. “Thank you, Liselotte,” you replied, returning her smile. “I feel ready.”

With that, Liselotte accompanied you to the dining room. As you approached, you could hear the clinking of cutlery and the murmur of voices from within. Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door and entered the room.

Karl, Johann, and Elisabeth were already seated at the table. Johann was engrossed in his meal, while Elisabeth picked at her food, her expression thoughtful. Karl, however, hadn’t touched his plate. As you stepped into the room, his gaze immediately locked onto you, his eyes widening slightly in surprise.

For a moment, there was silence as Karl took in your appearance. The flicker of admiration in his eyes was unmistakable, and you could feel his gaze lingering on you as you moved towards the table. Despite the tension between you, there was an undeniable connection, a pull that neither of you could fully ignore.

Determined to maintain some distance, you deliberately chose a seat further away from Karl, hoping to avoid any direct confrontation. However, the moment you sat down, Karl's expression darkened, his earlier anger and resentment, briefly softened by the kiss, came rushing back. He gestured sharply toward the chair beside him. "Come here and sit next to me," he commanded, his voice calm yet leaving no room for disagreement.

You hesitated, your heart pounding. The last thing you wanted was to sit so close to him after the kiss. “I’d prefer to sit here,” you replied, your tone polite but firm.

Karl’s eyes narrowed, and his voice took on a dangerous edge. “That wasn’t a request,” he stated, the words carrying a weight that made the air in the room feel heavier. The lightness of the earlier conversation evaporated, replaced by a tension that gripped everyone at the table.

The room fell silent, the atmosphere charged with a palpable sense of unease. Johann paused mid-bite, his fork hovering in the air as he looked between you and Karl, sensing the shift in the dynamic. Elisabeth’s eyes darted nervously from you to Karl, her expression betraying her discomfort.

You stopped, the force of Karl’s tone catching you off guard. He had never spoken to you like this before, and it was clear that something had changed within him since your attempted escape. The authority in his voice was unsettling, a stark reminder of the power he held over you.

Slowly, you rose from your seat, your movements deliberate as you made your way to the chair beside Karl. The silence in the room was suffocating, every eye on you as you reluctantly took the seat he had indicated. The distance you had tried to maintain was now gone, and you could feel the intensity of his presence beside you, an overwhelming force that seemed to dominate the space.

Karl didn’t speak for a moment, his gaze fixed on you. The tension in the air was thick, the unspoken words hanging between you like a dark cloud. Finally, he leaned in slightly, his voice low but firm. “You will sit beside me from now on,” he said, his tone brooking no dissent. “Do you understand?”

You weren’t intimidated by Karl’s tone. Instead of answering him, you pushed your chair as far away from him as you could, maintaining your silence. The scrape of the chair’s legs against the wooden floor echoed loudly in the tense room, causing everyone at the table to flinch.

Karl’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing at your defiance. His patience, already worn thin, snapped. Without a word, he reached down and grabbed the leg of your chair, forcefully pulling it back toward him. The sudden motion made the chair lurch violently, causing you to gasp in surprise as you were abruptly brought closer to him. The noise of the chair scraping against the floor was harsh and grating, the sound amplifying the tension that already hung heavy in the air.

"Enough of this nonsense," Karl growled, his voice low and dangerously controlled. His grip on the chair was unyielding, his eyes boring into yours with a mix of anger and something darker, more possessive. "You will sit beside me as my wife. This is not up for discussion."

His words, spoken with such finality, sent a shiver down your spine. There was no doubt in his voice, no room for negotiation. Despite the kiss earlier softening him a little, Karl was still deeply hurt and angry over your attempt to flee. The betrayal he felt was evident in his every action, and the raw emotion simmering beneath the surface was both frightening and overwhelming.

You stared back at him, your heart pounding in your chest, but you refused to let him see your fear. Your eyes met his with defiance, though the close proximity made it difficult to maintain your composure. "You can force me to sit here," you said quietly, your voice steady despite the tension, "but you can’t force me to accept this."

Karl’s expression darkened, a flicker of something akin to pain crossing his features before being replaced by cold resolve. "You can pretend all you want," he murmured, his tone low and edged with frustration, "but you will learn to accept your place by my side. You are my wife, and nothing will change that."

The finality in his voice was suffocating, his words a chilling reminder of the control he exerted over your life. The power dynamic between you was stark and inescapable, and the reality of your situation pressed down on you like a weight.

Elisabeth shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes darting between you and Karl with a mixture of anxiety and something else—satisfaction, perhaps, at seeing you so clearly under Karl’s thumb. Johann, on the other hand, looked deeply uneasy, his brow furrowed as he watched the exchange, clearly disapproving of Karl’s behavior but unwilling to speak out against it.

Despite the oppressive atmosphere, you maintained your silence, determined not to give Karl the satisfaction of seeing you falter. You focused on the meal in front of you, forcing yourself to take small bites even though your appetite had all but vanished. The taste of the food was bland in your mouth, your mind too occupied with the implications of Karl’s words to truly register the flavors.

Karl’s presence beside you was suffocating, his proximity a constant reminder of the power he held over you. His hand, still resting on the leg of your chair, served as a physical manifestation of his control, and you could feel the tension radiating from him in waves.

As the meal continued in tense silence, you couldn’t help but reflect on the events that had led you to this moment. Your failed escape, Karl’s furious pursuit, the kiss that had left you confused and unsettled—everything had culminated in this power struggle, and it was clear that Karl had no intention of relinquishing his hold on you.

But even as you sat there, outwardly compliant, your mind was already working on your next move. Karl might have won this battle, but the war was far from over. You would bide your time, gathering your strength and waiting for the right moment to strike back. This wasn’t over, not by a long shot.

For now, though, you had to play the part of the obedient wife, at least outwardly. You allowed Karl to believe he had the upper hand, even as your resolve hardened. You would survive this, and you would find a way to regain your freedom, no matter what it took.

Karl, for his part, seemed to sense the undercurrent of defiance still lingering within you, and though he didn’t say anything further, his grip on the chair remained firm, a silent reminder of his control. The atmosphere in the dining room remained thick with tension, and though the meal continued, it was clear that nothing had truly been resolved.

Karl finally let go of the chair, his fingers uncurling slowly as he hesitated, his hand hovering just above your thigh. For a brief moment, he seemed torn, wanting to reach out to you, to establish some physical connection, but the memory of your earlier defiance flashed in his mind. The thought of you swatting his hand away in front of everyone stopped him cold. With a quiet sigh, he withdrew his hand, placing it back on the table. His eyes remained fixed on you as you took small, measured bites of your food, which had been placed in front of you by an employee.

The atmosphere in the room remained tense, with the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Karl watched you closely, his brow furrowing as he noted the slow, almost reluctant way you ate. After a few moments, he couldn’t hold back his frustration any longer.

"Why aren't you eating properly?" Karl's voice was low, his tone carrying a mixture of irritation and genuine concern.

You glanced at him, your expression cool and defiant. "I could ask you the same," you replied, your voice edged with subtle humor.

Karl blinked, caught off guard by your retort. His gaze flickered down to his own plate, where the food remained untouched. He hadn’t even noticed that he hadn’t taken a single bite. With a quiet, self-deprecating sigh, he acknowledged the truth in your words.

"You’re right," Karl admitted, his voice softer now, tinged with a reluctant understanding. "But I still want you to eat properly." His tone held a trace of the old authority, but the anger that had fueled his earlier outburst was noticeably absent.

You shrugged slightly, still playing with the food on your plate. "I had lunch late," you explained, though there was a hint of irritation in your voice. "That's why I'm not very hungry now."

Across the table, Elisabeth’s fork paused mid-air, her knuckles tightening slightly as she overheard the exchange. Her eyes darted between you and Karl, a flicker of jealousy darkening her features as she took in the surprisingly soft tone Karl had adopted with you. She forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Karl, however, seemed oblivious to Elisabeth's reaction. His focus remained solely on you, his eyes searching your face for any sign of the vulnerability he’d glimpsed earlier. The kiss in the bedroom had softened something within him, but the sting of your attempted escape still lingered, a raw wound that refused to heal. He wanted to reach out, to mend the growing rift between you, but pride and anger held him back.

He watched as you continued to take small, disinterested bites, and his own appetite seemed to vanish entirely. "Fine," he said quietly, conceding the point. "But from now on, try to eat at the proper times."

