skyrimfuckery

[xoxomoonlightxoxo]

Don't Get Attached | Drabble Series

"Please y/n, I've been so good"

After a hectic week at work, your aching body virtually melts into Jungkook’s warmth as his grip on your waist tightens pulling you closer to his lap. Initially, the two of you planned to stay in and spend some quality time rewatching Game of Thrones, until your friends decided to throw a last-minute house party. Being the homebody that you are, the answer to the invitation was rather obvious, but Jungkook’s blabber mouth had already promised to come. And, since you guys are practically attached by the hip, naturally, that meant you had to come as well. 

“Koo, why would you say yes?” you whine into the pillow as your body plops onto his soft bed. Kicking your feet, you look and feel like a child who was forced to go into a timeout. 

“Sorry princess, but Jason put me on the spot,” he pouts, taking off his muscle tee before crawling closer to you. Turning on your back, you cross your hands over your chest as his arms cage your form under him, silver chains dangling over your annoyed face. 

“Get off of me, I don’t like you right now,” you snap, avoiding his eyes as his face inches closer. 

“Come on baby, just one night. I’ll make it up to you, mhm?” Jungkook whispers, hooded gaze searching your eyes before placing a needy kiss on your pouty lips. 

“And if I say no?” 

“Would you rather have your pretty moans do all the explaining when Jason and Bomi play back my voicemail? I don’t mind, it’s your choice really,” he smirks, tucking a few hair strands behind your now, red ear. 

“You are unbelievable, you know that?” you scoff, rolling your eyes at his teasing before finally pushing him off of you.  

“You love it, don’t lie,” 

- -

After basically pulling you out of his bed, the two of you quickly got dressed and headed towards Bomi's place, which was only a 15-minute car ride. However, although you loved your friends dearly, your desire to leave was further fueled by the number of people at this “small” get-together. It didn’t matter which corner of the room you’d look at, because, without fail at least three different groups were most likely chatting there. It's as if everyone and their neighbour’s second-removed cousins were invited. Nonetheless, all the complaining was useless at this point and thanks to Jungkook, you now found yourself playing Spin the Bottle with tipsy university students. 

“Ooh this is going to be fun,” Jason chuckles with a mischievous grin as the bottle lands on Jungkook. 

“They're basically one person though,” Bomi giggles, eyeing the way you were cuddled in between Jungkook’s legs, making it difficult to tell who the bottle was actually pointing to. 

“I'm gonna say Jungkook,” Jason grins, giving him a sly wink. 

“Of course you would,” Jungkook scoffs, resting his chin on your head before intertwining his fingers with yours. 

“Truth or Dare, Jeon?” Jason asks, cocking an eyebrow. 

“Dare,” 

There is a noticeable pause in the circle as Jason searches your scattering eyes, letting out a soft smile at the way Jungkook’s arms seemed to tighten their hold on your form the longer his stare went on. 

“Ok, I dare you to not touch y/n for a whole week,” Jason chuckles, scrunching his nose when his eyes meet Bomi’s shocked expression. 

“Fuck off,” Jungkook laughs, poking the side of his cheek with his tongue. 

“Nuh-uh, you can’t back out now,” 

“Koo, if you win, I’ll do whatever you want. But, if I win, you will let me ride your motorcycle,” you whisper, facing his hooded gaze as your hands rest on his thighs. Tracing little circles on his jeans, your doe eyes sparkle under the living room lights as he leans closer, lips resting inches apart. 

“Nice try princess,” 

“Koo, please,” you whine softly, gliding your hands up his chest before intertwining your fingers in his dishevelled hair. 

“You would rather ride some stupid motorcycle than be with me?” Jungkook shakes his head in disbelief, unable to hide his little smirk. 

“Oh relax, it’s not that deep,” you roll your eyes, glancing back at Bomi, who is visibly consumed by the interaction at hand.

“I definitely won’t be for a whole week, thanks to you,” Jungkook whispers into your ear, nibbling on the soft skin before facing your widened eyes. 

“Koo, shut up,” you yelp, quickly covering his mouth as your cheeks flush with embarrassment. 

--

MONDAY

“You know, there are better things you could ride, y/n. You're sitting on one right now,” Jungkook whispers with a sly grin as his gaze darkens watching you straddle his thighs. Stretching his back against his gaming chair, his hands naturally rest on your waist, making sure you don’t lose balance. 

“Paws off Jeon,” you snap teasingly. 

“Why are you being like this?” he whines, resting his head back before letting out a deep sigh.  

“I’m not going to let you win so easily baby,” 

TUESDAY

“Do you like it?” you exclaim with excitement, opening the changing room curtains before stunting a pose in a black mini dress. 

“I hate it,” Jungkook sighs, crossing his hands over his chest. 

“What? Why?” you whine. 

“I hate that I can’t rip it off you,”

WEDNESDAY 

“Koo, what do you want for dinner?” you shout, scanning his fridge before pulling out some frozen shrimp and broccoli. 

“You,” Jungkook replies from the bathroom. 

“Koo, I’m serious,” 

“Me too,”

THURSDAY 

Koo: Y/n, can you send me a picture of yourself?

Y/N: Are the ones on your phone not enough?

Koo: They’re old 😫

Y/N: We took some yesterday … 

Koo: Yes, and?

Y/N: Why do you need them, anyway?

Koo: I can’t take it anymore and the only person who can help me is prioritizing a motorcycle over my mental wellbeing. So, I’m going to have to take the matter into my own hands. Literally. 

Y/N: Men disgust me 🫠

FRIDAY 

“Y/n … is this what you always wear to the gym?” Jungkook gulps watching you unzip your jacket, exposing his favourite pink sports bra of yours. 

“Yes?” you chuckle. 

“Well, could you not?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Should I come naked next time?” you reply teasingly, moving closer to his tense body as the tight space between you two becomes almost suffocating. 

“Put this on before I pass out,” he scoffs, covering your chest with his black hoodie. 

SATURDAY 

“Hello?” you manage to let out, scratching your eyes before glancing at the clock on your nightstand. 

“Koo, it's 2 am …” 

“Y/n, please come over, I can’t sleep. I promise I won’t touch you, just need to feel you next to me,” he pleads through the phone. 

SUNDAY

Hearing the doorbell ring, you finish up your skincare before glancing at the peephole. Last time you checked it was almost midnight, so you proceed with caution before letting out a sigh of relief upon recognizing the man on the other side of the door. Who could have guessed? It was none other than Mr. Jeon himself. Opening the door, your smile slowly fades at the intensity of his darkened orbs. 

“On the bed, let’s go,” Jungkook says sharply, taking off his black button-up as his heaving chest glistens under the moonlight.  

“What happened to please?” you stutter, standing still in your pink, silk robe. 

“Please y/n, I’ve been so good,” he turns around, dropping to his knees before inching closer to your warm body. Begging on his knees, his gaze is hooded, consumed by need and desperation. 

“Much better. What do you want, baby?” you whisper, caressing his hair as his hands trace up your thighs. 

“You, y/n. I’ve never wanted someone more. Please, let me have you,”

Don't Get Attached Masterlist

[aita-blorbos]

aita for yelling at my ex-girlfriend for hijacking my project and letting my traitorous brother go?

about a year ago, my family realized that my older brother (orbit) was a traitor and working for a villainous rebel organization. we immediately cut off all ties with him and made our home impenetrable to him. or so we thought. a few weeks ago, through a long, intricate scheme, orbit and his villainous friends managed to breach the security to our home. while he was here, i thought i'd managed to trap him (and for a while it seemed like he was dead), but it turns out he escaped. this made me feel incredibly guilty and ashamed because i genuinely believed we'd finally be able to bring him to justice, but it turned out that what i'd done wasn't enough.

anyway, ever since then, i'd been trying to find orbit. i'd sort of kind of tried to keep it a secret, but then my best friend (sun) managed to force my plan out of me in front of my girlfriend (moon). so she knew what i was trying to do, and so did sun. anyway, the plan was i'd do a favor for sun's dad because he claimed he had information about orbit's whereabouts that he'd be willing to trade.

i'd been working on this favor with sun's dad for a few weeks and not really getting anywhere, so behind my back, sun and moon decided that moon should try to do this project instead of me (moon basically has the same power as me that's needed for the project, but much stronger). i would've been okay with this, if it weren't for the fact that moon and sun didn't tell me anything about hijacking my project and also that me and moon have a special connection that means that when we use this power together, we're even stronger, so i could've still played a part in trying to find a breakthrough.

anyway, moon uncovered a lead, which led them to try to find something. sun and moon didn't find what they were looking for, but instead they found orbit. according to what sun told me afterward, they were all ready to drag him back to prison for his crimes, but it turned out that orbit had information that he was willing to trade to sun and moon in return for them letting him go. and sun and moon took the deal instead of capturing him even though they knew exactly how desperate i was to find him and even though the only reason they found him was because they hijacked my project behind my back!

now, it might've been a good deal (the information they uncovered was pretty important), except that power i was talking about earlier? moon could've used it on orbit to drag the information out of him anyway! not to mention, me and moon have that special connection that makes this power even stronger, so we could've taken him on together after orbit had been safely locked away! what sun told me was that orbit told them he was so good at blocking this power because he'd grown up around our father (who has the same special power, it's genetic, i inherited it, orbit didn't) and the power had always made him skittish, so he'd learned to block it. but in my professional opinion, that's complete garbage, especially considering moon's capacity for this power is even stronger than usual and even stronger on top of that when she works together with me!

the other thing was that orbit was apparently very sickly and not at all healthy-looking when sun and moon found him. according to sun, the method i’d used to trap him before he escaped from my house made it so that he was slowly dying. so sun and moon had apparently reasoned that he couldn’t do much damage in his current state and that dragging him back to prison would be next to useless considering how almost-dead he looked when they made their deal with him for the information. again, in my professional opinion, this doesn’t matter. sun and moon just don’t understand how dangerous orbit truly is, and how much we really shouldn’t be underestimating him, even if he is dying. 

here is where i may be the asshole. after sun told me all this, i immediately went to moon's house to confront her. she wasn't home, so i waited, and when she got home, it was pretty clear that she'd been going through something big. i ignored all that and immediately started being sort of passive-aggressive as i accused her of letting orbit go and hijacking my project. moon claimed she'd been having a long day and said that i was pretty upset, so maybe we should continue this conversation tomorrow, which made me so angry because it wasn't like anyone had forced her and sun to hijack my project and let orbit go! so i yelled at her for letting orbit go. she tried to defend her and sun's choices by telling me how sick he looked and how he'd claimed he could block her power, but i shut her down.

eventually we circled around back to the fact that the only reason she'd even been in that position was because she'd decided to hijack my project behind my back. she claimed that she and sun had only done it because i'd been unsuccessful for so long, which made me really mad and i started being kind of passive-aggressive again and started accusing her of thinking she was better than me. moon was clearly trying to keep her composure, and eventually i realized something was off and calmed down a little bit. we eventually broke up during this same incident for unrelated reasons.

so, aita for yelling at moon?

update: sun went into a coma, and moon's been watching after him, so i went to go see them in the hospital and me and her made up again. i told her that i'd started to continue my search for orbit and she immediately got defensive, but i reassured her i wasn't mad at her anymore. but it still makes me a bit annoyed that she never admitted her (and sun's) side of the blame with regards to hijacking my project behind my back. 

[hobiebrownismygod]

INFECTION --> Part 1

made this for my Pookie @tatumis-a idk the concept reminded me of you and I think you'll like it hopefully

42!Miles x Fem!Reader --> Last of Us AU

WC: 1k

A/N: This is basically just a random little AU I wanted to write out for myself 😭 only a short beginning to what is probably gonna end up being a long series. its not gonna follow the plot of the original TLOU but its gonna be fairly similar to stay tuned 🔊  🗣🔥

____________________________________________________________

This was your chance

You lowered yourself out of the window as quietly as you could, silently praying you wouldn't alert any of the guards stationed near the dorms.

