#around every corner there's someone just waiting to betray and kill him—including his own fucking father

[fairyroses]

#can't stop thinking about this #i hate to say it but in general i'm leaning towards the luthor point of view here? i'm all for eyes being wide open #that said i feel neither pov is wrong #the kents have their reasons to believe the way they do and so do the luthors #it's just interesting when the differences between the families are brought into the spotlight #i feel that's when the show was at its strongest #it lost a lot when it became all about love triangles instead of this (via @raelis1)

100% agree and also this is why I claim 'eyes open' by taylor swift as a lex song:

[crankynewt]

Good for a Weekend (Helmut Zemo)

Masterlist

Summary: You were retired, a disgraced Avenger content living the rest of their life out in solitude. But Sam and Bucky's shenanigans dragged you back into the hero life and you found yourself face to face with the man who'd got you into this mess in the first place. The question is, however, is he really who you thought he was? Or are you just as crazy as him?

Pairing: Helmut Zemo x Reader

Warnings: TFAWS Episode 3 Spoilers, Zemo (he's a warning), swearing, mentions of torture and experimenting (past), drinking, Zemo being semi-protective, I think that's it??

Word Count: 3.41k

Author's Note: Biting the bullet and writing this BEFORE Marvel does something to get us to hate him again. Also, ZEMO AND BLANK SPACE WORK SO WELL TOGETHER OMG.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” You murmured, looking at the message from Sam flashing across your phone. Although you had stopped dead in your tracks, the chaos of the bustling streets of London continued around you. You pushed your sunglasses further up your nose, them having fallen down as you were peering at the screen of your burner cell.

‘Need your help in Madripoor ASAP,’ the text read. You weren’t daft, you knew exactly what kind of lawless entropy happened on that Indonesian island and if Sam was asking for your help, that meant he was in some deep shit.

‘I’m retired,’ you replied, glancing over your shoulder out of habit. Although you’d been pardoned after the Berlin incident by the government, you were still a disgraced Avenger in the eyes of the world. All you wanted was to live the rest of your life out in peace, a future without the world-saving you began when you left HYDRA with the Maximoff twins.

You hadn’t chosen to become a human lab rat, tortured and exposed to the mind stone until you could suddenly hear the thoughts of others in your head. Telepathy and telekinesis were not necessarily the kind of special skills that employers wanted to see on a resume, but alas, here you were. Thankfully, however, you'd learned to block them out until necessary to violate people's privacy. Fighting aliens and other superpowered entities, including the people you’d once considered to be your family, were in the past.

‘Please. It’s Bucky,’ Sam messaged again. Those three words were enough to make your blood run cold and your heart stop. Bucky was the reason you were in this mess in the first place, and you would be damned if the ex-assassin was going to fall back into the clutches of evil.

With a sigh, you typed back ‘fine’ and began the trek towards your apartment. Your phone was vibrating again immediately, Sam explaining that they would be picking you up at a small airstrip on the edge of the city.

Three hours later, you were walking along a long, concrete runway, the harsh England wind attacking your body as you pulled your leather jacket tighter around you. Your brows furrowed in confusion at the sight of a civilian jet rather than the military-esque vessels you’d become accustomed to. The steps were awaiting your ascent with an older man stood adjacent to the entrance.

“Ms.(Y/L/N),” he greeted. A thick accent laced his tone, one you couldn’t quite determine from the crackling of age in his voice. German or Russian, most likely, you deduced. Attempting to be polite despite your skepticism, you gave him a tight-lipped smile and handshake before the elder man gestured towards the stairs for you. Entering the jet, you turned right to be met with the familiar faces of Sam and Bucky.

“(Y/N)!” Bucky exclaimed, rising from his seat and embracing you in a hug. He held you tightly against his body, almost as if he wasn’t sure you were really there. The super soldier had taken a liking to you when the two of you stayed in Wakanda during your exile, both of you having a certain understanding of the other due to your shared experiences with HYDRA. The sergeant had become somewhat of a brother to you in your time away together. “What are you doing here?”

“Sam messaged me.” You replied, Barnes’ arms immediately releasing you as he whipped around to face Sam.

“You tattled on me to (Y/N)?” He scoffed. If looks could kill, Sam would have dropped dead from the darkness in Bucky’s orbs.

“Wait, if he’s okay then what am I here for?” You said, shifting your gaze to Sam as you raised a brow.

“You’re here to make sure that he stays in line.” Sam snapped, crossing his arms over his chest as Bucky let out an exasperated ‘Jesus Christ’ under his breath.

“Bucky’s fine, Sam.” You replied, rubbing your face with your hand in annoyance as you glanced at the super-soldier.

“He’s not talking about James.” A new voice sounded from behind you, one both vaguely familiar but also strange. Whipping around, you were met with a face you’d only ever seen through a screen. Zemo.

“What the fuck is he doing out of prison?!” You exclaimed, looking between Sam and Bucky in utter disbelief.

“Bucky broke him out of jail!” Sam exclaimed, pointing a finger towards the super-soldier.

“Sam’s the one who pulled me into this mess!” Bucky pointed back.

“You two morons have reached a whole new level of dumbassery!” You exclaimed, keeping a cautious gaze on Zemo in the corner of your eye. “You broke out the man who ripped apart the Avengers out of jail and you let him do it?! The same man who killed King T’Chaka! Do neither of you remember what T’Challa and the people of Wakanda just did for us after we became enemies of the state?! I cannot believe that you would betray their trust and help this monster to escape!”

You paused for a moment, breathing heavily as you looked at the ashamed faces of Bucky and Sam in front of you.

“I’m sorry to-” You heard Zemo begin, you turned to face him with utter rage shining in your eyes. “No! The grown-ups are talking, you can wait your turn.” You scolded him, almost as you would a child but just a tad harsher. Grown-ups may have also not have been the best choice of words to describe Wilson and Barnes.

“I don’t want any part of this suicide mission!” You snapped at the duo, moving to leave.

Thirty minutes later, however, you were still on the jet, glaring into a pair of brown eyes as the four of you flew through the air. Honestly, you couldn’t believe you were still there, but Sam and Bucky knew you too well and pushed just the right buttons to convince you to stay. Sam needed you to tap into Zemo’s mind if need be to figure out if he was planning on betraying them, and you didn’t want two of the last people you trust getting themselves killed if you could prevent it.

Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum were sitting across from each other, meaning that you got stuck sitting across from the Baron in silence. He shifted uncomfortably under your gaze, the darkness in your (Y/E/C) orbs not sitting well with the man.

“So, you read minds.” He began, rubbing his hands together anxiously. You noted the nervous tick and couldn’t help but feel amused at his discomfort, but your expression never faltered.

“You don’t need to make small talk.” You bit, your icy tone growing colder in every syllable.

“I’m genuinely curious, is all.” He began, pausing his fiddling to brush his hair back only to resume it once more. “It just seems like for someone with your abilities, you’re often an overlooked member of the team. You’re the most powerful, even more so than Maximoff or Banner, perhaps, yet you were never truly an Avenger, were you?”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m retired.” You muttered, ending your glaring to gaze out the window. The way Zemo spoke about you was unsettling, especially considering how he felt about the Avengers. He seemed not to think that you were part of the team, similarly to Bucky, and that brought you a feeling of unease.

“And why is that?” Zemo pushed, your avoidance evidence that he’d struck a chord.

“Why do you care?” You scoffed, looking back at the Sokovian man, both annoyance and exhaustion present in your tone.

“Because I think you’re like me.” He answered, his tone becoming quieter. Zemo didn’t look at you with the same rage you’d seen in footage from 2016, nor with the amusement that he gazed at Bucky and Sam with. No, it was something different, softer and analytical, perhaps. You wanted to peer into his mind for something, anything to figure out what he was thinking, but he would likely feel your prodding into his consciousness. As of now, he didn’t seem to have any plans to betray you guys, and you wouldn’t be the one to give him a reason.

“That’s enough from you.” Bucky interrupted, rising from his seat to switch places with you, his brotherly possessiveness clear as day.

The rest of the flight was uneventful, and Zemo provided the three of you with costumes for the roles you were to play in Madripoor. Yours seemed to have been designed specifically to be horribly uncomfortable, both in feel and the amount of skin that was exposed in the cool evening air. The three of you were making your way towards the glowing city shining in the distance, the nerves in your stomach rising with each step.

“Only an American would assume a fashion-forward Black man looks like a pimp.” Zemo explained in response to Sam’s protests over his own outfit. “You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing. The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.”

“He even has a bad nickname.” Sam said, looking at the picture of Conrad on the phone Zemo had just handed him. “Hell, he does look like me though.”

“And who am I supposed to be playing, exactly?” You questioned, still unsure as to what role you would be playing in this scheme.

“My partner,” Zemo said simply, an amused smile working his way onto his lips.

“What?! No! Nu-uh, I’m not doing that!” You protested, Sam chuckling at your denial of what was probably inevitable.

“Would you rather the alternative of all of us getting slaughtered the second we step foot into the city?” Zemo retorted, still humored by your resistance.

“Fine, but if you try anything I’m going to break your nose.” You gave in.

"I wouldn't expect anything less."

Soon, the four of you were making your way into a bar, Helmut’s arm wrapped tightly around your waist since the second you exited the car in a mock possessiveness. It was all part of the charade, you had to remind yourself, as the Baron kept your side pressed against his snugly.

Making your way up to the counter, the bartender didn’t look impressed to see the group of you there as he made his way over to you.

“Hello,” He began. “Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.”

“His plans changed. We have a business to do, with Selby.” Zemo interjected before Sam could respond.

“The usual?” The bartender ignored Zemo and turned his attention back to Sam, who simply gave a curt nod in response. The bartender turned, grabbing a snake from a jar and slicing it down the underside with a blade. A part of you wanted to cackle, especially seeing Sam stiffen beside you, and you didn’t doubt that Bucky was having to restrain himself as well. Zemo didn’t seem surprised as the bartender pulled who knows what out from the snake and placed it into a glass.

“Smiling Tiger, your favorite.” The Baron commented, the bartender sliding Sam his beverage only to pour two glasses of a different liquor for Zemo and yourself.

“I love these,” Sam said, raising to clink glasses with yourself and the Sokovian man whose arm was still draped around you.

“Cheers, Conrad,” Zemo replied, smiling back at poor Sam. The three of you downed your burning liquor, Sam struggling the most out of the three of you, clearly appalled by the organ at the bottom of his shot. You could see Bucky give a little nod in the corner of your eye, knowing he must be finding this as amusing as you were.

A man soon approached Helmut from behind, tapping him on the shoulder before he turned to face the stranger, shifting you with him. When Zemo felt the little nudge, he immediately pulled you closer to him. You were even tighter against him now, so much so that you had to wrap an arm around him as well to stabilize yourself. It was almost as if he was trying to shield you from the man despite him knowing full well that you can hold your own.

“I got word from on high; you ain’t welcome here.” He spat, getting too close to the two of you for either of your likings. But Zemo kept his air of indifference while you instinctually moved closer into his side. It’s all an act, remember? You have to play the part of the clingy partner who would get frightened at such a rough man threatening you two. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me��” Zemo began, trailing off as he gestured to Bucky.

“New haircut?” The strange man asked Bucky, who merely glowered in response.

“Or bring Selby for a chat.” Zemo finished, this time him being the one to get into the man’s face. Thankfully that was enough to send him away, most likely to Selby or this Power Broker who seems to be Madripoor’s own version of Big Brother.

You could feel Zemo let out a breath that you don’t think he even knew he was holding, giving a quick glance down at you before placing a peck on your temple. For the facade, of course. But what wasn’t fake were the butterflies rise in your stomach, something that you hadn’t felt in a long time. Were you… Flustered?

No, you reminded yourself internally. This was a very bad man holding you close, the same one who killed the former King of Wakanda and ripped your team to shreds. Not only that, but he hated all the Avengers, so why did he seem to like you? It doesn’t matter whether or not he likes you, he’s Zemo. But the more time you spent with him, the more intoxicated you became. He was starting to look more and more like your next mistake, and love is certainly not a game you wanted to be playing with him. Right?

The next thirty or so minutes were a blur. Bucky having to fake being the Winter Soldier to kick a bunch of men’s asses to finally meeting up with Selby, only for Sam to break your cover through a phone call and Selby quickly being shot. The four of you promptly exited the bar, attempting to remain inconspicuous until bounty hunters from all around started shooting at you. Bucky and Sam jumped forward, meanwhile, Zemo darted to the right, dragging you with him as he moved his hand from your waist to interlock your fingers.

You cut through alleyway after alleyway, hiding in the shadows as gunfire echoed around you. Eventually, you managed to catch up with Bucky and Sam, approaching the pair with your hand still in his.

“Well this is too perfect.” A female voice interrupted your mini-reunion, Sharon Carter emerging from the shadows as she ripped down her hood, gun fixated on Zemo.

“Drop it Zemo,” She started, Zemo raising his gun-holding hand before lowering the weapon to the ground. “You cost me everything.”

“Sharon, wait.” You reasoned, raising your hand as you slowly backed up.

“What, are you his lover now? His sugar baby or some shit?” She badgered you, causing your eyes to widen as you only just remembered that you were still holding his hand. You quickly dropped it, raising it to match your other arm as Zemo sent you a look that you couldn’t decipher. Oh, how desperately you wanted to look into his mind, but the little bit of sanity left in you told you to leave it be.

“Someone recreated the super-soldier serum and Zemo had a lead,” Sam explained.

“That explains why you guys are here. And Selby’s dead.” Sharon replied, gun still pointed at your group.

“So what are you doing here?” Bucky questioned the blonde.

“I stole Steve’s shield, remember? I also took the wings for your ass so that you could save his ass from his ass and became a criminal with their ass.” She explained, pointing the gun at each mention of whoever's ass it was that turn. “Unlike you, I didn’t have the Avengers to back me up, so, I’m off the grid in Madripoor.”

“Hey, don’t blow that smoke. I was on the run, too.” Sam rebutted Sharon’s complaints.

“Was. Is. Big difference. I don’t speak to my family anymore - I can’t. My own father doesn’t know where I am.”

“Listen…” You began. “Sharon, we need your help, the former agent only laughing in response. “Please.”

“This isn’t over.” She conceded, shaking her head at you. “I have a place in High Town, you should be safe there for a while.”

Sharon’s place was definitely nicer than yours is now, and you’re not even on the run anymore. She, thankfully, had a change of clothes for you to slip into, the soft material much a welcome relief from the tortuous item Zemo had you wearing.

While you were waiting for Sharon’s guests to begin arriving for whatever event would soon be taking place downstairs, everybody slowly filtered out of the room until it was only Zemo and yourself remaining.

“Can I ask you a question?” You spoke up, breaking the silence from your spot on the sofa as you glanced towards the Baron seated across the room.

“Ask away.” He smiled, taking a sip from the amber liquid in his glass.

“What did you mean earlier, when you said we were the same.” Your voice was quiet now, so much so that you weren’t sure if he’d even heard you. That is until he got up from his seat and slowly walked towards you.

“I never wanted to tear the Avengers apart, not until they killed my family. Destroyed my city… Sure, I didn’t like them, but I didn’t want to destroy them. It was all about vengeance.” He began, sitting beside you on the yellow fabric. “For you, it was HYDRA who ruined your life. You joined the Avengers because it was where the last people you had left were going and it was the easiest way for you to ensure the organization was destroyed. You never wanted the idolization that came with being a hero, and it was clear when your work was done that you had no desire to keep going. Everything that came after the Sokovia Accords was out of survival.”

“I’m not saying you're right,” you began, “but what would that make me, then? Insane? Cause that seems to be the running theory.”

“You’re not crazy, despite how rumors fly. Neither am I, really.” He began, eliciting a small smile from you at the last bit he added. “You’re a fighter, someone doing whatever it takes to get their agenda done. Whether that means breaking the law or joining the Avengers, nothing will stop you once you put your mind to it - it’s one of the things I admire about you.”

You pursed your lips as you focused on the amber fluid floating in its crystalline home, him taking another sip of the burning liquid. Your gaze shifted back to his face, and oh god, look at that face. Maybe it was the liquor in your system already or maybe your last bit of sanity was finally escaping your mind, but suddenly his past didn’t seem to matter anymore. You had plenty of red on your ledger as well, and the more he spoke the more you began to sympathize with him.

“So you admire me?” You smirked, crossing your arms as you tilted your head slightly to the right playfully.

“Why don’t you look into my mind and tell me?” He replied. Reaching out, you gently placed your fingers against his temple as you gazed into his consciousness. Flashes of magic and madness, ideas of a love that could be forever or go down in flames. You didn’t go searching deeper, because your own mind was racing. Would pursuing this be worth all the pain that could very well follow? No, not could, would. You’d be betraying your former teammates, but what did that matter much anymore.

Rather than pulling your hand away, you placed your lips gently on his, tentatively, even. He tasted of expensive liquor and a hint of peppermint, and you found yourself intoxicated. The kiss ended far too soon for your liking, him pulling away so his brown orbs could gaze into your own.

“So… What do you say?” He asked, cupping your cheek in his hand, you place your own over top of his.

“Why not?” You smiled back, reconnecting your lips to his.

“I can make the bad guys good for a weekend.”

Taglist:

@fanfictionedagain @lam-ila @b0nnyzz @haydieenzzibug @cyanide-mustard @duchess-of-new-shire @the-chocoholic-writer @milenadixon @real-fbi @golddenlioness

[knullanon]

how the symbiotes stole you from one another #3

this took 5 hours in total yay

words: 4627

warnings: manipulation, kidnapping, dads being assholes, lmk if I missed any!

Routines in the area where Knull had dropped you off were almost nonexistent. The only reason why you woke up at all was because of the fact that it was already something you did before you got here.

Here, as in this place where Knull seemingly… owned? It was weird. He didn’t just own the land, either, he owned the symbiotes, and by that, Knull, whenever he wanted to talk to you, would just go inside one of their minds, take over, and talk to you. He had done this one multiple occasions, with him always being an asshole about everything. From trying to stop you from going outside, to bitching about your old life, and how you must be enjoying this one. It was really annoying to have to deal with him every damn day, and it was starting to become borderline creepy.

He wouldn’t care about your privacy, only how you were holding up. Literally nothing could stop him from entering your room. He removed the lock when you first got there, and then just left you. Nothing to do besides clean, fuck around, and be bored to death. The only thing you could really do otherwise bsides talk to that asshole, is just try and find something to look at.

So far, you’ve been able to tell that the previous owners of the land were evicted: probably by force by the numerous blood stains all over the place, hiding under whatever Knull didn’t want to clean. Another thing you noticed was that the area you were in used to be covered with trees, but they seemed to be all cut down recently. They smelt fresh and didn’t have any dirt or grime on the stumps. You had to assume it was a safety precaution. For him, at least.

It didn’t take long for you to start snooping around and finding different things, like a hidden diary, all written in russian, an old art kit, and a calendar dated to that year. These items, and their good conditions they were found in, only solidifies your theory that Knull just found a random property and killed the people living there. It also solidified the fact that Knull really didn’t know you existed until that night. Or, morning. Whatever time you were at the gas station. You were able to tell how long you had been taken. 2 weeks just tonight.

It was annoying the hell out of you how long staying with these assholes would seem. Two months with Eddie and venom, and then 3 months with carnage and cletus.

And now 2 weeks with this asshole, probably more. You really wanted out of this damn place. Actually, you wanted out of this weird game they had. Whoever got you first got to keep you until someone else came along. And tried to do the same thing.

As you grabbed some random clothes, and walked into the bathroom, you tried to remember before everything had happened. Before you decided to walk back home alone, like an idiot. That's what you were, wasn’t it? A fucking idiot for thinking it was a good idea. You really thought that nothing would happen, would it? And now this.

Shoving open the bathroom door, you almost didn’t see the 7 foot tall symbiote sitting in the chair across from the bed. This one was known for having a more emo look to them. With being dark blue and with little streaks of even darker red, they were always quiet and silent when you saw them. They were usually the ones to bring you food, guard the house you were in. They were also the one that Knull preferred to get into when he decided to speak to you.

The symbiote themselves were rumble, and he was… actually quite pleasant. It seemed Knull had let this batch keep their personalities, maybe at the price of kneeling before him. You didn’t know.

What you did know was that Knull was now controlling Rumble through whatever bullshit he did to be this powerful. Rumble, or, Knull technically, was reading an old newspaper dated a few months ago. It was from somewhere in Idaho, where you would assume you were located. Yes, Eddie lived in San Francisco, but when carnage took you wherever the hell he took you, and then Knull, well, it was confusing to say the least.

Anyways, the one good thing about Knull was that he really didn’t care what you thought of the place, as he said it, “a temporary arrangement on both our parties''. Pretentious bitch.

Knull put down the newspaper, and gave a smile, before gesturing with his arm to the bed you had just made. “Ah, _____, sit. Let's talk shall we?”

You didn’t want to talk to him, or even look at him, but you followed his command anyway. You tossed your clothes into an old bucket that you had placed in the corner of the room and walked towards the bed, before sitting on it. Knull smiled again with that weird mouth. Rumble never smiled, so of course it would look weird when he did. Of course, not of his own will, but still.

“So, how have you been liking your new enclosure?” Did- Did he just-

You brushed it off, not wanting to anger him. “It’s… fine. Every home comes with its ups and downs.” you hoped he would get the message about calling a home an enclosure. It makes you feel like a pet rather than a person. If Knull noticed your wording, then he ignored it. Instead, he picked up the newspaper again, saying, “Good, good. I’m glad you could understand the circumstances of your predicament.”

You tried hard not to roll your eyes, remembering what Carnage or Venom would say- even now, if you had no idea where they were, their words and opinions still sat with you months later. Instead, you nodded your head to his words, and sat in silence waiting for him to say anything else. Knull did not say anything for a few minutes. Long, agonizing minutes. It reminded you of being with Eddie and Venom, those two assholes. When they were working, they required the utmost silence otherwise they couldn’t focus. They never got mad at you, but they would always try to put you up to something, like reading. Which is why you would read all their books on crime rates, detectives, natural disasters, anything to pass the time while they were working.

It got you entertained for the most part. Sitting in a room with nothing to do, for 2 months was more difficult than you ever thought it would be.

“Are you thinking of your previous hosts and their accommodations?”

Knull pulled you from your thoughts, and even though he was reading the newspaper, you were able to tell he wanted an answer. You shifted from your spot at the edge of the bed, before answering with, “U-Uh, yeah, I am.”

“Hmm.”

He continued to read for a moment, before he pulled the newspaper down a little to view you. “Are you not tired of them?”

“What do you mean?”

This time, he put the newspaper in his lap. “Venom and Eddie. Carnage and Cletus. How have they treated you in the few months you’ve known them?”

You had to sit there and think for a moment, wondering where this conversation was going. What was he trying to do this time?