You gave a noncommittal nod, your attention turning back to your plate, but the brief exchange had shifted something between you, lightening the tension just a little.

As the meal continued, the earlier tension slowly dissipated, though it never quite vanished. Karl remained quiet, his thoughts clearly elsewhere, while you focused on finishing your meal, your mind already planning your next move.

Elisabeth, on the other hand, couldn’t quite hide the frustration bubbling beneath her composed exterior. She picked at her food, her thoughts clouded with jealousy as she watched the subtle, almost tender way Karl interacted with you. It was a side of him she rarely saw, and the realization gnawed at her, feeding her resentment.

In the corner of the room, Johann finally cleared his throat, attempting to break the lingering tension. "So," he began awkwardly, glancing between the three of you, "perhaps we should discuss something more pleasant. The weather has been quite nice lately, hasn’t it?"

The mundane comment was met with silence, but the absurdity of it finally broke through the tension. You couldn’t help but let out a small, involuntary laugh, the sound light and almost surprised. Karl’s lips twitched, the ghost of a smile playing on his face as he shook his head at Johann’s clumsy attempt at humor.

The moment passed quickly, but it left a lingering sense of normalcy, a reminder that not everything between you and Karl had to be a battle. It was a small, fleeting victory, but in the midst of everything, it felt like a step in the right direction.

[whalesforhands]

of domesticity and groceries (satosugu x reader)

warnings: spicyish, adult gojo, making out(?), day 5 of my promised gojo-centric writing streak

“Shh… Don’t deny me this right now.”

You’re pressed into the wall, a stocky arm caging you in as your hands pressed against his chest, the thin fabric of his compression shirt allowing you to feel the lines, creases of his corded muscle. You’re getting kissed hard, cornered and with nowhere to escape from your lover as he takes what he thinks he deserves.

Your feet are barely on the ground anymore, the sheer restlessness Satoru faced after coming back urging him to grab you and smother your entire being with his longing yearn for his significant others.

(You sure want to thank him for all those workouts he does. You still can’t believe how strong he is sometimes.)

He’s mouthing against your jaw, trying to get you to give him access to your pretty neck, still littered with fresh bites and kisses that overextended into vigorous activity from barely a few hours ago.

“Aren’t you— Tired?” Your voice is small, compressed into a small whisper that whimpered out from the confines of your throat that was trying to constrict your sounds, desperate to muffle your cries.

(You have a point. You only just witnessed him step through the front door, practically tearing off his jacket before he whined for your embrace.)

His hand is slowly making its way up your thigh, feeling your bare skin underneath the pads of his fingers as he steals a kiss from your sweet lips.

“Not when I’m with you.” The familiar heat burns from your middle at the sound of his deepened voice, the way you felt his hand ascend to your waist, greedily enjoying the touch, his lips self-indulgent as they felt the plushness of yours, the feel of you in his arms after a long mission.

This is perfect.

(Just what would he do without you around?)

“Suguru said-“ You’re pulling away before an impatient hand is placed at the back of your head to drag you back into the throes of passion. Tongues insatiably entangling, breaths stolen with every pant, every moment of lovely boldness from the strongest sorcerer.

“That—“ You take a moment to breathe when you finally manage to escape his compelling seduction. “He’s coming back with the kids in 15 minutes.”

“Sounds like plenty of time to me.” He’s scooping you up, arm beneath your knees and the other just under your shoulders as you’re picked up in a princess carry.

Eh? Wait. Wait!

“Satoru—?!” You’re sputtering as you feel him approach the familiar long corridors of the shared home, making a beeline towards the master bedroom.

“I-I said 15 minutes, not 50!”

He’s humming as he continues his trek up, a naughty hand coming over to slap your behind as you yelp.

“I heard you right the first time, sweetheart.” His cheeks are practically aglow with excitement, eyes behind the bandages already upturned into happy slits as he continues to enjoy the very presence of your cursed energy surrounding him.

“Now how about we take a nice, relaxing shower to celebrate my return?”

——

“Welcome back, my dearest husband and beautiful children!” His upper body is draped with an oversized tee, sweatpants on and sunglasses over his eyes as he leans over you, snuggling his cheek onto the top of your head as a cute grin is flashed towards his family at the genkan.

“Daddy! Mama!” There’s a crash of many items dropping onto the floor as three little girls run up to and cling to the lanky man. The little boy carefully places his bag upright, walking close and nodding up at the man in bashful acknowledgment as Gojo smiles down at him.

(You’re gushing over how cute they’re all being. Meanwhile, Megumi had already made his way over to you, letting you rub his head.)

“I’m so happy to see all my wittle cupcwakes again!!!” He’s letting the girls tug and rub at his fluffy white hair, pull at his cheeks, tug at his clothing.

(Megumi’s fighting an internal battle in his head to not let the utter look of disgust show on his face. So he hides away his annoyance by leaning his head against your navel.)

“Daddy, did you buy sweets?!”

“Did you beat up the bad guys real good???”

“Did you take any pretty photos!?”

“Girls, girls.” A smooth voice cuts through the home as Geto Suguru finally comes through the door with a wide array of reusable eco bags filled to the brim with different foods. “Don’t make Daddy overwhelmed now, he just got back afterall.”

“Hello, my darlings.” Suguru’s smiling face is brighter than ever as he sees the both of you awaiting him and the kids, a chaste kiss pressed to your forehead and a rub to Megumi’s hair when he gets close enough to you before his gaze focuses to the girls smothering his partner.

“Kids, remember to place the groceries in the kitchen and fold the eco bags. Tsumiki, the ice cream goes in first, okay?”

“Yes, Papa!” Tsumiki is immediately leading the way for the twin girls and Megumi, the young boy choosing to carry the heaviest of the bunch of groceries Geto had relinquished to them.

Two whole cartons of milk.

He’s grunting a little as he struggles forth, even shooing away an approaching, worried Mimiko with a wave of his hand and a grunt. Eyes determined and alight with the willpower to see his task through till the end.

“I’ve got this.”

(He’s excited to get praised for this when he sees the proud smile and excited giggling as you observe him.)

Suguru’s sighing when he feels a kiss on his cheek from Satoru, the slight flush of his face giving away his excitement to see his significant other again.

“You’re finally back, huh?”

masterlist

Notes:

Suguru is actually carrying the heaviest items out of all of them. The various cereal boxes, about 4 more cartons of milk, meat, fish, the eggs, more snacks, more sweets, a sack of rice and several others.

He has actually summoned a smaller, flying curse to help support Megumi as he held up the milo cartons. (What the little boy doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?)

Suguru can very much see the fresh new bites on you. “Tsk, tsk.” His head is pressed onto your shoulder from behind. “Can’t believe he’s already so rough with you after just coming back. Gonna have to teach him a lesson later.”

[foolish-spectre]

The Price of Freedom

Pairing: Astarion x Gender-Neutral Tav/Reader (Primary Focus is on Astarion)

Content Warnings: Murder and Canon-Typical Violence, Allusions to Physical, Emotional, and Verbal Abuse, Mental Breakdowns, Gore?, Massive Spoilers for the Pale Elf Quest in Baldur’s Gate 3, Heavy Angst

Word Count: 835

Characters: Astarion Ancunin (primarily), Cazador Szarr, Tav/Reader, brief mention of Astarion’s siblings

A/N: So I wrote this on a 14 hour plane ride, basically I wrote this in the last hour since my brain was mush for the other 13, I wanted to explore his side of things hence why it’s in second person, and I’m going to give a hot take, I’m glad you can’t hug Astarion after he kills Cazador, not because he doesn’t deserve it of course not, but because I don’t think he would like to be touched after such a painful but cathartic moment, he hates being touched, especially in a moment like this, there’s a time and a place for hugging in Astarion’s mind and in my opinion, this scene ain’t it, KEEP IN MIND I ALSO WANTED TO HUG ASTARION AFTER THIS SCENE SO I DONT BLAME ANYONE, but personally Astarion doesn’t want to be hugged rn, another thing I noticed is how Astarion is always drawn to your hands, it’s always the hands, I want to explore more of that in a separate fic or headcanons but yeah

Your grip upon your master’s knife tightened as you stared down at your “Father.” He likened his sired spawn to be family, and you were ready to give him all his owed dues as the eldest child.

It was funny to see him on his knees after so many years of shoving you beneath his feet. A wicked grin slithered onto your face as you yanked his long black hair aside to bare his neck.