You'd been planning this day for weeks. The day you'd finally escape the prison the government called a camp. The enslavement they called schooling.

It wasn't schooling and it wasn't a camp. It was a way for them to turn scared little kids into soldiers for their useless army. So they could send more and more young people out into the fields to die from cordyceps for nothing.

Tomorrow would be the day you'd graduate. 16 years old. Ready to be another soldier. Another pawn.

But you weren't going to let that happen.

You fell to the ground with a thump, immediately dodging behind one of the many wilted bushes surrounding the bottom floor. You watched as one of the guard groups walked by, flashlights aimed towards the ground in front rather than the surrounding areas.

You took your chance to quickly move past, walking along the streets as inconspicuously as you could. You hid from any guards that walked by, hoping they wouldn't notice you in the darkness.

The strict curfew kept the streets empty while the patrol attempted to weed out the few stragglers left behind. It was well past 11pm and basically everyone was asleep by now.

It only took you a few minutes of brisk walking to reach the fence, the only thing separating the camp from the outside world, riddled with infected and rabid animals. Mercenaries and gangs. Psychopaths and murderers.

Yet you had a feeling that the outside world would be a lot better than being entrapped in this suffocating line they expected you to call home.

The outside world would be a lot more welcoming than the government would let on. After all, if the Fireflies could survive, why couldn't you? A "terrorist" group who's sole goal was to save humanity from extinction.

To find a cure.

And now you were going to find them.

Because it was only the Fireflies that could truly make you feel like you belonged.

Like there was something worth living for.

A cure...that would save everyone.

You tossed your backpack over the fence, following after it. The sharp edges of the metal scraped at your hands, leaving behind scratches and drawing blood. You ignored the pain, biting back groans as you heaved yourself over, falling to the ground on the other side.

You immediately felt...vulnerable. Exposed.

Out there, you could be met with anything.

The groans of infected could be heard in the distance. You could always hear them this late at night, but right now their moans seemed much more harrowing.

But you shook off the fear. Finding the Fireflies was the most important thing to you right now.

And that's exactly what you were going to do.

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

Two days later

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

Fuck

You stumbled as you ran through the mall, the sounds of growling and moaning disappearing into the distance behind you. You knew they couldn't follow you into here, the place was too fortified, but you kept running just in case.

You turned the corner quickly, arm outstretched to grab onto the wall and keep you from falling. Your head was turned over your shoulder, looking behind you to make sure you weren't being followed. That was a mistake.

When you looked back in front of you, you immediately stepped back, arms up in the air. Standing in front of you, leaning back against the wall with crimson red leaking out of his side, was a young boy with a gun in his hand, pointed directly at you.

"Step the fuck back." He hissed, shaking the gun at you and cocking it threateningly. You obliged, silently taking a step back and nearly jumping as your back hit the wall. "Look man, I'm not gonna hurt you-"

"Shut up." You nodded, looking down and keeping your hands up while he inspected you, head tilting to the side slightly. "What's your name?" He asked questioningly, voice as icy cold as possible.

"Y/N." You replied, slowly looking back up at him. His gaping wound caught your eye. His shirt was ripped, as though he'd been slashed at with a knife...or with claws. When you squinted your eyes slightly, you could make out...

a bite wound.

Suddenly you stood up straight, your heart dropping into your stomach. "Wh-what is that?" You asked softly, pointing towards his side. He looked down and his eyes widened, a flicker of fear flashing across his face. "Nothing." He said quickly. "Keep your hands in the air."

"Were you bit?" You asked cautiously, putting your hands back up. He hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. But-"

You cut him off. "Let me go. You're going to die anyways, don't take me down with you."

"I'm not going to die!" He exclaimed nervously, voice trembling and the gun in his hand shaking slightly. He cleared his throat, pointing the gun at you once again. "I'm not going to die."

"Let me guess, you were bit this morning? By one of those monsters out there?" You asked, tilting your head back slightly. "Come on, man. Just let me go."

"I-I-" he hesitated. "You're not gonna believe me." he said quietly, shaking his head.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "What's there to believe?"

He stayed silent for a moment. "This bite...its two weeks old." he whispered, slowly moving his gun down. When you realized he wasn't going to hurt you, his words began to sink in.

"You're lying." You muttered. "You're lying! That's not possible. Everyone turns within three days." You took a cautious step towards him, gesturing for him to show you the wound. "Let me see it."

He leaned back against the wall and sat down, lifting his shirt up slightly. You crouched in front of him, the sight sending a wave of nausea across you. "Oh my god." You whispered softly. He flinched.

The wound was...healed, somewhat. It looked old. Definitely older than other bites you'd seen. It wasn't infected. But how was that possible?

Everyone turns within three days...

"How are you alive?" You whispered.

He stared at you back at you, his eyes filled with what you could only understand as pain. "I don't know."

____________________________________________________________

Tags: Tags: @therealloopylupin2099 @l0starl @daydreaming-en-pointe @itsparis-07 @vileviale @puff-hugs @d0uble-tr0ubl3 @choccymilkdrinker @breadglasses @sunasslut69 @a-cinnamonbunny @ask-1610-miles @axels-garden @miniaturesuitfox @spotconlon55 @s6onder

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[plethora-of-imagines]

Hello there.

I hope you're having a fantastic weekend. If it's alright with you I would like to request a dhawan!master (or delgado!master) where both them and the reader are trapped in a place and both of them can't leave. The master won't leave the reader and the reader won't leave the master. So the master comes. with the idea to shrink the reader to the size of a bratz/barbie doll (Maybe they've been working on this for a while incase the day came where he needed it) so he can get them both out and the reader agrees trusting him with their life and the fact that it will be reversed once they're both safe.

I hope you have a great week and if you're not comfortable then feel free to ignore:)

“Now,” the guard looked back and forth between the two cells that held you and the Master. 

Separated so that you “couldn’t cause any trouble”.

“We have come to an agreement to allow one of you to leave. And have been generous enough to allow the two of you to choose. So you both have ten minutes to determine who is leaving and to have that person walk out this door,” with his electric baton he gestured to the side door. “There is someone on the other side who will ensure that it is just one of you so don’t try any funny business.”

As the guard closed the door behind him on the other side of the small prison the cell doors clicked open.

You wasted no time leaving the cell to rush to the Master’s side.

“Okay, so you leave, grab the TARDIS, and come back for me. Problem solved.”

“While normally a perfect plan, my dear, this prison is equipped with a form of teleportation interference that would stop the TARDIS from being able to materialize within this room. Rendering that plan useless.”

He spoke with a calm elegance. Why would he be telling you this? You were willing to let him leave without any fuss. Yet he told you that he couldn’t come back for you. No.

“No,” you voiced your thoughts aloud. “You can’t possibly expect me to leave you here.”

“And I refuse to leave you, my dear. Leaving us at an impasse as they would say.”

Pressing your head into his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. Oh god, the situation was very bad if he was willingly showing such prolonged affection where anyone could see. He was letting you seek comfort from him. 

Both of you were trying to silently think of a solution.

“There is a possible solution,” he begrudgingly offered after a minute of quiet reflection.

“But you don’t like it.”

“It would not even be an option if the situation were not so dire,” he admitted. “It is not fully perfected yet. It may take some time to change you back.”

“Change me back from what, Master?”

“My dear, you understand the basic premise of how the TCE works, correct?”

You nodded along in subdued horror.

“I have been working on a new method in which the affected survive the process. It would be a valuable tool to be able to sneak anyone out of anywhere as a hostage.”

Stomach turning you asked, “what part of the process is not perfected?”

Recognizing your complete terror his hands cradled your skull, lips pressing softly to your forehead in reverence. 

“My dear, I did not mean to frighten you! The process is painless and works every time. The only flaw in the process is returning people to their original size! The mechanism does not alway work so it may take me time to return you to your original size.”

Taking a deep breath to solidify your resolve and reduce your nerves, you agreed.

He took the TCE and with a simple kiss to your lips, started to shrink you. 

It didn’t hurt. But everything tingled, like all your limbs had fallen asleep. The rapid change in the size of everything made the room blur. Closing your eyes to avoid the nausea that was building up. When the sensations stopped you slowly opened your eyes.

Everything was so big now. The Master towered above you, you were barely able to see his face with how small you were. Blurry and hazy like the top of a distant mountain.  Against your will tears filled your eyes as how vulnerable you were hit you. He could kill you, by pure accident like this. Just by taking a single step.

Clinging to his finger when he picked you up, hiccuping and sniffling from the stress. You allowed him to gently hold your body in his hand. He tried to speak to you but in your distress it sounded like nonsense. 

Slowly he slid you into his shirt pocket and everything went dark. The lack of stimulation soothed you, allowing for you to calm down. No longer overwhelmed, you let the steady walking of the Master rock you into dozing lightly.  You would be demanding cuddles once this was all over.

(717 words)

[katielovably]

(I'm in no way an animator nor a screenwriter, but I am a writer of stories for hobby and new to Eddsworld and its Fandom or maybe watched a few videos over the years, but this came to me at work about a month ago (it was better sounding in my head). I have never written a fanfic like this before so it might be back also there's some gore at the end. It involves Tord along with Paul and Patryck and comes after the end, but before Tord is Red leader, if that makes sense, the week after the events in the End part 2)

It begins at the secret base of the Red Army where Tord was mixing liquid in beacons, Tord wearing goggles to protect his eyes and gloves to protect his hands (well what was left of his body after his robot exploded no thanks to Tom's harpoon gun. His right arm was wounded badly, but no way is he trusting Paul and Patryck (he's only two soldiers) who wanted to hack it off with a hack saw!

Around him are cages with animals.

Patryck enters pausing and looking at him.

What are you doing? You should be resting. You are still healing. He said getting an exasperated look from his leader

Well, this is new. What are you doing? Patryck said walking up to the table Tord stood behind.

*Norwegian swear* Don't touch anything, you idiot! I'm close to figuring it out. Tord hissed taking a slight.

With what? Patryck sighed, Tord setting the beacons, and sliped.

Never mind.... don't sigh about my ideas they never let you down before. Tord snapped. Patryck looking to the injuries the leader got from his last "great idea"

Did you need some things? Tord said hiding his wounds better with a glare

No, just thought I would change your bandages before I get too busy to do so. Patryck said.

Busy? You two are on stand-by until I decide to get this plan underway. What are you two numbskulls doing?! Tord said as Patryck got the bandages

You're not telling me what all this is about or letting us actually get rid of your basically useless arm.... that saw was more rust than mettle and Paul was doing it! *Norwegian curse* Just take one of the guns off the wall and end me! Tord interrupted.

We would have given you a sock to bite down on now sit. Patryck said pulling up a chair.

Gee, I feel so much better about you idiots taking off my arm. Why don't why just do it right now. Tord said sitting in a chair making Patryck pause

Really now. Patryck said now frozen unsure rather to phone Paul or continue.

THAT WAS SARCASM! Now hurry up! Tord hissed.

Grumbling, Patryck changed his bandages.

Time passed in silence.

So what is your plan this time? We turn every civilization of the uk to zombies? Patryck said getting glared at.

They called us heroes and we were in the good. All i needed was the stupid robot then we would be ruling the world. Tord said with a curse to Tom under his breathing.

It was also supposed to be an in and out deal. Get in. Get the robot and leave with it before they even know.

Why do I have to explain it to you. There were locks and I didn't hear them come home from fishing until Tom was standing there with a harpoon pointed at me! Tord said.

I wish you would have asked him where he got those. Patryck sighed.

We have actual guns, Patryck. Tord said.

Yeah, yeah. So you mixing thing together why? Patryck said.

My plan. I made it once but forgot how to do it. Tord said.

Is there more to that? I mean maybe I can help.Patryck said.

No. Instructions and ingredient were in a folder in my secret lab that blew up... shut up. Now I need to rediscover things. It'll take time but it'll be worth it at the end only it's just frustrating. Tord said

You can just rest. stress is not good for you. Patryck said changing his bandages around his left eye. Checking to insure no injuries came to the eye.