“Well, venom and Eddie were… constricting. I never had anything to do. Besides reading the books on the shelf, but even then I had to do that discreetly. They didn’t like me doing those things. Or, rather, reading those things. They said it was too… graphic.”

“Ah, I see.” he acknowledged, picking up the newspaper again. “And Carnage and Cletus? How was their company?”

You really wanted to hide in a hole now. “They were… fine.”

“Were they, though?”

You wondered if it would just be worth it to tell everything: how you felt about Eddie, how you felt about Cletus, and how you felt about this asshole doing the same thing the rest of them had done.

“...No, they weren’t.”

He gave a small smile, before he asked, “Oh? Please do tell me more.”

You knew what he was doing, what he was playing at, and yet, you fell right for it. “They would tell me… they would say that no one was going to come for me. No one cared. Not my family, not Eddie, no one. Only them.”

He nodded along, and when he realized you were done venting, he said, “well, aren’t you glad that you’re with me now?”

Turning to face him, you gave him a glare. “Excuse me?”

“Think about it. With one of them, they gave you limited resources to entertain yourself, and the other made you feel like nothing. With me, I give you free reign to do whatever you please. You may ask for whatever you wish, visit whoever you choose, as long as you plead your loyalty to me.”

You stared at him, before you turned your back towards him, mumbling, “Liar.”

He chuckled, and you heard the newspaper crinkle. “I’m not making any jokes. Pledge our loyalty, and you will receive anything you would ever want.”

“Would that include being let go to see my family again?”

“Yes, actually. You would just have to come back when you were done with your visits.”

That caught your attention. He would let you go back? Really? He did say you would go back to him when you were done with your “visits”... but still, better than what the other two were offering.

You thought for a moment before the doubts started to kick in. How do we know he won’t betray you when you do pledge your loyalty to him? How do we know he won’t just keep you here forever? What ounce of trust should we put in him when everyone has kicked us when we were already down?

Almost as if he heard your thoughts, Knull said, “I will give you time for your answer. After all, I have years and years to spare.”

With that he folded the newspaper, setting it down gently, before you saw something spark in his eyes and Rumble returned to his own mind. He sat there unmoving for a few moments, before he sat up and looked at you. “I assume he just wanted to talk?”

You sighed, feeling tired only at 7 in the morning already. “Yes, Rumble, that’s all he came here for.”

He gave a hum of acknowledgment before he got up and walked to the exit to the room. Before he left, however, he said, “Do not be surprised if the water runs out: this was called a temporary enclosure for a reason.”

Before you could say anything, he left you to watch the door again, just before you could ask him to stop calling the home an enclosure, he shut the door softly. You were about to say something, but decided it was not worth it, so instead, you opted to just continue on with what you had to do throughout the day.

~~~~~~~~~

As Rumble looked on as you would clean and dry out clothes on line and leave them for the hot summer day to dry, hopefully by the end of the day, you had mumbled out when first getting out the big hamper. Next to it, you had a couple pieces of clothing sitting in another basket covered by water and soap. Currently, you were wringing out all of the water from a white top, trying to not stretch it out.

Rumble grumble out something, before he heard him in his head:

“Rumble, I would assume you would have the decency to not talk badly about my daughter behind her back.”

Rumble froze up before he quickly set his posture more straightened as he watched you put the shirt on the line, before going to grab another piece of clothing. “No, Lord Knull, I was just noting the… strange enclosure you had chosen for her.”

He heard Knull chuckle, before responding with, “Oh, Rumble, you should know my plan by now.”

Rumble sent a wave of confusion to Knull, indicating that no, he had no idea what his plan was.

Knull simply sighed, before he continued. “I have had plans to bring her to Klyntar, our homeworld, and yet, I have a feeling she will not be able to live there. For a while, I thought I would only be able to visit her through the symbiotes already on earth, or just get there myself, with obvious consequences. However, I’ve found a third option. There is a way to bring her here without having to worry for her safety.”

Suddenly, Rumble received a vision, or more specifically, a live feed of what Knull was looking at. It looked like a symbiote, and yet, it was… odd. It did not have a mind of its own, it's like it was waiting to be filled by something. And this one did not need a host, either. From Knull’s own memories, it seemed he created this one to rely solely on its own, however, for the need to do normal things, it needed someone to fill its mind. Rumble suddenly realized where this was going.

“Lord Knull, you aren’t saying-”

“Yes, I’m saying exactly what you are thinking of.”

Rumble saw Knull walk up to the symbiote, and stroke it with his claw. It did not respond. “This symbiote that I have created will need a mind, someone who has already been born, only their mind. I am planning on giving it to ______ and then letting her rest there, before taking away her body and giving her mind to.... Well, I have not named this one. Maybe I will name it… _______. After her.”

~~~~~~~

You laid the last shirt in the bucket, and when you tried to grab another and felt that there were no more, you sighed and grabbed the dirty water, and poured it out on the grass, not caring if the soap would kill the already dead plants. Then you put the hamper and the bucket on top of each other and carried it back into the house. When you reached the sink, you put the buckets in the sink and turned the tap: only for nothing to come out.

“Do not be surprised if the water runs out: this was called a temporary enclosure for a reason.”

Fucking hell. You got the hamper out and when you saw that it was relatively clean, you let it go, but the dirty water one…

Yeah, you had to clean this before the next laundry day.

It did not help that there were dishes that needed to be washed. You sighed and left the bucket on the counter, and you were about to walk back up to your room, when you had an idea. You walked outside and saw Rumble standing near a cut down tree, waiting for something. Walking up to him, you said, “Hey, Rumble, is there another water source around here?”

He gave you a look, before he said, “Yes, there is one, why must you use it? We will be moving next week to a new location.”

“Well, if it's gonna take a week, I hope you have some form of water to bring up here for the dishes, or showers, or clothes, or-”

“Alright, alright I get it.” he stalked over to you and looked towards another symbiote, probably trying to talk to them before the other symbiote simply nodded and walked to another part of the property.

“I will take you to a river, but after that, the others will gather the water for you, am I clear?”

You nodded. “Good, lets go.”

~~~~~~

Anti-venom stood at the clearing, looking at the decomposing bodies, just two women and two men. He could tell they had been there for more than a week, but not enough for them to completely decompose.

Anti-venom looked around before he tried to smell where they were from. Unfortunately, whoever dumped their bodies was smart in how they covered up the scent. There was almost nothing out here, and with the fact that someone covered up their scent made it more unnerving.

He didn’t try to think of how they died, only giving them his wishes before he started to walk away. Just a couple meters away was a little river that he knew expanded as you went up the stream. He walked over and saw nothing of old blood on the rocks, so they must’ve died somewhere else-

What was that?

He whirled his head towards the start of the river, upwards maybe by a few miles. Even out here, the stench of Knull and his underdogs were there. He growled, remembering how Knull used them for his own gain. He quickly theorized that for some reason, Knull was here and he had killed these people- but why? What would make him do this?

Anti-venom decided to find out on his own, as he started to sprint his way up the river.

~~~~~~

“Why did Lord Knull choose you, anyway?”

“Choose me as what?”

You were currently at the river, cleaning out the dishes in the bucket, and then rinsing them off. Rumble was nearby, sitting in his own little area, and he was also bored. He wanted to know things that Knull would not tell him: would not tell anyone, to be more precise.

You looked back at him, before you turned back to the dishes. “I don’t question it anymore. I never had a choice, I was just… chosen. It’s something I’ve had to get used to for the past months, and even now I don’t have anything to do, anything to say.”

Rumble quirked an eye. “But Lord Knull gave you a choice, did he not?”

“Oh, yeah, please tell me, what did he give me a choice on?”

“On being free to do as you please.”

You stopped washing the little plate you had, and you turned back to face him. “What?”

“He gave you a choice. You could swear loyalty to him, or-”

“Ok, enough with the loyalty bullshit, I’m tired of hearing it.” You had gone back to the dishes, scrubbing furiously at the plate. “I get it, it's a better option than Carnage or Venom, but could I at least have the option of never seeing you fucks ever again?”

Rumble did not say anything more, letting you get out your anger by scrubbing the dishes that were left, and tossing them into the bucket.

When you were finally done, you tried to pick up the bucket, but all of that scrubbing and cleaning made your arms sore. Rumble decided to restore his reputation with you by getting the bucket for you. You didn’t complain, as your arms were extremely sore from your anger washing.

The walk back to the property was peaceful. You weren’t angry at Rumble: to be honest, he was a sweetheart. He would help you out with so many things it was almost unbelievable. He was much more pleasant to be around than Knull, that was for sure.

Even if he had to call Knull “Lord Knull” each time you met, it was fine. The little trail that you two took was getting more smoother as you got closer and closer to the property. When you reached the clearing, you saw the normal sight:

5 symbiotes around the area stalking, waiting. They were most likely on guard, and even then, they had their eyes on you, making sure there was no funny business between you and Rumble.

Walking up to the one story house, you felt… wrong. Of course, this had always felt wrong, but this time it was like someone was watching you from afar. Before you got onto the porch, you turned to look at all the symbiotes watching you. Nothing unusual, the normal amount that would stand guard in this area. Maybe one of them is looking too long, you thought, as Rumble opened the door for you and you both went inside.