The knife felt so light in your hand, how strange. One last thrust and it would be all over. One last thrust with the same knife that your pathetic master carved that damn infernal script into your back. It tethered your fate to him and now it would finally set you free. He would never hurt you again.

The first plunge felt cathartic yet it wasn’t enough, it would never be enough. You started with his neck since it was his bite that doomed you. Then you thrust the blade repeatedly into his heart and ribs, he oh so loved to play with yours and even threatened to rip your’s out so you could see how pathetic it was. Just the thought of it made you dig deeper into his rib cage.

After the frenzied attack upon your master’s chest, you thrust the dagger upwards into his stomach. He was never satisfied with your hunts, always demanding more and more. Even wanting to consume you, practically making you believe that’s all you were. But you weren’t, you would never be-!

Just as you were about to violently flip him over and plunge into his back, you finally looked at his face. The sadistic smirk was wiped off replaced only with fear and disbelief, his sickening voice silenced, his eyes devoid of disgust… you were left with nothing.

Cazador Szarr was dead.

As the adrenaline wore off and you realized that your tormentor was finally dead, you slumped to your knees, dagger falling from your grip.

He was finally gone. He would never be able to hurt you again. And yet…

Why do the scars on your back feel fresh? Why did fear seep into your very bones? Why did you feel so miserable-

As sobs wracked your tired body, your siblings and friends surrounded you, unsure of what to do. Your lover approached you cautiously, not because they were afraid of you but because-

You didn’t really know and even though you’ve spent months together, you were still trying to get a hang of things.

They held out your arms to embrace you and in return you gave them a flinch. You hated the look they had on their face when you did, but… it feels so tainted, so fresh, so…

You hated it, you needed to get out of here, you needed to be in the sun again, you needed… you needed to feel alive again.

You stared down at your master’s corpse and held his staff for the first and last time. The rest was a blur.

Right now you were finally exiting this damn house, you would never have to see it again. You would finally be free, from this prison, from the people who tormented you, and from the crypt that reduced you to nothing but a feral animal.

As your weary feet got closer to closer to the entrance of Cazador’s palace, a part of you wanted to look back. To look back at your master’s dead body to make sure he was dead, gone for good.

… Why did you still think of him as your master, even when he’s gone? He was your master no longer, he would never have to control you again. You’re free of him.

Cazador means nothing to you now and you’ll make sure of that.

As you tried to shake your mind off of this, you walked side by side with your companions and lover. You stared at their face, even now they looked so beautiful.

Sure you didn’t care for them at first, but they were still with you… after all this. It would’ve been so easy to leave him behind for Cazador to consume him but they didn’t. They stayed and fought tooth and nail to save you, to help you achieve freedom.

You didn’t realize that you reached out for their hand until they looked at you, surprised. You were about to pull away until they gave you a gentle squeeze back.

Even though you were empty, even though you felt like the world had ended after all this… it felt reassuring. In a sense, your whole world did end. All those centuries of torment and the master that owned you was finally put to rest. All of it was in the past. Your lover’s hand reminded you that you did the right thing. That… you weren’t tied down to Cazador anymore.

You were finally free. And you didn’t want to lose this, you wouldn’t trade power for the one person who truly cared about you.

[fetishfairytales2]

The Ex, Pt. 2 (Story)

Brandi's muffled pleas was cut short as Conner walked across the room; “what a fucking loser”, he said with a sigh. Poor Brandi knew exactly what was going to happen and all she could do was fight helplessly against us. I hoped it was even more humiliating for her with Rachael watching! Without another word, Conner ripped the pacifier out of Brandi's mouth, causing her to whimper and struggle even harder. "Shhh, it's okay, princess,” I whispered, “Daddy's just gonna teach you some manners…”

Conner was such a stud, always ready to show off and put my little princess Brandi in her place. He didn’t even say anything, just pulled his pants off, right there in front of Rachel and me. I could Rachel's eyes light up a little as she took in the sight of Conner’s dick. "Wow, Heather," she giggled, "you weren't kidding. He is packing some serious heat!"

I shrugged and smiled, still watching Conner; "Now, imagine going from that huge, throbbing cock back to the pathetic little nub hidden away in that pink cage," I laughed, gesturing at the locked chastity device that kept my sissy's tiny clitty locked away. I just had to laugh as I watched Brandi's eyes instantly water as Daddy Conner stood over her. My poor princess knew her throat was about to get stretched. "Aww, poor widdle baby doesn't want Daddy's cock, huh? Too bad, 'cause, just like this fresh diaper, you're getting it whether you like it or not!"

Poor Brandi, still pinned down on the couch, squirmed and tried to protest as Conner grabbed a handful of her hair, pulled her pacifier out, and forced his thick cock past her lips. "Shut your mouth and take it, bitch," he growled. "You're here to do what I want, so suck like a good little slut."

As Conner thrust his hips, forcing Brandi's mouth open to take more of his cock, laughed at Rachael, who was shocked at the sight of her once-macho boyfriend turned into my sissy plaything. "Aww, look at my widdle baby Brandi! She's already tearing up like a little girlie!” I gushed; “what’s wrong sweets? Don’t you love Daddy’s dick?”

Rachel was stuck, just staring! She looked like she was somewhere between turned on, grossed out, and almost interested. "Damn, she can really suck, can't she?” Rach asked after a long minute of silence, “I mean seriously, just look at her go!" she exclaimed, a little smile spreading across her face. "It really looks like she’s done this once or two before, huh?"

I giggled, feeling a little excitement as I positioned the fresh diaper under Brandi's wriggling body. "That's right, Rach! And let's not forget that this loser technically cheated on both of us. I don’t think you two were even broken up before I got a text from this asshole! She deserves every bit of humiliation we can dish out, don't you think?" I asked, leaning in whispering to her. “Not like anyone else would have to know…unless you wanted to tell them.”

"Absolutely!" Rachel nodded with a sudden enthusiasm for humiliating the little sissy loser. "Let's make sure this diaper is nice and snug, Heather. Poor girlie needs someone to take care of her, right?” Perfect answer. As I pulled the diaper up between Brandi's legs, taking my time to ensure a perfect fit, just to drag out the humiliation, Rachel pinned Brandi's legs down, ensuring my sissy princess couldn't squirm away. "That's it, Brandi," Rachel cooed, her voice absolutely filled with fake sweetness. "Take Daddy's cock like a good little girl. Mmm, I'll bet it tastes so good, huh?" Rachel laughed as she suddenly leaned down and pinched Brandi's nose shut. "Let's make sure you can breathe through that mouth of yours, Brandi," she teased. "After all, we want you to take all of Daddy's cock, don't we, Heather?" Wow, maybe this girl was a little more into it than I thought!

Brandi's muffled squeals  only pushed us both further. Rachel giggled, releasing Brandi's nose only to massage her throat, forcing her to gag on Conner's thick shaft. "Aww, did that hurt your widdle throat, princess? Too bad! You need to learn to take it like a big girl if you ever want to get out of pampers!” Rachel was quick to fully join in, which was fun! She grabbed Brandi by the throat, forcing the poor dear up, to take even more of Conner's cock. "That's it, Brandi, deepthroat that dick! Show us what a good little cock-sucking slut you can be!"

Conner's breathing started to quicken as he was getting close, and I could see the panic in Brandi's eyes as she realized what was about to happen. "Oh no, my widdle sissy looks scared!" I teased. "Don't worry, princess, it's just Daddy's cum. We all know you love it!"

"Mmm, I'll bet she does," Rachel giggled. "After all, she needs all the protein she can get to grow up to be a big girl, right, Heather?"

I laughed in agreement, getting turned on as Conner started to almost growl. "That's it, Conner, fill her mouth up! Brandi's such a greedy little cum slut, aren't you, princess?"

As Conner jammed his cock as far down Brandi's throat as he could, I watched his balls tighten on the poor sissy’s face. Fuck this was so hot, I could see the tears streaming down Brandi’s cheeks. "Swallow, you fucking loser," Conner demanded, his voice hoarse. "Take every drop, little girl. That's it, swallow it all and lick Daddy’s cock clean." I encouraged in her ear.

"Mmm, yes, Brandi," I could hear Rachel whispering in her other ear, stroking her diapered leg. "Swallow Daddy's delicious cum. It's your favorite treat, isn't it? You know Mommy and Daddy want you to enjoy every drop."