Yeah. Yeah rest is important. Now that's enough. Tord said pushing Patryck back out of his face standing.

I wasn't done. Patryck said.

Don't care. Tord said putting on gloves and goggles on and returning.

I know you said but why is this so important.What is the point in this? Patryck said.

Aren't you supposed to be "busy"? Tord said glancing up at Patryck about to mix a blue and purple liquid together.

Fine. Have fun with whatever your doing. Patryck said walking to the door.

You really should rest. Patryck said looking back.

Yeah, yeah. Tord said as Patryck shut the door.

Yeah sure I will. He said to himself continuing.

Alright that should be it. He said looking at creatures.

Am I all out of human test subjects? He said looking at the animals who looked uncomfortable where they are.

He sighed. Well he got as close as he ever will. Looking at his creation with pride.

He was about to put the bottle to his lips but stopped. He's not completely out of human test subjects.

Tord set the beacon down.

As long as Patryck kept his mouth shut.

He called for Paul to come to he's lab.

You wanted to see me. Paul said walking in.

Yes. Drink this. Tord said holding the Beacon to him.

Hu... why? Paul said cautiously but take the beacon with orange-yellow color liquid inside.

It's an order from your leader now do it. Tord said leaning back ready to , Paul raising his eye brow, looking at it and with a sigh he did so.

Not all of it. Tord said, Paul stopping and Tord took it back.

They stood there staring at each other for awhile

Hum.... Do you feel any different? Tord said.

Besides the weird taste... oh, I thought there was something but nope. Paul said nor are you turning invisible! I thought I got it right this time. Tord said annoyed.

Invisible? Paul said in a mix of English and dog, head cocked to one side.

Oh-no.

Tord's expression changed to horror as he watched the soldier become a German shepherd.

Why am I not getting what I want! Tord said.

The dog looking up with confusion in his eyes.

Sorry, Paul. Good boy. Tord sighed petting the dog's heard before going back to mixing.

Now this should be it. He said proudly. He was about to drink it again but again stopped.

Patryck was next to come even though Paul whimpered from under the table.

Patryck appeared

Drink this. Tord said holding a beacon to him.

You refuse to tell me what you were doing now you want me to drink whatever you made also what did you do to Paul? Patryck said.

His fine... stay! He said as Paul was about to reveal himself.

With a whimper the German shepherd laid back down.

Patryck was the smarter of the two

the longer you stand here looking like a idiot the longer you will take you to get back to work. Tord said.

This is what I get for changing your bandages, shame on you. Patryck said before drink.

Not all of it! Tord said taking it back

Again they stared at the other

Nothing? Tord said.

Nothing... Oh-oh. Patryck said shrinking

Oh great I made shrinking not invis... a tabby cat jumped on the table before Tord.

I take it back, I rather have the shrink. Tord sighed petting the cat's fur only to get his only good hand attacked by claws and teeth.

Ow! Hey, stop that! Tord said pulling back.

I didn't want animal serums! I made invisible before I just forget how.... you know what? He said about to add to what he had left before growing in annoyance. Feed up with mixing. He put the mixture to his lips.

Meanwhile

Edd, Matt and Tom were walking home talking.

Edd walked by an alley before hearing growling and hissing.

Edd? What's wrong? Tom said as Matt and him came Edd's side.

I head a cat growl. I hope it isn't Ringo. Edd said trying to see if he can see the cat.

Another loud yowl came from the alley as an orange little brown tabby came dashing out climbing up Edd quickly. Hissing from his shoulder as a German shepherd and grey tabby ran up growling at him.

Go away! Edd said the dog lowered its head backing off... but the cat's continued.

GO! Edd said sternly.

The dog carefully picked up the cat and disappeared where they came.

I should send you away too. I already got a cat. Edd said as the cat licked wounds on its right front foot.

Awe! He's cute. Can we keep him? Matt said looking between Edd and Tom.

No! Tom said to both of them.

Tom. He's hurt. We should try helping him. Edd said.

It's dirty. We don't need flees. Tom said getting hissed at by the cat.

We're helping him because he'll die if we don't. Edd said heroically, the cat purred on his shoulder. Happy for the help.

The cat was taken to the vet while Matt was dragged to their building to Edd's apartment scooping up Ringo as they were about to go down stairs. Complaining about being carried.

Tom got the spare key he got for Edd's apartment.

Tom, it's not a bad thing for Ringo to have a friend. So why not keep the cat? Matt said as Ringo was set down and Tom took his place on the couch turning on the telly.

I mean I don't care anymore. Edd can do whatever he wants. It's a stray and you don't know where it's been. Tom said taking a swig of beer.

Oh. Matt said as he stroked Ringo's fur as the cat sat between them on the couch.

Tom put on one of there favorite shows.

It was just starting.

Edd came home with a semi-better looking cat with badges and a cone so it could heal with out bitting the bandages.

How did that go? Tom said Ringo growling and disappearing into Edd's room.

Well, £10.000 later and this cat got cleaned and healthy. Edd said.

I told you to leave it. Would you be able to pay rent and get food? Tom said taking another swig.

I'm fine, Tom. Edd said setting down the cat who went straight to trying to take off the cone.

But the vet said they might need to take his injured leg, it's pretty injured but I said I'll wait on that. Edd said watching the cat as it went from trying to take off the cone to other places before laying down like he gave up giving a look of "help. I'm in misery".

Poor guy. Edd sighed reaching down and petting him, findinga bed Ringo doesn't use often setting the cat into it.

Soon they were off to they're own apartments to go to bed with a good bye. Ringo peeking at the cat from around the couch, growling at him.

Be nice, Ringo. Edd said going to bed, Ringo looking at him before back at the cat. Not trusting him.

Edd turned of all the lights as he made his way to his bedroom once the final light turned off the cat lifted his head and managed to wiggle free from the cone.

About time, i got that stupid thing off me. He growled making his way to the window and managed to open it using a toy before jumping out.

Hu, what? Ringo said before following.

Ringo wasn't used to being outside at night but he stayed close to the intruder cat but not enough to be noticed... will they even know how to get home?

The more they walked the streets of London the more Ringo started to recognize landmarks. What's going on?

The cat went to a alley.

Paul. Patryck. He called... getting tackled by a cat.

How long does this last? The cat hissed.

I don't know it could last a week it could be permanent. I don't know. The intruder cat said.

Permanent! You said you were trying to make something to make us invisible. A dog said, Ringo didn't understand what's going on.

Well I'm glad someone is taking care of you. The cat said going to the dogs side.

The intruder looked at all his new bandages as the dog sniffed the air.

Who goes there?! He called making both cats look at him as Ringo who was relaying on shadows to hid disappeared behind a dumpster but the dog came up carefully brought Ringo to the other two.

Please put me down. Ringo said and the cat obeyed setting him down.

Edd's cat. What are you doing out here. Intruder cat said.

Um. Ringo hesitated before seeing a recognizable blue hoodie on the other side of road passed out on a bench.

I was just curious on where you were going. Now I know. Good bye.! Ringo said really fast scrambling across the road, almost getting hit but he managed too get into Tom's hoodie and sat there.

It was warm and nice to lay in... but Ringo could hear concern from the group who scampered away.

It was morning when Tom woke because the sun was to bring. Looking around at his surroundings he stood.

Meow! He heard before feeling claws in his chest.

Hu! Tom said looking into his hoodie at Edd's cat, Ringo looking back.

Hu? Tom said as he got a phone call. Stumbling with the phone.

He answered.

Edd talked fast to fast for a man with a hang over.

Edd. Edd, calm down. I got Ringo. Ringo must have gotten out and got lost but found me. I'm on my way back I'll talk to you when I get there. He said hanging up and slipping his phone back in his pocket. Pausing to get the cat out of the hoodie not see the group of three walking back to there base. But he saw a glimpse of a red hoodie disappearing into the alley the cat ran out off.

He sighed and slipped up the hood to block out the sun. Stroking the soft fur of Edd's cat huddling against him.

Hi walked up the steps of the building Where Edd was waiting.

Ringo! Edd said happy to see at least his own cat

Meow! Ringo said jumping to his arms.

Wonder what happened? Did one of leave the window open? Edd said as Matt appeared.

I mean I don't remember opening any windows. He said.

Don't ask me if I remember anything I woke up on a bench with Edd's cat in my hoodie and no memory of anything except for going to the Pub. Tom said.

Tom, really. Edd sighed getting a shrug for a response as the snuggled and nuzzled Edd and purred loudly.

Guess we'll never truly know what happened. What's for breakfast? Matt said

Matt. Edd chuckled going inside.

A the base.

Tord was taking notes about his findings while getting yelled at by his soldiers.

GET BACK TO WORK! He finally hissed, standing with his back arched making him look bigger then he was, making all of the soldiers who were once animals scrambled out except for Paul and Patryck who were against the wall waiting.

Paul hiding something behind his back.

Patryck and him glanced at the other.

Remember how you were completely about your hurt paw yesterday while we walked to London. Patryck said.

It hurt like hell. Tord said focused.

Then I got annoyed of you and said "then why don't we cut it off"? Patryck said making Tord freeze.

Please no. Tord said slowly standing from the desk and backing away only to get tackled from Patryck like when they were cat's. Patryck pinning him down even with Tord fighting to get freed.

Pay back. Paul said walking up with the hack saw.

No, no, no! Tord pleaded before screaming in pain and agony as Paul sawed threw flesh and bone.

Four or so hours passed, and Tord looked at the stump that remained where he's right arm. He knew it was coming but he wished it was more planned. His old arm flung before him making him flinch before looking at it and regretting it as he watched it bleeding all across his desk. Paul and Patryck glared at him. He felt like a child. A frightened child terrified of what happened. That act caused the bloody mess... they done something they wanted to "rip the bandage of" but he said no! So many time. He felt small compared to them.

Never use us as test subjects again. Patryck hissed, taking the arm as he and Tord growled at the other (the serum was still there) before the door closed behind Patryck.

Tord looked at the mess.

I need someone to clean up the mess in my office... and maybe assist my arm.He said into an intercom.

No one responded even after an hour, with a sligh he got the cleaning supplies and cleaned his own blood.

This punishment sucks! He called to the door where Paul and Patryck stood smugly watching him before feeling bad and helping him with bandages and the mess (because having a bleeding stump wasn't helping besides they're not completely heartless.... or didn't want to kill the leader only wanting to teach him a lesson. Before Tord was dragged to the single doctor they managed to get. She's the best, to be honest. Both Paul (who went and fetched the red robot arm Tord picked up when the robot blew up (Paul has dreams of that day) and the doctor ensured Tord was able to use the arm, it took some testing and twinking but Tord had an arm again. Course one he has to get used to but an arm all the same.

Edd never did find out what happened. Posters of the cat were sting threw London but nobody has seen it. Soon it became a memory.

Tord's plan to take over the world never disappeared, only paused as he flipped through books from his old secret lab, which surprisingly survived the exposion of the old house. He grabbed everything once they turned human. Three bags full of things he had down there. Even hentai holding plans he had hidden. He chuckled as he looked at old plans. Basically, they were like puzzle pieces to a big picture. Tord smiled devilishly at the plans ... before going back to the hentai. Oh, Tord. 🙄

End

Thank you for reading

(If you're reading this leave, 💚💜💙❤️ in the comments)

[demonsocialworker]

Dork - Robin Buckley

Female XReader/Fluff/Set in Season 4/Gif Not Mine

Word Count: 1524

TW: None

A/N: finals s u c k e d but whatever at least i didn't fail, i'm gonna try to write another fanfic or maybe a few before my breaks over so if you have any requests lmk! and as always enjoy <3

Joining marching band wasn't your idea of fun, but your best friend Tom had talked you into it. "If you don't join with me then I'm not doing it!", he threatened. "Alright alright fine," you sighed. Now here you were, standing on the bleachers in the lamest uniform in the world, wishing you were anywhere else but at this pep rally. You and Tom were the first ones there and waiting for everyone else was even more boring than playing a damn tuba. Why couldn't Tom have also talked you into choosing an instrument that didn't weigh the same as a small elephant?