Unfortunately, no one noticed the speck of white in the bushes, hiding. Waiting.

~~~~~~~

It was almost time for you to start getting ready for bed. You already had dinner, and now all you needed was just a nice warm bed. You sighed as you made sure everything was in its place, before you walked back in the hallway and into your room. You got out your favorite pair of pajamas, and started to change. You already had a shower last night, it wouldn’t matter if you had one today.

As you changed, your mind went back to the conversation with Knull earlier that day. Would he really let you do whatever you wanted if you just… spared your loyalty, as he called it? Could you see your family and friends again? Could you tell them you were ok and not harmed?

But, he did say that you couldn’t stay there… you would have to go back with him… where did he live, anyway? He was an alien god, so… space? But… where?

Maybe he lived on some random planet and acquired a bunch of power, you had no idea-

“YOU WOULD ALL DARE TO HELP KNULL AND HIS PLANS?!”

That didn’t sound good. You rushed out of your room, pajamas halfway on, and peeked outside of the kitchen window, where you saw everything.

In the middle of the clearing, stood tall and bloody, was another symbiote. He was white with some black accents here and there, and most importantly, he was holding fire.

You already knew that symbiotes didn’t like heat, or fire. Especially not fire.

You remember one time when you tried to escape Eddie with fire. It did not work out well. You were locked in a closet, and fortunately for you, that was where you stored your books.

Anyways, you had no time to think of those times, when you were running from whatever the fuck is going on outside the house. You ran back to your room to put on a shirt, and when you were finished putting on your socks, running was heard from the hallway.

Rumble came through the door and dragged you by your forearm down towards a specific spot in the floor. He then lifted a larger floorboard that revealed a crawl space. He shoved you in, gently as possible, before he said, “Stay. Here. I’ll come for you when I beat him.”

“Who?” You were about to ask, but he slammed the door shut, leaving you to fear for the next few minutes.

You sat there for a few more minutes, before you heard crackling. Crackling of fire. You were desperately trying to open the door, but it seemed to be glued shut: there was nothing that could open it.

At this point, you were starting to cry. The symbiotes couldn’t stand fire, how would they stand this? You were desperate to leave, to escape: you never wanted to be here, with these people who thought they could help you. You wanted to go home, to see your family, friends, the people who loved and cherished you, and actually respected your boundaries.

The door was broken inwards and you felt every muscle in your body stop. You crouched a little from the trap door, hoping they didn’t hear you. From they're desperate steps and quick feet, it was obviously not Rumble or any other symbiote you knew.

You were pulled from your thoughts as the steps went into the hallway. As they walked by, slower, you held your breath. If they found you… well, you knew what happened when new symbiotes would find you.

You let out a silent sigh when they passed the door… only for them to come rushing back. Without even knowing it, they ripped open the trap door, revealing you, tired, scared, and cold.

The symbiote you saw was the exact one that was outside, who was attacking all the other symbiotes.

He looked shocked, as if he didn’t know you were there. “Child…” he asked, as he reached down to try and grab you, “what are you doing in a place like this?”

He picked you up with the utmost gentleness and care, like you would shatter if he just yanked you out. He cradled you within his arms, like you were a baby. He was a giant compared to you, being almost 7 or 8 feet tall.

“Where are your parents?” he asked, taking you with him, walking out of the house. You tried to crawl out of his palm, but he stopped you each time. “I-I don't know.”

He tried to give you a sympathetic look. “Oh, my sweet dear, don’t be afraid. I will k-”

He suddenly jumped into the fire, and you screamed expecting to be burnt along with all the weeds.

However, you didn’t feel anything. Turns out this was because the symbiote had taken you up into the air, so while he was holding you by your waist, he was also holding you out of the reach of the fire. He held his hand up high, not only to make sure that you wouldn’t be hurt, but as you saw Rumble on the ground, close to the fire, you realized it was to get you out of his grip.

“Rumble. You used to be such an open minded symbiote. Now look at you. You are just leeching off of Lord Knull, the one who enslaves you and the rest of our kind!”

The white symbiotes seemingly noticed you again, and said, “and you have the audacity to bring an innocent child into this mess! How dare you!”

With that, he started to walk into the fire, which surprisingly was not burning him. He still held you up high so you wouldn’t be burnt by the flames, which was nice. You looked back at Rumble, who was trying to get up, but the injuries on his legs seemed severe. The fire was closing in on him as well.

You felt bad for him. You reached out, but before you could do anything, Anti venom started to sprint away from the house. The last thing you saw of Rumble was him collapsing onto the ground, broken and beaten.

When you were out of the fire, the symbiote lowered you to his eye level. “My name is Anti-Venom, tiny child. What is yours?”

BONUS:

Rumble sat on the remains of the house: nothing was left of it when Lord Knull appeared. It was a miracle he had even gotten the distress alert, a bigger one he had arrived in time to save rumble himself. Every other symbiote was gone, either from the fire or the white symbiote. Anti-Venom was his name.

“So, you failed at getting back _____ for me?”

“... Lord Knull, I am deeply sorry, but-”

“I don’t want to hear excuses, Rumble, I want to see my daughter! I want to seeher before the other two get her, or worse she falls for that idiotic Anti-Venom, do you hear me?!”

Rumble sat there waiting for Lord Knull to be done with his rant, before he said, “Yes, Lord Knull. I understand.”

Lord Knull stood up and started to walk away. “Good. I will try to locate her myself. In the meantime, find out everything you can about this Anti-Venom. I want his secrets, every dirty little thing about him, do you understand?”

“Yes, Lord Knull, it will be done.”

And with that, Lord Knull was gone, leaving Rumble to dwell in his own failures.

--------

almost forgot, @anxiousnerdwritings this was for u

[relaxxattack]

ayo! (wait this might be a bit of a jumpscare dishdks i apologize) i’m op of That Post and was wondering what your opinions were on the whole woobification thing? /gen

because it’s a Tiny Bit widespread within the dream apologists to sort of,, overdramatize stuff like l’manberg hurting him. like they’re not a 100% wrong but if you look at it subjectively you can see some sort of bias going into that sort of thing that makes the character’s mistreatment a bit more blatant and intentional which,, it really wasn’t? and there wasn’t That Much of it either. especially on twitter (tumblr is much better about it) people just jump to conclusions it seems and yeah. since you brought it up i was wondering if you wanted to write a bit about it from your perspective!

we’re kinda from different corners of the fandom but i still notice that once you are too attached to a character you start taking certain evidence and giving it more weight than it actually has. there’s a blurry line between “taking away a character’s humanity” and woobification and it’s extremely difficult to find a balance when said character shows pretty much nothing of his emotional life (e. g. putting up the intimidating villain act in front of only c!tommy, pretty much everything he does making rational sense with no emotional subtext) and a lot of the fandom instantly jumps to one side or the other while it’s like.

we don’t know by far enough to say “he’s traumatized” or “he isn’t traumatized” or “he was villainized and it hurt him” or “l’manberg didn’t affect him at all”

as a very analytical person people constantly jumping to conclusions grinds my gears, but that’s about it for my own view of the situation - sorry for the rambling.

in general i agree with you that both dehumanization and woobification is Bad and i really hope getting Actual Context sorts this out (e. g. him saying he was betrayed by his friends doesn’t mean it wasn’t partially his fault or that they were allowed to leave him, but it also shows that he did care about that happening. mentioning the cat doesn’t mean anything about what happened to c!tommy but it also shows that he did care about what happened to it. it’s just always interesting to get more information about the way he feels because he usually does a very good job at hiding it.) because man.

it’s like being stuck between a rock and a hard place, especially if you also are attached to the character and are expected to automatically agree with everything the people on “your side” say. it just ends up with everyone being mad and the character being mischaracterised overall.

oh wow hello! i didnt expect the op of the post to find me you’re right lol

and yes i agree! you seem to have a lot of very good thoughts tbh.

and by woobification, i mean exactly what you’ve already pointed out— the people who will say l’manberg purposely villainized dream, the people who will say wilbur faked his mental illness to manipulate dream, the people who are pretty much always talking about how badly dream was treated by people who were acting only fairly for themselves, usually.

for example people who act like dream was a perfect peacemaker before tommy showed up, or that tommy started most conflict. these are just actual lies that are told by c!dream himself to justify his abuse of tommy, and people fall for them incredibly easily because not a lot of people watched early dsmp and know that truthfully it was chaotic even then, and that dream was chaotic too. not to mention wilbur soot tried very hard to secede peacefully with l’manberg and dream jumped directly into war with no warning. and then people say he was forced into their war when, no, he started it.

theres also people who will say like, dream and sapnap for example are such good friends. i’m sure they cared for each other, but dream on multiple occasions has done horrible things to sapnap with no regard for his feelings (like leading fundy to sapnaps pets during the petwar, leading tommy to sapnaps pets during the other petwar and encouraging him to kill them, handing mars over to tommy to use as leverage against sapnap, etc). george he’s been less awful too but he certainly spoke over him and ignored his feelings enough that george felt hurt. he had places in his hall of attachments for beckerson and mars. george and sapnap were right to walk away from being treated like that.

there’s also what you just said here — “dream puts on a villain persona for tommy”— but honestly he acts like that around quite a few people (example: eret) and it’s usually when he’s revealing crucial info, which leads me and many others to believe that ‘persona’ is actually a more truthful version of him.

there’s the fact that he really isn’t safe for people to be around (or at least he wasn't before the prison) because he was planning to come up with ways to control every single person by stealing and threatening their attachments (some of which were not items but were living animals, or a real breathing person).

and then people will say dream was doing exile to enforce rules, or to keep the peace— when it’s very clear in canon it was a deliberate plan to get tommy on his own and into the prison. (from the way he was framing tommy for multiple crimes, and having sam set up the prison, and kidnapping tommy instead of correctly exiling him, all at the same time).

not even going into how he wants to kill and revive people for fun or make tommy immortal.

it’s just— ignoring all these actual facts and saying “oh he misses his friends, let’s get him some friends now” reminds me of like. when people would put flower crowns on pictures of serial killers. and then, there’s hardly anyone on the server who wasn’t subject to dream’s plans, so there’s absolutely no one i would be okay with him interacting with.

just remembered about the torture thing, and wow i still hate it so much. it’s someone’s sick revenge fantasy twisted into a way to get a manipulative villain sympathy, and it’s just gross to me on every account. i do think dream is traumatized-- just not by l’manberg, which was a conflict he started on his own terms. i would think l’manberg did affect him, because he was scared of losing control.

i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again— my ideal ending for dream would be for him to be sent far away from dsmp to an island full of therapy animals and super strong therapists who have never met him before. and for him to get a shit ton of therapy until he becomes a halfway normal person. and then eventually he could get integrated into society again; but a different one with new people. (although maybe dteam + bbh + puffy can visit him, they might still like him.)

none of the people on the server (who have all been affected by dream) should be burdened with befriending him or rehabilitating him— look how that turned out with sam! sam had a personal grudge towards dream and it ended with the poor dude being tortured every day; and sam himself falling into corruption and literally cutting off his boyfriends arm. like we can all see thats fucking awful right?

no one who was affected by dream should have to deal with him ever again. and contrary to popular belief, that includes a LOT more people then just tommy. dream isn’t just tommy’s antagonist, hes almost everybody’s.

the only person on the server who might also be able to stand to help dream is techno, and that’s from sheer lack of ability to give a shit. but techno is probably THE furthest thing from a good therapist there is lol, and dream needs better then that.

this kind of just ended up being a rant about my thoughts on c!dream, so im so sorry op. especially since it was probably negative for you. i hope you’re doing very well.

i guess in the end it’s true what you said— people will highlight or ignore things based on what characters they like, and it’s especially easy to do in this fandom, where half the content doesn’t even get watched and then we become a big echo chamber of half-truths.

considering dream has hurt so many of the characters i care about, i almost can’t understand how he could be someone’s favorite or comfort character— but he is nonetheless, and it would be unfair of me to be rude about that.

essentially it just bothers me to see someone who was a perpetrator of accurately portrayed abuse and manipulation (using both those words in their actual definitions, not just as random buzzwords lol) being given the flower crown edit effect. especially since he’s hurt the characters i care about a lot.

ANYWAY all of that being said (this got LONG im so sorry op) i am so so excited to get dream’s pov, because although i disagree with his actions strongly i actually find dream’s character very interesting and cool, and watching his POV is going to insanely fun. i cannot wait to see what theories get confirmed or denied

ALSO incase it wasn’t clear this is all /nm at you! you seem lovely and smart, and neither of us can help what characters we get attached to :]

[kill-for-cookies]

after a lively night with d! master reader fem, he cannot walk by his legs fail to the bathroom and master comes to his rescue.

Thanks for this request and I'm really sorry for the waiting. I just had a lot of things to do, so I didn't have much time. And I wrote some fluffy, because I just needed some of this lately. Hope you'll enjoy this! Take care of yourself 😘

How to babysit with human

---------------------------------------------------

The door to the TARDIS opened wide. Outside loud, rhythmic music blared and the lights in that room flickered in different colors. It was obvious this was some kind of party. Anyone would understand. The Master turned to the door, waiting for something. Or someone.

"Whoa!" you gasped and spun forward, closing the door behind you and stopping at the entrance. You leaned on the railing, holding on it with both hands for more balance.

"I see you had fun" the Time Lord said sarcastically. He leaned against the console, his big hands resting on it. The corner of his mouth turned up slightly. He was now without his purple coat, which hung in the corner of the room.

At his words, you looked at the Time Lord without humor, your gaze boring into him. Your lips were set in a hard line, cheeks dimpled and jaw clenched. That was your 'Are you fucking serious?' face.

"I'd have more fun if I didn't dance for 8 hours straight without even sitting down once" you retorted, walking a little forward, closer to him.

Your hands didn't open for a second behind the railing, because your legs hurt terribly and hummed like a train. You had a feeling they were going to fall off, so you needed some support.

You had a good reason to believe that. The dances went on one after another, non stop. Anyone from two hours of such dances would get tired and you had as many as eight. In addition, as soon as you thought you had a little time to rest between dances, you were immediately taken to the next one. And that was every time.

So every minute you were looking for the TARDIS, but unfortunately it never showed up. Oh, if the Master only knew how you called him all those damn hours. You cursed him with every possible word.

"You said you wanted to unwind" the Master commented, grinning at your exasperated face. Did he enjoy teasing and bullying you? You just groaned.

"You could have warned me these aliens only dance and nothing else" you explained your displeasure to a Time Lord who never understands such things as emotions.

"Actually, that's how they communicate" the Master lectured you, his grin growing even wider. His huge chocolate eyes glittered - he was clearly enjoying it.

In general, he will eventually finish badly and you will hit or slap him, although then you will probably regret it. But thank God, not today. You let a deep, loud sigh. You need to finish all this.

"Okay, I'm going to take a bath" you muttered wearily, but loud enough for the Time Lord to hear and headed for the deep of the time machine.

You let go of your support and took a couple of small steps... But then, abruptly and unexpectedly, your head began to spin and vision blurred. Your legs betrayed you - they shook and swayed, no longer solid and turned to jelly. Your body became so heavy that there was no chance of standing straight. That was what happened.

But thankfully, your body didn't touch the cold metal floor. Your eyes saw clearly again, focusing on the Master's face. He caught you by the waist - one of his hands was on your back and the other was firmly wrapped around your waist.

Your pupils were huge, overlapping your eye color. Your huge eyes blinked rapidly, trying to understand what had just happened. It didn't take a genius to know you were surprised.

"Thank you, you can let me go now. I'm fine now" you assured the Time Lord, frowning slightly and forcing a smile to convince him of your supposedly improved condition. In fact, you couldn't tell right now if you were feeling better. Maybe the next minute you'd feel the opposite.

You just wanted to get rid of his grip, because you weren't used to being so close to him. Especially with the Master. Sure, you had some feelings for this cocky but damn attractive alien, but you weren't ready to cross that line. Your maximum was when the Time Lord took your hand, but that was only because you two had to run.

"No, you're not fine" he argued in return, tightening his grip on you. His dark, thick brows drew together and his jaw clenched. You were so hoping your little smile would convince him.

And then something unexpected happened to you. Suddenly, you felt something slide under your knees (probably one of the Time Lord's hands) and the ground went out from under your feet. But this time you didn't fall, you were in the air. The Master picked you up and carried you into the corridor of the time machine.

"Hey! Let me down!" you demanded. You put your hands on his chest and tried to push him away, but nothing much came of it, just slightly moved away from him.

"Don't push or I'll drop you" the Master snorted and spoke through his teeth.

At first glance, he seems angry, cold, insensitive, but in reality this is far from the case. And you knew it. It was his mask... Protection, to be precise. He was stupidly and stubbornly convinced, even believed that it would be better, that emotions only hinder.

You've told him the opposite all the time, trying to convince him. Honestly, it was easier to talk to a sheep or a wall. Your 'it's okay to feel emotions, including pain' speech did not help much, because the Master kept moving away from you, pushing you away.

You've been traveling with him long enough to get used to his harsh words and cold demeanor. But something in his voice sounded different than usual. He was more... Affectionate? Gentle? Yeah, you never thought you'd describe him in those words. But it was true. Despite your aching legs or slightly foggy head, you could clearly understand it.

Being on the hands of the Master, you reached the bathroom. He gently began to lower you. Slowly, no sudden movements. The Time Lord was afraid to hurt you, as if you were a porcelain doll. In the end, he put you on the bath. God, it was wonderful not to stand on your own feet anymore. This was the greatest relief!

The Master was in front of you, his hands at on his hips. His brows were furrowed and eyes on the floor, as if he was considering what else he needed to do to make you feel okay, no pain in your legs and dizziness.

"So you're my babysitter now?" you teased him by putting a smirk on your face. Your legs were dangling from the bath, hands were gripping it tightly.

"You humans would rather kill yourself than take care of yourself" the Time Lord grumbled (that's when you remember he's several thousand years old) with the obvious annoyance that always comes when someone doesn't understand a simple topic. But he didn't even deny babysitting with you.

"You know, it's like a declaration of love..." at first, your eyes were boring into the floor and then you looked at the Master from under your brows. You may have been teasing him right now, but you actually said what you thought.

The Time Lord just snorted and rolled his eyes, but after a few seconds, he looked at you carefully. It was obvious to you what that look meant - did you need any help? You wouldn't admit it even if you needed it, but you can take a bath on your own, without any help.

So you shook your head as a no. He looked at you sideways, of course, not believing a word you said, but he left you alone. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, deciding to just sit there for a few minutes. Now your only desire was just rest and tomorrow you will decide what happened between you and the Master.

[ocegion]

Joe hadn’t been able to read a single paragraph in his book for the last fifteen minutes. His eyes couldn’t stay on the page for more than a few seconds before they fleeted over to the other side of the room, fixing on Nicky, who was reading a book of his own. The lamp in the little, narrow bedroom in their current safehouse had a cold, sterile light that that made him look paler than usual, nearly sick. His gaze trailed on the way Nicky’s fingers twitched on the edge of the page, again and again, before they unconsciously rose up to brush the exact point on his neck where he’d been sedated, little more than 24 hours before.

He’d had a bullet come out the back of his head, and yet it was that syringe, the sensation of its prickle faded before its effect could even kick in, that had his body dealing with the aftermath.

For Joe, it was the sensation of his bound wrists. The feeling of his skin tearing and healing as he pulled and pulled as hard as he could, as hard as he’d pulled in his long life, and earned nothing to show for it but the worry he saw in Nicky’s eyes from the bed next to his.

Pain was easy to brush off at this point. Not so much what came along it.

Joe sighed, minute and silent, barely more than an exhale, and closed his book. Nicky hadn’t given any sign of having being paying attention to him, but he closed his own book as well immediately after. His eyes remained on the cover for one, two, three seconds before looking at Joe, expectant.

‘We need to talk.’

No one else would have noticed the way Nicky’s lips twitched, less than half an inch, less than half a second. But no one else had spent centuries studying that face. Joe studied it once more, never tired of it, took in the way the other waited for him to go on.

He shook his head lightly, crossed his arms.

‘So twenty years, huh?’

Nicky tried his best to remain stoic, but the edge of his lips twitched again in a far more noticeable manner now. Slowly, he mirrored Joe’s position, a slight tension giving a square shape to his shoulders.

‘A hundred years, Joe. We settled on a hundred.’

‘That’s not what you wanted. You wanted to make it twenty.’

‘What does it matter? I agreed on a hundred, we all agreed on it, and I’m going to stick with that’ the other said, voice even, the layer of frustration under his voice barely even there. ‘Do you think I’m going to sneak behind your back to send him text messages? I’m not that childish. I can commit to what I say.’

‘You’re not that obtuse either’ Joe huffed, rolling his eyes. ‘You know what I’m getting at.’

‘You expressed your opinion, and so did I. We didn’t agree at first, so what?’ Nicky’s lips thinned and he crossed his arms tighter, nearly petulant. ‘We’re far past thinking we should be of a single mind about every single subject. You know that as well as I do.’

Joe stood up, his jaw twitching in annoyance, his fingers tapping repeatedly on his bicep. He took two steps closer, more than half the distance between them. Nicky raised his eyes at him, but remained unimpressed. ‘I know that. I know you. Which is why I’m having such a hard time believing you think Booker deserved as little as that.’

The scowl on Nicky’s face faltered, and again it was just long enough to be noticed by someone who knew those features better than his own. He looked away, at the floor to the right of Joe’s feet, and shifted in his seat. ‘Booker betrayed us, he exposed us and put us at risk, and he has to answer for that. I’m not denying that, Joe, I’m not. But how can we ignore what drove him to betraying us in the first place?’ He met Joe’s eyes, his own wide open, earnest, as if honestly looking for an answer. ‘A hundred years is going to leave all of us worse off than we’re now. Leave him worse. Do you really not feel at all like we’re making a mistake?’

‘Don’t be self-righteous, it doesn’t suit you.’

‘And it’s not like I was letting it slide with an apology, like Nile’ Nicky continued, pointedly ignoring Joe. ‘Twenty felt like enough to get the point across.’

‘Nile is young and she is soft. Life will take those things from her, and I have no intention of speeding up the process. But you, Nico, you should know better than that. You know what he’s done deserves far more than twenty. That’s letting him go with a warning. A symbolic punishment.’

‘To us, but not to him’ Nicky raised. ‘It’s so much more to him. He’s barely older than Nile. He’s almost a child.’

‘A brat, that’s what he is’ Joe huffed, narrowing his eyes. ‘A selfish brat who doesn’t want to grow up because he likes wallowing in self pity in the corners saying no one understands him. And you know what? Maybe he’s right and we don’t. I don’t care. That doesn’t give him the right to drag us down with him, to resent us for daring to be happy. Don’t forget, Nicky’ he added, pointing a finger, ‘that this isn’t about him, or about getting a point across. It’s about the time we need to get past that stunt of his. I can’t speak for you, but twenty years isn’t going to cut it for me to forget he was willing to have all of us tied to a lab table being experimented on for who knows how long. We have a right to be angry.’

Nicky didn’t immediately answer, just stared for a long moment, jaw tense, and then looked down. Joe managed to stay firm for about ten seconds before he couldn’t keep the angrily stern look on his face. Closing his eyes, he let out a long, deep sigh, the frustration and roughness leaving him as the air left his lungs. He felt like a wound that had had the scab ripped off, exposing the flesh underneath, an angry, furious shade of red, but most of all tender and vulnerable.

He found himself getting into his knees, making a space for himself between Nicky’s legs as he reached for the man’s hand, meeting no resistance at all. He held it, gently, then brought his other hand around it so that he was sheltering it between his own. He kissed it once, twice, thrice, then brought it up to his face, held it against his cheek. Nicky’s thumb gingerly brushed against his jawbone, and Joe sighed again. Their eyes met, both calm this time, searching the depths of the other’s gaze.

‘I know what you’re thinking. But Nicky, you’re allowed to be angry. You know that, right? You are.’

Nicky didn’t immediately answer. He escaped Joe’s gentle yet firm eyes, jaw clenching as he swallowed hard and his lips twisted into an uneasy grimace. Not at Joe, just at it all.