Brandi's eyes begged me silently, cum almost spilling out of her nose now, but I just laughed, enjoying her helplessness. "Don't worry, princess, there's more where that came from. Conner's always ready to give you a mouthful, aren't you, babe?"

Conner, flashed me sexy smirk, clearly very proud of himself after abusing my baby bitch. His hard cock was glistening with a either sissy saliva or Brandi's sad little tears, it was hard to tell at this point. "Yeah, sure, babe," he shrugged, “as long as I get to hit that tight pussy of yours later. Rachael and I burst into giggles. Conner would torment Brandi however I wanted if it meant he got to fuck me. Men, I swear. We watched Brandi gasp for breath, her eyes all wild and freaked out. The poor loser was probably seeing stars after Daddy Conner taught her some manners!

"Get lost, freak," Conner demanded, giving Brandi's face a hard smack with his cock before pulling up his pants, over it now though. “This weird shit is your thing, babe, not mine, I’m taking a shower." Rachael and I exchanged a totally wicked glance watching Conner walk away.

It seemed like my bestie and I had rekindled our friendship after some playtime with my new toy.  "I think this little princess here needs a time-out, don't you, Heather?" she giggled, staring at Brandi's hot mess of a face, covered in cum and tears. "I should probably head back to my own man at home, but this was, like, so much fun! Heather, if you ever need a break from this loser, hit me up, I could babysit! Brandi and I have, like, so much catching up to do, don't we, princess?" she teased, her voice fake sweet as she stared directly into Brandi's tear-filled eyes. "After all, I'm sure she'd just looove to meet Jamal. We started dating right after this dick broke up with me, remember?" she added with an evil smile.

It was fun seeing Rachel again, and you know, it's always a blast to socialize your sissy and show ‘em off to the important people in their lives!

The end…for now.

[bluejay-the-geek]

DC characters/moments as Tortured Poets Department songs/lyrics bc i have a light concussion and am very bored (in the album's chronological order)

(disclaimer before someone is triggered- some of the lyrics are taken out of context or interpreted differently than what they actually mean. this is just for fun don't come for me. also this gets pretty angsty towards the end so proceed with caution)

"I was supposed to be sent away, But they forgot to come and get me"- tim drake very obviously bc neglecting parents/boarding school

"I love you, it's ruining my life"- early harleen quinzel about joker

"My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys"- the whole song is just harley quinn idc (pre-harlivy of course)

"Now I'm down bad, cryin' at the gym"- nightwing def cried at the gym at some point

"I stopped tryna make him laugh, stopped tryna drill the safe"- dick grayson about bruce after moving out of wayne manor

"You swore that you loved me, but where were the clues? I died on the altar waitin' for the proof, You sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days"- remember the whole selena leaving bruce at the alter thing? yeah

"I'd rather burn my whole life down, Than listen to one more second of all this bitchin' and moanin', I'll tell you something 'bout my good name, It's mine alone to disgrace"- I'm just getting red hood vibes from this no specific reason

"Now, pretty baby, I'm runnin' back home to you, Fresh out the slammer, I know who my first call will be to"- almost every gotham rouge to batman right after escaping arkham/prison. especially joker, catwoman and riddler lol

"At the park where we used to sit on children's swings, Wearing imaginary rings"- this one specific panel of tim and steph

"And this city reeks of driving myself crazy"- everyone who's ever been to gotham

"All my girls got their lace and their crimes, And your cheating husband disappeared, well, No one asks any questions here"- it's giving gotham city sirens

"Am I allowed to cry?"- maybe it's just me but i thought about clark kent discovering he had different biological parents and grieving about them even though the parents that actually raised him are alive and well

"So I leap from the gallows and I levitate down your street, Crash the party like a record scratch as I scream, "Who's afraid of little old me?", You should be" red hood's debut

"The scandal was contained, The bullet had just grazed, At all costs, keep your good name, You don't get to tell me you feel bad"- jason todd about the whole making batman choose between him and joker at the end of under the red hood

"You wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me"- this is 100% Bane bc he was born and grew up in prison for a crime he didn't even do!! also cassandra cain and damian wayne

(^this is actually the lyric that inspired this entire post lol)

"You caged me and then you called me crazy, I am what I am 'cause you trained me, So who's afraid of me? Who's afraid of little old me?"- kind of a stretch but remember that time they put jason in arkham?

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)- again the whole song is harley about joker

"Your arson's match, your somber eyes, And I'll still see it until I die, You're the loss of my life"- bruce about jason. out of all the robins that died, jason's death hit him the hardest. even now when bruce sees red hood, he still sees that happy little kid that he lost

"I can read your mind, "She's having the time of her life", There in her glittering prime, The lights refract sequin stars off her silhouette every night, I can show you lies"- bc we all know Nightwing is always dying on the inside, and it was very true in the discowing era bc it was right after he left the manor

"'Cause I'm a real tough kid, I can handle my shit"- jason pre-bruce

"I'm so obsessed with him, but he avoids me like the plague"- ok so we got joker about batman, cupid about green arrow, hush about bruce wayne... and a bunch of others but it's too many to write lol

"And you deserve prison, but you won't get time"- fucking tarantula that bitch

"The smallest man who ever lived"- the atom! not any of the messages in the song tho ofc he's just very small

"What if I told you I'm back? The hospital was a drag, Worst sleep that I ever had, I circled you on a map ,I haven't come around in so long, But I'm coming back so strong"- joker to batman after escaping arkham again

"I haven't come around in so long, But I'm making a comeback to where I belong"- jason coming back to protect crime alley after being away from gotham for years after his resurrection

"Even if it's handcuffed, I'm leavin' here with you"- batman and catwoman<3

I Hate It Here- imagine the whole song as homeless jason todd taking shelter in the library💔

"I built a legacy that you can't undo, But when I count the scars, there's a moment of truth, That there wouldn't be this if there hadn't been you"- bruce built a legacy as batman, and created a huge family he loves, and it hurts to think about but he wouldn't have any of it if joe chill hadn't murdered his parents

"Please, I've been on my knees, Change the prophecy, Don't want money, Just someone who wants my company"- kid bruce grew up all alone in a huge mansion, but he'd give all his billions away in a heartbeat if he could change his parent's fate

"So, they killed Cassandra first 'cause she feared the worst"- ok so you might think i chose cassandra cain for this only bc of the name, BUT- cass notices things others don't (like cassandra the prophet...), bc of her skills and abilities she is feared the most (Ik the song said "she feared" not "she is feared" but idc lol). like if someone knew so much about you just by looking you'd think she's some kind of a witch too

Peter- picture this: jason had a childhood friend back at crime alley. he left to live in wayne manor and become robin, and said goodbye to his old friend, promising they'd reunite again in the future. 3 years pass and his friend reads an article about jason's death. now listen to the song and try not to cry (if someone writes that fic send me the link IMMEDIATELY this has been haunting me) here's the link to the song with lyrics bc ik you're too lazy to look it up. also jason's middle name is peter:)

"Splendidly selfish, charmingly helpless, Excellent fun 'til you get to know her"- brucie wayne vs batman

"Started with a kiss, "Oh, we must stop meeting like this" But it always ends up with a town car speeding, Out the drive one evening"- catwoman and batman of course<3 the town car is the batmobile speeding out the batcave to catch catwoman (to arrest her or make out with her? probs both)

Robin- ofc we have to go robins for robin! imo that's bruce to dick and jason's robins, and dick to damian when he was his robin. dick and jason- despite the hard times they went through that led to them becoming robins, they were still mostly happy curious kids that run around covered in mud while bruce tried (unsuccessfully) to maintain the innocence they had left. as for damian- it's more of a stretch than the other 2 bc he had no childlike innocence before robin, but dick tried his hardest to extract the child that was hidden inside the ruthless assassin the league created, finally allowing him to experience normal kid things. idk

"He said, "I'm not a donor but, I'd give you my heart if you needed it", She rolled her eyes and said, "You're a professional""-to me this is clark kent completely in love and lois with her sass

"And at last, She knew what the agony had been for"- almost every hero. they suffer, they sacrifice, they fight, and sometimes they want to give up- but at the end of the day, they save lives, so it's all worth it

and that's it folks! feel free to add more/share your insights!!

sorry for any spelling/grammer mistakes, English isn't my first language plus like the title said i had a minor head injury a few days ago and I'm tired soI'm not proofreading this bc I'm going to sleep rn goodnight to all✌️

[wannabemurdock]

BONKY

Bite Me, Bucky Barnes

masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x gn!reader

Summary: emotions are fucked, aye?