"Hey, I know who you'd probably get along with for the rest of the year!" Tom said way too excitedly. "How would I get along with anybody in band?" you asked. Tom tried turning to face you but struggled for a few seconds under the weight of the tuba, he shouldn't have picked it either. "Robin! Remember she hangs out with that Steve dude?" You thought for a minute, trying to figure out if you knew who he was talking about. The gym doors opening snapped you out of your train of thought, and you watched as students flooded into the gym.

After the students came the cheerleaders and then, finally, the other band kids. Tom nudged your shoulder, "See? That's Robin right in the middle," he said as he pointed to her. Now you remembered who she was, you stared at her the entire time you were at Family Video with Tom last week. It was supposed to be your turn to pick for movie night, but you couldn't pay attention to movie titles when she was standing there, so you let Tom pick. Seeing her again made you feel the same way you did at Family Video, shy, out of words, and above all, a total dork. Tom sat there trying to get your attention, "Hey! You see her right?", but it was useless. You couldn't see or hear anything that wasn't her.

You managed to make it through the pep rally with your brain basically working on autopilot. You were ready to leave, that way you could go back to being normal instead of acting like an idiot in front of Robin, but Tom had other plans. While you were trying to make your way out of the gym Tom grabbed your hand, "You two are gonna be friends, cmon let's go," he said as he pulled you toward Robin. "Tom let go! I can't stay and talk dude," you said as you tried to think of an excuse to get out of this. But he let go of your hand, "What? Why?", he asked. "Um- well my mom said she wanted me home right after the pep rally. Some family dinner thing I don't know." This answer was good enough for Tom, "Alright fine. See you on Monday." Tom kept walking toward Robin while you bolted out of the gym.

You sped home, almost hitting your mom's car as you pulled into the driveway. You left your giant tuba in the backseat of your car and ran into your house. Your mom started to greet you, "Hi honey how was the-" but you cut her off. "Great Mom it was really fun," you said as you rushed up the stairs to your room. You walked into your room and slammed the door behind you. After fighting your way out of your band costume, you flopped face down onto your bed. You laid there for a while wishing you would've just gone with Tom and talked to Robin, but you knew you would've just acted like an idiot in front of her. After lying on your bed wondering why you were such a loser and couldn't just talk to a girl that you think is cute, your mom called you downstairs. Assuming it was for dinner you made your way downstairs.

You were halfway down the stairs when your mom called for you again, "Honey! Get down here!" You sighed as you got the last few steps, "Mom I'm right here-", but you couldn't even finish your sentence. Tom, Robin, and Steve were standing at your front door. "Hey Y/N!" Tom started, but you turned around and ran back up to your room, slamming the door behind you. "Oh my god, this can't be happening," you said as you leaned against your bedroom door. "This is a dream and I'm gonna wake up at any second-" but you weren't waking up, instead you were hearing someone knock on your door. "Hey Y/N? It's me open the door." Tom said through the door. Sighing and accepting that this really wasn't a dream, you cracked the door a bit to see Tom. "Why are you here? Why are they here!? I told you I had a family dinner thing-" Tom cut you off this time. "No you don't, your brother's car isn't even here and your dad is still at work so I don't see much family going on right now. Get dressed and come downstairs." Tom closed the door so you couldn't argue with him.

After pulling on your clothes, you headed downstairs. This time everyone was sitting in your living room and your mom had set a bowl of chips on the coffee table. "See I told you guys she'd come out eventually!" Tom joked. Robin and Steve chuckled and everyone stood up to head for the door. "Alright, let's go!" said Tom. "Go where?" you asked. Robin turned to you, "To the movies, did Tom not tell you?" You could feel your face heating up, just having her look in your direction made you lose every thought you had in your head. "U-um no he j-just told me to come downstairs." you stuttered out. Robin turned from you and looked at Tom, "Did you just make us blindside the poor girl?" she said with a laugh. "Well, I knew if I didn't then she wouldn't come with us!" Robin rolled her eyes and Steve jingled his keys, "Okay can everybody stop being awkward? We're about to miss the movie let's go come on!" You called out a goodbye to your mom, then everyone walked outside and piled into Steve's car.

Walking outside you wished you had put on a jacket, you hugged yourself to try to keep warm until you got to the car but Robin noticed. "Hey, I have an extra jacket in the car, I mean um, if you really need it." Before you could respond, Tom jumped in, "Of course she does she always forgets her own. Shotgun!" Oh no, he was going to make you sit in the back with Robin. Now you knew why he showed up at your house like this, he could tell you had a crush on her. You and Robin climbed into the back of the car, she reached into the floorboard and grabbed her extra jacket. "Here, it might be kinda dirty Steve never cleans the car," she said laughing. Steve whipped his head around, "Hey! Don't trash talk the car that you ride to school in every day." Robin smacked him with her jacket, then handed it to you. You stared at it for a minute, you never thought you'd even talk to her, much less be holding her jacket. You realized you probably looked weird just staring at it, so you quickly pulled it on as Steve pulled out of your driveway and onto the road.

As Steve pulled into the parking lot of the movie theater you wished Tom would've at least told you what type of movie you were going to see. Everyone got out of the car and walked into the movie theater, Steve went to go buy the tickets while you, Robin, and Tom stayed behind to get snacks. You and Robin both got pretzels, and Tom got two small popcorns for himself and Steve. You hadn't said anything to Robin since she gave you her jacket, so you were happy when Steve walked back over to break the awkward silence. "Okay, so four tickets to The Eleventh Commandment." Your jaw dropped, "A horror movie!?" Tom turned to Robin, "She's a big scaredy cat, you might have to hold her hand," he said with a wink. You smacked his arm, hoping he would shut up. Robin smiled at you, and you all started to walk to the theater the movie was showing in.

Tom of course made you and Robin sit beside each other. Sitting beside Robin and watching a horror movie made you feel like your heart was going to explode from beating too fast. The first few minutes of the movie weren't that bad, but when the first murder happened you had to shield your eyes. Robin noticed, what doesn't she notice? When you put your hand back on the armrest she placed hers on top of it. You froze, not knowing what to do, but she went further and intertwined her fingers with yours. You smiled and looked over at her. "Dork," she said as she smiled back.

[cosmically-powered-starscream]

Stress Relief

Notes: When you’re feeling unwell, just write some smut... or so they say. Just have an office quickie. As a treat. I sure enjoy writing Starscream getting his valve eaten out, huh.

Mentions of other parts of the series but works on its own.

Pairing: IDW Starscream x OC (gn, valveplug, 18+)

Word count: 1.5K

[AO3 link]

* * *

Useless.

The latest intel was just another item to cross out on a long list of dead ends. Lately, those seemed to be the only type of intel out there and as a result, they weren’t anywhere closer to figuring out who was behind the public address attack. Not to mention, since then enough time had passed for Stormchaser to start noticing the difference in the way people treated them, now when their relationship with Starscream was no longer just an addendum on the last page of their personal file.

They expected avoidance and disdain but they never stopped being bewildered by people who decided to approach them instead.

I have a proposition. He’ll listen to you, won’t he?

The audacity.

I’m his Conjunx, not his messenger, they said every time. Which in some cases made people think they can strike a deal with them. I know who’s behind the attack. I just need a favor.

Oh, so many favors and yet no useful leads.

“Pits,” they cursed after landing in Starscream’s office. It was empty.

The list of potential suspects wasn’t long – in a post-war world with limited supply of basically everything, there were very few groups and individuals in possession of resources needed for orchestrating such attack. Yet, they didn’t manage to narrow it down for weeks now and it bothered both Stormchaser and Starscream alike, the lack of progress weighting on their processors.

The door to the office slid open and just as if called, in walked their Conjunx, pace almost angry. When he noticed them, he stopped with a frown upon his face.

“Where were you?” his tone was as pleasant as his expression.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Intel investigation. Another dead end, waste of time,” he almost spat out, obviously annoyed with the situation. Except now it was Stormchaser who was frowning.

“And you went by yourself?”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?” he tapped his chest, “I have the device with me. If they attempted anything, I would’ve known. You on the other hand…”

Stormchaser barely managed to open their mouth before Starscream continued, his optics burning into their own, “We agreed we’ll look into every intel. What we didn’t agree on is you going to investigate on your own.”

“We didn’t agree on you doing the very same thing either,” they objected, “I’m barely in as much danger as you're in right now.”

“You are my Conjunx!” he rose his voice and put his servos on their shoulders, “Listen to me. We both knew the risks when we agreed on this plan. But in the situation as it is right now, having physical bodyguards does not help! You know this!”

He almost shook them to get his point across. Anger and tension were seeping through his demeanor but this time, he wasn’t worried about himself or his current masterplan. He was worried about their life.

“The difference is, unlike you, I’m protected now. But I have Wheeljack working on another device, with your frequency, down to every oscillation. That you,” his index finger poked the glass of their cockpit, “are going to wear at all times as well. No more intel investigation until it’s finished. This is not up for debate.”

Stormchaser returned his burning glare, “You better start using that direct line of subordinates of yours properly then.”

The last thing Stormchaser needed was scolding like they were back in the hangars during maneuvers. Starscream had a point. So did they. But the worst was, in the moment, both of them were too mad to admit the other was partially right.

The quarrel was interrupted by the sound of the comm.

“Boss, the guests for the meeting are here.”

“Take them to the conference room, Rattrap, I’ll be there in a minute!”

He angrily disconnected the call and groaned, holding his nose bridge, “We’ll finish this conversation later. As you can see, things never stop coming.”

It was useless. They were both overwhelmed and at this point, further discussion would only lead to more arguments. And neither of them needed that right now.

“You said in a minute, right?”

“Look, I’m not discu-“

Starscream didn’t finish his sentence because Stormchaser grabbed him by the waist and sat him down on the office desk with a loud thud.

“What are you-“ he didn’t finish the second time either because they hungrily attacked his lips while their servos lost no time and immediately reached for his inner thighs, spreading his legs apart so they could stand flush against him. Their fingertips then slid even lower to rub his interface panel.

“Releasing the tension,” they said in a low voice when their lips parted, “Open up.”

“We don’t have time for this now,” he exvented with anger still in his voice but slid the valve panel open anyway, red biolights pulsing welcomingly. Stormchaser looked him into disapproving optics.

“Leave that to me.”

Without losing any time, they lowered themselves between his thighs, tip of the glossa immediately on his anterior node, stroking the sensitive bundle of mesh. Starscream’s engines picked up as he squirmed, humming a notch higher.

When in charge, Stormchaser preferred to be gentle with their lover. Giving him all the attention in the right places and taking their sweet time with every touch and caress. They loved watching him unravel, hearing all the sounds of pleasure he couldn’t stop from leaving his vocalizer, slowly becoming undone under their tender servos. In the end, what mattered to Stormchaser was their Conjunx feeling like the most important and loved person in the universe.

But right now, there was no time for such gentleness. There was a tight knot of stress and agitation to untie – right now, they were going to devour his valve whole and they were on a time limit.

Starscream kept quiet when their glossa pressed flat against his entrance – Rattrap could walk in any minute and they well remembered the last time they got interrupted in the middle of something. Back then it was Stormchaser who had to keep their sounds in check in such compromising position but oh, how the tables have turned.

They didn’t stall any longer – the tip of their glossa circled the rim of glowing biolights a few times and without grace or glory, they dove into the wetness with urgent hunger.

A small moan escaped Starscream’s vocalizer when they repeatedly brushed against a series of nodes on his internal walls. The moment was fast and intense. The sounds their glossa and his valve made upon contact were scandalous, lubricants mixing in an overflowing pool of quick pleasure. As they worked him to the edge, their fingertips were digging behind transformation seams on his inner thighs, making Starscream recline on the desk behind him, back starting to arch.