‘He did what he did because he felt alone. How are we supposed to look him in the eye after leaving him on his own for a hundred years? Tell him we didn’t care he was suffering on his own, then act like nothing happened? I don’t know how I can do that.’ He stopped, waited a long moment, then added, unsure, ‘Do you think…? Have we ever given him reason to think we don’t care?’

‘No’ Joe replied immediately, gentle but giving no room to argument. ‘Andy knows we care for her and would do anything for her, and it’s not our fault Booker didn’t want to see it too. Even if it was, he had no reason to keep it all to himself and then blame us for not being able to read his mind. He’s not a kid and he’s not a moody teen, either. He’s been an adult for nearly three centuries, it’s about time he learned to act like one. That includes learning he can’t wipe it all away when he fucks up just by saying he’s sad. You’d agree with me if it was anyone else.’

It was, mostly, things that they’d already said the previous day, but Joe knew Nicky needed to hear them again, in private, calmly, from him. Needed it so he could accept it.

‘He’s our friend’ Nicky tried one last time, unsure.

‘He’s our friend,’ Joe accepted with a nod, ‘and he betrayed us both. He betrayed us all. He betrayed Andy as if she hadn’t given us her everything since the very beginning. He betrayed Nile and he didn’t even care that she’s a kid going through the most terrifying moment in her life, he was willing to have her experimented on all the same. How am I supposed to act like he deserves having his feelings taken into account over ours?’ He reached out, brushed his fingertips on Nicky’s chin, asking for him to look at him again. ‘Nicky, he had you tied to that table. I can’t forgive that within a lifetime.’

Nicky’s eyes were still cast down, his expression tense, conflicted. Joe’s thumb dragged along his chin, traced the edge of his lips.

‘He had me tied to that table to be tortured until I died. Are you okay with that? Nicolò, do you expect me to believe you’re not angry about what he did to me?’

Nicky’s eyes shot up, sharp and full of a cold clarity. ‘Of course I’m angry’ he said, and his words shook with the latent strain underneath he no longer bothered to hide. ‘I’m furious. I’m confused and I’m hurt. I swear to God that I’d kill him with my own hands if he were here. I hate him, Joe. I don’t want to, but I hate him.’.

‘Nicky, let yourself be angry. It’s alright. You don’t need to be the better person, not when he’s hurt us like this.’

Nicky brusquely stood up, taking Joe with him so he could embrace him. He wrapped his arms so tightly around him that they shook, fisted his hands on his back until they dug into his flesh, hid his face on Joe’s neck to the point he feared he’d suffocate himself. Still, all Joe did was hush him and lovingly return the embrace.

‘He heard us talk about Quynh and he said nothing’ Nicky said, the strain stronger now, making the words come out in uneven exhales of hot air on Joe’s skin. ‘He had already set us up to suffer the same way she did and heard us talk about how much we feared it and he just- He said nothing. He could have told us what he’d done, give us enough time to run, and I would have understood why he did it and forgiven him. But- He didn’t care. He didn’t, Joe, he didn’t. I can’t believe-  I wanted to hurt him, when he told us. I wanted to make him feel it, and I feel awful about it. And then I get angry because I shouldn’t be the one feeling bad. Of course I’m angry. How could I not be?’

Joe didn’t say anything, just caressed his head, kissed his temple, encouraged him to go on.

‘I just- I can’t understand it. I’m trying to, but I can’t. And all I can think of is that he must have been suffering so much and we didn’t even notice, because I can’t understand how he could be so selfish. We’re his family. We’ve tried to be, at least, but he clearly doesn’t feel that way, and I want to understand when and how we failed him so much, and if I’m angry at him then I’m not going to figure it out and I can fix nothing and it’ll be the same, so I can’t be angry, and that makes me feel worse, and I just-’

‘You can be angry’ Joe repeated, soothing, gently rocking Nicky with him. Nicky didn’t protest the interruption, just inhaled deeply and buried himself deeper in Joe. ‘You need to be angry. He’s got to deal with this shit, but we have to deal with it too. That’s not gonna happen if we don’t accept it. I know sometimes it’s hard for you to be selfish, but please, Nico, be selfish. Accept it. Tell yourself it’s okay to let him face consequences and forget about him until then. I don’t want you to still be hurt over this in a hundred years, alright? Promise me.’

Nicky didn’t say anything back, but the small nod Joe felt on his shoulder was more than enough for him. He breathed in, filling his lungs as much as they would with Nicky’s scent, still needing to make sure he was there with him, safely in his arms.

For a long, long moment neither of them spoke. Then, Joe let out a shaky chuckle.

‘I was terrified’ he confessed, his tone nearly cheerful as the hysteric tension finally left his body after having been kept in for so long. ‘I’ve forgotten the last time I felt so scared. I was terrified of them actually figuring something out and then I’d lose you. Or I’d leave you alone. I’m going to have nightmares about yesterday for years. I can’t just brush that off. I can’t and I don’t want to, and I’d like to think I have a right to that.’ He realized a tear was falling down his cheek, and he promptly let the rest follow suit. He buried his face in Nicky’s hair and let out a sound that was halfway between gasp and sob.

Nicky’s grip tightened even more, then loosened, just a bit. He waited for a long moment, waiting to see if Joe had to let any more else out, and then drew back, just enough to be able to look at his face. He cupped his cheeks with his hands, brushed a teardrop off, and came closer,  kindly pressing their lips together.

‘I was being selfish’ he muttered against Joe’s face. ‘I didn’t want to even think about it and didn’t realize you needed to talk about it. That I made you think I didn’t care. I’m sorry, Joe. I’m so, so sorry.’

Joe shook his head, denying the apology, the need for it. Nicky scowled, took air, but Joe beat him to it before he had time to complain. ‘I needed to know that you understood me’ he admitted, his smile weak but more genuine than he’d been able to muster lately. ‘Of course I know you care, Nicky. You always do. And I have no doubts about what we did. But it helps, hearing it’s just not me.’

Nicky still looked unconvinced, but he said nothing, merely shaking his head instead. He caressed Joe’s cheek agan, then pressed his forehead to his neck. He let out a tired chuckle.

‘And I say Booker’s a child. Look at me. You’d think emotion management would be something I’d have under control by now.’

‘We’re still human, Nico’ Joe supplied kindly. ‘That’s the one thing we’re never going to outgrow.’

Joe patted Nicky on the back, directing him towards the bed, and the other presented no effort otherwise. They lied down, side by side looking into each other’s eye. Their hands were joined in between them, and their faces so close that their breaths mixed, hot on their faces. For a long while, that was all they did.

‘He’s right, you know’ Nicky eventually said, barely more than a whisper. ‘We’re lucky. We’ve always had each other. If it hadn’t been like that… I couldn’t function. I don’t want to know the person I’d have become if you’d never been there. He would have done much worse things than Booker.’

‘You wouldn’t’ Joe complained, and Nicky let out a laugh before going in for a kiss. Joe’s features softened immediately, and his eyes were warm with tenderness when they parted.

Nicky had had nightmares, too, and had spent the day afraid of going back to sleep. Now, his eyes went over Joe’s face once more, taking in every inch of his skin, and had no doubt that when he showed up in his dreams that night, this would be what he looked like.

‘I’m glad we never have to find out.’

[zackcollins]

if you met me first ch. 2 || mathew barzal

chapter 1 || masterlist

Author’s Note: This was originally supposed to only be one part. Then I got an anon asking if I could write a part two because they’d like to see what would happen after the ending of the first part. Ask and you shall receive! But, uh... my stupid brain decided two parts wasn’t enough so, uh... they’ll be at least three parts. Knowing me though, they’ll end up being more than three. I hope you guys are okay with that (*insert sweat smile emoji*). GIF credit to chavelier!

Warnings: I don’t think there’s anything but feel free to tell me of anything deserves a warning. I’ll add it for you!

Word Count: 2.8k+

Title: If You Met Me First by Eric Ethridge

Additional: The reader is still gender-neutral. I made sure not to change that because I like consistency when there is more than one part and the previous part starts with a certain gender for the reader. Also! I’d like to thank @matbaerzal​ . I included something about a shorthanded goal for the Islanders but I don’t know much about their penalty kill alignments. She helped me with that by telling me some of the guys that are usually on it. She gave me five names but I ultimately picked Scott Mayfield. I’m not entirely sure why, if I’m honest. His name just spoke to me the most, I guess. Hope all of that’s okay and hope you enjoy this!

You sat there for a moment, phone gripped tightly to your ear. Mathew was breathing rapidly, starting to seem somewhat frantic. You sighed and bit your lip as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“I have feelings for you too,” you said, though it came out sounding like one word because you were so nervous.

You heard Mathew’s breathing even out as he let out a soft sigh. He chuckled before the line went dead. You dropped the phone on your lap and felt tears prickle the corners of your eyes. You sat there for a moment, wondering how you could ever have been so stupid to trust his admission. You felt betrayed by the person that mattered the most to you.

Not wanting to deal with anyone other than yourself, you turned your phone off and shoved it in your desk drawer. Anybody that wanted to talk to you could wait until you were done wallowing in the self-hatred of everything that had just transpired.

Needing something to distract yourself, you decided to deep clean your apartment. Twice. You wanted to make sure your mind was occupied so no thoughts of Mathew crept in. You also wanted to make sure that you didn’t miss anything from the first time.

When you were sure everything was cleaned, you washed the two weeks worth of laundry that had been gathering in your bedroom. It took you two hours to wash it all but you managed to get it done. It took an additional twenty-five minutes to fold everything and put it away but the laundry was finally dealt with after you had procrastinated it for the last week and a half.

When you needed a break from your chores, you switched on the television. You needed something to numb your mind and body; something to switch your thoughts off. Whatever deity existed must’ve been out for vengeance because the thing displayed on the television when it came to life was a rebroadcast of the Islanders vs. Flames game from that afternoon starting from the beginning of the second period. As much as you wanted to switch it off, something inside of you told you that you had to watch it.

As the second period progressed, you noticed that Mathew was playing with more enthusiasm and grit than you were used to seeing from him. He had bodychecked multiple Flames in an attempt to steal the puck from them. It had worked a few times but it led to an interference penalty on one occasion that Mathew looked none to pleased with. Luckily for him, Scott Mayfield was able to steal the puck from TJ Brodie and score a beautiful shorthanded goal short side on Cam Talbot. When the camera cut to Mathew in the penalty box, he was knocking his stick against the door and smiling with a relieved look on his face. 

Your heartbeat sped up at that and you felt your stomach somersault. You cursed yourself for having a positive reaction to seeing him happy after what he had done to you. He wasn’t worth your time if he was going to toy with your emotions like he had, no matter how great of a friend you thought he was.

On the television, Mathew had exited the penalty box right as you had managed to get yourself under control. Josh Bailey had the puck and noticed Mathew behind the Flames defence. Josh quickly passed it to Mathew and Mathew sprung into action, skating toward Talbot. You gripped the arm of your couch, feeling every emotion you had tried to suppress hitting you all at once. 

Mathew made it to the hash marks before he was hooked from behind by Rasmus Andersson. The referee shot his arm up and blew the whistle as soon as Talbot grabbed the puck after it trickled off Mathew’s stick. You sunk into the couch and covered your face as the referee pointed to centre ice. 

You looked up as the referee was placing the puck on the faceoff dot on centre ice. You felt your entire body fill with dread as you watched Mathew skate in a circle by the Islanders bench. You didn’t know if you could handle seeing Mathew take a penalty shot. Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to change the channel or turn the television off. Something was compelling you to watch this and you were too weak right now to fight against it. 

When the referee pointed to the puck and blew the whistle, Mathew quickly handled it on his forehand before skating down the ice. As he got closer to Talbot, he switched the puck to his backhand, then his forehand, then his backhand again and moved slightly to his left. Talbot froze briefly, opening his five-hole in the process. Mathew took that opportunity to hammer the puck in through Talbot’s five-hole on his backhand. Talbot tried to close his five-hole but all that succeeded in doing was pushing the puck over the line with his skates. The referee pointed to the net and blew the whistle. As Mathew went down the bench for his fist bumps, you noticed that he looked directly at the camera with a smirk on his face. You weren’t sure why but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he had directed that at you specifically. Your stomach did another somersault at the mere thought of that. 

The rest of the second period was rather uneventful. A couple penalties got drawn by both teams but no powerplay goals or shorthanded goals came of them. You were somewhat dreading the third period, unsure if you could handle any shenanigans that Mathew would inevitably get up to. You still felt compelled to watch the game and you were still too weak to fight against yourself so watch the game you would.

As the third period started you heard a knock at your apartment door. You found that odd because you hadn’t been expecting anyone. You wanted to ignore it because you weren’t in the mood for visitors but the knocking became insistent. You grumbled to yourself as you walked across the room and through the foyer to open the door. You had really regretted not looking through the peephole as soon as you laid eyes on the person on the other side.

“Mathew,” you exclaimed, taking a step backwards in surprise. 

What surprised you even more was that he looked like he had been crying. As much as you didn’t want to see him right now (even though this was your first time seeing him face-to-face), you couldn’t in good faith leave him out in the apartment hallway while he looked the way he did. Your grandmother, who had been a therapist, would come back from the grave and smack you for being inconsiderate to someone that so obviously needed your help. 

“Can I—“ 

“Yeah… yeah,” you interjected, somewhat absentmindedly. You stepped back further so Mathew could enter. “Let’s go.”

Mathew smiled weakly as he brushed by you. You blinked a few times and shook your head to make sure this was really happening. When it was clear that it was, you carefully closed the door and latched it. Even though Mathew had been an asshole earlier, something inside of you told you he posed no threat and that whatever he wanted was something that needed privacy. 

When you turned around, you bumped your shoulder into Mathew’s chest. Mathew quickly reached out because you had stumbled a little. His face shifted from the anguish you get after a good crying session to guilt. You assumed the guilt was for standing too close to you and causing what happened to happen.

“Sorry,” he said, voice strained. “I didn’t mean… I just didn’t want to go into the apartment without you. I feel like it would’ve been rude because I don’t live here.”

You blinked when he took a moment to remove his shoes and place them on the shoe rack beside him before he followed you into the living room. 

Mathew sat on the couch beside you and motioned in the direction of the shoe rack.

“Was… was I not supposed to do that,” he asked, voice a little concerned.

You quickly shook your head, holding your hands up.

“No,” you said. “Wait. I mean yes. Fuck.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed before looking at Mathew again. He looked confused but he was still looking at you intently.

“You were supposed to do that,” you said, sighing again. “I’m just not used to people doing it on their own volition.”

Mathew nodded and opened his mouth like he was going to reply but he quickly snapped it shut. His head swivelled to look at the television and that’s when you noticed that you had left the rebroadcast of the game playing. And, from what you could tell, Mathew had just scored.

You grabbed the remote but Mathew placed his hand over the top of it, blocking the power button. You tried to yank the remote backwards but something about the way Mathew was looking at you made you drop the remote onto his lap. Mathew smiled, although something about the way his eyes flicked from you to the television and then down to the remote told you the smile was a façade to hide how he was really feeling.

Not wanting to push Mathew and make him uncomfortable, you focused your attention back to the television. Just as you did that, you heard Mathew shift beside you. You briefly glanced at him but all he did was point at the television and smile while looking nervous. You raised an eyebrow but remained silent.

Just as you focused back on the television, Mathew scored his hat trick goal. You felt your heartbeat stutter and your stomach do a flip. When you looked at Mathew, he was staring intently at the television but you thought you saw a few wet lines on his cheeks. You went to say something but the announcer screaming Mathew’s name drew your attention back to the television.

When you looked, two minutes of game time had passed and Mathew had potted another goal. Your heartbeat faltered and your stomach did what felt like its millionth somersault of the day. As you watched everyone celebrate with Mathew on the television, you felt tears prickle the corners of your eyes. 

You were watching the Flames fumble through a powerplay when you felt something nudge your leg. You glanced down and saw Mathew’s hand sitting on your thigh, palm up. You took the hint and placed your hand in his. Even though he had been an asshole earlier, you had felt the need to forgive him when he decided to come all this way to see you, even if he hadn’t actually said sorry yet. Actions spoke louder than words.

Mathew squeezed your hand, which made you look at him. He smiled softly, cheeks shining from obvious tear stains. You wiped away the tear stains right as the announcers screamed Mathew’s name again. You both looked at the television and saw that he had scored his fifth goal with only thirty seconds left in the game. 

Mathew grabbed your other hand and squeezed them both. As the end horn sounded, Mathew dropped your hands and nodded towards the television. You raised an eyebrow but focused your attention where he had directed. 

As the teams skated off the ice, a reporter pulled Mathew aside. He took his helmet off and placed it on the top of his stick.

“Mat,” she started, pausing when the crowd roared with a chorus of cheers and boos. She and Mathew both chuckled. 

“You had the game of your life this afternoon. Was there anything that motivated it?”

Mathew put his glove in his mouth and nibbled on it for a moment. When he was done with that, he took the glove off so he could run his fingers through his hair. The reporter didn’t seem phased by the delay as she stood there, holding the microphone in front of Mathew.

Mathew sighed and bit his lip as he put his glove back on. He leaned against the top of his helmet and looked at the reporter.

“The person I’m in love with loves me back,” he said, smiling softly. “I needed to impress them.”

The reporter smiled as she looked at Mathew.

“They better be impressed. You scored five goals and had two assists,” she said. “Go get them, Mat. I won’t keep you any longer. Congratulations again. On your game and your relationship.”

The television screen suddenly went black after that. You turned to Mathew and saw him holding the remote, his finger on the power button. He quickly threw the remote to the side and you both jumped a little when it crashed into the glass top of the coffee table.

“Sorry,” Mathew mumbled.

You put your finger on his lips and shook your head.

“Don’t,” you said, dropping your finger. “There’s nothing to apologize for. I just have to ask one thing.”

Mathew looked at you and raised an eyebrow.

“Why did you hang up after I told you I felt the same way?”

Mathew sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“I called you during intermission,” he said. “Coach caught me with my phone and told me to hang up or he’d bench me for the rest of the game.”

You felt tension you didn’t know you had been holding onto release from your body. Mathew ran his thumbs across your wrists and you relaxed a little more. You melted into the touch and shifted closer to Mathew, dropping your head against his shoulder. Mathew took that opportunity to wrap his arm around you and run one of his hands soothingly along your back. You sighed and wiggled in closer to Mathew’s touch. 

The two of you sat there in silence. You were taking in the moment of finally being cuddled against the man you loved more than anything. It felt better than any of your wildest dreams. It made you feel complete. It made you feel happy.

“I’m happy too,” Mathew said, kissing the top of your head.

You hadn’t realized you had said that out loud but you were glad that you had. Hearing Mathew affirm your feelings made you feel ten times better. It made you feel better knowing that he wanted this as much as you did.

“Why wouldn’t I want this as much as you? You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. It just took Tito telling me that every person I’ve ever dated had a carbon copy of your personality for me to notice.”

Realizing you said that out loud made your face heat up because of the response you got. You buried your head as far into Mathew’s neck as you could. Mathew chuckled and lifted your head up so you were looking him in the eyes.

“Hey,” Mathew said, tapping your nose with his finger. “It means I like your personality type. And, more importantly, I like the original the most.”

You felt your stomach do a somersault for the nth time that day as you looked at the pure expression on Mathew’s face. You smiled as you brushed a piece of Mathew’s hair out of his face. Mathew leaned into the touch, humming softly. 

Your eyes darted down to his lips and then back to his eyes. Mathew nodded and that was all it took for you to surge forward and connect your lips with his. 

As you kissed, your mind went blank. You couldn’t think of anything but the fact that you were kissing the man that you had waited what felt like forever to kiss.

When you pulled back, Mathew was panting slightly and some of his hair was stuck to his forehead. You swallowed and ran your fingers through that hair to brush it away. Mathew shivered and leaned forward a little. You leaned forward and rested your forehead against his. Mathew puffed a breath against your swollen lips, which caused you to shiver. 

You pulled back right then to yawn and stretch your arms above your head. 

“Sorry, I—“

“Fall asleep on the couch with me,” Mathew said, laying down on the couch and moving as far over as he could to make room for you.

“Don’t you have to get back to the hotel,” you asked, though you did lay down and cuddle against him. 

Mathew chuckled and shifted around a little. You patted his shoulder when you were comfortable. He kissed the top of your head and slung his arm around you.

“Nah. We’re in our bye week right now. I don’t have to get back until tomorrow when I check out and we fly to St. Lucia.”

You hummed and closed your eyes.

Your eyes shot open a minute later when your brain registered what Mathew had said.

“I get to go to St. Lucia?!”

[reynesofcastamere]

Surface Breach(2/3)[β]

(A/N: Good grief but it has been a while since my last contribution to the ship. Sad to say I’ve been caught up with several irl things, including moving and settling in to the new place. Rest assured, I do have several drafts in the works for other projects and I am hoping to set up a regular writing/submission schedule. Now that that’s out of the way...Warnings for: possessive behaviour, emotional manipulation, (negotiated) bondage, blindfolding, edging, cockwarming, blood, masochism and mentions of polyamory, coitus interruptus, and non-consensual play.  Unbeta’d and NSFW.)

Ahsoka knows the second she sets foot on her ship that time is up. She could still flee, drag this game out a bit longer and drive up the level of his frustration...But what would be the point, really? It’s been months since they parted ways, and while she hasn’t avoided his calls, she’s also made a point of not meeting with him in person. A reprimand for his behaviour, and a reminder of the challenge she’d issued.  She recalls the first, trembling breath of relief she’d taken after the medical scans were complete. He has no further hold over her than this. Nothing burrowed and secreted away beneath her skin to...Do any number of things, really. Most of which she’d rather not consider right now.

Maul is of course perfectly at ease in the pilot’s seat, already turned to face her. “Lady Tano. I trust that your last assignment was successful.” He’s being neutral, bordering on pleasant, even. But the tension is there, kept in check by the slimmest thread of restraint. “And I trust that you’re not here for small talk.” Ahsoka makes certain to keep a few feet of distance between them, arms crossed. The corner of his mouth twitches, the speed of it leaving her unsure of whether he meant to smirk or grimace. “You have business on Nar Shadaa, and I have certain...interests that need tending there.” “So you decided to catch a ride. Without asking.”  “You would have refused even if I had offered compensation. This is the most expedient method of travel.” Maul’s eyes narrow, attempting to pierce through and determine her intent. “Unless you plan to run in order to spite me.” “I’m not running anywhere.” Ahsoka retorts. “But I’m also not going to spend three whole days in hyperspace...entertaining you.” “Naturally. However, when we are not occupied with tasks and other essentials, you will make good on your promise, my Lady. Now please, sit.”  She takes up residence in the navigator’s seat, given that he’s obviously not willing to move. “I told you to stop calling me that.”

“What does it matter, if you are not truly mine? Just a monster’s delusion. Unless...”

“Don’t. Start. You can use either of my names. Just not...that.” “As you wish.”

Nothing else is said for some time. Even after the ship takes off, the course is set in, and space has blurred into blue lines, there are other responsibilities that need to be taken care of. Ahsoka has to stop herself from dragging out the time. She’s not looking forward to this. The discussion she needs to have with him, not what might happen afterward.

“Look, if this is going to continue, there need to be some ground rules.”

 “Explain.”

“First off: Unless I’m badly injured or in immediate danger, you’re not allowed to just...carry me back to your lair, no matter what your reasons are.” He’s more than capable of coming up with a multitude of excuses to do so. Which is why she’s cutting him off at the knees, figuratively speaking.  “Second: This arrangement doesn’t interfere with work. Ever. Third: I decide when anything starts. You’re not allowed to grab or molest me in any way before that.” 

Maul appears mildly amused, but the small tics that betray his impatience are growing. “This seems rather excessive for a casual arrangement.”

 Ahsoka pins him in place with a look and a hint of a Force hold. “I’m not finished. Fourth: Any marks left behind have to be concealable.” She’d walk away from this ‘business trip’ with more visible punctures in her than being dropped into a giant cacti forest on Yavin 13 otherwise.  “Fifth: No matter how far along we are, if I say ‘kyber’, we stop what we’re doing. No questions, no persuasion, nothing. If you don’t have a safeword, then pick one and tell me.”

“Is ‘stop’ somehow inadequate?” The question is soft as she releases her unseen grasp on him. Even seated, something in him reminds her of a hunter in the moment before a kill; tense with anticipation and bloodthirst.   “No.” She wets her lower lip. There’s no going back from this confession, hard as it had been for her to admit it to herself. Much less him.  “When I use ‘stop’, it usually means ‘go harder’.”