Word count: 484 words

Contains: allusions to smut. cussing. attitude

Notes: this post is broken as fuck. If you want it to work, please use the website. I got way too carried away. It was going to be hate fucking and then it got emotional and I’m just as confused as y’all tbh

Minors do not interact

Requests are open

not my gif (probably could’ve chosen a better one tho)

“You have some fucking audacity, don’t you?” You ignore him as you storm out of the hangar. The white noise of the quinjets engine does little to drone him out. He doesn’t deserve the time of day after that shit fight of a mission.

“Bite me, James.” The doors to the elevator shut just before he starts running his mouth again. You lean against the cool glass, hoping to ground yourself before you get to your floor. Exhaustion starting to overtake you in the far too long ride to the residential floor of the tower.

“How the fuck did you get here?” Of course Bucky’s standing there waiting for you to get out. A scowl scratched across his face as you rolls your eyes. Anger bubbles in your chest as a foul taste develops in your mouth at the sight of him.

“I ran.” You push past him, making your way to your apartment. Tears welling in your eyes as the walk feels never ending. Bucky tailing you has you speeding up. Your muscles ache after such a strenuous mission, mental and physical exhaustion has you at the end of your fuse and Bucky was not helping. His hand catches to door before it shuts.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me.” He slams the door to your apartment before pinning you against the wall. You can’t help but stare him. His cheeks flushed and breathing heavy. “Do you understand how incredibly stupid you are, yo-“

You can’t hear him as you focus on the tiny details of his face. The way his eyelashes curve. The fresh stubble spread across his jaw. The tear sliding down his cheek.

The what?

“I can take care of myself, Y/n. You do not need to put yourself in danger to protect me! I- I-“ he pushes his hair out of his face, breathes shaky as he tries not to make eye contact with you. The anger from earlier has entirely dissipated as the realisation hits you.

“Shut up, Barnes.” You whisper, unsure of what to do next. You wipe your hands on your pants, as his head snaps back to you. Heart racing, you start feeling lightheaded.

“What did you just-“ As if on autopilot, you pull him in close. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you kiss him with every fibre of your being. Your hands tangle in his hair, trying to drag him closer to you. Not satisfied till you two are one person. His arms cage you in against him. His stubble scratches your chin, contrasting the soft plush of his lips. Muscle and metal impossibly tight around your waist. Unable to loosen in fear of you slipping away.

Your hips press against him, desperate for anything he would be kind enough to give you. A soft whimper escapes him, vulnerability turning his brain to mush.

“Just fuck me already, Barnes.” You plea against him.

“Fuck me already, Barnes.” You whisper against him.

“Fuck me already, Barnes.” You whisper against him.

“I can take care of myself, Y/n. You do not need to put yourself in danger to protect me! I- I-“ he pushes his hair out of his face, breathes shaky as he tries not to make eye contact with you. The anger from earlier has entirely dissipated as the realisation hits you.

“Shut up, Barnes.” You whisper, unsure of what to do next. You wipe your hands on your pants, as his head snaps back to you. Heart racing, you start feeling lightheaded.

“What did you just-“ As if on autopilot, you pull him in close. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you kiss him with every fibre of your being. Your hands tangle in his hair, trying to drag him closer to you. Not satisfied till you two are one person. His arms cage you in against him. His stubble scratches your chin, contrasting the soft plush of his lips. Muscle and metal impossibly tight around your waist. Unable to loosen in fear of you slipping away. Your hips press against him, desperate for anything he would be kind enough to give you. A soft whimper escapes him, vulnerability turning his brain to mush.

“Fuck me already, Barnes.” You whisper against him.

[crimsonlyinglilly]

Day 31: “fuck it we ball” day.

Day 31 for @augustofwhump.

Finally, sorry it's so late this just kept going and half way thought instead of finishing this and the last bonus prompt last night I came up with a new AU, maybe you'll see it next month or Whumptober as it has so much Elijah Whump potential.

anyway back to day 31 and Thanks to @riderofblackdragons for picking the prompts for me.

Prompts - Scars / Fresh Wounds / Tragedy

Plus a take on  "I needed you then. I don't know why you're here now"

Back to Caged Founder and following on from Rejected apology and Trap.

----

Lucien had stuck around with Klaus and followed him back to the Mikaelson compound after he had managed to call his team to escort Alexis back to his place.

While sharing her vision with the Mikaelsons was still on his list, watching the slow crumbling of Niklaus Mikaelson under the realisation of what he had allowed to happen to his brother was a Shakespearean or Greek tragedy and he didn’t want to miss a thing.

He had allowed Klaus to vanish after he first explained what little of the details he knew, for his own safety he knew better than to taunt Nik with fresh wounds, but after learning that his poor sire had spent the following days sulking in his art studio, he had needed to see it.

He really wasn’t surprised to find numerous paintings of Tristan, Aurora and most commonly Elijah is a range of style, most those of either of the Martels' were broken, stabbed and torn, Nik getting his anger out on those he could reach.

All while he sat with the various sketches and paintings of Elijah untouched watching him with various looks of disappointment.

Now after the Gala he was in no doubt Klaus wished to retreat back into the room, it was slightly to watch as Klaus was silent and tense his normal rage, his shield, gutted in the face of his loss.

A loss he hadn’t even noticed.

Still Lucien kept up his sympathetic mask, while he may have given up all his plans on killing Klaus didn’t mean in any way he was forgiving him, he was just going to watch his pain up close.

His feeling for Aurora had dulled once he realised she would never move on from her brother, she was still his oldest friend and he had learned the positives of that, being Jason’s ‘uncle Luc’ to Tristan’s powerless rage and Elijah’s annoyance, one key part.

His desire for revenge against Elijah had settled, he wouldn’t have wished Tristan’s obsessive love on anyone and for the poor sap to have fallen for the sociopathic former lord- well, they deserved each other.

Klaus was the last one on his list to see suffering and now he was getting a front row seat.

After all they were a family with a shared nephew, Klaus just didn’t know that yet. 

It helps that Lucien has nothing to lose in watching the chaos; as Klaus assumes the worst of Elijah’s captivity and to Lucien’s knowledge it could have been that bad once, but time had long changed that, as Elijah doubts Tristan while Lucien knows the man will cave to keep him at his side, as Tristan hides his fears that Elijah will return to his family leaving him and the Stix behind.

As if Elijah wasn't planning on getting to keep his current life alongside getting his siblings back, after all that was what he had promised Jason.

Meaning Jason will eventually be following them to New Orleans, most likely after the prophecy had been dealt with. He had no interest in dying alongside Nik, didn’t want to lose Aurora and unfortunately couldn’t risk losing Elijah and taking all the Stix with him.

Lucien preferred his nephew with a army of vampires around him and Aurora, so he didn’t have to worry about anything other than being the best uncle. 

Still that could be returned to in the morning tonight he wanted to see how far he could push Klaus over the stories about Elijah over the years.

He wanted to see if he could push him to tears, while being a good friend, of course.

However before he could really start the door opened and he choked at the sight. Freya Mikaelson, the beautiful image of power strode into the place followed by Nik’s child’s stepfather carrying Elijah in her arms.

Oh. He thought with a flare of joy, Tristan was going to panic, his precious Elijah stolen away during on of his Gala's.

"Elijah!” Klaus called, vanishing from his side to pull Elijah from the werewolf’s arms, the wolf had looked annoyed, not that Klaus had noticed his eyes only on his brother.

Jackson vanished after Freya had thanked him, saying something about not getting involved anymore in their family matters.

Poor man having not realised he was already for too involved to escape, Lucien thought and settled into one of the seats as Klaus laid Elijah out even as Freya sent him a look to make him follow Jackson.

He smiled at her, really there was only one place he’d want to be more than here at the moment and that was with Tristan when he got the news of Elijah abduction. 

The seething rage at someone for taking what he saw as his warring with the paranoid insecurity that Elijah would leave him. Lucien had grown up with the count’s children, he had been sure Tristan was heartless, now he had realised that Tristan was just unsuited to love without destroying it.

Jason was just lucky that Tristan, himself, had learnt this enough to be trying to fix it now, it took him nine hundred years but then Tristan has never been as smart as he thought.