When Stormchaser’s glossa slipped out and their lips encapsulated the anterior node, he couldn’t help but buck his hips to meet them. Stormchaser’s servos immediately left his thighs to hold him down.

“I’m not done yet,” they whispered against the sensitive array as they dove back in, sucking on the soft mesh outside while their glossa wriggled and twisted against his inner nodes. A long drag of the tip all the way from inside out sent Starscream’s back arching completely.

“Storm, I can’t-“ the exvent sounded almost like a whimper and with sudden intensity, his valve clenched in a pulsing overload.

Warm transfluid pooled all around Stormchaser’s glossa, working him through his high as he mewled on his table, head thrown off the opposite edge.  When the mesh spasms cooled down, slowly, Stormchaser pulled out, a small trail of the bright fluid dripping down their chin.

Starscream looked at them from the desk, flustered and exventing heavily. Oh, did they love that look on him.

“I don’t have time to clean this up.”

“Did I tell you to get up yet?”

With a long drag of the glossa, they collected generous amount of the bright liquid, which made him collapse back once again, now hissing almost in pain from the post-overload sensitivity. He whined when they pushed just half an inch inside to lick out the dripping transfluid, smile across Stormchaser’s face as they finished.

“The rest will be up to you, close up.”

Starscream exvented deeply when his Conjunx finally stood up from inbetween his legs, leaning on the table over his still splayed form.

“No time,” was all he managed to say.

“The Chosen One better keep his legs crossed, then,” Stormchaser teased when hovering over him, his engines still running high. They leaned down for a sloppy kiss, making Starscream taste the sweetness of his overload in the process, which he eagerly accepted. When they parted, Stormchaser licked their lips.

“Time’s up, my Lord. The guests are waiting.”

They stepped back, reaching their servos out to him, pulling him up to get back on his feet.

Just as they both wiped the last bits of evidence of the encounter from their lips, Rattrap peeked his head through the door.

“Boss, not to rush but the guests are getting impatient.”

Starscream shot Stormchaser a look, “We’ll discuss this later tonight.”

They watched him leave the office with that almost unnoticeable wobble of his legs.

But it worked. The knots were successfully untied and tension was released. At least for a little while.

Stormchaser smiled to themselves.

“I’m sure we will.”

[violet-shadows]

Missing Piece (Part Six)

Series Index | Masterlist

Summary: Cassian and Nesta are happily mated and in love, so why do they feel like something is missing? When a newcomer arrives in the City of Starlight, they learn that their bond is not yet complete. 

Pairing: Cassian x Nesta x Reader (She/Her) (Poly Relationship)

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: n/a

A/N: Sorry this took a while to get posted. Work has been kicking my entire ass lately. 

⊱ —————— ❈  —————— ⊰

Eventually, I stopped feeling sorry for myself long enough to splint my wrist. It was fractured but not displaced, and with Fae healing, it would only be a week or two before it was completely healed. The injury still felt like a defeat, though, and I couldn’t help but launch into a spiral of regret. My friends back home had questioned my decision to uproot myself, but I’d dismissed their worry, determined to prove I could make it on my own. Now, it seemed their concerns were not as unfounded as I thought. 

After my parents died, I felt utterly lost. The deep loneliness of those early days made it nigh impossible to go on. Afterward, I became determined to rely only on the one person who couldn’t be taken away from me: myself. Leaving behind my old life had felt like the ultimate test of self-reliance, a chance to prove my independence once and for all. Now, as I lay in bed with a broken wrist and throbbing head, I felt like I had all but failed that test. 

It took me a while to fall asleep that night, and when I woke up the next morning, the sun was high in the sky already. I rose slowly, my muscles aching from my tumble down the stairs. When I looked in the mirror, I cringed, already dreading having to explain myself to Madja when I returned to work in two days' time. My left eye was blackened and swollen shut, and my lip was split from when my face caught my fall. In combination with my tear-streaked cheeks and unkempt hair, I looked an absolute mess. I hoped that by the time I had to emerge again, I’d be able to hide the worst of the bruising. Originally, I had planned to spend the day about town, stocking my pantry and buying other household basics. Between my haggard appearance and aching body, though, I elected to spend the day in bed. I knew that wallowing would do little to serve me, but the heaviness of my heart seemed like too much to carry for the time being. 

Sometime in the afternoon, I was pulled from my snoozing by a heavy knock at the door. I cringed, remembering the heap of broken furniture I had left at the base of the stairs. It would be my luck that one of the neighbors took issue with it. Not wanting to make enemies in the neighborhood already, I rushed to the door, secretly hoping a few sincere apologies and my pitiful appearance might smooth any feathers the mess had ruffled. But to my surprise, instead of being greeted by an angry stranger, I was met with the spymaster of the Night Court. 

Azriel. 

⊱ —————— ❈  —————— ⊰

“We need your help with Y/N,” Nesta announced as soon as she arrived in Azriel’s office. The spymaster let out a long sigh, putting his papers to the side and giving his sister-in-law a weary look.

“I thought I already said I wasn’t going to spy on your mate.” 

“We’re not asking to spy on her,” Nesta huffed, “we’re asking you to find her.”

Azriel’s eyebrows shot up and he straightened, suddenly engaged in the conversation. “You lost her already?”

“We were working,” Nesta hissed. “She moved out of the inn and she didn’t leave an address. We need to find her soon because that useless innkeep didn’t even bother to give her our first message.” The Valkyrie’s face reddened, her notorious temper flaring once more. 

“There weren’t any messages left here for us, were there?” Cassian added hopefully, placing a comforting hand on the small of Nesta’s back.

“No, noth—,” Azriel began to answer, then froze. “Dammit.”

“What? What is it?”

Azriel rubbed his temples and groaned. “Yesterday the guards at the stairs mentioned someone trying to leave a message for you. They said it was probably just some well-wisher but—.”

“What was the message?” Nesta asked, bracing her hands on his desk. “What did she say?”

“They didn’t take a message,” Azriel replied, cringing. “They sent her away.”

“They what?” Cassian growled, his siphons flaring. 

“They sent… our mate… away,” Nesta hissed. She had a wild look in her eyes that Azriel knew well. 

“They didn’t know who she was,” he assured her, but the notion did little to calm the seething pair. “Look, I’ll find her for you. It won’t take long. Just give me an hour.” Nesta nodded stiffly, her posture rigid, and watched Azriel rush off to fulfill his promise.

“I hope—,” Cassian started to speak, but cut himself off. 

“What?” Nesta prompted.

“I hope she doesn’t think they sent her away on our orders,” he finished, rubbing the back of his neck. Nesta’s heart dropped at the thought. Less than a week in and they’d already messed things up with their mate. 

“We’ll make it up to her, right?” she asked, deep in thought. 

“Right.” 

⊱ —————— ❈  —————— ⊰

Azriel worked quickly, sending out shadows to widen his search. True to his word, it wasn’t long before he’d tracked her to the northern edge of Velaris. The apartment she had chosen was run down and seedy, much like Nesta’s first home in the city. He had no doubt she and Cassian would take issue with the location, and he made a note to remind them to reign in their overbearing side. He decided to confirm her location before returning to the pair and made his way up the cracked exterior stairs, past a heap of broken furniture and discarded trash. It was quiet inside her apartment, and he couldn’t distinguish her heartbeat from the other residents, so he sent his shadows underneath the door to verify she was home. 

‘She’s inside,’ they whispered. ‘She sleeps.’ He called them back, turning to leave, but froze when they added another detail. ‘She’s injured.’ He drew Truth Teller on instinct, even though his shadows would have told him if she wasn’t alone. For a moment, he debated summoning Cassian and Nesta, but he thought better of it. If he didn’t give any details besides what his shadows had provided, he was liable to send the two into a panic, which was unlikely to end well for anyone. Especially him. 

He pounded on the door and was relieved when he heard movement inside. She took a while to reach it, and when she finally pulled it open, his heart sank. One of her eyes was blackened and swollen almost all the way closed, and her lip was split like she had been punched. Her wrist was wrapped expertly, splinted to brace a broken bone there. “What happened?” he asked urgently, stepping past her to search the small apartment. The space was little more than an empty room, with a tiny kitchenette and mattress on the floor. Nesta and Cassian would not be pleased with it, indeed. 

“I… fell,” she stammered, looking bewildered at his arrival.

“Fell from where? Have you seen a healer?” he asked, turning back to assess her. She seemed otherwise unharmed if a bit out of sorts. 

“Down the stairs. And I am a healer,” she reminded him. “What are you— can I help you?”

He realized then that he didn’t have any explanation for his appearance at her doorstep, and decided he would go with the truth. “Cassian and Nesta just got back to the city. They asked for my help in finding you.” 

“They… wanted to find me?” she seemed surprised and Azriel cringed internally. They certainly had come explaining to do. 

“They did,” he replied. “I’ll let them know where to find you. But… do you need anything? Are you sure you don’t need a healer?” She shook her head, blinking slowly, and he made his way to the door.

“Wait!” she called after him. “Can you just, tell them I’ll meet them in a few days… when this isn’t so bad?” 

“As much as I’d like to… I don’t think I’m going to be able to keep them away,” he said apologetically. “They’re… worried.”

“Okay…” she seemed resigned. “Can you take me to them, then? I don’t want… I don’t want them to see…” She blushed scarlet and Azriel felt a pang of empathy. He knew what it was to be pitied and he could understand her desire to avoid it. 

“I can take you to the House of Wind,” he agreed. 

“Okay, just give me a moment and I’ll be right out,” she glanced pointedly toward the open door and he stepped out. When she reappeared a few moments later, she had changed into a fresh set of clothes and let her hair down. It did little to hide the bruising, but he didn’t point it out. 

The flight to the House was short, and Azriel could hear approaching footsteps as soon as they landed. He set Y/N down quickly, stepping away to create some distance, and prepared to play referee if need be. Nesta arrived first, breaking into a grin upon spotting Y/N’s small frame half-hidden behind Azriel’s wings. But her face fell when her mate came fully into view and she rushed forward, all but shoving Azriel out of the way with Cassian hot on her heels. 

“Who did this to you?” It was Cassian who spoke first, his tone full of unbridled rage. His siphons were shining brightly, casting a red glow about the foyer. Nesta was wide-eyed as she reached out to touch her mate's shoulder, looking her up and down several times. Only Azriel noticed how Y/N shrank slightly under the sudden attention.

“I fell down some stairs,” she explained, cradling her wrist to her chest. Cassian’s hand left his sword, but he remained tense, his wings flared wide.

“Are you sure?” Nesta coaxed, her stare fixed on her mate’s swollen eye. The hand not resting on her shoulder was curled into a white knuckle fist.

“What do you mean?” Y/N asked innocently. 

“If someone did this, you don’t have to protect them,” Cassian explained, stepping closer to tower over both his mates. 

“No one did this,” Y/N explained with a nervous chuckle. “Well, except the stairwell and myself. I lost my grip when I was moving in my bedframe.” 

“By yourself?” Nesta demanded, sounding vaguely admonishing. “Why didn’t you have help?”

Y/N’s expression darkened and she pulled away slightly, causing Nesta to drop her grip on her shoulder. “I didn’t have anyone to help me. I tried to drop a message here and got threatened with jail time, so…” She trailed off, shifting slightly from foot to foot. Azriel got the impression that his brother’s mate was of the nonconfrontational sort, and this was as close to an accusation as they were likely to get. Sensing the tension in the air, he took his leave, disappearing into the shadows. 

Meanwhile, Nesta’s eyes burned with wrath and she recoiled as if she’d been slapped, “They what?”

“They said you weren’t taking audiences, thought I was lying when I said I knew you,” she mumbled, looking at her feet. Cassian blew out a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand down his face.

“They’ll be dealt with,” he said decisively, as much to assure Y/N as himself and his mate. He pitied the guards who had made such a grave error. 