Maul’s grip is practically throttling the armrest at this point. He is trying, from the shudder in his breath, to follow the rules she’s set out so far. That’s a good sign. His eyes, though? There’s a flicker in them that she used to see from the people she’d helped or rescued during the war. The ones who fully believed that the Jedi were capable of miracles and could do no wrong. A kind of...awe. Achingly soft, and in his case, almost buried beneath avarice and raw desire. She fights the urge to squirm, and it’s not entirely from discomfort. “Is that all?”

“Yes.”

“Good, ‘scimitar’ should suffice. I have some conditions of my own.” Every word is a caress, heavy and deliberate. “You are, of course, free to object.” He produces the blindfold she’d given him from within his shirt. She remembers exactly how he’d taken her apart; bound by choice and utterly enthralled. “So long as you wear this, you will obey.” Maul purrs, heat suffusing her body as he winds and pulls the fabric taut between his fingers. “I’m not going to call you ‘Master’.” Ahsoka is certain he’d like almost nothing more. She gets far too much pleasure out of denying him, however. So he’ll have to earn it first.

“Yet.” Maul responds, overconfident ass that he is. “I have no desire for you to dull your tongue. But you will submit to my commands.” He leans in, nearly closing the gap between them, but not quite. “Such as if I tell you to get down on your knees and show me how you pleasure yourself.” He’s only saying it to provide an example, yet her thighs rub together all the same at the thought. Sightless, her cunt exposed and dripping while he watches, giving obscene praise and instructions on how to bring herself to orgasm.

“Should you want to take control, all you need do is remove it. Or ask that it be taken off.” Of course he’s not done yet. Has to finish having his say first, and bring her arousal to a fever-pitch with the only options currently allowed. “Any amount of marks you receive from other paramours, I will match in number, and I will take first priority.” There is a jealous glint, a madness in his eyes that should terrify her. “Regardless of your position and how close your mutual release is.”  Ahsoka sucks in a sharp breath. “You really expect me to just...make someone leave while they’re-”  “Yes.” Maul snarls, hushed and vicious in a way that brooks no refusal. Much as she might like to, if she does not compromise, give some inch of ground...He will lash out. Ultimately, he’s not asking for much. So far. “And should you draw a weapon on me again-” His left hand circles her jaw without actually making contact, though the intent is clear. “-be prepared to use it.” Her gaze falls to his throat, his markings almost concealing the burn scar she’d given him. But not quite. That he’d chosen to keep it at all is- “Do we have an agreement, Ahsoka Tano?”

 A small eternity seems to pass between her indrawn breath and the resulting answer. “Yes.” Ahsoka looks at him again without fear. Straight into the eyes of the monster, the murderer, the tyrant she has and will be taking into her bed for the forseeable future. “Go ahead.” The first kiss is nothing short of a conquest, taken with broken vocalizations and sharp bites. She lets him pull her in, straddling his lap in the pilot’s seat while they break for air, and offering no resistance when he ties the blindfold securely in place. “Undress. Completely.” Softer now, his lips ghosting along her jawline. It takes a bit of effort, but before long she is bared to him, nipples pebbled from arousal, the air, and the cold presence of the Dark Side. The body beneath her, the bare hands that trace and mould her form are nearly white-hot by comparison. “Perfect...Turn around, and place your hands behind my neck.” Ahsoka obeys, shuddering in pleasure as he purrs. The cuffs he attaches to her wrists are made of some kind of leather, and she instinctively tests the give of the metal chain between them. Sturdy, but nothing she can’t break out of.

The position leaves her undeniably exposed and at his mercy. She expects none, yet he grants it anyway. With each stroke, squeeze, and tug of his fingers down her body, he steadily tunes her nerves to exquisite sensitivity. He never quite touches her core, preferring to caress and grip her inner thighs and the curve of her breasts even as she pants and shifts restlessly. She can feel him against her, hard and unyielding, the cloth barrier separating them gradually being saturated with her essence. And still he makes no effort to hurry things along. “I thought you wanted to -haaaaahhhh- punish me for making you wait this long.”  “You made a game of testing my patience. It is only fitting that I return the favour. I will keep you here, on the precipice between agony and bliss...Until, in your desperation, you beg me to ‘stop’.” Maul pinches her throbbing bud and she whines an incoherent stream of vowels. “Although...Hm. Your impulsive side is endearing.”

“What are you rambling on ab-AnnnnnH!” He bites down on her shoulder while slightly twisting the bundle of nerves held captive between his digits. She’s bleeding and the pain between her legs is pure torture, but she still wants-

‘I will grant your release early. If you ask to be fucked.” “You can’t be serious.” “Three simple words are all that stand in your way.”

“Why not just order me to say it?”

“Why should I, when you so clearly want to? Despite your self-denial.”  There’s no longer anything gentle about his touch, how his nails dig in and rake across her inner thighs while her shoulders and upper back gain a rapidly-growing collection of teeth-marks. His shaft is still there, still covered and rigid, rubbing against her hot and sodden core. Ahsoka is on the verge of sobbing. Or breaking her restraints to just seize what he’s dangling in front of her. But if all it takes is a couple of words...”Please, fuck me.” She whispers, rough from repressing her whimpers.

“Again.” His lips on her throat, feeling the command rumbling against her vocal cords.

She grits her teeth and snarls. “Fuck. Me. Please. You smug, overbearing bastard.” Maul’s fingers curve over and tug her recently-abused pearl, and she is lost, sent tumbling and screaming into the abyss.

Her body is still quivering in the aftermath when he presses in. A slow invasion, one that encounters no resistance until he is fully secured within her walls. At first, she thinks he just wants her to ride him. Yet before she can start... “I will give you a choice.” Maul’s voice is low enough to feel in her bones. “If you can keep relatively still for fifteen minutes, you will be taken against the control panel. And if you are very good, Ahsoka-” Her name on his lips is electric and scandalous, her body arching as if pulled by unseen strings. “-I will get down on my knees and devour you first.” She should never have given him permission to use it in the first place. His other...’endearments’ are easy to brush off. Somehow, hearing those three syllables in this moment is more intimate than having him inside her, feeling the incremental shifts between their bodies with each breath. 

Ahsoka raises herself up, almost to the point of letting his shaft slip out, then drops back down. She can feel him hiss, how his hips jolt up on instinct once before he stops himself. “Mmmm. Think your other option is bad enough to stop me from putting this to better use?” She’s teasing now, circling and rolling her hips in a way that takes him deep, but not all the way in again. Having Maul relatively immobile is a new experience. Even when he’s not being rough, he’s hardly still. It probably won’t last, but so long as his patience holds out...Using him like a sex toy is doing a lot to rev her up right now. He seizes her head-tail and pulls, bending Ahsoka’s neck back at an uncomfortable angle, free hand grasping one of her thighs to force a stop to her movements. “Keep this up and I assure you, ja’ti mirtis{my death}, you will not enjoy sitting when I am done with you.” Maul rasps, his mouth so close to her left montral that she can feel his lips brushing against it with every word. Her core trembles, breath coming in short, sharp pants. “I wonder which would bring you more pleasure? Being bent over the edge of your cot to be mounted and used...Or disciplined until that option becomes a mercy?”  Something like insanity seizes her. It’s the only explanation for what she says next. “Both.” Ahsoka breathes. “I want-Take these off, please.” The light is harsh for the few seconds it takes her eyes to adjust, wrists slightly chafed from the cuffs as she carefully turns to face him. “I need both.” Her hands gently circle his face. “Can you do that? Get me ready with your mouth, and take me nice and slow right here?” He seems transfixed, almost unable to believe the words falling from her lips. “Think of how wet I’ll be, when you’ve finished your ‘discipline’ and I’m just aching to be ruined.” Ahsoka can taste the hunger when he captures her mouth, how similar it is to her own. Her nails claw at his shoulderblades, seeking purchase, to bury herself in him, anything. “Yes, Ahsoka.” Maul whispers, between their lips meeting in repeated, feverish collisions. “You have only to ask.” (A/N: Some of you may have noticed a slight change in the numbers up top. So yes, there will be one more chapter to this particular story. 8D Cheers, everyone!)

[pretend-writer]

Down Below (Chapter 64)

Summary: After being sent down on Earth with the other prisoners from the Ark, Y/N Reyes faces series of events and learns about survival. With new things happening around her, she is now starting a new chapter in her life.

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader, Raven Reyes x sister!reader

Word Count: 1.8k words

Warning: swearing, mention of sex, mention of violence

Down Below Masterlist

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Everything we've ever worked for was gone; our home, our food and our leader who we thought we could count on no matter what.

I always knew that what Octavia and I did was for Wonkru, we always wanted the best for our clan. Even the toughest time, we told each other it was for survival.

What I have done in the past six years will never be forgiven but I knew in my heart that I've done the things I've done for the better. I've killed to protect my best friend, we've rationed human meat to help Wonkru survive.

Burning down hydrofarm could not be helping Wonkru at all. I tried understanding Octavia's logic but I couldn't get it. Maybe she had lost her ways, maybe the issue was deeper than Abby and her blackmailing two teenagers.

Either way, I felt a sense of responsibility on my end too. The problem with Dark Year all started from me after all; I was the cause of all of this mess. It was some sort of chain reaction, a butterfly effect.

That one bullet changed everything and I've ruined every single lives that I was supposed to protect, including the ones that were in the Ring. Because of what I've done, they came back to Earth and got involved in the mess I've created.

With a backpack full of ration we probably can't keep for six days, we marched toward Shallow Valley to take the only livable land on Earth. As I caught up to Octavia who led us, I tugged on her arm. 'Why did you do it?'

'We need the Valley, it's the only way Wonkru can survive.' She didn't turn around to answer as she kept her head up. 'Thought you'd understand.'

'Did you really tell Bellamy to kill Indra in the fighting pit?' I couldn't keep this to myself, the thought of Octavia betraying her people circled my mind.

She stayed silent for a bit before she answered. 'Since when are you and Bellamy talking again?'

'I had to go see him before he was sent off. Why wouldn't I go?' I bit my lips, 'You would sacrifice your family if they weren't blood? Is that all I am to you?'

Octavia quickly turned her head, 'Of course I would never do that to you Y/N.'

'Indra was someone who cared for you this whole time since we've been sent down. If you betrayed her, then I'm sur-'

'Can we not speak of this? You're speaking nonsense.'

'Nonse-' I sighed, trying to wrap my head around all of this. 'I've killed innocent people because Abby threatened to hurt you. I did all the things I was against to protect you.'

Octavia rolled her eyes, continuing to look straight into the sands. 'I never asked you to protect me.'

My brows raised, not believing what came out of Octavia's mouth. Despite me doing things that were wrong, I convinced myself it was okay as long as Abby didn't hurt Octavia.

I threw all my beliefs and morals away just to have Octavia tell me that all the shit I've done was unappreciated. I felt as though I've been living a lie for four years.

'Are you fucking kidding me?' I huffed, not knowing what else to say in such situation.

I've sacrificed everything for someone I thought was my best friend. Octavia was the only person I've ever cared about these past few years and now I feel stupid that I've changed myself for someone like her.

'Wait, Y/N. I didn't-'

'I've done everything for you, stood by you this whole time because I thought that I meant that much to you.' I shook my head and turned back around.

Octavia grabbed onto my hand as she tried to pulled me back to the front. 'Y/N, I'm sorry.'

While tears dripped down my face, I angrily yanked my arm away from her. Looking at her dead in her eyes, I took a deep breath and walked away.

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Eating my last small portion of my ration, I sat alone in front of the fire. In the corner of my eye, I saw Monty and Bellamy talking and smiling; They seemed so happy and I wondered how different my life would've been if I went to The Ring with them.

All of Spacekru were a big family, something I've envied since I was a little girl. I could've been a part of all of that but I gave it all up to be a better person instead of taking the suit from Emori or Echo. Instead I just to turned it all around to be the worst person I could be down at the bunker.

I stood up, pacing towards Monty and Bellamy thinking that I should try to talk to them. The closer I got to them, the harder my heart pounded. I was more than nervous to talk to the people I've known for years.

Bellamy and Monty looked up as they heard footsteps from my direction. Monty gave me a light smile, motioning me to come sit with them. Bellamy however looked away without a reaction.

'What do you want?' Bellamy said in a monotone voice as he stared at the fire.

'I was wondering if we can talk alone?' I held my breath, scared of him possibly yelling at me or saying something mean that I'd definitely deserve.

Monty looked at me with sad eyes and looked back at Bellamy. The way Monty have been treating me was something I did not deserve; he had every right to hate me but he didn't.

Bellamy let out a loud sigh and stood up. He walked to his tent and mumbled. 'Fine.'

I followed him in, balled my hand into a fist trying to maintain my emotions. I was scared that it might turn worse than it already was but I had to try. I needed to talk to him.

He crossed his arms, showing no interest of whatever I wanted to say. 'What?'

'I-I' My mind went blank, panicking as if this was the first time ever talking to him. Everything was intense starting with his body language, it already felt like I didn't belong here someway. 'I really don't know what to say other than I'm sorry.'

'You're sorry? Are you serious? That's not going to bring anyone back.'

'I know. All the things I've done in the bunker can never be forgiven, I know that too. But know that everything I've done was because I thought it was the best to protect Wonkru.'

'How am I supposed to understand that you've killed from the goodness from your heart? How am I supposed to be okay with that, Reyes?'

Was it wrong for me to think that Bellamy was being hypocritical? All the years he was apologizing for killing the grounders especially when they weren't attacking, I stood by him and forgave him.

After a whole bunch of mess we've been through together, I knew from the bottom of my heart that he was different. I gave him chance after chance and this one mistake just made him turn around and forget me?

It was stupid to think that because I know that I didn't deserve forgiveness. I should never be forgiven for killing my own people but given the circumstances Bellamy was in a few years back, I thought he'd at least understand where I was coming from.

This should've have never been brought up but my chest was hurting from pain, I had to let it out. 'You've killed people too Bellamy. You've apologized over and over, I always forgave you.'

Tears were rolling down my face, it was as if I forgot how to cry. These past years being under the bunker, I've told myself to not shed a tear and now I couldn't stop. I was finally letting all my pain and suffering out.

'I've already told you, I've never killed my own people but you did! You were okay with killing Wonkru!' Bellamy yelled.

'We both killed to protect our own, how is that any different!?' We were yelling at each other and I wondered if anyone outside the tent heard us.

'It's different because it's you Reyes!' He shouted as his eyes got watery. 'You were supposed to protect everyone like you've done since day one of being here on Earth. I'm just a mess up that always does something wrong. You were the leader for everyone, including Wonkru. We are not the same, I've always made mistakes but you...'

A sudden anger sparked in me, 'How selfish of you to fucking say that! You can make mistakes but I can't? All my life I tried to be good. Then I make one mistake and I'm a bitch that everyone wants dead. I wanted to leave with Jasper but you told me to survive. I survived for you!'

His eyes widened, surprised that I started crying and screaming. Bellamy reached out to me, trying to pull on my hand before I swiped it away. 'Get the fuck off of me! I'm so done. I'm done.'

'Reyes, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that.' Before I was able to storm out of his tent, he pulled me in. 'I didn't say that to try to hurt your feelings, I'm sorry.'

Pushing him away, I cried even more. 'I never asked to be the leader, I didn't even want to be in the fucking bunker. I'm tired of all of this. People want me to be perfect when I'm not, I'm not at all!'

Bellamy pulled me in again, hugging me tightly as he rubbed my back. 'Y/N, I'm sorry.'

Eventually giving up on struggling out of his grip, I cried into his chest. 'It's not fair, you told me to live and the bunker was the worst years of my entire life. I'm here all because of you.'

He reached for my chin and lifted my head up. With his thumb, he wiped my tears and looked me in my eyes. I didn't realize until now that I missed the way he looked at me the way he did.

Bellamy licked his lips before he slowly leaned in to lock our lips. It's been a long time since we've been this intimate, I almost forgot how it felt to be in his arms.

Wanting his taste, I kissed back passionately as I slid my hand into his shirt. Bellamy did the same to mine, except he broke the kiss to take my top off.

He didn't waste any time as he pulled me back in, sliding his hands up and down my sides. Eventually landing his hand on the band of my jeans, he unbuttoned them.

'Blake, I-' I mumbled under my breath in between the kisses. He traced my lip with his thumb as he shushed me.

'You don't have to feel alone anymore, I'm here.' He spoke softly, erasing all of the bad memories from the past few years. I nodded, still kissing him as he gently laid me on the ground.

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tag list; @jodiereedus22, @coffeebooksandfandom, @bellamyblakemorley, @wisestydia-15, @dbtvluv , @hurricane–amelia , @lexalexy , @olkathefoxi, @lena-davina, @kellbell44, @thehakunamatara, @akelly4477, @morgannope, @littlegirl-fox, @captainam-erika-trash, @greygarbage, @nathaliabakes, @eternallyvenus, @rauwz, @broco8, @eridanuswave, @minamisulemisa

[whump-tr0pes]

Honor Bound 2 - 34

This is a series. Start here, continued from here. 

This is a sequel to Honor Bound.

AO3

Cw: thoughts of death, near-panic attack, mention of torture and parental abuse

“Um. Is anyone gonna eat the last piece of bacon?” Gavin’s gaze flicked around the table, barely resting on each person before he stared back at the table and up again. Gray smiled at him. Sam shook their head. Vera crunched her own piece of bacon.

Ellis wouldn’t look at him at all.

“Um.”

Gavin flinched slightly as Finn spoke up from the other end of the table.

“I’ll um. Split it with you.” Finn looked down at the lone piece of bacon on the plate, twisted and just a little burnt. They looked up at Gavin. A tight, uncomfortable smile pulled at their mouth.

Gavin heaved a deep breath. “Yeah. Yes please.” He reached for the bacon and broke it in half with his fork. He grabbed the smaller half and pushed the plate towards Finn.

Even after everything I’ve done, they’re still trying to include me. Is there a fucking limit to how good they all are?

Finn took the piece and ate it in one bite. They crunched it happily and threw a grin at Ellis. Ellis wouldn’t look at Finn, either. Gavin stared at the table.

Gray cleared their throat and stood. “Thank you for breakfast,” they said with a smile around the table. “I’m going to go for a walk, see if I can get my heart rate up a bit. Anyone who wants to can join me.” As if dismissed by Gray’s words, everyone else stood, grabbing their plates, talking about what they were going to do for the rest of the day.

“I wanted to go into town and see if there are any new arrivals,” Tori said softly, bumping Vera’s arm. “Do you want to come with me?”

Vera wrapped her free arm around Tori’s shoulders, resting lightly to avoid the marks from the cane that Gavin had left. Gavin winced at the memory of breaking Tori’s skin open.

“Yeah babe,” Vera said, pressing a kiss into Tori’s hair. “Sounds good.”

“Can I come?” Edrissa whispered at Vera’s elbow.

Tori and Vera smiled at each other. “Yeah,” Vera said, grinning. “We can all go.”

Gavin shuffled uncomfortably as he walked to the kitchen with his plate and put it in the sink. He wouldn’t be going anywhere. Since arriving at Crayton, he’d been under house arrest on pain of torture and death if he ever left. And not even just his torture and death. The whole family would fall if he betrayed them, even just by leaving the house for a minute.

Not that house arrest was like torture; staying in this big ranch house with the others had given him a sense of security he didn’t think he’d ever felt before. But he did miss the outside. He missed the ability to go wherever he wanted, anywhere in his parents’ territory, whenever he pleased. He missed the freedom.

He hated to admit that he missed being the heir to the fucking kingdom.

He shook his head and turned the tap on hot as the rest of them piled their plates and cups by the sink. Since he hadn’t helped with breakfast, he’d be on dish duty. He didn’t mind. Even being included in the chores the family did made him feel safer. He was working with them. Even if it was doing something as mundane as washing dishes.

He had his back to the kitchen as he rinsed the first plate, trying not to listen as the others filed one by one out of the kitchen behind him. Off to their adventures. Off to their lives, where he couldn’t follow.

I don’t need to fucking follow. I came here as a hostage to give them information about the syndicates. I’m lucky not to be in fucking chains right now.

He wasn’t sure when he started referring to people like his own family as ‘the syndicates.’

He wasn’t sure when he started thinking of these people as his family.

He wasn’t sure if they would ever feel the same way about him.

His shoulders relaxed as the kitchen became quiet behind him. At least when he was alone, he didn’t have to worry about scaring anyone or making anyone feel threatened or accidentally triggering someone into hurting him. Or killing him. If he had to be completely honest with himself, that’s probably how he was going to die. Someone living in this house was going to kill him one day.

He couldn’t bring himself to feel scared of that moment. Every day he’d been here, someone had shown him in some small way that that possibility was fading. The sharp tone in Gray’s voice had dropped away. Last week Sam had brought him chocolate from a trip into town. Finn had shared that piece of bacon with him.

Isaac had stayed with him when he was scared last night.

Sure, Ellis hated him and Edrissa looked at him like she was waiting for him to launch himself against the room and start beating her at any moment. Sure, Isaac’s hands twitched to his waistband when Gavin moved too fast, even though Isaac never carried his gun on him in the house. Sure, every time he entered a room the conversation died down for a moment, and sometimes stopped altogether.

Despite all that, despite every moment of awkwardness and guilt and wondering if today was going to be the day someone’s fear or rage would overcome them and they’d kill Gavin for all the crimes he’d committed against the family… He felt safer here than he ever had before in his life. The people here cared about each other. Would die for one another.

And Gavin couldn’t quite convince himself that they could all be faking the small kindnesses they showed him.

Gavin chewed his lip, realizing that he’d been scrubbing the same plate clean for the past several minutes. He put the plate on the dry towel next to the sink and reached for another.

“So I hear you’re scared of me.”

Gavin let out a shriek and spun, pressing himself back against the sink as he realized he was now alone in the kitchen with Vera.

Welp, I guess I’m dying today.

Vera laughed at his reaction, crossing her arms in front of her chest and looking him up and down. Gavin flushed, mortified. His hands shook with the realization that Vera had cornered him in the only room in the house with a linoleum floor. Oh, shit. She’s gonna bleed me out, too.

Vera’s gaze pierced through him and his mouth went dry. He swallowed, trying frantically to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth so he could beg. For what, he didn’t know. Mercy, forgiveness, a fast fucking death, anything. His chest ached as his heart all but threw itself against his ribs. His blood pounded through his ears. His body was locked between warring compulsions: every instinct in him was screaming at him to run, to hide, to get as far as fucking possible from the predator standing between him and the door. His hands clenched into fists, even as he knew he couldn’t fight her.

His muscles locked against him and he froze.

Slowly, the smile slid from Vera’s face.

She raised her hands out to the side, empty, and took a step back. “Jesus Christ, Gavin. Breathe. You’re good.”

Gavin dragged in a ragged inhale and realized he’d been holding his breath. He slumped back against the counter, the rushing of the hot water making its way back into his ears.

“Jesus Christ,” Vera breathed. “Isaac wasn’t fucking kidding.”

“About what?” Gavin said thickly.

Vera’s gaze moved over him, uncertainty passing over her face. “About you being scared of me. Like… Jesus. You’d think I’m the one who tried to kill you or something.”

“You did try to kill me,” he mumbled through numb lips.

Vera huffed out a breath. “Fair enough. You had it coming.”

“Yeah, I fucking know.” Gavin’s jaw locked tight and he stared at the floor.

Seconds ticked by before Vera spoke again. “Do you… do you really have nightmares about me every night?” Her voice was low, gentle.

His eyes blinked shut for a moment and he blew out a slow breath. “Yeah. Yeah I fucking do. But I don’t wanna talk about it, okay? I don’t wanna talk about why. Because I know my dad was a terrible fucking person and I know he hurt you and I know I deserve every fucking nightmare because of what I did to you and Tori and what I was going to do to you…” His eyes burned with tears. “Okay? I fucking know it. So can we just—”

“Whoa whoa whoa, Gavin, stop.” He looked up at her. She had her hands up in a placating gesture. “Just… slow down. Okay?”

Gavin sniffed. “Okay.” He reached behind him to turn off the water. He wouldn’t meet Vera’s eyes.

They stood together in silence for so long Gavin’s legs began to fall asleep. Finally, he raised his gaze up to Vera. She chewed her lip, staring at the floor, her eyebrows pulled together. She opened her mouth to speak.

“I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for torturing and collaring Tori.”

Gavin wilted. “I know. I’m—”

Vera held up her hand. “Just… shut the fuck up, for a second? Please?”

Gavin flinched at the words, but relaxed a little at the gentle tone they came in. He nodded.

Vera looked down at the floor and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for what you did to Tori. But I… I want you to stop beating yourself up for what you did as a kid. Okay? You’ve got so much other shit to atone for. At least let that thing go.”

Gavin drooped, his eyes sliding closed.

“Look…” Vera paused. Gavin looked up at her as her face twisted. “I don’t know what went fucky in your head to make you like hurting people. Okay? I don’t. I don’t really care, either. And I don’t know what made you stop. Like I said, I don’t really care. But I know you couldn’t help how you were raised. I don’t know how they were to you. I don’t really want to know. But I… I… I guess what I’m trying to say is…” She met Gavin’s gaze and held it. “I know what it’s like to turn into something twisted trying to be good for Joseph Stormbeck.”

A chill hit Gavin in the gut like a fist and he gasped. She looked at him steadily, watching as he stumbled, watching his eyes fill with tears. I just wanted to be good for him. I just wanted to be good and he used that. Like I was a fucking plaything.

“Yeah,” Vera murmured, her gaze still on Gavin’s face. “I thought that would resonate.”