It was something oddly similar between Tristan and Klaus that likely meant any psychologist that ever met Tristan, Aurora, Elijah and Klaus together would either run away screaming or want to study. 

“Maybe you should chain him up,” he offered as Nik hoovered over Elijah, more at the idea of getting to see Elijah’s reaction to waking up as chained by his own beloved siblings since he knew chains and restraints were things that always caused Elijah to tense.

His smile gave him away as Freya narrowed her eyes at him.

“Why?” Freya asked as she stood beside Nik and Elijah, the picture of protective older sister. Even glaring at him, she was lovely Lucien noticed with admiration and annoyance Mikaelson genetics were truly unfair to the rest of the world.

“Didn’t it end in a fight last time-” he offered instead of voice those thoughts, with a concerned look.

“I started that.” Nik admitted making Lucien blink, he hadn’t been sure Niklaus Mikaelson could own up to his own wrongs.

Apparently he could learn.

“Freya, wake him up.” Nik ordered, “We need to talk.”

“Yes and you have a time limit until Tristan discovers you stole his precious treasured sire.” Lucien added helpfully but was ignored.

Freya released the sleep spell over Elijah with a few words muttered under her breath; he couldn’t see when Elijah woke but he watched as both the others relaxed before Nik spoke.

“Brother, your home,” Nik explained, his voice soft in the way Lucien had only heard around Aurora and Rebekah, it seemed Elijah had now joined that group, Lucien wanted to grin knowing the man would hate that, especially after decades of being the Stix’s dear protected founder.

“Niklaus?” Elijah asked, clearly confused as he pushed himself up, Lucien waved as Elijah noticed him over Nik’s shoulder, the familiar expression of annoyance he got whenever they met.

“Freya-” Nik started to explain but Elijah spoke before he could get any more words out.

“Right and Mr Kenner was the bait, well played.” He complimented.

“Really Elijah falling for clear bait, what is Tristan going to say?” he couldn’t help but say getting twin glares from the older Mikaelson siblings,

“Shut your mouth!” Nic roared without looking at him.

“You're not angry?” Freya asked Elijah, deciding to ignore him.

“At this moment, annoyed at myself, I’ll be angry if this costs my guards their lives.” Elijah answered, “but I had wanted to meet you since I got the reports, hello sister.”

“Elijah, I-” Freya started but was cut off by Nik

“Guards, you mean wardens.” 

“No, I mean bodyguards Klaus.” Elijah corrected “as in their job is to protect my person.”

“You wouldn’t need protection, if not for them.” Nik snapped,

“If that was true I never would have been caught would I?” Elijah replied, pushing himself up from the sofa and forcing Nik to step back.

“You should have tried to tell me.” Nik retourted 

“I did for the first decade, I sent letters.” Elijah said, causing Nik and Freya to flinch, making Lucien wish he had more information about what caused that and he wondered if Tristan knew about the letters, had he allowed it and missed the apparently hidden messages in them or had Elijah managed to sneak them out.

“After the letters.” Nik muttered weakly.

“You only had to visit once, Klaus,” Elijah shrugged, impressing Lucien as he had been sure Elijah would let Nik off lightly in desperation to be reunited with his family, but it seemed their was a true bitterness that Elijah had decided not to swallow and hide. “even Finn noticed within the first few minutes of our meeting.”

“The Chambre de Chasse.” Klaus said after a moment making no sense to Lucien but Elijah filled him in as he spoke next.

“I assisted you to escape it.” Elijah nodded,  “what has that got to do with anything?”

“You could have told me the truth then, why didn’t you?” Nik questioned in confusion.

“What was the point?”

“I could have helped.” The feared original Hybrid appeared moments from whining as Elijah's expression remained unchanged.

“Helped with what?”

“To escape, I would have come as soon-” Nik promised, easy to say now it was in the past when Lucien was watching as he failed to ‘save’ Elijah now he was right in front of him.

“I don't need any help, I don't need to escape.” Elijah said flatly.

“You’ve been brainwashed.” Nik accused, taking a step back.

“I can help.” Freya offered

“Really?” Elijah drew himself up looking between his siblings, offended, “You think so little of me?”

“Elijah, I understand-” Freya started 

“My apologies sister but our situations were very different, you were a child when mother bartered you away.” Elijah spoke, making Lucien and Nik tense as a hint of anger appeared in his tone before he took a breath.

“You know-” Freya started reaching for Elijah but Nik sidestepped to place himself between the pair.

“He’s been spying on us for years.” Nik explained

“I've had people following Klaus for the last sixty years,” Elijah agreed, “at first in case he needed help when I was otherwise occupied, then it was to find out where he was keeping our siblings.”

Elijah ignored and continued to speak as Nik sneered at the term otherwise occupied, Lucien had to agree that was a delightful way to call being kept away and treated like a pretty pet by a controlling psycho.

“The vampires that offered to help against Dahlia and the spells left for me to help undo the crescent curse, you sent them all?” Freya asked looking at Elijah with a new look

“They acted on their own but yes I sent and instructed them to assist you.” Elijah admitted, “I wasn't going to leave my family without help when I could be of use.”

“Lucien explained that they prevented you from harming them with a ritual of some sort” Nik said as if it proved a point.

“And?” Elijah replied looking between Nik and him, Lucien shrugged as he had no idea where Nik was going with it.

“How would you know they haven’t gotten into your mind as well?” Nik asked, making Elijah chuckle at the accusation.

“Lucien is aware of more of this than any of you, and since you seem to have more trust in him than myself, how about we turn to his knowledge, Lucien has Tristan managed the impossible?” ELijah asked him, leaving suddenly at the centre of their attention.

“Well, -“ he started with a smile before Elijah cut him off with an arched eyebrow.

“And do be aware I will not allow my son around a liar, so which will it be spite or sense?” Elijah warned him, he sighed only slightly put out but fine humiliating Tristan was just as much fun as adding fuel to Nik paranoia and safer too.

“If Tristan had managed to get into your brother’s head without his knowledge he would have crowed about it to me.” Lucien explained, adding “nor would he be quiet so embarrassingly whipped, indulging Aurora is a joy but no man should be that pleased when it comes to you, no offence.” he said to Elijah.

“Some taken.” Elijah replied with a smirk.

“Then why else would you fall into his bed, after they kidnapped and bespelled you.” Klaus snapped, ignoring the last comment.

“Kept you from your family.” Freya added, sharing a look with Nik, as they did, Lucien noticed the way Elijah’s hands curled into fists for a second.

Clearly someone was feeling left out, he thought with amusement as he realised it

“Because Tristan had an obsession and despite his claims of not having a heart seemed to still hold our fling with fondness.” Elijah confessed with little care “and I was bored of being chained to the wall every night.”

“Bored!? You started sleeping with that- because you were bored.”

“One must find their own entertainment when without.” Elijah shrugged.

“What about Aurora?” Nik asked, finally chasing the mild smile from Elijah’s face.

“Ah-” Elijah winced and Lucien watched as there was a small glimmer of guilt in his eyes as he looked at Klaus “that was wholly on her.”

Aurora had bragged about that to him once he had asked her himself, her joy at getting something from Elijah that Tristan wanted but couldn’t have because of his own ritual and how much she liked pushing Elijah to his limit until all his manners vanished to a monster.

“What do you mean?” Freya said as she laid a hand on Nik's shoulder.

“We could have remained distant sharing Tristan’s bed after she decided to join us, Tristan so rarely refuses her, but for some reason she didn’t want that.” Elijah explained almost trying to soften the words as he eyes Nik.

“So you had no choice.” Klaus tried,

“I had a choice,” Elijah said clearly, “She was one of the few in that place I could hurt, I didn't turn it down. I gave her what her brother wouldn’t and she allowed me to do what I couldn't, it grew from that.” Elijah continued any softening of his words at Niklaus' attempt to frame Elijah as a victim apparently, “I didn't expect it but sometimes the most important things in life are those you don't expect.”

“So you're happy as some prize of the Strix.” Nik spat the words at him, "What happened to my proud brother?"

“I'm content with everything I have now, and happy even.” Elijah told them but before anyone else could speak they were interrupted. 

“ELIJAH!” The shout filled the room, and Lucien bit his cheek to stop himself from laughing at the undercurrent of distress in Tristan’s voice, he's almost sure only he noticed, far too much of the little lordling that once made his life hell than the calm collected vampire lord.

“Tristan.” Klaus snarled.