“I’m sorry,” Nesta said, her voice soft. It seemed to catch Y/N off guard and she finally looked up from the floor. “For everything. It was all a misunderstanding and…” 

“Let’s take a seat,” Cassian suggested, gesturing to the adjacent sitting room. “I’ll get you some ice.” He stepped into the other room to make the request of the House, figuring now was not the time to tell her about its enchantment. When he returned, Y/N was seated next to Nesta on the sofa, her wrist still cradled to her chest. Cassian cringed at the sight of his mate in pain. “We should get Madja.” 

She shook her head furiously, then winced. “We don’t need to bother her. I’m a healer too, remember.” 

“Should you be treating yourself?” Nesta asked skeptically. 

“I splinted the wrist just fine. It’s not a bad break. The rest will heal in time,” she explained. 

“So it is broken?” Cassian asked, taking a seat on her other side. She accepted the ice gratefully and pressed it against her swollen eye. 

“Not badly,” she said again, dismissing their concerns. An awkward silence settled over the three before Nesta finally spoke. 

“We left a note for you at the inn,” she explained. “We had to leave for the Illyrian camps urgently but we didn’t want you to think we were ignoring you.” 

“Oh,” said Y/N, not meeting their eyes. 

“But the innkeep never gave it to you,” Cassian grumbled. “And then those Cauldron damned guards—” 

“It wasn’t our intention,” Nesta cut him off, “to just disappear.” 

“So you didn’t change your mind… about getting to know me?” Y/N asked, sounding small. 

“No!” The two replied in unison, their tones emphatic. 

“No, we were concerned, when we didn’t know where to find you. We do want to know you,” said Cassian. Nesta nodded in confirmation, resisting the urge to take Y/N's uninjured hand in hers. “If you’ll still have us.” 

“Of course,” Y/N replied quickly. “I’m glad it’s not as I thought it was.” Nesta and Cassian shared a smile, their relief palpable. Just then, Y/N's stomach growled and she blushed, murmuring an apology.

“When’s the last time you ate?” Cassian asked. Nesta would have teased him for his mother-henning if it weren’t for her own protective instincts in overdrive. 

“Last night,” Y/N shrugged. “I should probably go get something to eat—.” Before she could finish, there was a gentle thud as three plates appeared on the coffee table before them. Y/N yelped in surprise, jumping at the sudden appearance. 

“What in the Mother’s name was that?” she asked. 

“This House has certain… abilities. And a mind of its own,” Nesta explained. “I think it wants you to have dinner here.” 

“And so do we,” Cassian added. 

“The House is… magical?” she asked, dumbfounded. Nesta nodded, a glint of amusement in her eyes, and reached out to pass Y/N a plate. They sat on the couch to eat, falling back into familiar, comfortable conversation. Y/N asked them about their time in the mountains, listening intently as they explained the nature of their trip. The conversation led them to talk more about their jobs, Cassian’s role as a general, and Nesta’s work training the Valkyries. When they were done eating, both Nesta and Cassian noticed how Y/N eyes were beginning to droop. The House noticed as well, and a blanket popped into existence on Y/N lap, causing her to jump. 

“We should get you home,” Cassian said, holding back laughter. “Are you sure we shouldn’t have Madja look you over?”

“No, there’s really no need.” 

“Well then, how about that flight we talked about?” 

⊱ —————— ❈  —————— ⊰

Flying with Cassian was incredible, but flying with Cassian and Nesta was practically euphoric. I couldn’t help but shreik as Cassian dove through the air, sharing a look with Nesta, who was grinning as the gripped onto him. True to his word, he carried the two of us with ease, never once loosening his grip on my waist. I directed them to the northern part of the city, trying my best to be vague about which building was mine. It wasn’t that I was ashamed, per say, but in contrast to their lavish, enchanted home, my hole in the wall felt especially humble. We landed on the street in front of my building, but it was immediately clear that both Cassian and Nesta were hellbent on walking me all the way to my door. 

I didn’t look at them as I led them up the stairs, afraid of what I might see in their expressions. When we reached my door, I turned and shrugged, feigning nonchalance. Nesta kept glancing down at the stairs, her eyes drifting to the discarded, broken headboard, while Cassian was intently examining my front door. “This isn’t secure,” he commented, tugging on the old, rusted hinges. “I can fix it. Tomorrow.” 

“You don’t have to do tha—”

“Is that what you were trying to move?” Nesta interrupted, gesturing at the splintered wood below. I nodded and she peered down at it thoughtfully. I opened my door and Cassian looked behind me, examining the space. 

“Can we come by tomorrow? If you’re up to it, of course?” he asked, looking back at me. There was something so innocent about the way he asked, a hopeful look to him so at odds with his reputation is was comical. 

“Sure,” I replied, unable to decline such a genuine request. The two shared a meaningful look that I couldn’t quite interpret, then smiled. 

“We’ll see you in the morning, Y/N,” said Nesta. “Get some rest.” 

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

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Doctor’s Note

We all know how Lila fakes having different diseases and medical problems, but what would happen if she actually got sick and her mother went to the school to drop off a doctor’s note and pick up Lila’s assignments? Want the answer? Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!

Greta Rossi could admit that she was a bit of a workaholic. Being the secretary to the assistant ambassador of Italy, in a city that was constantly under attack by a magical terrorist, was not the easiest job in the world either. It took a lot of early mornings, late nights, and even some weekends to make sure everything was prepared for her boss. But that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t drop everything for her one and only daughter when she needed her. 

Right now, for example, Lila was trapped in bed with a nasty case of strep throat. The poor girl had a fever, white pustules at the back of her throat, and could hardly stop coughing. It was only due to some very strong medicine that she was able to stop coughing long enough to pass out from exhaustion. 

She had contacted her work to let them know she would be taking the week off, and the ambassador had been very understanding. Stressing that he knew how dedicated she was to her work and that it was good for her to take time off for her family. It was only after Lila was sound asleep that she made the phone call to her school, she wanted to make sure they knew why Lila was staying home and that she would be in later that afternoon to pick up her daughter’s assignments for the next week.

The principal, M. Damocles was his name, seemed very happy to have spoken to her and said that he would have her assignments waiting when she came to pick them up. Also, if she could bring the doctors’ notes with her, that would be very much appreciated.

Checking again that Lila was sound asleep, she left a note on her daughter’s bedside table that she was running some errands, would be home soon, and to text her if she needed anything. 

Arriving at the school, she was surprised to see everything running so smoothly and that the reconstruction after the two month akuma attack had been gone so well. She was impressed that she couldn’t even tell the difference between the old and new parts of the building. But then, she wasn’t overly skilled with architecture or building construction, so that wasn’t a surprise to her. 

A few knocks on the door and she entered M. Damocles office. She had only met the man a couple times, but he had seemed like a decent person. It was a shame that he had been akumatized for so long and she was curious about what had happened to cause him to be akumatized, but she wasn’t sure if it was proper to ask him.

“Mme. Rossi, good to see you. I understand that Lila has fallen ill?” He asked, spinning around to grab a blue folder behind his desk.

“Yes, the poor dear has strep throat and has been coughing nonstop for days.” Greta told him as she pulled the doctor’s note from her purse. “Here’s the note you requested, do you have her homework packet?”

Damocles looked over the note for a moment before nodding and looking at her expectantly. “Thank you, do you have her other doctor’s notes?”

Greta tilted her head in confusion. “Does she need more than one? It’s just strep throat, she should be back to school after next week.”

“No madam, this is all I need for her current leave from school. I was referring to the doctor’s notes for her tinnitus, arthritis, sprained wrist, and her lying disease. That last one especially, and any information you can give me on accommodating that one so we do not have a repeat of the incident last month.”

Nothing in the world could have kept her jaw from dropping. What he had just told her? “M. Damocles, everything you just said is completely false. Lila has no such ailments, and I don’t think there is such a thing as a lying disease, unless you are referring to pathological lying.”

The man blinked back at her a few times before raising one hand to rub his brow. “Oh my, Mme. Rossi, I believe you and I must have a long discussion about the things your daughter has been saying and doing since she started school here.”

Her legs were stiff as she lowered herself into a chair, a sick feeling growing in her stomach as M. Damocles pulled a different folder out from his desk.

~oOo~

Over two hours later, many truths had finally come out. 

1) The school had never closed for months due to akumas. 

2) When M. Damocles had been akumatized, it had been at night and did no damage to the school. 

3) Greta was not the ambassador, but a secretary. 

4) Lila did not suffer from any diseases. 

5) They had been in Paris since Lila had started school, no globetrotting whatsoever. 

6) She and her husband were not estranged, he had simply wanted to stay at his dream  job in Venice and she would never force him to leave it for her temporary assignment here in Paris. 

7) Lila’s grandmother was alive and had never owned or given Lila a foxtail necklace. 

8) The phone number on file was Lila’s number, not Greta’s. And the email was supposed to be ‘.gov’ not ‘.com’.

Damocles had also called one of Lila’s classmates to his office, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. When the principal told Greta about the incident from the previous month, she was shocked. Then Marinette told them her side of the story; all the lies, the threats, and finally setting the poor girl up to be expelled. Greta had never been so angry with her daughter in her life. Sure, she had been a good little story teller and actress when she was little, but she never would have thought she could be so cruel.

By the end of her explanation, Marinette was practically in tears.

When she mentioned that Adrien Agreste also knew of Lila’s lies, he was called to the office as well. He was a little more reluctant to talk about what Lila had been saying, but Greta insisted that she wanted to know what her daughter had been doing since coming to school, so he told her. If she hadn’t been disgusted before, she definitely was now. Getting Adrien’s father’s employees in trouble, lying about being friends with Ladybug all while telling Greta that she was a useless hero, sexually harassing Adrien while the boy didn’t even realize that was what she was doing to him. She had become a Gabriel model without her permission, which meant that Lila had likely forged her signatures on the contracts, so she would need to contact M. Agreste to get that sorted out. One of the things that surprised her was hearing that Lila had been akumatized, not once or twice, but three times! 

Not long after that, M. Damocles dismissed the children so he and Greta could finish speaking. He told her that, due to falsifying contact records and two months of truancy, Lila was likely to be expelled. Greta accepted this, knowing that she would have done the same thing in that man’s position. In fact, she already had a plan forming on how to thoroughly punish her deceitful daughter. And since Lila had basically been quarantined for the next week and a half, she knew exactly what to do.

First, she began the paperwork to have Lila pulled out of Francois Dupont, effective immediately and asked to go speak to Lila’s classmates. After hearing what her daughter had put Marinette through, she wanted to make sure everyone knew the truth. Damocles allowed this, first pulling Mme. Bustier from the class to alert her as to what was happening. The woman was appalled to hear what had happened but insisted that she had been in contact with her for months via email, to which Greta informed her that it was not her email, but one that Lila had likely set up to keep the school from contacting her. This shocked the teacher to the point where she heavily leaned against the wall and M. Damocles had to support her to keep from collapsing.

When Greta was finally permitted to address the class and debunk the lies that her daughter had been spewing, there had been a lot of shock and questions to follow. But when a girl named Alya began furiously typing on her phone to blow up at Lila, Greta stopped her.

“I’m going to ask that none of you contact Lila from now on.” Alya and the other students looked at her in surprise, but she continued before anyone could interrupt. “I have already begun putting her punishment into motion and know for a fact that it will not be something she will forget anytime soon. So I ask that you do not call, text, or email her. If she attempts to contact you, tell her that you are busy and can’t talk. If she attempts to invite you over or make plans for the future, tell her that you are unavailable or that you already have plans. If she makes any threats or rude remarks to anyone, please forward those messages to me, I will leave my number for you to do so. Do this so that I may move forward with her punishment without her suspecting that I have discovered the truth.”

Having finally had the wool lifted from their eyes, the students realized just how much attention Lila seemed to demand on a daily basis. So, by acting like they were too busy for her or not in the mood to talk, that will drive her crazy and be a nice bit of revenge for lying to them. The class agreed.