Gavin shuddered and a strangled sob heaved out of his chest. The room blurred with his tears, a band constricting around his throat until he thought he would choke. Vera’s eyes went wide. He pressed a hand to his mouth and he latched onto the counter, afraid he would fall. He swallowed once, trying to relieve the pressure in his throat. Swallowed again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, as soon as he could speak. “Have fun in town. If anyone asks I’m finishing the dishes later.” He pushed past Vera and dashed from the kitchen, barely making it to his room before he erupted in furious sobs.

Continued here

@untilthepainstarts, @womping-grounds, @free-2bmee, @quirkykayleetam, @walkingchemicalfire, @inpainandsuffering, @redwingedwhump, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @insomniacscoprio, @cursedscribbles, @whumpywhumper, @stxck-fxck, @omega-em-z-02, @whumps-the-word, @slaintetowhump, @finder-of-rings, @cinnamonflavoredhugs, @thatsthewhump, @im-just-here-for-the-whump, @orchidscript

[spectraspecs-writes]

Korriban - Chapter 90

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 89. Chapter 91.

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma @strangepostmiracle thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.

A/N: Guess who’s typing at work again. This bitch

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Hoo, I need to catch my breath a bit. I wasn't expecting that at all. I have to say, every time I imagined that, I didn’t think it would be so… fantastic! A bit itchy - the beard and mustache thing. But overall, wow! Kinda need to… focus a bit.

Jolee keeps grinning at me like a child, I feel like I’m floating. We head towards the Valley, I’ve got to meet Lashowe.

Carth looks back at me and does a bit of a double-take. “Are you all right?” he asks, “I’m sorry, I know that was a bit… sudden, I thought…”

“I’m fine,” I say with a grin, “Sudden, sure, but not at all unpleasant.”

He sighs in relief. “Oh, good, I was worried that-”

“Don’t be,” I reassure him, “Really. It was great. And if we didn’t have other things to do…” I smile and shake my head wordlessly. “But we do. So -”

“Right.”

“That’s that.”

Jolee scoffs. “Do the two of you ever finish a complete sentence around each other?” he asks rhetorically. I chuckle a bit. We do have a tendency to finish each other’s thoughts. And I’m not even reading him most of the time, I guess we’re just on the same wavelength a lot.

There’s saber practice going on in the chamber before the door to the valley. Sith saber forms don’t look all that different from Jedi ones - I guess there’s only so many safe ways to handle a lightsaber. And over in the corner is a Twi’lek, tidying up. That’s Adrenas, that’s who Master Uthar told me to give this datapad to. I think. Best to check. I walk up to him. “You’re Adrenas, right?”

“Yes, I am,” he says in the Twi’lek tongue, “Greeting, student.”

I hand him the datapad. “Master Uthar told me to give you this datapad.”

“He did?” he says, “Allow me to see that for a moment.” He takes it and reads it. “Ah, yes, I see,” he says, “I will do as Master Uthar requests, of course. Thank you for bringing this to me.” He puts the datapad in his pocket, and that’s that. Now all I have to do is make it to the tomb for the final test. But for now I just need to head for the Valley of the Dark Lords. What an overly dramatic name. 

Wait a second. Somethings out there. Something not good. Something familiar. But only vaguely familiar. Trask… it was something on the Endar Spire. Something about Trask. “Guys,” I say to Carth and Jolee, “be ready.” Carth doesn’t waste a second and has his blasters out. Jolee opts to wait and see.

The door to the Valley opens before me, and I don’t see anything right away. Not until the door closes. Then it’s almost like it comes out of nowhere. Three Dark Jedi. Nothing I haven’t faced before - I wonder why I--? That feeling again. Trask - I saw one of them before. “At last, my search is over!” the leader says, “I was beginning to fear someone else had killed you and deprived me of the pleasure.” He scoffs. “You may have defeated the pathetic bounty hunter my Master sent after you, but you are no match for me! I have studied at the foot of the Dark Lord himself!”

Trask - why do I keep thinking about Trask? I can hear his last words in my head - “Damn! Another Dark Jedi! I’ll try to hold him off, you get to the escape pods! Go!” And I didn’t hear anything else after that. Maybe a few blaster bolts, a swish of a lightsaber, but nothing really. Trask was dead. He didn’t have even a chance to get to the escape pods, not that there was one left for him. Carth and I took the last one, and he knows we were the last Republic people left alive, he said as much. Why am I thinking about Trask now? I take another look at the Dark Jedi, I know that face. “You were on the Endar Spire,” I say finally, “You killed Trask.”

He scoffs. “I shouldn’t be surprised,” he says, “I’ll make your death as quick and painful as his!”

He throws his lightsaber. I jump reflexively. Jolee starts on one of the Dark Jedi flanking the leader while Carth lays down cover fire. My jump takes me right over the three of them and close to the entrance to a cave. A group of shyrack is lingering near the cave entrance, I can hear them. I can use this. I roll a flash grenade towards the entrance and it startles the shyrack. Just as I thought, they fly out of the cave, seeking vengeance on whoever threw the grenade. They’ll bother the Dark Jedi just as much as they bother us. Moreso if I can just… connect with them, tell them… They fly right past me and ambush the man who killed Trask. He can’t focus on us and the shyrack, which gives Jolee and me the time we need to take down the Jedi at his flank. Jolee has the one handled, so I lead the other away from the group so I can face them one on one. They step closer, I step back, back and back up until we’re both on level ground. Never been in a fair fight on unlevel ground. But by the time they realize what I was doing they’re already eye to eye with me - no more high ground advantage. They pull out their lightsaber and it clashes with both of mine. They’re a Guardian, same as me, and we’re a match muscle for muscle. But I’ve got something I know they don’t, and I know they don’t because it’s obvious from how they fight. What I have and they don’t is a lot of experience fighting outside. I’ve dueled on pretty much every terrain, including swampland, and it’s different than dueling inside, or even just practicing inside. The land breathes, it has its own rhythm that you lose touch with if you only ever fight inside. When you’re outside, you learn to use the terrain, the rhythm of the land, to your own advantage. Every rock, every insect, every particle of dust, becomes a part of your strategy. As a scout that was second nature to me even before I started dueling - getting in touch with the planet’s rhythm is crucial when you’re tracking animals or looking for water. A shift in my footing flings a rock at the Dark Jedi’s knees - not even a big rock - and they jump. If a single rock throws off your whole rhythm, then you’re not in tune with the rhythm of the land. Something I could easily use to my advantage. I catch them in a saber lock and take a deep breath. Using the Force to summon all the nearby pebbles and rocks from behind me. I close my eyes as the Jedi is pelted with rocks. They back away, waving away the rocks because they can’t see, but I can feel them through the Force, I don’t need to open my eyes. I sweep with my lightsaber, first at their legs, then the arms, and finally, when they’ve fallen backwards, I deal the final blow, and let the rocks fall.

This just leaves Malak’s apprentice, who is still being swarmed by shyrack. No doubt he can feel me through the Force just as easily as I can feel him. This fight will not be determined by the Force. Having finally had enough of the shyrack he blasts them with lightning and they fall dead at his feet. At the same time Jolee deals the killing blow to the other Dark Jedi, so Malak’s apprentice has all of our attention. But the apprentice only focuses on me for some reason. I can handle it, I can handle it.

He doesn’t fall for me trying to lure him off the high ground. He just uses the Force to try to lure me back closer to him. I’m easily more stubborn than he is, so this could easily be a standoff between–

HOLY FUCK THAT HURTS! Stop it stop it bastard stop –

“Rena!” Carth shouts, and the pain stops. What the hell was that? Is that what Force Lightning feels like? That was awful! I never was to go through that again! I take a quick second to regroup before I look up and see the apprentice heading straight for Carth. Oh, hell, no, you’re not going to do that to Carth! Without even thinking, I leap up and land right on top of the apprentice.

He lets out an involuntary “oof” before throwing me off, but he seems oddly pleased. “I knew I could get you to come closer,” he says with a smirk as I pick myself up, “Your passions will always betray you, as they always have.”

“You talk too much,” I say before rushing him with my lightsaber. He twists around, trying to fight both me and Jolee at the same time, but really focusing mostly on me. Carth keeps laying down cover fire, distracting the Jedi before he can make a killing blow to either of us. He manages to back me up against the cliff face, pushing me harder into the wall. He uses the Force to blow Jolee back, and he holds his lightsaber against me in a lock, I can feel the heat on my face.

“How ironic that it would end this way,” he says, his voice oozing, “And you don’t even know why, do you?”

Hang on. Oh, that’s gross but brilliant. “You don’t pay a whole lot of attention to your surroundings, do you?”

Well, he shouldn’t have put his hand so close to my mouth if he didn’t expect to get bit.

He recoils, as much in surprise as in pain - when the chips are down, I can bite pretty hard - just in time for Jolee to come at him from behind. Now the apprentice is reduced to fighting one-handed, which is nigh impossible to do with a double-bladed lightsaber. And when fighting two opponents it’s even harder. All we need to do is keep at him until he loses his footing. Then he’s mine.

He stumbles against a rock. Without a moment of hesitation I deal the killing blow. 

God, I need a minute to catch my breath. I still haven’t fully recovered from the lighting. I lean against a rock, just breathing for a minute. I need my water. Carth and Jolee both gather around me. “That Force Lightning is no joke,” I say, gasping a bit.

“I almost thought he was going to kill you right then,” Carth says.

“If I’m being honest, so did I,” I say, and I take another drink of my water. “It would have been preferable to being shocked anymore.” That’s a place I’ve never been before, and I hated it. But, I’m good now. Caught my breath. “So,” I say to both of them, “where do you think first? Cave or tombs? There’s some renegade students in the tombs that master Uthar wants dead so of course I’m going to let them live, but there’s also some prestige to be earned from the tombs, so I’m told.”

“Do you think the students will still be there if we hit the tombs first?” Carth asks.

“Well, I told Lashowe about them, but she’s not a concern. They aren’t exactly a secret, I heard people talking about it in the library, but the caves are pretty treacherous if I heard right.”

Carth smirks at me. “You really want to go into the caves now, don’t you?”

“I’m super excited about the wildlife, yes,” I admit.

Jolee scoffs with a smile. “Why am I not surprised?” he asks rhetorically.

[lassieposting]

Tell us about Lucifer’s depression, suicidal ideation, self-harm, and past abuse. I mean I can see the self harm, both the obvious In cutting off his wings and the like as well as the unhealthy self medicating, and the abuse - which honestly comes across as a murky gray area, like some verges on abuse but isn’t quite- but the other things... I need them pointed out to me.

GLADLY, ANON

okay so, to cover my ass: this is just my personal take as someone with trauma & suicidal ideation who self-harms. other people with different trauma and different relationships with self-harm/suicidal ideation might see this whole thing completely differently. This post could be triggering, please pay attention to the triggers in the tags. I am not a professional psychiatrist, and if you are struggling please seek professional help. 

i’m gonna break this down into sections bc, surprise surprise, it got rly long

THE ABUSE:

Now, you’re absolutely right that this is kind of a murky grey area, because at this point we really only have one side of the story: Lucifer’s. And obviously, he’s biased. 

the family dynamics:

But let’s take a look at the family dynamics we see in-show. We’ve only seen a fraction of Lucifer’s family, but it’s still fairly obvious that the ways they interact with one another are unhealthy and tend towards abusive, especially when aimed at Lucifer. 

We have Amenadiel, who: 

Is obedient to his Dad on an almost brainwashed level until he falls. 

Blames everything - including his own actions/failures (i.e. saying Malcolm killing humans is Lucifer’s fault, even though Amenadiel himself raised Malcolm from Hell) on Lucifer.

Does not know how to respond to affection or praise, even though he clearly appreciates and enjoys them (i.e. when Trixie hugs him and says she thinks he’s good). This is the son who’s in God’s good books. And he still clearly doesn’t receive affection or praise often. 

Openly competes with Lucifer for Dad’s attention/love, to the point of rubbing it in his face when he discovers he’s the favourite

Is complicit in Lucifer’s abuse - taking him back to Hell (thereby isolating him), threatening him when he doesn’t want to go, and cutting off any attempt Lucifer makes at reaching out to connect with humanity - for billions of years to try and win his Dad’s approval. 

Straight up tries to have Lucifer killed.

Says he’d love to go to war (with Lucifer, and presumably with Hell as a whole). 

We have Uriel, who:

Takes it upon himself to enforce what he believes is his Dad’s will; he had no instructions from God when he came to Earth. 

Delights in getting the opportunity to beat up Amenadiel, and gloats about it. 

Threatens - and harms - the first good thing Lucifer has had in his life in eons as a way of bullying him into doing what Uriel wants.

When Lucifer complies, Uriel decides to kill both Goddess and Chloe, purely out of spite because Lucifer was “being difficult”.

(There is an interesting meta here on Uriel’s potential motivations that I really like, but this is looking purely at his actions.)

And we have Goddess, their mother, easily the most manipulative and emotionally abusive of the lot. She:

Admits to destroying things God cared about - attacking humanity with plagues and floods etc - out of malice and to get his attention. 

Happily releases Azrael’s blade into human hands, hoping for widespread human deaths, to get her ex to get back in touch. 

Plays Lucifer and Amenadiel off against one another like a pro for her approval. 

Only ever touches her children when she’s trying to manipulate them - there’s a good meta on that here. The one exception to this that I personally believe to be a genuine attempt to comfort (both him and herself) is when she hugs Lucifer after he’s just killed Uriel. 

Doesn’t actually care about what Lucifer wants - he’s told her outright that Earth is the only place where he feels wanted and respected, and she knows he has a life he enjoys and a woman he’s falling in love with, but she expects him to abandon Earth and go back to the Silver City with her regardless - to the point that she actively tries to dismantle his human life and kill his loved ones to leave him with no ties to Earth. 

The picture this paints to me is of two incredibly narcissistic parents who see their children as extensions of themselves rather than as people in their own right. If you compare Lucifer - who’s an asshole, but fundamentally a good man - to his siblings here, you can see that the two who stayed in Heaven have caught fleas from their parents - and part of Amenadiel’s redemption arc is him realising how toxic and damaging his family is, giving himself a damn good flea bath, and doing his best to be a better big brother to Lucifer and a better son to his mom (and, later, a better father to Charlie than his Dad was to him). 

angel life cycle

So apparently in canon, angels were created as adults. My personal headcanon is fuck that, baby angels, but we’ll go with the canon explanation for this, because honestly it still lines up with my theory. 

Even if you’re “born” with a mature adult body and adult-level speech ability etc, you still won’t have an adult’s wealth of life experience, or maturity, or social skills. You’re still going to have to grow and learn and experience situations to learn how to cope with them. 

Now, Tom Ellis has said in the past that he plays Lucifer as essentially having the emotional maturity level of a teenager, which I think is honestly perfect. For an immortal being - or at least a being with a lifespan of many, many billions of years - it’s actually fairly believable that the angels are (depending on the age gap between them) either still in the “adolescent” life stage or emerging into the “young adult” one. 

Lucifer says that he’s spent “most of his life” in Hell. If he’s only a young adult now, at ~11 billion years old, that means he’d have been a juvenile (in terms of life experience/emotional development, even if he was “born” with a fully mature adult body) when he was sent to Hell, and the reason he was sent to Hell is because he wanted free will and started “acting out”. 

Even if your 12-year-old is the most unpleasant, rebellious little shithead on the planet, you don’t kick him out of the house and spent the next decade sabotaging every attempt he makes to connect with people or improve his life. Because, you know. That’s your kid. You signed up to have him, that’s normal shitty teenager behaviour, and the chances are he’ll improve with age. God and Goddess went scorched earth on Lucifer because he was behaving in a completely normal way for a kid beginning to mature into a grownup. 

lasting trauma

Lucifer’s parents’ treatment has left some crazy deep scars. 

He uses a neglectful broken home as an analogy for his celestial family. And he does so incredibly smoothly; this is clearly an analogy he’s thought about before. Chances are he’s seen this dynamic on TV and identified very strongly with it. 

He talks about his mother abandoning him as his “lowest point”.  Not his Fall. Not any of the horrific things he’s seen in Hell. The point where he realised his mom doesn’t love him enough to protect him. 

He doesn’t understand what he did wrong. God punished Lucifer harshly for wanting to control his own life, because narcs often see their children’s developing independence as a threat to their own control over their kids’ lives. Obviously He wouldn’t see it like that, but he’s clearly never explained to Lucifer why what he did was “wrong”. This family has a chronic communication problem. 

He’s paranoid as fuck. He constantly suspects God of having a hand in the events happening around him, and any time it seems He is involved, Lucifer immediately sees whatever’s happening as an attempted manipulation. It never occurs to him that creating Chloe - someone immune to his powers who can really love him without any kind of supernatural influence - could be an olive branch or an attempt to give him what he actually needs. He doesn’t believe his Dad would ever do something positive to/for him. 

He’s so badly traumatized by his childhood that he reacts like this to being called by the name his Dad gave him. And he’s clearly doing well in therapy - he might not know the word for it, but he knows he’s being (unintentionally) gaslit here. He doesn’t handle it well, but he doesn’t put up with it either, refuses to accept being told to see his Dad’s abuse as a sign of love. 

He believes he’s unloveable. When Linda gently suggests that maybe Chloe kissed him purely because she likes him, he tells her that’s impossible and reminds her his powers don’t work on Chloe. He doesn’t think there’s any way someone could love him for who he is, unless he’s either giving them something or using his mojo on them. And it’s his family that’s conditioned him to think that way - look at Amenadiel alone, how many times he tells Lucifer he’s evil throughout the show, as casually as if he were telling him that his hair is brown. This is just a fact of the universe in that family: water is wet, leaves are green, Lucifer is irredeemable garbage. 

He doesn’t for a second hesitate to believe that his Dad wanted to kill him. Or that he would kill him given the opportunity. He even thinks Chloe is his dad’s attempt to get him killed for a bit. 

THE SELF HARM

the wings: 

The blatantly obvious one - and the most deliberate - is when he cuts off his wings. Now when Lucifer talks about this, he frames it as him taking back agency over his own life, freeing himself from his Father’s control, and making a statement about his intention to stay on Earth. 

But when you look at him, he doesn’t look victorious, or like he’s looking forward to starting a new life. Physical pain aside - and an amateur amputation would be agonizing - he looks almost like he’s grieving, gritting his teeth through something he feels he has no choice but to do. 

Someone did a fantastic meta that I thought I’d reblogged at some point that says something like “this isn’t the devil in his moment of triumph against god; this is an abused boy mutilating himself to spite his father”. I wanted to link it, but I haven’t been able to find it again (if anyone finds it, please let me know so I can add a link).  

the self-medicating:

I don’t think he realises this is a form of self-harm, and I don’t think he does it to hurt himself deliberately. But he comes to Earth to overindulge in all the things he can’t have in Hell, all the things he’s been cut off from. 

Touch and affection, which he gets through sex. Oblivion, which he gets by drinking. Euphoria, which he gets from drugs. Socialisation, which he gets from being surrounded by people at all times and partying it up 24/7.

It doesn’t matter to him that the touch is from a stranger, it doesn’t matter that the affection only lasts one night, it’s something and that’s more than he’s getting in Hell. He buries himself in those things to forget that he has to go back. He can bury himself in the next line or the next shot or the next attractive body and, just for a little bit, he can forget who he is.

Sending Lucifer to Hell in and of itself is cruel. Angels are clearly social creatures, and he’s been in solitary isolation for billions of years - it’s a miracle he hasn’t gone insane. Yes, he has the demons, but they don’t interact with him by choice and he’s not safe with them. Hell denies Lucifer everything a young person needs to grow into a stable, healthy adult. 

the self-sabotage:

We also see that he’s got a tendency to sabotage himself when he’s on a downward spiral. This usually comes out one of two ways - either:  

He tries to chase away the people who care about him. This comes from being so terrified of being abandoned and rejected again that he’d rather run them off himself than wait for them to inevitably (in his mind) decide that he’s Not Worth It and leave him. For example: 

He tries to push Linda away when he’s grieving after killing Uriel. 

He punches Dan in the face and gets himself thrown off the case by Chloe - she’s already warned him she would bench him if he didn’t pull himself together. 

He throws Chloe’s initial rejection in her face when he’s on his self-hatred bender in S4. 

He’s absolutely vicious to Amenadiel in this scene, when Amenadiel is trying to communicate that he loves Luci and wants to support him. 

Or he talks shit about himself. You can always tell when he’s having a bad time; he’ll start coming out with shit like, “I’m the devil, remember, I’m evil.” His real view of himself will slip out from under the mask of confidence and vanity. Chloe cuts right to the heart of this in S4; he’s been told so many times that he’s responsible for all evil that he now believes it. He blames himself, even as he vehemently denies having ever made anyone do anything. 

THE SUICIDAL IDEATION:

Jesus fuck, it’s a good thing Lucifer is in therapy. 

The first time we see him actively attempt suicide is in 1x13 when he’s being framed for shooting the street preacher. It’s a case of “the straw that broke the camel’s back” here - he’s been having a really rough time lately:

Groups of zealots are cornering him in the street accusing him of murders he didn’t commit 

Being accused of things he didn’t do is already a trigger for him

His own brother tried to have him assassinated.

His bodyguard and oldest friend betrayed him.

He’s just found out the detective makes him vulnerable. 

He knows Dan - and therefore probably other work colleagues as well - think he’s got something to do with the satanic murders. 

And now Chloe is turning her gun - and apparently her back - on him. She’s no different from anyone else. He was stupid to ever trust her, etc, etc, and now he’s spiralling.

She was the last rock keeping his head above the ocean at this point, and when she goes to arrest him, he goes under. We see that mania come out very quickly; he starts laughing hysterically and tries to goad an inexperienced uni into shooting him. He pretends to have a gun, knowing the cop will fear for his life and instinctively shoot. Since Chloe’s right there at the time, and he now knows he can be hurt around her, that’s attempted suicide. He wants to die. He even admits to Amenadiel he was trying to achieve “a good death…or at least a nice and messy one.”

No one ever addresses this bloody hell why

And then there’s the case with the shooter in the hospital. Lucifer’s grieving Uriel at this point, and he’s up to his eyeballs in self-loathing. He killed his brother. He really is the monster everyone believes he is. He’s spent the entire episode up to this point trying to make people punish him. He’s riled up Chloe at a crime scene and she’s told him off. He’s punched Dan, and Dan didn’t retaliate. He turned down Linda’s offer of continued therapy in a way that’s almost a challenge; he wants her to snap back at him. And when none of these little punishments are enough for him, he escalates and escalates and eventually he steps in front of the sniper’s intended victim and, again, goads him to shoot. He goes a bit further this time, though; he outright begs the sniper to shoot him, and reams the guy out when he says he didn’t think Lucifer deserved it. 

Again, he knows Chloe is there. This is a suicide attempt. He even admits to Chloe that he didn’t care about the intended victim, he was just trying to get himself killed. She doesn’t believe him. And it’s never addressed again, and I’m salty. 

Anyway I hope this clarifies some stuff for you anon? and I’m sorry it took so long to finish I rewrote this so many times for Maximum Sensitivity and kept including stuff and taking stuff out and it got SO LONG and i had to condense it and i have A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT THIS OKAY I HAD A LOT TO SAY

[gil-notskajla]

"Xerath's past from childhood to imprisonment" headcannon (including some of the cool ideas form @fattyaly ) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) let's go:

• Xerath had many scars from corporal punishments and brutal indelicacy of previous owners.

• Xerath's human height was below avarge - undernourishment durring his service as a lesser slave disrupted his childhood development. When Azir took him in, his diet became more proper but the damage was already done.

• Xerath was quite lonely, durring his service to royal family. When he was a normal slave, he had his mother, father (when he was still alive) and other slaves. Everyone worked together and supported each other in the darkest hours. When Azir made him his personal slave, his living conditions improved greatly but his unusualy close bond with a royal elevated him in the eyes of fellow slaves who didnt know how to treat him anymore - as one of their own, or as someone above them, not to mention the jealousy, while for free citizens and nobility he was still a mere slave and nothing more.

• He had other slaves working under him as for example his bodyguards, who he cared for and did everything he could to improve their living conditions, since he experienced the same life when he was younger. They were also an additional motivation for his plans of slavery abolishment.

• Xerath and other slaves serving the royal court members created an information net and that's how he knew the gossips better than Azir.

• That's how he learned that Azirs father truthy despises his last alive son - Emperor didnt keep his tongue behind the teeth around slaves who served him. Mistake.

• Xerath knew that Azir was really close with his mother. That's why he tried his best to make her infertile, soo that killing her wouldnt be nessesary. He failed and knew that Azir's assasination from that point on was just a matter of time. He chose his and Azir's lives over rest of royal family.

• Xerath risked his relationship with Azir constantly to make him realise that slaves are people with feelings and needs too. Azir took quite long to finally acknowledge that but even smallest progress in that matter made Xerath proud of him.

• Xerath probably didn't appreciate Azir sleeping with slave girls. After all they couldn't say know, but he couldn't stop Azir from doing this...

• Azir provided him with a great autonomy, mostly for executing his will, which sometimes gave Xerath seemingly greater power than some noble houses what annoyed literally everyone.