“RETURN HIM TO ME,” 

“Someone never learnt to share.” he muttered to himself as he was reminded of their childhood.

“OR YOUR CITY WILL BURN!”

“Tristan” Elijah sighed, fond amusement clear in the contrast to moments before “always with the dramatics.” 

“If you're harmed in any way-” Tristan's voice carried to those with supernatural hearing.

“Cease your racket,” Elijah spoke lowly, clearly meant for the one outside, which was answered as Tristan did as he was asked and stopped talking, likely listening as Elijah started towards the door. “I’m coming.”

“Stop.” Klaus demanded as he appeared in front of Elijah, but it came out without his usual confidence and sounded like the begging it was “Brother, you don’t need to go to him, we can protect you and break the spell he has over you.” Klaus offered with his arms settling on Elijah’s shoulders apparently ignoring as Elijah tensed under the touch.

Elijah was a tactile person with those he cared for and those he threatened, he didn’t like being cornered and trapped which was what Nik was clearly trying.

"I needed you then.” Elijah snapped, shrugging Nik’s hands off his shoulder and attempting to step around him “now you are simply making yourself a threat to my family."

“Elijah, we are your family.” Freya pleaded, taking a step towards him as well making Lucien tense despite himself, cornering Elijah was a terrible idea and Lucien didn’t want to be the one he lashed out at. 

“You are,” Elijah offered her a soft smile which seemed to stop her from getting closer, before he added, “but my son comes first.”

“Your son should be growing up alongside my daughter, protected by our family.” Nik protested, suddenly now realising that he could use him to convince Elijah, well Nik had been the slower sibling when it came to manipulation .

“Your ideas of that involved the deaths of Tristan and Aurora, correct?”

“They can live,” Nik offered like that was a gift to Elijah, something to sweeten his demands, “as long as they run and never come near you again.”

“So I return," Elijah laid out. "leaving my life; all I have built and all the power I have in the Strix, to you, controlling my life and bringing Jason to endure the same fate.”

“Brother I've changed.” Nik claimed earning a quiet laugh from Elijah.

"That's why the your daughter's mother and her entire pack are technically still under a curse, only freed by a girl that despises you for killing her friend and her when she tried to escape your control, why most of Marcellus' friends that surrounded him before your arrival in the city are dust now." Elijah listed making Lucien eyebrow raise as he kept going, "you’ve changed, that’s the reason Rebekah is wandering the globe to find a way to bring back Kol after you interfered with his last resurrection, needing it all to go your own way, despite the alternative way my people provided.”

“I couldn’t trust them.” Nik said instead of any defence for the rest of the list but given the way Elijah blinked as his smile froze, Lucien had a feeling that wasn’t any better.

“Why?” the older Mikaelson brother asked, tilting his head slightly, “because they weren't your browbeaten underlings, because they were of the Stix or because I sent them and you were angry I hadn't returned to your side.

“I didn't know-”

"none of the matters" Elijah sighed, shaking his head slightly Nik flinched at the sound slightly as Elijah walked past him.

"Elijah-" Nik started again even though he looked at a loss of words, but then when was the last time he hadn’t been able to bully his family into accepting his terms.

“If you wish for my return you’ll have to learn to accept them, my other family.” Elijah told them before he pulled both doors open to reveal Tristan De Martel surrounded by the Strix.

“I do hope my guards are unharmed.” Elijah greeted them lightly as he stepped out of the Mikaelson compound not looking back as the sound that escape Klaus was closer to a whine than the growl he would likely claim.

Elijah wasn’t as carefree as he pretended to be, Lucien noticed as looked between the brothers a few times before he understood it, Nik was holding himself back from attacking either Elijah for walking away or Tristan and Elijah was prepared to defend against him.

Nearly hundred years apart and they still knew each other to well.

“I don’t know why, since they failed their task,” Tristan replied, running his glance over Elijah for any sign of a fight “or did you leave?”

“Not of my own free choice.” Elijah admitted.

“How did they manage to-?” Tristan started to ask

“The same way you managed to catch me all that time ago, my mistake, luck and a powerful spell.” Elijah told him annoyance clear in his sharp tone, before asking “Now how did the induction go?”

“Your Marcel lives,” Tristan answered with a smirk, Marcel must have impressed him somewhat to get that expression, Lucien realised, “Aya is introducing him to some of the others but we can speak of that back at home.” 

The last part was clearly aimed at the Mikaelsons, gaining a glare from Freya and an audible growl from Nik.

The Stix, Tristan and Elijah were gone before anyone could respond. 

“I really don’t like him.” Freya said into the silence.

“Welcome to the club, love.” he smirked at her lifting an imaginary glass as a toast. “Aurora, Elijah and Jason are the only ones who do.”

“Jason?” Klaus asked, oh right how much did any of them know other than his existence.

“Our shared nephew; Aurora, Elijah and Tristan’s adopted son.” he told them, smiling as he found both the remaining Mikaelson's eyes glue to him.

"Tell me everything about him." Nik demanded.

"He has two of your paintings on his bedroom wall." he started, as he settled back into the chair.

—--

Elijah waited until they returned to their bedroom, ignoring Aurora as she looked up from the bed, to turn to Tristan. Cupping his hand around the back of his neck, Tristan allowed him to cage him against the wall.

He smiled widely as he made him look up at him, cutting him off before Tristan could start speaking of restrictions and demands for his safety.

“Do not think I will allow your over controlling paranoia to ruin this, I will have my family complete.” he warned him. “I am done allowing myself to be kept away.”

It had been easier to accept, to let it happen half a world away, harder with Klaus’ desperation and promises so close.

It grated on his nerves being the outsider in the looks shared between Freya and Klaus, their long lost sister has apparently taken his place with ease.

Sixty years ago he may have accepted it and stepped away but Elijah had lost too much and fought for it all back to give it up now.

Elijah had spent a childhood of every story he managed to get out of Finn carrying the undertone that Finn would have preferred  to have Freya over him.

Elijah wanted to know what was so perfect about the sister, the one he had never known but still grew up in her shadow.

He was going to get to know his niece and reunited with his baby sister on her return.

“Had it not been your family-” Tristan started 

“It wouldn't have happened,” he cut him off, had he woken up to not find Klaus so close , being so open, it would have been over before Tristan arrived. “Are you sure you wish to test me? Risk ruining the peace we have?” he asked, stepping back slightly to see Tristan following after him unconsciously.

“Like you always do when you worry, Tris.” Aurora added from the bed.

Elijah watched as Tristan looked between them, indecision clear as he debated for a moment.

“Fine.” he sighed heavily. 

“Good boy,” he praised, stepping closer again to press a chaste kiss to the other’s forehead, Tristan melted into him. 

True soft, sweet gestures, beyond what the ritual accidentally forced him into, were something he rarely so openly showed to Tristan and always seemed to have the largest effect on him. Elijah had learnt to reward good behaviour especially when it takes so long to train it into Tristan.

[thexsanctuaryx]

ʚ♡ɞ I'll Follow You Into the Dark ʚ♡ɞ

{ CHAPTER THREE }

➳ PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Summary: Emma's first meeting with the doctor goes about as well as you'd think and Marc gets firsthand experience of what it feels like to be Jake. Pairing: { eventual } Original Character { Emma Harper } x Marc Spector, Emma Harper x Steven Grant, and Emma Harper x Jake Lockley Contents: mental hospitals, psychiatric hold, Emma meets the doctor, angst { I guess? I don't know what else to call it. }, hurt/comfort-esque vibes Warnings: severe mental illness { psychosis, hallucinations, depression }, main character is actively in psychosis, I've done my best to write it in the least triggering way but there are a lot of heavy themes that will take place in this series, so forewarning. Marc is a danger to himself here but it's only really alluded to in this part. mental hospitals. toxic as fuck doctor, typical misunderstanding and misinterpretation that comes with psychosis. due to the nature of Emma's psychosis, things are very unhealthily skewed in a religious context. triggering themes related to the aforementioned. Author's Note: I recently finished reading Tear Down My Reason by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction and it inspired me to work on an idea I've been playing with about Emma and the Boys meeting while both in a mental hospital at the same time. I wanted to write a series that would help other people with severe mental illness feel seen and heard as there really AREN'T works out there like this, especially not actually written by people with firsthand experience of things like psychosis. This series is being written with a lot of love and care so I truly hope that it can be cathartic for those who read who might also live with mental illness because you DO matter and your stories DO deserve to be told. Word Count: 1,016 Taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @sub-aro

She’s quiet on the way back to their wing, a soft scowl seemingly forever over her features.