After that, Greta headed home to find that Lila was still asleep but beginning to wake up, if the coughing was any indicator. While still having the chance, she called up her husband back in Venice.

“Pronto.”

“Mio amor, how are you? How are things at the school?”

“Ah, mia bella, the school is wonderful, though I must admit, my urge to see you and Lila grows by the minute. When will you come to visit me?”

“Very soon, actually. I’m afraid that you and I need to have a talk about our daughter.” About thirty minutes and a lot of cursing later, Ciro Rossi was now completely up to date on the actions of their daughter.

“I wish to say that I cannot believe Lila would do such things, but I can’t help remembering that boy, Roberto, from two years ago.”

Yes, Greta remembered him well. He had been a very popular boy at Lila’s school; handsome, rich, from a very well connected family, and from what she understood, completely dedicated to his boyfriend. She hadn’t paid him much attention until Lila came home crying that Roberto had attempted to sexually assault her. Greta and Ciro had refused to let such a thing go unchecked and went to the police to report him. During the weeks to follow, Roberto was put through hell; bullied at school, he was beaten up a few times, his boyfriend broke up with him, and his name slandered all over Venice. They had believed what happened to the boy to be justified… until proof was provided that he was nowhere near Lila when she claimed to have been assaulted. 

She suddenly recanted her story, saying that she must have been mistaken and someone that looked like Roberto assaulted her, but the damage had already been done. The boy and his family moved somewhere far away, and Greta and Ciro were forced to pay restitution to Roberto for ruining his name and reputation. Through her tears, Lila convinced them that it had been an honest mistake and that she hadn’t meant for any of that to happen. It wasn’t long after that, Greta received an offer to be the secretary for the assistant ambassador in Paris. Lila had begged her mother to go with her, claiming that her classmates were now bullying her for what happened to Roberto. Wanting to protect their daughter, they agreed.

Looking back on it now, and noticing the similarities between Roberto and Adrien, both Greta and Ciro were disappointed in themselves for not seeing the truth. Which likely was that Lila had tried to get close to Roberto for his money and connections, and when he turned her down, she lied about the assault to ruin his life, much like she had done to Marinette. And when it came out that she had lied about Roberto, her classmates had turned on her. So when she got the chance to start somewhere new, with people who didn’t know about her lies, she took it. Not caring if she harmed anyone at her new school while repeating old habits. But they were not about to let Lila do the same thing to Adrien or Marinette. Once Greta told her husband her plan, he was all for it and began preparing things on his end. By the time Lila was done being sick, her entire life would have turned upside down.

~oOo~

It took a lot more effort than Greta had expected to hide her intentions for the nine days it took for Lila to get over her case of strep throat, but she had been making good use of that time. 

She had contacted Gabriel Agreste’s secretary and asked about any contracts that may have been signed. When she told her she hadn’t signed any contract and that her daughter would no longer be modelling, the woman had no choice but to accept this and inform M. Agreste of this development. The woman also informed Greta that such a breach of contract would result in Lila being blacklisted from the fashion industry. She agreed and promised that she would inform her daughter of this once she was better.

Greta then looked into Lila’s savings and trust fund, of which she had control of since Lila was still a minor. She drained the accounts to pay restitutions to Marinette for bullying and slander, Adrien for sexual harassment; and then sent the rest of it to Roberto, along with a message that she was now completely aware of the type of person her daughter was and would be adequately punished very soon.

And to keep too much suspicion off of her, Greta began mentioning to Lila how her father desperately wanted to see her after she got better, so after the doctor gave her a clean bill of health, they would be going to Venice to see him. Now that she was watching, Greta saw the twinge of uncertainty at the mention of Venice, but quickly covered it with false excitement for going back to visit her father.

As the day grew closer that they would be heading to Italy, Greta also noticed Lila glaring at her phone with utter malice. She might not have known what was going on if Lila’s classmate, Alya, wasn’t keeping her up-to-date on what Lila was telling them. Her daughter was attempting to tell the class that she was going to be going on a trip with a famous singer after she was better, but her classmates were doing as Greta asked and treating the lies as if they meant nothing. When she accused Marinette of calling her a liar while she was sick and couldn’t defend herself, the class stopped responding. 

One message that was forwarded to Greta nearly had her abandoning her plan and confronting her daughter at that moment. It was a message that Lila had sent to Marinette, who had shared it with Alya, who then forwarded it to Greta. It read:

You fugly, no talent bitch! You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Those stupid sheep were eating up every single one of my lies before I got sick, and now they won’t even talk to me! Just you wait. When I get back to school, I’m going to ruin you in every way imaginable. No one will want to be your friend. By the time I’m done with you, I hope you kill yourself. Maybe I’ll convince someone that you tried to kill me and they’ll kill you for me. Either way, you’re dead. And even if you show someone these messages, no one will believe you over me. 

Greta forwarded the message to Ciro as well. He called her right away to discuss other accommodations that they would be making for Lila in the coming days. There was something seriously wrong with their daughter, and they refused to turn a blind eye to what was happening.

When the day finally came that Lila was better and they were heading to Venice, Greta instructed Lila not to pack her more expensive clothes as she would not want to lose them if their baggage got lost. What her daughter didn’t know was that Greta was planning on selling all of her designer clothes, jewelry, her electronics, and everything else to continue paying restitutions to Marinette, Adrien, and Roberto. And it wasn’t like she would need them soon, anyway.

The plane ride was a bit nerve racking for Greta, as she worried about giving something away and Lila figuring out her plan; but if she did, it didn’t show. When they landed at Venice Marco Polo Airport, she had to resist her sigh of relief. The plan was almost ready to be put in action. 

When she saw Ciro waiting for them in his dress whites, her heart sped a bit more. The man was, without a doubt, the most handsome man she’d ever met, and was the love of her life. Being away from him for so long was difficult, but what else could they do? Her husband was a Capitano di Vascello of the Italian Navy and had worked very hard to get where he was. Although he was semi-retired now and no longer served on a ship, he had followed his dream and became the Vice Principal for the premier naval academy in Venice, Francesco Morosini Naval Military School. 

He had gone to the school when he was younger and always claimed that it was the best experience he could have ever wished for. That being in that school saved his life. So when he continued into the navy to serve his country, he made it his goal to one day become the Principal of the school that saved him, so that he could do the same for other students. And now, they would be doing the same for Lila.

Greta and Ciro had thought of admitting Lila to Francesco Morosini when she came of age, but quickly realized that she was not the Navy type and did not want to force her into it. That choice was no longer Lila’s and she would be staying at the military school where it was Ciro’s job, not only as a father, but as an administrator of the school, to keep a close eye on any problem children.

Ciro embraced Greta and then Lila before taking their bags and walking them to his car. Lila was talking at length to her father about all her friends at school, all the happenings in Paris, and even mentioned her boyfriend, Adrien Agreste.

“You would like him, Papa. He’s a model, a gentleman, and his father is the designer, Gabriel Agreste. And he treats me like a princess!” Lila gushed as she showed her father a picture of Lila kissing the blonde boy’s cheek. Greta had seen that picture and had even asked Adrien about it while they had spoken in M. Damocles office. Lila had apparently kissed him without permission when she took that picture, and then sent it to every girl in Adrien’s contact list to make it seem like they were dating. 

Ciro played along, asking questions about her classes, Adrien, the akuma situation that he had heard about over the news, and other things to keep Lila from growing suspicious. Sure enough, she prattled on through the entire car and ferry ride to Venice. Only seeming to look around questioning when they arrived at the Naval school, rather than their apartment.

“What are we doing here?” She asked, looking at her father in confusion.

The two parents dropped the act and glared at their daughter in disappointment and anger. “I’m surprised at you, young lady,” Greta started. “Did you really think you could keep lying to us? We. Know. Everything.”

They watched as her olive skin quickly paled. “What do you mean? I didn’t lie, I sw-”

“We know the school never closed,” Ciro interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument or interruption. “We know about you lying to your classmates and teachers about having disabilities and diseases. We know about you changing our contact information on your school records. We know about you bullying and sexually harassing your classmates. We know about the threats you’ve made to that one girl. We know that you’ve been akumatized multiple times. We know the truth about what you really did to Roberto two years ago! WE KNOW EVERYTHING!”

With every word he said, Lila seemed to inch away from her irate parents and shrink into herself. At the same time, they saw the rage and contemplation in her eyes. She was angry at being caught and was already trying to think of a way out of trouble. Not that they would give her a chance to even try.

“But I didn’t li-”

“Lie number one, Ladybug is a useless superhero that let your school get damaged and spent months trying to deakumatize your principal, which is why you were out of school for two months.” Greta interrupted that time, pinning her daughter with a glare that she usually reserved for idiot interns who screwed up important paperwork at the embassy. “I personally spoke to your principal and looked into Ladybug. The school never closed. Ladybug and Chat Noir have always defeated the akumas and restored the damage thanks to their abilities. And you told the school that you and I were off globetrotting to places like Achu.”

Her eyes grew to the size of saucers. She was just beginning to stammer out an excuse when her father spoke over her.

“Lie number two, a girl named Marinette Dupain-Cheng has been bullying you because she is jealous of your relationship with your boyfriend, Adrien Agreste. We have seen the texts that you have sent that girl, the most recent saying,” Ciro pulled out his phone to read off of the text “‘...I’m going to ruin you in every way imaginable. No one will want to be your friend. By the time I’m done with you, I hope you kill yourself…’ Does that sound familiar to you?” 

“I also personally spoke to Adrien after I spoke to Marinette, and found out that not only are you not his girlfriend, but you have been sexually harassing him! You even showed us proof in that picture you took where you kissed him!”

“But that’s not sexual harassment!” Lila shot back at them as her panic grew.

“Any unwelcome sexual advances, requests for sexual favors, and other verbal or physical conduct of a sexual nature constitutes sexual harassment. Your mother and I memorized that when you accused Roberto of assault, which is another thing you lied about! And let me guess, you wanted to use that boy’s popularity and family connections for a leg-up, but he turned down your advances since he was gay. You didn’t take that rejection well, so you told us he assaulted you. Is that what happened?”

“How did you-” Lila interrupted herself that time by slapping her hand over her mouth, quickly realizing that she had confirmed what her father had just said.

“Well, congratulations young lady. You have earned a complete overhaul on your life.” 

“What do you mean?” Lila didn’t want to know, but it seemed like she had no choice but to ask.

“Your modelling contract with Gabriel is done,” Greta told her, noticing her wince since they weren’t supposed to know about that either. “I spoke with his assistant and discovered that you forged my signatures on the contracts to let you model. They were kind enough not to pursue legal action against you, but they have asked that I inform you that you have been blacklisted from the fashion industry, so that career option is completely closed off to you.”

“Your mother educated your friends at school with the truth. They know about all your lies and have kept us apprised of what you have been saying, the rumors you have been attempting to spread about going on a trip with a random music star, and were kind enough to forward that threatening message you sent to that girl, Marinette. They are no longer interested in being your ‘sheep’.”

“Not that you will be returning to that school,” Greta continued. “Your truancy has made that impossible, even if we did want you to stay there to face the consequences of your actions. Which includes paying restitution to the people you’ve hurt.”

“Paying!” Ciro and Greta watched as Lila’s right eye began to twitch as she snapped at them.

“Yes, paying. I’ve already emptied out your savings and trust fund to pay back Marinette, Adrien, and Roberto for what you’ve done to them-”

“You can’t do that! That’s my money!” She screamed, stomping her foot at her mother like a five year old throwing a tantrum.

“Money that you earned illegally modelling after forging my signature. And you are a minor, I am well within my rights to take that money to pay for the damages you have incurred. I will also be selling your laptop, tablet, mobile phone, as well as the clothes and jewelry you left in Paris. Seeing as you won’t be needing them anymore.”

As she said this, Lila clutched her phone and hugged it against her chest. “How am I supposed to talk to anyone without my phone?”