• Xerath's parents were his teachers and only people who he would ever call his family besides Azir. They planted the concept of freedom in his mind which stayed with him forever. Mental image of his parents, their unconditional love has been inseparably tied to concept of freedom. That turned family and freedom into highest values for him.

• That's also why Xerath turned 180° soo rapidly when Azir "officially abadoned" the freedom project. Azir was the only family ever since Xerath lost contact with his mother. By remminding Xerath that he is indeed, just a slave and not in fact his brother, he violated not only one but two of Xeraths highest values - freedom and familial bond.

• At first Xerath was a bit jealous of Azir's wife but knowing he could never compete with her for Azir's attention and conflict would mean Azir getting annoyed with him, they ended up on good terms. By this i mean of course ideal benelovent, kind master/docile, friendly slave relationship. After Azir "betrayed" Xerath, Xerath acted the same way towards her to not arouse suspicion but since he no longer believed Azir to be his brother, he no longer thought of her as his potential future family. (Azir's oldest official son was around 18 (close to adulthood) when  the cataclysm happened soo he had to be married for at least 18 years, probably he got married before his final refusal to Xerath. Also, that would make them at least 36 years old at the time of Ascension.)

• Same for Azir's first son. At first he was happy for Azir, that his step-brother has a child, but after the fight, he didnt care anymore. Every next child just remminded him how priviledged they are, how horrible his childhood was and how many children are still being born to slavery while they lead idyllic and ignorant lives.

• Xerath wanted to steal the empire and impersonate Azir after Ascension in which he would make it look like he himself died.

• Xerath had access to Azir's Ascension ritual preperations. He gained as much information as he could about the mechanism of ascending and adjusted it to himself in order to gain as much power as possible in case his role-swap-by-assasination didnt work, he couldnt impersonate azir and had to actually force everyone to obey him despite his true identity (that would explain why his plan was "in motion" and why he "couldnt back down no matter how much part of him wanted to").

• After Azir fullfiled his promise Xerath knew that Baccai are a thing (it was probably common knowledge soo, duh) and was afraid that his personal adjustments would cripple Azir what would bring dishonor on him in the best case scenario and get him detronised/banished hopefully together with his family, court and Xerath, or kill him in the worst. If Azir died, his life would be over as well, since he made many enemies and Azir was the only person keeping him on the top - in position from which he could do anything. Without Azir, Xerath was nobody. And he couldn't tell Azir that he spiked his Ascension ritual and risk his rage. In this situation he could only utter "I'm sorry." and proceed with his plan wondering why Azir didnt tell him and carrying the confusion, guilt and anger for the rest of his life.

• By impulsively blasting Azir of daasis, Xerath made it very clear that he is sabotaging the ritual. That probably caused him to panic that Sun Priests will stop the ritual what would cause him to become either weak and crippled Baccai, die or just allow the soldiers to capture and execute him. With his magic he forced Priests to continue, desperately, for as long as he could. In fear of consequences and unaware of his surroundings he prolonged the ritual what drained the Disc, caused the shockwave, initiated the cataclysm, disintegrated his ascending body and turned him into unique, unstable, energetic being.

• Ascension ended with stasis in which he got lowered back to the ground, barely concious. Nasus and Renekton were already waiting for him with sarcophagus, ready to catch him. That explains why he didn't manage to react and got captured soo easily.

• In the tomb, Xerath and Renekton fought for days but when Renekton realised he is unable to kill Xerath and Xerath not really caring if Renekton dies or not, they found themselves their own corners where they sat alone with their demons, sometimes talking to each other when in desperate need of social interaction.

• Xerath is indeed the most powerfull Ascended in terms of raw power but his body is very unstable. He can literally kill himself by destabilisation from using too much of his magic.

• Soo many horrible things happened on the day of Ascension, that if he addmited that he was the one responsible for death of thousands, not only randoms and Azir but probably also many aquaintances of even friendsp, he would go complitely mad. He told himself the entire story over and over and over again, twisting it bit by bit every time to justify his actions and why all this bloodshed was nessesary in order to fool himself and subconciously protect his mind from insanity by blaming everything on Azir and his bloodline.

• He repressed the fact that he is a Baccai. He stays in denial soo that he wont have to acknowledge that despite all that hard work, he failed everyone, even himself and became fragile like glass. He stays in denial deluding himself that there is nothing wrong with him and hiding it from himself by prising his "flawless" ascended form, hoping that the problem will cease existing if he forgets about it.

• Xerath and Renekton probably learned how to fall into some form of stasis in order to loose conciousness and skip time because, as fucked up as they are, they are in really good shape as for people who have spent 36,000 times longer period of time than avarge recommended dose of isolation causing irreversible mental damage irl. (i think that riot kind of forgotten about them when making the timeline and now stasis is the only logical explanation for how well preserved their minds are.)

[pastelgrungewrecker]

Infamy

I’m a young lover’s rage- Gonna need a spark to ignite- I’m On Fire!

If anyone asked her why they broke up, she would shrug and say simply, “We just didn’t fit anymore.”

Because the truth made her teeth grind together, made her heart break. When Magnus stood in their living room, wincing at the swearing from Perceptor and the frigid glare from Whirl, she realized that everything was about to get worse.

She and Derby had been a strange couple; she thought he loved her. She revelled in it, in kisses to her cheek and firm hugs around a body she always thought was too much a product of her Wrecker childhood.

‘Wreckers care for their own’, she had told herself, wondering why her siblings would slide out of the room when he would show up, wondering why his smile seemed a little too sincere when he’d see them vanish from their orbit.

It crashed down not long before the attack that took her legs.

It was Quickdraw texting her desperately for an emergency pickup, and it was her pushing her first car almost too hard to get to the school’s sports field. It was tearing out to the grass to see Derby laughing and Quickdraw curled up in a heap of messy angles and broken angelwings and Chrona under a football quarterback’s arm.

It was her seeing red and bulling people down left and right with fists swinging until Derby’s face went the color of spoiled milk. 

“How long, QD.”

“Every-y day-”

It was her blacking out both of Derby’s eyes, it was Mimi snarling that it was over.

“I can’t believe you’re the same kind of embarassment as your fucking DAD.”

She gathered her fearful larks to her side and spirited him away and home- face like a stormcloud and heart in two.

Her hands white-knuckled on the wheel- flexing as though she had claws and fangs like the beast Drift once had been. A sign flickers in the side of her vision, and Quickdraw jumps when the car turns. Chrona cheers at the promise of milkshakes.

They came home with ice cream, they came home with Star Wars bandaids on Quickdraw’s cheek. 

And then it happened. It was a flurry of hospitals and the lark was a shrike with his clarion call and his vicious edges and she was in a hospital bed, staring at the flat spots on the sheets where her feet should be.

“We’ll find them” becomes “We found them” becomes “Quickdraw’s in trouble.”

She lets the monster in her chest out, Magnus watches in horror when she straps an empty pistol back to her thigh as Quickdraw is loaded into an ambulance while Whirl stares at nothing and mourns with no sound.

“We’ll find them.”

“You better.”

So when she comes home and sees Magnus furious and silent and wincing at the rage he witnesses, her stomach ties itself in a knot.

“Mimosa, I have some questions about the attacks on your family. Including the incident last week.”

“The b-and-e? Why me, you know my side of things.”

“As you know, the ones who... acted against your family were apprehended. Well, the ones we could catch.”, he said with his carefully measured words. He nods for her to take a seat, and Perceptor and Whirl are suddenly on either side.

“I found it suspicious that they were able to coordinate these actions so.. easily. Considering none of them had previous connections to any of you- concrete ones. Until today.”

“...Okay.”

“Tell me about Derby.”

“...My ex-boyfriend? Well... I uh. I broke up with him because I found out he was the one picking on my sibs- I just... I showed up when QD texted for help and kind of.. went mental.”

“And afterwards?”

“He showed up a few times, kept following me to stuff until I finally threatened to give him another black eye and feed him his own teeth. Prick. I found out later that I was one of like... six? Girls he was ‘dating’ anyway so no big loss. It still hurt though. I guess the reason he was dating me was because I was the token Wrecker Kid and that made me popular with some of the sports losers at school.”

“Mhm. Do you remember his phone number, by any chance?”

“Yeah, I kept it saved and marked in my phone- in case he tried to call me with another sob story, I’d know to ignore the call.”

Magnus pulled out a slim datapad- one for reports, Mimi remembered them well.

“We pulled the communications history of the ones we have in custody. Does this number look familiar.”

“...Why were they texting him?!”

“He was messaging them, Mimi. He was the one who told them everything. Where you walked, what you did, where you lived. He sold you out- he’s at the station as we speak. He claims he ‘didn’t mean’ for it to go this far- he just wanted to ‘remind you to respect him’.”

“Because he’s the spawn of the biggest disappointment since-”

“PERCEPTOR.”

Perceptor fell silent, seething.

“...We are doing everything we can, Mimi. I’m here to inquire if you’d rather we take out a protective order. A restraining order, basically- but this way if anything happens and you defend yourself you’ll be legally protected if you have to defend yourself.”

“... Do it.”, she said quietly, “Do everything, anything, I’ll sign whatever you need me to sign, I... I can’t believe this is all my fault.”

Magnus sighed, and Whirl descended on her like a butcherbird on their nestlings.

“Froggy- Froggy, no, don’t you even think for a fuckin’ minute this is any kind of on you. It was that little SHIT’S decision to escalate this high school drama; just like his fuckin’ dad, okay? This isn’t on you.”

Mimi shrugged the words and affectionate touches off, rising from the couch with a creak of prosthetic legs, “Just. Do what you have to do, mister Magnus. You know best.”

All three watched her wrap her arms around her midsection and skitter away from them, a shy sparrow, and wounded dove, and all three felt their hearts chip at the corner.

She sobbed in her room, alone. Stuffing a towel under the door like when she was young and scared and hollowed out by years of cold silence and she bawled into a pillow. Her fault, her fault, all her fault- she led evil home and it took root before she could cut it off. And now, now look at what’s been done.

She didn’t know how long she laid in the silence, tears leaking out as her fingertips tapped over the line where plasteel met body, until she heard shouting from outside.

Shakily, spent from crying, she rose from her bed and pushed her curtains aside.

“...Mister Blurr?”, she muttered to herself, seeing the old racer with his hands up at the door. She watched as he stepped back once, twice, three times and stumbled over a crack in the concrete walk and saw that Perceptor was following him with-

“Dammit DAD!”

Outside, Perceptor’s teeth were bared and the revolver in his hand far too steady.

“Percy- man, c’mon, I understand this is a mess but they’re just kids-!”

“MY SON’S EYES WERE TAKEN, AND MY DAUGHTER LOST HER FUCKING LEGS!”

“It got out of hand, I get that, we can settle this between us we don’t need all this legality-”

Click.

The gun cocked, and Perceptor’s finger was on the trigger and Blurr watched as he counted down the seconds to exhale before Mimi snatched Perceptor’s free hand.

“Dad, wait, hold on- we don’t need another incident, okay? Stand down, you gotta stand down.”

“And why SHOULD I-”

“Because you told me you never shoot a soldier who’s surrendering- and I think he’s pretty much flying a white flag. Never aim without intent to kill, remember? He’s not worth the moral crisis.”

A beat of silence, and Perceptor sighs, “Blurr. You are incredibly lucky that my daughter is both brilliant and sensible. However.”

Mimi accepted the relic of a weapon with confusion, holding with both hands when she heard Perceptor’s knuckles crack in sequence.

“Beating your face in? Is technically self defense.”

“DRIFT, PAPACEPTOR’S GONE FERAL, HELP!”

“I know honey!”, was Drift’s cheerful answer from inside, watching from the front window with the kids crowded gleefully around him. Mimi rolled her eyes, turning instead to Perceptor to try and convince him otherwise but it was too late- he flung himself at Blurr and she flinched at every too-meaty thud of a fist colliding with a magazine-model bone structure. She shook her head, walking back inside to return the weapon to the safe in the bedroom and sit on the bed- hugging artificial knees and berating herself quietly.

“The illusion of control is a hell of an illusion, kiddo.”

She looked up to see Drift in the doorway. She buried her face again, the sounds of the fistfight in the front yard petering out as Perceptor’s swearing echoed up and down the block.

He sat next to her.

“This isn’t your fault, Mimi. You have to understand- Derby was the one who made the decision to escalate things.”

“But... But Dri-Dri, I’m the BIG SISTER. I’m supposed to protect everyone, that’s my JOB, it’s my DUTY!”

“And we’re your parents, we’re supposed to protect you too- that doesn’t mean we failed, or that we fucked up. It means someone outside of our control took actions that no one had any reason to suspect.”

“.... But Wreckers care for their own, and I DIDN’T.”

“Yes you did.”, said Drift quietly, hearing a small chorus of cheers as the front door slammed shut- Perceptor kicking it closed no doubt, his temper had always taken a while to burn out- “You did everything you could, and someone blindsided you.”

“They wouldn’t have blindsided you. Or Papaceptor. Or Birdy.”

“We don’t have scars for the aesthetic, y’know.”

She went to retaliate for a moment, before closing her mouth.

“I understand this is... well, it’s more than a lot, really. Finding out someone you cared about deeply has betrayed you hurts. Finding out that the initial betrayal went way beyond what you thought is even worse.”

“I just... I don’t...”

“What?”

Her eyes welled up, “I don’t feel safe- I don’t feel like I’m s-safe to be around anymore. What if it happens again, Blurr has big money behind him what if... What if Derby just gets a slap on the wrist and everything gets even worse!”

Her tears came back, fear and worry and paranoia and all manner of things she’d been able to quash with sheer force of will. Drift said nothing, simply holding her to his side until Perceptor stomped down the hall and pushed the door open from where it had eased closed- bad hinges be damned.

“Mimosa- oh goodness.”

Drift watched, amused at how quickly the fire in Perceptor’s good eye went out at the sight of Mimi’s tear-mussed face. His arms fell away and she reached out in a wordless plea for Perceptor.

“I-I-I’m SCARED!”

Perceptor’s expression lost every sharp edge, and he reached out to flick off the light switch. Drift jolted at sudden evening-dimness, moving to the foot of the bed as Perceptor clambered onto it and dropped onto his back- propped up by almost too many pillows, and he pulled off the patch covering his lost eye.

“C’mere Froggy.”

She crawled to him, burying her face against a ragged chest and centering her ear over the left side as her arm went over Perceptor’s waist. He hugged her shoulders, petting over her hair and shushing her softly.

Her crying was muffled, her eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Drift tilted his head, and Perceptor smiled weakly, “...After... After G9, for a long time, she couldn’t sleep without listening to me breathe. Listening to my heartbeat. When she gets anxious, or scared, or very very upset... it helps.”

Drift nodded, and moved slowly- sitting on Mimi’s other side and carefully situating himself with his back against the headboard. Nails gently dragged through her hair, like soothing a lost kitten, and she shivered and sniffled and her eyelids seemed to droop.

“...Figured it would work.”, he mumbled, “Gasket used to do this with me back in the Dead End- I had a habit of curling up tight when I was upset and well...”

He nodded at the way Mimi had coiled up into a ball against Perceptor.

They both chuckled, sadness tinging the sound. Perceptor breathed deep, feeling Mimi’s grip tighten as she drowsed against him, still hiccuping out the ghosts of her fear, before he spoke again.

“... I’ll admit, it’s a bit hard to reconcile the image of you curled up like a huffy kitten with... well.”

“Deadlock?”, finished Drift quietly, “... There comes a point in the tears and fear where you suddenly realize that... you can make it all go away.”

“..The Syk?”

“.... The gun.”, said Drift, almost a whisper, “I just.. Really hope she has your anger, Perce. I wouldn’t wish mine on anyone. But I have a feeling you and Ratchet were beyond right, saying she takes almost too much after me.”

Every oracle has their prophecy, it seems. The one prediction that comes true, and elevates their sight to the level of a story.

And for Mimi, that day came after almost three months of nothing but courts, cops, and paperwork. Sitting in a cold room, with colder gazes on her- arguments over what ‘Conspawn’ really meant, what ‘intent’ truly was.

‘It seems a shame to ruin a nice young man’s life over one mistake!’

It was Mimi not even smiling when guilty verdicts were read, it was her staring down ashamed parents sitting in rows and taking sick joy when they became ghosts under her gaze. It was the rumbling of the monster she released once, when Quickdraw was curled up in the grass and Chrona shrieked to be let go.

It was the sudden realization, like Drift had once had before his teeth grew sharp and his aim even sharper.

It was Derby cornering her in front of cameras and demanding her forgiveness.

“No.”

“Mimosa, please- haven’t I suffered enough? I admit it, okay, I went too far!”

“No.”

“I even defended you to the afterwards! I told them they shouldn’t have gone after you, sugar-”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I told them that you were good, even if you were Conspawn- I told them they should’ve gone after Quackdraw or whatever first-”

The world stopped. She tilted her head up, slowly.

“You did. What.”

“I told them they should’ve gone after that idiot first, yeah it was wrong or whatever but I was worried about YOU- and I didn’t know they were going to RAID YOUR HOUSE after everything like-”

“You... told them. To hurt my baby brother.”

The silence stung like acid rain as he stammered suddenly, not liking what he saw in her eyes.

“Well, you’re more important than him, so I-”

‘You can make this all go away.’, whispered something vicious in her head- something that had always been there. It was there when she cut her hair on the Lost Light during the mutiny, telling her to wear Perceptor’s pistols. Telling her where to aim and when to fire when the ship was taken back.

It was what guided her hands when her fists raised to defend Quickdraw, then Chrona, then Dani and Kiki-

Little Dani and Kiki, who chimed up at the worst moment from behind her legs, “You mae them take Quickdraw’s eyes!! You made them try to hurt us too!!”

Kiki glanced up, and grinned a childish grin before looking back to Derby, and spoke words she knew could unleash a hailstorm, “What if they had killed us? What if you made all of my big sister’s siblings die? She’d be all alone and it would be ALL. YOUR. FAULT.”

“Shut up, kid-”

“DON’T YOU TELL HER TO SHUT UP, FILTH!”

Mimi’s hands were strong. Made strong from clambering around on an old battleship, on a newer battle cruiser and from picking up little sniffley bundles of blankies and stuffed animals. Her arms were toned by hugs and rockabyes and her legs were made sturdy by bearing so much weight until they broke away to be replaced with steel and iron-twined sinew.

And the monster in her chest laughed like Deadlock in old videos on locked proxies and the creature it spawned in her her head cackled like the witches she envied back when she thought about forbidden cruelties- like death, like destruction.

Like making them all go away.

Derby gagged, yanking at her wrists as her fingers closed around his neck and she dragged him down to his knees. Her eyes were toxic waste and noxious nuclear clouds, she spoke like a bomb’s heatwave and her words hissed like uranium reactor rods being submerged.

“You. Ruined. Everything.”, she snarled, her nails digging in, dull though they were, “You. HURT. My Family.”

He gagged again, lips already blueing up.

“I’m gonna hurt you now, Derby.”, she snarled, “And no one’s gonna stop me until I’m done with you.”

Her siblings stood behind her, grim and unmoving, as their fathers leapt to try and separate Mimi and Derby as he tried to scream while his voicebox was being crushed. Perceptor pulled at her shoulders until she kicked backwards and sent his knee nearly inward- he swore loudly in shock and then Whirl’s hands latched onto her upper arms and began to pull.

Derby convulsed in her grip, whimpering softly- and then Drift’s hands were over her eyes. On instinct, she released her target, making a confused noise in her throat- and then she heard speaking cut through the howling in her soul.

“Cool down, stand down. Breath.”

She blinked against Drift’s palms, snapping back to herself with a hiccup and shakes beginning in her shoulders.

Drift stared down at the coughing and hacking Derby, and narrowed his own too-bright eyes, “Fuck outta here, whelp.”

A few shrieks in the gathered crowd, several faces suddenly painted in fear as the old growl of Deadlock’s voice was spat out by this unmatched visage.

Whirl slowly released Mimi’s arms, continuing his mantra of “Cool down, Stand down. Breath.” until Mimi stood with her vision obscured. Drift moved around her, hands uncovering her eyes only for him to hold her face to his chest and nod at the siblings to start moving. He reached down, easily lifting his eldest daughter and keeping her face hidden as they moved away and away from the crowds.

“I-I-I-I-”

“I know, kiddo, I know.”, he murmured, “It’s terrifying, when you aren’t scared anymore. I know.”

She closed her eyes against his shirt, and whispered apologies that no one could hear as her siblings glanced back at Derby- hoping he learned his lesson.

Mimi wasn’t the only one who swallowed down their anger, and she wasn’t the only one who knew how to cause damage.

It was a new era for their little family- realizing that there are some things that not even time can erase.

[peterparkers7evilexes]

Lightless miles, miles and miles [pt 2 - Starker darkfic]

Tysm to everyone’s kind encouragement for this sin dumpsterfire! 💕 part 1

Words: 3.1k

Also available on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17918384/chapters/42524969

TRIGGER WARNINGS AHOY: Graphic non-con (rape) scene. Includes restraints, physical violence, strangulation, gaslighting. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

The early morning hours are Tony’s favorite. The winding black highway stretches out cold and endless in front of him, and if it weren’t for the steady breathing of his captive in the sleeper cab, he might even feel lonely.

Tony likes his job. It’s physical, takes concentration and makes him work with his hands. (He drags Peter’s limp body into the sleeper cab, setting him down on the cot and he marvels at how light and pliable he is - like a doll.)

He’s not a sedentary man, and the constant travel makes him feel at ease, puts his whirring mind to rest. (Curious, he flips through the boy's pockets. He finds an old iPhone with a shattered screen. He wipes it down, smashes it outside and hurls the shards into the woods along the highway. He also finds an empty candy wrapper, an unopened box of condoms and a wad of cash. These he pockets, tracing his fingers reverently over his new souvenirs.)

He doesn’t mind the lifestyle. Enjoys it, even. He keeps his sleeper cab clean and looks after himself. He finds comfort in knowing that all his worldly belongings could fit within a few cardboard boxes. (Tony makes a daisy-chain from industrial-strength zip ties and binds the boy’s wrists together, tethering him to the grab handle above the cot and leaving just enough slack to manhandle him around.)

This life, the constant movement and easy camouflage allows him to blend into blurred freeways, it gives him a liberty he’s always craved.

Tony drives on for two more hours before his guest wakes up. It starts with a quiet moaning, then he hears some slight shifting as Peter tests his restraints, then rapid, shallow breathing as he realizes he can't get free.

It takes another twenty minutes for the boy to start screaming.

“Let me go,” he cries, his voice high and broken, and it makes Tony's blood thump in anticipation. “Let me go you fucking psycho, let me out of here!”

He drives on as long as he can, listening intently to every shrill sob and plea the boy makes. He’s aching hard and he wants nothing more than to sink his teeth into his new treat, but Tony knows how important it is to put distance between them and the original location.

It's 3 in the morning when his resolve finally breaks. Peter's screaming has since faded into little hopeless cries but he seems to have tired himself out, no more sounds of scuffling and struggling coming from the sleeper cab.

As Tony slows the truck down and rolls them into a dingy empty rest stop, the boy's fearful breathing picks up and it sounds like he's working himself toward hyperventilation. Tony kills the engine and crawls back into the sleeper cab, and he snaps the dark curtains shut tight behind him.

It takes his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, but when the shaking body on his cot comes into focus, Tony's blood pulses loud in his ears. Peter is gorgeous. He’s worth every bit of the risk.

The boy is huddled in the far corner of the cot, his bound wrists held up defensively in front of him as he watches Tony approach, his sweet brown eyes wide with equal terror and anger.

“Let me go,” Peter demands, his voice trembling even as he holds his chin up in brave defiance.

Tony stands at the foot of the cot and drinks in Peter's body greedily, memorizing the slender angle of his hips, the soft skin of his belly revealed under his rumpled shirt. His lip is split and reddened with dried blood from where Tony had been forced to hit him and his wrists are rubbed raw, blood welling to the surface of his skin where he's been yanking and struggling fruitlessly against the plastic zip ties.

“I haven’t wanted someone like this in a long time,” Tony confesses, sitting on the edge of the cot. Peter twitches and presses himself further into the corner of the sleeper. “And I certainly didn’t expect to find someone like you.”

Peter’s face twists in derision. “What, you mean a whore? Do you normally paralyze and kidnap princesses or rich politicians?”

Tony barks out a laugh, loud and delighted. “I mean this,” he explains, leaning toward his guest hungrily. “You’re fiery. I like that.” He reaches out, cups the boy’s face in his palm and grins when he flinches in terror. “Back at the lot, you offered yourself to me.” He digs his thumb into the boy’s cheek, pressing between his teeth and forcing his pink lips apart. “That was incredibly stupid.”

Something like desperation flashes in Peter’s eyes and he raises his bound wrists, struggling away from Tony’s grip. “A free fuck? Is that what you want?” Tony lets him go, watches in amusement as the boy tugs at his wrists again and hisses through his teeth as the zip tie drags against raw skin. “I can do that, I won’t go to the cops or anything, I swear. Just-- just untie me, and I’ll fuck you or suck you off, whatever you want.”

Tony shakes his head. “It’s more than that.” He wants to own Peter, to possess him so thoroughly he’ll want for nothing more than to be Tony’s. “I’m going to take care of you,” he vows, wrapping a hand around Peter’s skinny ankle and dragging him down the mattress.

Peter yelps and kicks out at him, managing to knock the wind out of Tony for a second. He’s pleased that the boy has so much fight left in him but he swings a leg over Peter’s flailing body and straddles him, pinning his legs in place. His hand snakes up to the front of Peter’s throat, his fingers curling in a clear threat around that delicate windpipe.

That seems to still Peter - he huffs for breath, staring up at Tony with wild, fearful eyes.