Marc wants to say something, but doesn’t.

He isn’t sure what she’s hearing as they cross through the locked doors but he knows she’s more caught up in her mind than she is present in the goings on around them.

While the rest of them file into the day room to receive their meds, she’s escorted through another door.

Marc feels a spike of anxiety.

He knows she’s going to see the doctor for the first time and having been to this particular hospital more than once, he knows this doctor.

A harsh and cruel man who deals out diagnoses like poker chips and always loads everyone up on too much medication, that their usual psychiatrists then have to sort out after they’re discharged.

He finds himself pacing the hallway like a caged wild animal, tense and binding their time.

Meanwhile, Emma is taken outside to a sort of courtyard and seated at a table in front of a heartless looking man with a massive binder in front of him.

She shifts nervously on the bench across from him taking in her surroundings and reminiscing on how bright it is and how much it makes her think of the garden of Eden.

The man folds his hands on top of the open binder and gives a menacing smile. “Alright Emma, I like to make deals—do you like to make deals? If you take my medication for three days, I’ll let you go home…”

And just like that, the proverbial serpent seems to take her into a chokehold. Her throat tightens and she finds it hard to breath despite being outside in the fresh air.

She forces a swallow, unable to find her voice.

“Sign here if you agree…”

The man – who she’s now sure is the devil himself – turns a contract around and reaches out a pen with the same sickening smile.

Emma feels like she’s signing her soul away but he gives no other option other than to do so. It feels like a trap, another test that she can’t help but fail.

She doesn’t even remember how to sign her whole name in the confusion of her brain, but she scribbles a ‘signature.’

“Wonderful…” The doctor says, “you can go back inside now.”

Emma stiffly gets up from where she sits, walking back toward the door where they wait to let her back in.

When she’s led back into the wing she can see Marc at the end of the hallway near her room. As if by some latent telepathy, he looks up, locking eyes with her.

She feels trapped now more than ever, like she doesn’t know what to do. So her feet carry her toward him, his own moving to meet her in the middle.

As soon as he gets closer he can see her trembling, tears welling up in her eyes.

He doesn’t know what to do because he can’t hug her but he can tell she’s terrified.

“How’d it go?” He asks, winded and unsure.

Emma shakes her head quickly, falling into a sob that rakes through her body as the tears spill over.

‘That bloody doctor,’ Steven curses.

‘I’ll kill him myself…’ Jake adds.

Marc, on the other hand, feels like he’s never wanted to hug somebody so badly in his life—the one time he can’t.

He wishes he could take her somewhere quiet so she could calm down—but going into each other’s rooms are off limits and the day room is crowded this time of day.

“I’m so sorry…” is all he can say, giving her a soft look of empathy.

Emma, on the other hand, not knowing any better—rushes forward to wrap her arms tightly around Marc’s middle, clinging to him.

It startles him, a little surprised she’d be comfortable enough to do it in the first place.

Risking hell from the hospital staff he does what he instinctively wants to, what feels right—and hugs her back. He can’t help but keep an eye out for prying looks and of course, the staff.

Emma sobs softly against him, feeling safe for the first time in the last 24 hours, as she shakes in his arms.

He holds her as long as he can before it becomes too risky, and withdraws. He gives her a soft look fighting every urge to wipe away her tears.

“We—we’re not really…supposed to do things like that here—I don’t wanna get you in trouble.” He explains gently.

Emma nods quickly even if she misconstrues his meaning for being about what’s appropriate in this liminal space.

She wipes furiously at her eyes.

“Why don’t we sit here for a minute?” He suggests, sliding down the wall along the hallway and reaching his hand up for hers, risking reprimand again.

As if sensing a thought Marc hardly has, Jake speaks up in their headspace, ‘Let them yell at you for helping her—I’ll gladly give them a piece of my mind…’

Marc doesn’t need to see his face in a reflective surface to know the malice in his eyes, the threat that’s far from empty.

Emma takes his hand, moving to sit next to him on the floor. She instinctively rests her head against his shoulder, and he feels as though he suddenly knows exactly how Jake must feel when he protects him and Steven.

He releases a heavy sigh and conceals their clasped hands between them if only for the sake of being able to continue holding hers a little longer.

It occurs to him that the next 80 some odd hours would be crucial for her, and he’s not sure it’ll be long enough to make sure she’s okay.

“You thinking what I’m thinking, boys?” He mutters to the other two in his head. Emma doesn’t seem to mind the way he talks to them in the least, only squeezing his hand tighter.

‘Think we’re gonna need to make an appearance…’ Jake suggests darkly.

‘Most. Definitely.’ Steven agrees.

[bookshelf-in-progress]

🎃

The nightingale, please?

The Nightingale Returns

Not a single star lamp lit the darkness of the cottage. Not a single star adorned the quiet young woman in the simple gray dress. In former days, Ida had dripped with stars--wore them in necklaces and bracelets, tiaras and earrings, shoes and gowns that came from dozens of admirers. She'd captivated crowds upon stages that blazed in the light of hundred of stars. In this candlelit cottage, Hans might never have known her for the same woman--but he'd heard her sing.

Ida stood before the window, lit by moonlight. "Why are you here?" she asked, her voice low, but musical as ever.

"I have come from Lord Felix. He wants to see you."

Her eyes blazed like falling stars. "He expects me to come at his call? After he cast me aside for that cheap imitation?" She stormed through the parlor, looking every inch the prima donna. "I will not be kept like a pet! I will not be bought with trinkets and flattery! Not for all the stars in the sky would I ever enter the same city as that man--"

"He's dying."

Ida froze.

#

In his illness, Lord Felix couldn't bear brightness. The only light came from stardust sprinkled on the bed curtains, and from the faraway moon shining through the uncovered window. Even that dim light showed Felix was pale as death, wasted by illness, and tormented by memories. The son of one of the wealthiest starfall families in the city, meeting the fate common to all men.

"Ida," he murmured, as he had for the past twelve hours. "My nightingale."

Ida saw and heard as she came in the room, and Hans watched all skepticism leave her face. She knelt at his bedside and took his feverish hand between hers.

Felix's gaze cleared at her touch. "Ida?" he rasped.

"I'm here."

"I was wrong. I chased you away. I betrayed you. I'm sorry."

He was working himself up. Ida placed a hand on his lips. "All is forgiven."

He relaxed into his pillow as he had not rested in days. "Death is with me," he said. "Stay with me. Sing. I would give anything--"

"Those days are past," she said. "I sing only for love."

The light in his eyes dimmed. "I understand. I don't deserve--"

But the Nightingale sang. A lullaby, low and sweet. A song of comfort. Of rest. Of peace. She had sung for kings and emperors, upon the greatest stages on the continent, but never had she sang like this. This song came from the depths her heart, her years of pain and brokenness turned golden with forgiveness. It filled that dark silence, chasing away shadows, keeping even death at bay.

Hans wept as he heard it--for the beauty of the song, for the dying man who laid back with more peace in his face than he'd known in weeks. Ida's tears flowed onto the deathbed, but still she sang, banishing the pain of the past and the fears of the future, keeping them all in a moment of timelessness.

One song led to another, another, another, until at last, the sun rose. Lord Felix slept like a child. There was color in his face.

Ida fell to the floor, fast asleep.

#

Hans brought Ida back into the sickroom. Felix was propped up on pillows, sitting upright for the first time in weeks.

"Stay with me, Ida," he said, as she knelt by his bed. "It won't be like last time. I'll marry you--"

"No," she said gently.

"I wronged you, I know, but I'll spend a lifetime making it up to you--"

"I am not made for this life," she said.

"You deserve every luxury--"

"A gilded cage is still a cage. I need the country. Fresh air. Open spaces. High society would be nothing but a prison to me."

"We could stay at the country places--"

"I escaped this life once. I won't go back."

Felix fell back against the pillows.

Ida rose to her feet. "You need a wife who fits into your world. Let me remain a friend."

"I am glad to call you one."

She stepped toward the door.

Felix reached toward her. "Can't you stay a bit longer?"

She smiled gently. "I'll come back. You need someone to give you news of the country."

"I would like that," Felix said.

With a smile, Ida stepped out the door. They heard her singing as she walked away.