“I don't wanna kill you,” Tony says truthfully, “But I will if you're more trouble than you're worth.” He lets his fingers tighten, and Peter’s eyes widen in dread. “Am I understood?”

The boy nods slowly, his terror finally overtaking his bravery in the light of Tony’s threat. Tony loosens his fingers just a bit, sliding his other hand under the hem of Peter’s shirt, greedily taking in the smooth expanse of his skin.

“That’s it,” he coos, smiling when Peter’s pulse quickens but he obediently holds still. “Fuck, look at you.” He scrapes a fingernail gently over a pink nipple, groaning when Peter convulses underneath him, his chest rising and falling rapidly with his breath. “I know you’re scared sweetheart,” he says sympathetically, twisting his other nipple just to watch him squirm. “But I’m gonna make you feel good. You’re gonna come on my cock baby, you’re gonna feel so good.”

Peter lets out a ragged exhale, seeming to realize what’s about to happen. “Wait, please--” he gasps, blinking back tears as Tony yanks his shirt up, twisting the fabric around his wrists. There are faint bruises along Peter’s ribs and down his sides, marks in the shapes of large fingers wrapping around his hips, evidence of his occupation.

Tony’s blood boils as he takes this in, stares at the blemishes that other men have left, their claims to his property. He planned on being gentle, on proving to Peter how well-cared for he would be, but everything in Tony now wants to sink his own bruises into Peter’s skin, tear his teeth into soft flesh and see the boy smeared in his come.

He growls and pushes Peter down onto his stomach, the corded zip ties tangling around his shaking shoulders as he holds back fearful whimpers. Tony sits himself on the backs of Peter’s legs and pulls the waistband of his jeans down thick, gorgeous thighs. Tony roughly squeezes and pinches his naked flesh, groaning when the boy jumps underneath him, a wrecked little sob escaping.

“Don't worry angel,” Tony murmurs as he spreads the boy’s round cheeks apart, his cock twitching as he exposes Peter's little hole. “I'm gonna take care of you, remember?” It infuriates him knowing that others have used him already, fucked him like a cheap toy, like Peter isn't the most perfect, angelic thing to have stumbled into those men's grimy, undeserving palms. His fingers dig into Peter's tender skin leaving behind red imprints in his possessive anger. “They used condoms, didn't they?”

It takes Peter a moment to register the question, so Tony fists a hand in his hair and shakes him by the head. “Y- Yes,” he groans, and Tony drops his face back into the pillow.

“Good.” Tony lowers himself over Peter and slowly, he licks a long, wide stripe from his balls up to his pink hole. Peter bucks violently under him and Tony's quick to smack a warning strike against the swell of his ass. “You belong to me now,” he growls, “I'm gonna paint you in my come, sweetheart. Never gonna forget who owns you.”

This makes Peter cry again, and he turns his face to the side, his legs kicking feebly under Tony's weight. “Please, please don't,” he hiccups, his body betraying his very words as he arches into Tony's tongue, so deliciously responsive to his captor's touch as Tony spears his tongue into his tight little fuckhole.

Laving and sucking at that tender rim, Tony spares him no mercy as he licks into the boy's spasming hole, spit dripping into the crease of his ass and soaking his inner thighs. Tony can't remember being this hard in a long time - he squeezes himself around the base, staving off his own pleasure so he can give this perfect boy every bit of attention he deserves.

When he's able to thrust his tongue into the boy's hole with little resistance, he adds an index finger, pushing it in quickly alongside his raping tongue. Peter's hole grips his finger nice and tight but he doesn't react otherwise, still huffing and mumbling incoherent pleas into the mattress.

“Little slut,” Tony spits, thrusting in a second finger. This one makes Peter jump. He tries to squirm away and Tony sits up, pinning his other hand over the nape of his neck. “Stay still,” he warns, sheathing his fingers in to the knuckle, groaning as Peter's silky walls clutch at him like he's trying to keep him out and suck his fingers in all at once.

“No-o-o,” Peter moans, his body writhing almost involuntarily as Tony fucks in deeper, the pads of his fingers reaching that ridged surface inside, milking his pleasure against his will. “P- Please, stop,” Peter cries, smothering his face into the pillow. Tony doesn't miss the slight roll of his hips into the mattress, his body seeking friction even as he shakes his head helplessly.

“That's it, let yourself feel good.” Tony lowers himself over his trembling body, pressing kisses and scraping his teeth over Peter's neck and shoulders as he adds two more fingers until he's fucking him quick and hard on his hand, dragging him towards his unwanted orgasm.

“Wish you could see yourself,” he grunts, every thrust of his palm slapping against Peter's ass lewd and sloppy. “Next time I'll fist you baby, wear you like a pretty glove and have you coming on my wrist, squealing for it like a little puppet, huh?”

“Don't--!” Peter sobs as he comes. Shameful and desperate, he grinds skinny hips into the mattress, his ass clutching tight like a vice around Tony's hand.

“You like that, don't you?” Tony gloats, pulling his fingers out one by one, staring transfixed as that needy little hole grasps at his fingers like it can't bear to be empty. He flips Peter over onto his back, untwisting the boy from his makeshift chain and he licks the come splattered off his taut belly, moaning at the taste.

Shuddering, Peter raises his bound hands and bats at him weakly, but Tony just laughs and pins his wrists over his head.

He grabs a slender leg and pushes it down into Peter's chest, folding him in half and showing off that tempting hole again. “There we go, baby.” Tony settles himself between the boy's spread thighs and slowly ruts into the cleft of his ass, letting Peter feel how hard he is. “You're gonna look so good on my cock,” he tells Peter, smiling when he turns his pretty face away with a wrecked whimper.

“Sweetheart, look at me,” Tony says in a kind but firm voice. When Peter refuses, Tony's forced to grip him by the throat and turn his face to meet his. “Look at me, Peter,” he growls dangerously.

The boy blinks open teary eyes, gasping when Tony curls his fingers tight around the delicate column of his neck.

“You don't wanna make me more upset,” he admonishes, rubbing his thumb gently over the boy's hyoid bone, applying just enough pressure to send home the threat.

“Please don’t,” Peter whispers, his throat bobbing warm and fragile under Tony’s palm.

Unable to resist his sweet words, Tony grips him tight and presses a fond kiss to the corner of the boy’s mouth, then licks his tongue against the shell of his ear, nipping and teasing at the sensitive skin until Peter’s crying again, salty tears running down the sides of his face. Tony licks those away too.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, relaxing his fingers just a bit. “I told you I wouldn’t kill you if you behaved.”

Peter whimpers but he nods his head slowly, fresh tears streaming down his face. Tony doesn’t mind the tears - relishes them, even. He smiles and presses a rewarding kiss to the boy’s temple, then sits back on his heels and carefully releases his throat. “Now, Peter. Look at me.”

The boy obeys this time, large, watery eyes blinking open to meet Tony’s gaze. A possessive, hungry pride swells in Tony’s chest.

“Good boy.” He wraps a hand around himself and guides the tip between Peter’s thighs, rubbing his slippery cockhead nice and slow against the boy’s pink opening. “Keep your eyes on me or I’ll snap your pretty little neck,” he warns, and then he pushes in, groaning as Peter’s body fights to keep him out - until Tony’s cockhead breaches him, squeezed almost painfully tight by that resistant little fuckhole.

Peter shudders, glaring adorably up at Tony through dark, wet eyelashes as he’s slowly impaled on his captor’s cock. He feels so good, Tony grunts and keeps sinking in until he’s shoved as deep inside the boy’s tight, perfect ass as he can get.

Tony hauls Peter's legs up into the air and he pulls back, groaning low in his chest at the delicious squeeze of his walls all around him - so shy before but now so hungry for Tony's cock, he's practically sucking him back in. He bends that lithe body into the mattress and fucks into him again, a deep, plundering thrust that nudges against the boy's prostate.

Peter's back arches off the mattress in a graceful bow and he barely stifles a moan, his little cock twitching from where it lays half-hard on his belly. He glares at Tony again, humiliated tears streaking down his cheeks as Tony leers down at him then rolls his hips in deep circles, letting his bulbous cockhead massage that tender spot inside of him.

“Stop,” Peter mewls, but they both know it's a useless plea - Tony only hitches his legs up higher, humping relentlessly into that same spot and watching hungrily as Peter's cock fills against his will, tangible proof between them that Tony's not the only one getting off to this.

Tony fucks into him harder, moaning as he draws near his release, already close from playing with his new toy for so long. “Oh fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good.” Tony digs his fingers into the soft curves of the boy's ass, pulling him harsh onto his cock with each thrust. “I'm never letting you go,” he promises, ignoring Peter's miserable little whine. “You're made for me, aren't you baby? Look at your cute dick, you like how it feels, huh?” He leers at him, swiping a thumb over the leaking head of the boy's cock, reminding him of his own pleasure. “You love it. Being owned - being mine.”

Peter shakes his head violently, turning his face away. “Fuck you!” he cries in one last show of defiance, and Tony sighs, seizing him around his neck again. His eyes flit fearfully up to Tony, but it's too late.

Tony squeezes his hand down, steadily increasing the pressure even as he continues pumping his cock into that warm little fuckhole. Peter's lips move soundlessly and Tony bares his teeth at him in an unpleasant grin. “Well-behaved boys get to live,” he reminds Peter, watching as those expressive brown eyes brim with tears, his face flushing as his oxygen cuts off. Peter kicks his legs feebly but Tony just bears down on him, fucking harder into his ass while he squeezes the life from him.

He regrets that he didn't get to keep Peter for long, that the boy's hot-blooded nature, the very flame that attracted Tony to him was the final transgression. He certainly doesn't want to do this, but he's laid out his expectations for Peter clearly enough and he's never suffered a disobedient bedpartner.

Tony watches mournfully as Peter's lips turn blue and gorgeous, terrified tears roll down his cheeks. He can't deny the pang of loss he feels - he's never sunk his cock into something quite so perfect as Peter.

He has every intent to make good on his threat, when Peter's cock twitches and he comes, shooting his shameful release across his belly and over Tony's chest. Humiliated tears spill freely down Peter’s cheeks, and then those pretty brown eyes roll back in his head as he slips into unconsciousness.

Tony moans and curses, fingers slowly unclenching from around the boy’s throat. Peter's head lolls back onto the pillow limply but his chest shudders as he inhales, color slowly returning to his sweet face. Tony's cock throbs painfully inside of Peter and he's certain he's never been this hard in his life.

He fucks into Peter's hole fast and hard, chasing his own pleasure and he comes with a groan, stars exploding in his vision as he pumps his seed into that incredible, tight heat. It's the best orgasm he's ever had, and as Tony huffs for breath, coming down from his high, he stares admiringly at Peter's relaxed, angelic face, the boy's own come splattered over his chin. Tony realizes with a breathless little chuckle that he really is going to keep Peter forever.

part 3

[katebacks]

Swim - Kim Taehyung Pt2 (m)

— pairing | Kim Taehyung /Reader

— word c | 3,307

— genre |   Smut.

— summary | A week has passed since Hoseok caught you and Taehyung in his bed. Hoseok has being away from all his friends, including you, his best friend. Taehyung is in a bar with some friends and he hasn’t seen you since that night, and he can’t get you out of his head, so when he sees you entering the club, he can’t hold himself.

— warnings/tags | Bad words, Explict sex, fingering, public sex.

— Author’s note | This fanfic is part of the series Swim, will be composed by the version of Taehyung, Hoseok and Jungkook. The Hoseok version will be directly linked to the Taehyung version, while the Jungkook version will be independent. Many people asked me for a part 2 of the Taehyung version, so I did, but it will not have a third part.

A week had passed since the day when Taehyung had finally managed to have sex with you. And since that day, he didn’t speak to you any more, nor to Hoseok. Jung was ignoring his calls, messages, and hadn’t even appeared at the weekly meeting of friends. He knew that Hoseok was very angry with him, but he himself didn’t feel guilty at all, after all, he and you were adults, and you were single, it wasn’t like you committed a crime or cheated on someone.

Taehyung was in a bar, sitting at the table with two other friends. They used to gather there all Friday to talk and relieve themselves of the weekly pressure. He held a glass of whiskey in his hand as he watched the dance floor, full of people, full of women who would fall at his feet if he wanted to, but since his night with you, he could only think of you.

"Hoseok isn’t coming." Jimin, the oldest of the three, said, pulling the phone down and stuffing it into his pocket. "Whatever happened to him this week, it was pretty bad."

"Didn’t he tell you, too?" Jungkook, the youngest, asked, and Jimin denied it. Taehyung kept quiet, watching them talk. He knew full well the cause of Hoseok's irritation. “I've never seen Hoseok as tense as he was at work this week. I tried to talk to him today, but he didn’t say a word, just gave me that psycho look he has when he is angry, turned his back on me and let me have lunch alone.”

"Did something happen in his family?" The older man asked curiously.

“No, I don’t think it was with his family ... But I have a hunch. Remember that time we went to the beach and I accidentally tripped and fell on top of (Y/N), with my face in the middle of her breasts?”

The older man let out a loud laugh, placing his hand on his chest and throwing his head back, shrugging his shoulders as he laughed, before looking back at his friend and giving him a sarcastic look.

“Accidentally? Don’t lie to us, Maknae, we know very well that you did it on purpose.” Jungkook narrowed his eyes, and opened his mouth, pretending to be offended before laughing shyly and scratching the back of his neck. Taehyung arched his eyebrow, he wasn’t with them that day, so that matter was new to him.

"Anyway, do you remember the look he gave me when he saw what had happened?" Jimin nodded. "It was the same look he gave me at lunch today. I think something happened to (Y/N). Maybe they fought."

“No, they were a stick to one another, they never fought, they were always ‘Hobi, my sunshine’ and ‘(Y/N), my innocent baby.’ I don’t think they had a fight. Maybe some asshole messed with her and he got angry, you know how jealous he is of her.” Jimin said thoughtfully. Taehyung couldn’t help letting out a mocking laugh at that. He glanced at a corner of the nightclub as he thought of telling his friends the reason for Hoseok's anger.

“That's exactly why he's pissed off all week.” Taehyung said, deciding he would tell the truth to his friends. Both boys looked at him, curious to know what he was talking about. “An asshole messed with (Y/N) and this asshole is me.”

"What?" The two of them said together, their eyes widening, unable to hide the surprise these words had caused.

“Last weekend, at the party you couldn’t go to, (Y/N) went. I was drunk, horny and you know how hot she is. I saw her come into my house, all by herself, wearing a pair of jeans shorts, so I got the courage to talk to her. We fucked in my room, hidden from Hoseok who was also at the party, but by our carelessness, he found out and went to my room, where he caught me and (Y/N) in bed and ...”

“Wait, hold the fuck up. Didn’t you just hit upon (Y/N), but also fucked her?” Jungkook asked, interrupting him, raising his hands as he stared at his friend, blinking his eyelids quickly. Taehyung nodded. "While Hoseok was nearby?"

"He wasn’t nearby, he was getting drunk downstairs and me and her went upstairs."

"So how did Hoseok found out?" Jimin asked frowning.

“He called (Y/N), to find out where she was and I made her answer the phone, but we didn’t stop fucking, and when we saw, she cum and so did I, but I moaned her name too loudly and she hadn’t hung up the phone yet, So I suppose he heard my voice ...”

"Holy shit, Taehyung? How are you still alive?" Jimin said loudly, but thanks to the club's loud music, no one but the two listened. "How didn’t he kill you?"

"And why would he do that?" Taehyung asked frowning. "(Y/N) is a grown woman, she can make her own choices. If I had forced her to anything, I would agree with Hoseok and let him strangle me, but she gave me permission. She wanted to. And he doesn’t own her, he can’t decide who she fucks."

"You talked to her after that?"

"No, we have not spoken since that day." He said raising his hand to take a sip of his drink, but stopped his movements when looking at a specific point and face you entering the club. He came down and looked up into your body, feeling the same feeling he'd felt when he'd seen you come in alone through the front door of his house a week ago. You wore a red dress with straps. The length went up to the middle of your thighs and marked your curves. Dirty thoughts flooded his head as he swallowed the rest of his drink. "But this is about to change.” He said putting the glass on the table and standing up. Jimin and Jungkook stared at him confused and were about to ask what he was doing when they looked in the direction he was going and saw you there, laughing at something that one of the girls next to you said.

“I bet 5 dollars that he doesn’t give a damn about Hoseok and that he's going to try to fuck (Y/N) again.” Jimin said, watching his friend walk away.

“And I bet 10 that he just will not try, but also will get to fuck her.” Jungkook said beside him. The two of them looked at each other and squeezed their hands, sealing the bet, and then looked back at Taehyung who had approached you and took your arm, catching your attention.

“Hi, Tae." You said as you turned around and saw who had held your arm. Your friends looked at each other and laughed.

"We're going to sit down, (Y/N).” One of them said giving you an accomplice look and you laughed and nodded, watching them walk away. Taehyung watched them leave, then looked back at you, smiling a little later.

He didn’t care anymore whether Hoseok would get angry or not, after he did once, why not do it again? The friendship between him and Jung was by a very same thread, he no longer cared whether they would speak again or not. Not that he didn’t care about his friend, he loved Hoseok as a brother, but he wouldn’t fail to do what he wanted because Jung was jealous of you, after all, you were young and free. And so did he.

You turned your eyes to Taehyung and as soon as you stared into his eyes, a warmth rose over your body, remembering the night you had together. He leaned forward, drawing the mouth from your ear.

“You look beautiful." He said and you can not help blushing and shiver at the sound of his hoarse voice so close to a weak spot. His hand on your arm came down to your waist, squeezing it and you jumped as you felt it touching you. You were not silly, you knew very well what Taehyung wanted, and even after that incident with Hoseok, you still wanted it.

"Thank you, you're not bad either." You said, wringing a smile from the boy.

"Do you want dance? I think we need to talk."

"About what?"

Taehyung gave you a cornered smile and nodded, waving to the dance floor. He led you among the people until you were in the middle of the dance floor. The music that played was a quieter beat, which gave him the chance to put his hand on your waist and pull you close as you hugged his shoulders.

"Hoseok is still pissed at me?" He asked, lowering his face, approaching yours. You had to control your urge to kiss those lips and bit your own, shaking your head.

"I didn’t talk to him after that night." You said and he turned his face, frowning at you, visibly surprised at your response. He thought Hoseok was angry with him and not with you, either. So the case was more serious than he thought. “We fought on the way home, he left me at home, he doesn’t answer my calls or my messages. I went to his house during the week but he was never home.”

"Why is he being like this? I don’t understand. Was it really that serious in his eyes?" He asked confused. You just shrugged.

"Maybe he felt betrayed, you know, for not telling him anything."

"Of course, if I had said something he would tell me no and make things difficult." Taehyung snapped. “I'm beginning to think he's in love with you or something. Because it is not possible for him to be this way just because you are friends.”

“Hoseok has always been like that, ever since we met, he always did everything to get the other guys away from me, and every time I got involved with one, I would get screwed. He would warn me, saying that I would get hurt, but I never listened, and in the end, I would come back crying into his arms. Must be why he got angry, because he knows that if I get hurt, I'll whine at him.” You said, sighing heavily before shaking your head. "I'll give him some time, then I'll try to talk to him again."

"Well, while you give him this time, you could spend it with me, what do you think?" Taehyung asked holding your chin and directing your gaze to his. You smiled and bit your lips, not realizing that it made Taehyung's body shiver and the fire inside him spread to each limb and part of his body.

“What are we waiting for?” You asked with a defiant look. He laughed and finally pressed his lips against yours, starting a warm kiss. You stuck your fingers through his hair as he pressed his hand to your waist, pulling you even closer against his body. A new song began to play, one more agitated, causing him to guide you, slowly dancing to the sensual beat. He released your chin and his hand came down to your hip, squeezing one side of your ass, making you moan between his lips and making his cock jump into his pants. Only there he realize how much he missed your moans.

“Why don’t we try something?” He whispered after stepping away from the kiss to catch his breath. You cocked your head to one side, waiting for him to continue. "If I can make you cum before the end of this song, here in the middle of them, you let me fuck you for the rest of the night." You almost choked on the air that was breathing at his suggestion. But it was too tempting to deny, so you just giggled and tugged at the back of his neck, kissing him again, causing him to hug your waist tightly, placing a hand on your back, caressing it.

"Why haven’t you started yet?" You whispered between his lips, smirking. He lowered the kisses to your neck as you could feel his hands wandering your body until he stood on the side of your thighs and raised your dress a little, making you clench the nails at the nape of his neck, feeling your heartbeat.

"It's all right." He whispered in your ear before biting your lobe. "Nobody's going to see anything, I'm not going to raise your dress too much, just enough so I can do it …" And with that, you felt his fingers between your legs, inside your dress and over your panties, massaging your clit and making you let out a groan that was masked by the loud music.

You began to move in the rhythm of the music, one clinging to the other, kissing each other while Taehyung kept his hand over your panties, caressing you, making you feel shivers and pleasure.

"Let me see how wet you are." He whispered and so, after giving a discreet look around, just to check if anyone there was looking, he lowered his face, kissing her again. He used his fingers to get your panties to the side and thrust two fingers inside you, making you bite his lip and squeeze his shoulders. "Easy, baby girl." He whispered between the kiss, pulling away from your face to observe your expression of pleasure. "You're so wet, baby. Are you feeling how my fingers are sliding right into you?"

"Yes." You said, taking a deep breath, trying to keep your body calm and holding you back so you wouldn’t move your hip toward his hand, wanting more movement. "This is so good."

"Do you want another finger, baby?" He whispered in your ear and you whimpered a yes, feeling him thrust a third finger inside you, making your walls pulsate around his big, long fingers. "You're so tight, so hot. You have no idea how much my dick wants to be in here." He moaned into your ear and pushed his fingers hard into you, making you lay your head on his shoulder, hiding your face and lowered eyebrows, biting your lips and digging your fingers into his shirt. "Can you take another one, baby?" You raised your head and before you could respond, Taehyung thrust the fourth finger inside you, making your legs tremble and you choke with a moan, watching him smile satisfied with your reaction. You looked sideways, feeling ashamed and afraid that someone would see what was happening, but at the same time feeling an overwhelming urge to ask him to go faster.

Taehyung seemed to read your thoughts. The smile faded from his lips, giving way to the lust that took over his face the moment he began to push his fingers faster and harder into you. Making you gasp and lay your head on his shoulder once more, moaning softly. His fingers stretching your walls, hitting you in the right spot, you knew it would not take long to cum. It was when he stopped his movements and took his fingers out of you, making you grunt and lifting your face to face him, only to see him sucking your juice from his fingers.

"Take off your panties, now." He whispered authoritatively in your ear. You didn’t even think about why he wanted you to do it, the only thing on your mind was the will you had to cum there. You looked around, thanking most people there for being drunk or busy-mouthed so they wouldn’t have time to notice what was happening and quickly stuffed your hands under the dress, taking off your white lace panties. He grabbed your panties and laughed, shoving it in his pocket, before grabbing your waist and pulling you into a kiss. You could feel his erection against your belly and thought of helping him with that, but before you could act, he turned you suddenly with your back to him. "Hold your breath." He whispered harshly in your ear and you obeyed, drawing the air and holding it in your lungs.

Taehyung opened his pants and pulled out his cock, quickly lifting your dress a little and pushing his dick inside you, you let the air out, biting your lips, holding a scream as you felt him go deep into you. Your hands went down to the sides of your body, landing on your thighs, holding your dress so it would not rise any more, while Taehyung put one arm around your waist and the other above your breasts. He couldn’t move too much to arouse suspicion, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t roll his hips and move them slowly, driving you crazy.

He took a hand to your neck, holding in your throat. Taehyung began to move discreetly back and forth, hitting the right spot, you leaned your head back, feeling your entire body shaking every time he thrust in you. And you could feel it coming.

"Don’t hold it, baby, come to me." He whispered hoarse in your ear and that was your limit, you gasped tightening your fingers against your own thigh, Taehyung's fingers in your throat preventing you to breathe, making the orgasm even stronger, your chest began to up and down quickly and you closed your eyes, your legs trembling and that hot pain taking over your body. Taehyung loosened his grip and you pulled the air as he continued to move inside you, feeling that he was about to cum, smothering the moans of pleasure as your cunt squeezed around his cock.

He increased the force of the thrusts and you bit your lips, feeling that it was too much and that at any moment you would end up screaming with pleasure, but you knew that you couldn’t do that or everyone there would know what you were doing, was when you felt Taehyung’s arms tightening around your body increase and his liquid being released within you.

He let out a weak, low moan in your ear, almost making you cum again. He gave light kisses on your shoulder before getting out of you, closing your pants and lowering your dress, turning you to face him and hugging you, letting you soothe your breath against his chest.

“We better get going.” You whispered against his chest. "I don’t know how long I can hold your cum inside me." He just nodded and smiled, grabbing your hand and leading you toward the exit. You didn’t even have to tell your friends that you were leaving, because you knew they already knew that. And Taehyung too.

A little while later you were in his house, fucking again, as your deal said, the only difference is that he hadn’t made you cum before the music was over, but that didn’t matter anymore. You just wanted to fuck him the rest of the night.

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