“Pen and paper, and if you need to speak with your mother, there’s my office phone or the payphone in the barracks, where you will be staying.” 

The girl’s eyes grew impossibly wide as she looked at her parents in a panic. They couldn’t mean…

Ciro smiled the smile that he used to greet the families whose children were in need of discipline. “Welcome to Francesco Morosini Naval Military School, where we strive to give children an education that will help them for their future and the world that waits for them.”

~oOo~

There had been a lot of begging, crying, and screaming after that as Lila did everything she could to try and change her parents’ minds. This was a total nightmare for her. Forced to wear a uniform she hated. Surrounded by students, teachers, and her father; all of whom knew that she was a liar. No one gave her the type of attention she craved, but everyone was giving her the overly watchful attention she despised. She couldn’t even enjoy becoming an akuma anymore, as she was far out of Hawkmoth’s reach.

Greta and Ciro had gone out to dinner afterwards in an attempt to de-stress, only to get a call an hour later that Lila had tried to steal a boat and run away from the school. She was put on a 24/7 watch after that, now required to wear a tracking monitor wherever she went and was on bathroom and floor cleaning duty for the foreseeable future.

When Greta returned to Paris, she went about doing exactly as she promised. She sold Lila’s electronics, clothes, and jewelry; only keeping a pair of plastic stud earrings that her grandmother had given her. She met with M. Damocles again to let him know that everything had been taken care of. She contacted the Dupain-Cheng family to let them know that Lila wouldn’t be bothering their daughter again. That was probably the most pleasant thing she did, as they were a lovely family and sent her off with a box of assorted scones, so yummy! When she had them send a box of goodies to her husband in Venice, he called her a few days later and begged her to send more whenever she could.

Lila absolutely hated seeing her father enjoy pastries from the bakery of her rival’s family. That, along with being forced to talk to a psychiatrist three times a week to make her admit that she was a liar and to figure out why she feels the need to lie. All while wearing a horrible uniform and actually having to clean. She was in her own personal hell. How she wished that she had never gotten sick.

Taglist:

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[spiderling-space]

As I mentioned before, I'm doing a piece for Balkanoid MC. It's something I can %100 relate. This will be a mix of headcanon, scenario and incorrect quote. Also each different scenario/hc/quote is separated with ----

There are a lot of countries in the Balkans. This work will focus on things that everyone living in the Balkans can relate to. I'm avoiding certain stuff because it would be too heavy for [tumblr]

Setting: MC is from the Balkans

——

MC is just thrown into a whole new world, no friends, no family, just all alone. There is nothing that resembles their home and it doesn't seem like Dire is going to do find a way for them to go back so they decide to make Ramshackle a homely place. It took them over 2 weeks to clean the entire Ramshackle with the help of Ace, Deuce, Jack, ghosts and Grim.

After the cleanup, MC wiped the floors clean one last time and then they were done. Now they were just chilling on the couch.

"Oi prefect!" Ace opens the main door and just walks in. "Let's go an-"

MC isn't listening to what he is saying. Their focus is on Ace who just walked into their house with shoes on.

"Take your goddamn shoes off and wipe the floor you stepped in."

"Don't be ridiculous, I-"

"So you've chosen death..."

Ace is confused why they are so insistent on not wearing shoes inside. "What are you talking about?"

The closest thing they have is their house slippers. They took it in their hand and hit it on their other hand, making a slapping sound. "I won't hesitate to go over there and teach you manners."

Ace gulps as he sees the look on MC's face. "I'LL DO IT!" He takes off his shoes and leaves them outside, then asks where the mop is.

After MC tells where the cleaning supplies are, there is only one thought in their head "Mama, I'm making you proud!"

———

Random TWST cast: 90s were the best years!

MC, remembers the 90s of Balkans: Lol what?

----

MC and the rest of the first years go on lunch in a restaurant. They eat it and it is time to pay

MC: Waiter, please give me the receipt, I'll pay for everyone

Ace: Niceeee

Sebek: HUMAN! DON'T INSULT ME! I HAVE MONEY TO PAY AS A KNIGHT!

Deuce: I cannot let you pay by yourself 

Jack: Thank you MC but it is not necessary

Epel: I can't either, I can pay for my food

MC: So none of you is going to fight for paying for all? 

Everyone gives them a strange look: What are you talking about?

MC, taking out their wallet: It is the Balkan way

----

Ramshackle dorm is perfectly clean and everything is well organized but there is something that's missing. MC couldn't point out what it was until they managed to get a second-hand TV in the lounge.

"My grandma's white knit thingy!" Oh boy, Mc is so happy to find the missing piece. For the record, they have never understood why their grandma would knit a square-shaped balloon net but now they just missed that homey feeling. "I'm going to knit myself as I cannot afford to buy."

After a few days and countless tries, MC manages to knit a few balloon nets and they put it everywhere in the living room such as on the coffee table, on top of the couch's backside, over the fireplace and on side tables. As the final touch, they put one on TV.

"Now it feels like grandma came over!"

-----

MC is arranging a bag that has basic needs; bottled waters, crackers, canned food, whistle, blanket, first aid kit, sleeping mat, flashlight with extra batteries, some cash, wet and dry napkins and the medicines they use

Deuce: Are you planning on going camping?

Ace: Deuce, go get us two tents, I'll be in the same one as MC and you can have a tent for yourself

MC: What? No! Where did you get that idea? Also, Ace ewww!

Ace: Hey wait a sec-

Deuce: It's because of your bag...

MC: Oh! This is my bag for an earthquake. Everything in this essential if I get stuck under the rumble

Deuce: Eh?!

Ace: Silly magicless MC, every building is protected with magic here, there has never been any damage on structures or people

MC, cries in Balkan

-----

MC, internally: Hmm, interesting, dorm members resemble their dorm's icons so much. Hmm, Ignihyde is based on Hades who is a Greek God. I heard their dorm leader is from Isle of Lamentation which is from Greek myths so he must be a Greek!

Later

MC: Idia!

Idia, silently: Oh shit

MC: My fellow Balkanoid! *tries to greet him by kissing his cheeks*

Idia, freaks out and retreats: I have no idea what they mean!

MC: Well, you are Greek

Idia: I have no idea what that means either. I'll pay you to stay away

MC: Wait, you have money?

Idia, nods

MC: You know what, I'll just leave... Clearly, you are westernized! Here I thought I met a chad Balkan fellow!

----

MC, learns that Malleus and Leona are royalty

MC: Wait, there are non-corrupted country leaders?!

Leona: Tch, there is absolutely no chance that Ferena is corrupted. You thought I was?

MC: No?

Leona: Tch herbivore...

Malleus, offended: Did you mean my grandmother?

MC: Nope! That’s why I said non corrupt

Malleus: I'm saddened by your statement. What made you think this, child of man?

MC, laughs: Bro, bro... I lived in Balkans

-------

One of the foods that MC would miss dearly is burek/börek.

They would pause and ask for a moment when someone asks about the relationship between MC's country and its neighbours and the history behind it. They only say the good parts and don't get into details much.

MC would slap the watermelon to understand if it would taste good.

MC would be overjoyed when Divus doesn't call them a useless tool for giving him the wrong tool while fixing his car.

They would secretly miss those "good morning" pictures with flowers or babies on the background sent by elderly people around MC.

If MC has to stay more than the academic term, their choice of residence would be Land of Pyroxene as it is likely to resemble Germany.

They would find it weird that countries getting along with their neighbours.

It is a weird feeling to live on their own as they expected to live with their parents until marriage or until they found a job outside the city.

MC would find it basic that people are driving automatic shifted gear.

MC would get weird looks when they tell that their mom also calls them "mom".

MC is used to greeting people by kissing each cheek so it is weird to not do that in Twisted Wonderland.

[mycrofts-gunbrella]

Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Mycroft Holmes x Reader (Part Five)

Word Count- 3921

Morning had come around a lot quicker than you had hoped it would, the sunlight peeking through the curtains and birds singing outside making drifting back off an impossible task. Though you felt well rested, you simply just didn't want to move anywhere any time soon. Last night had begun with Mycroft shyly placing his hand on your hip as your back pressed close to his chest, but this morning had ended with Mycroft on his back and you with your head resting between his chest and shoulder, hand crossing over with fingers hooked over the pyjama's pocket. You'd never expected to be the type to wake up earlier than Mycroft Holmes, particularly not two days on the bounce, but you wouldn't complain. He looked so peaceful as he slept, the sunlight turning his auburn hair far more ginger, his freckles on his nose matching. You slowly reached one arm backwards, blindly feeling around for your phone on the bedside table and reading through your messages. You grinned seeing a text from Greg and had to fight the small laugh that threatened to escape you.

'Hey, just thought I'd check in on you both and see how you're getting on. I hate to feel pushy but we do really need to start that paperwork, today ideally. Figured I'd pop round later if it's alright- I need a sodding nap first though. Spent the majority of last night receiving phone calls about mysterious activity around St James', load of dodgy cars sending people away, loads of papers.. don't suppose you saw any of that down your way did you, makes life easier?"

Your fingers typed a response- 'Uhh..guilty as charged.. Myc was in jeans and a Who top, daren't be seen by the public..I'll get him to fix it when he's up x'- a grin playing on your face. Yeah okay you felt a little bad, but Greg had dealt with worse. After pressing send, you scrolled further through your notifications, spotting one from John. Nothing major, just checking in and inviting you both over for late lunch, mentioning briefly how it'll do Sherlock some good seeing his brother, even if he doesn't believe it himself- evidently also receiving a message from Greg as he also explained how it would make Lestrade have to do one less visit for paperwork if you popped over a little earlier. Before you could type an answer, you felt Mycroft shift beneath you, stretching out the arm that wasn't trapped beneath your body.

"Morning Sleeping Beauty." You teased, turning your head and placing a small kiss on the Holmes' chin. Mycroft blinked, rubbing his eyes and offering you a 'good morning' in response as he eyed up you typing on your phone.

"Needed to be whisked away to catch a criminal mastermind already?" He asked, sitting up a little as you moved to give him a little more space, his arm still loosely tucked behind your back, though his torso now free.

"Your deductions in the morning are lacking.. though close. Mastermind, but not criminal. John and Sherlock have invited us to late lunch, Greg's popping over to start the first part of paperwork handling, only the basic stuff this time round, so figured it would make it easier on him only having to go to one home before we left." Mycroft breathed deeply, fingers raising to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"I think I'd have rathered the criminal." He spoke, already mentally planning the afternoon, the conversations he would likely have, the way Sherlock would behave. What if he still hadn't forgiven him? It was surprising enough that you had let him off so easily, but Sherlock was different. Sherlock was a Holmes, and someone of whom already had feudal tendencies with Mycroft, it was bound to end terribly. As though you had read his mind, you moved your hand to take his from his face as you noticed his fingertips whitening as he pinched harder.

"Hey, it'll be fine. He doesn't blame you, he's been far too silent for that to be the case. From the way John sounded, it actually seemed more like he was worried about you, though you know he'd never admit that." Mycroft hummed in response, not being able to find the right words to say before reaching over and grabbing his own mobile. "World ending yet?"

"Not yet. Though with any luck, quarrels could happen before lunch." He mused, one side of his mouth raising slightly in a playful smirk.

"Mycroft you can't wish for conflicts amongst empires to get out of a meal with your brother."

"Can't I?" He raised a brow.

"Anthea wouldn't allow it anyway. We're on strict instruction to not go into work for the next couple of weeks, nations be damned. Lunch sounds far more appealing too." You slid yourself out of bed and grabbed one of the bags from Anthea that you brought upstairs last night, taking a handful of clothing items and tucking them under your arm.

"But it isn't lunch, is it? It's LATE Lunch, settled approximately around 3pm, too late for lunch, too early for dinner. It's impractical by any means; you starve yourself at real lunch so you do not ruin your appetite, and then by dinner time you're hungry once again. And if you eat at both of those times as well as the late lunch, your feeding schedules become on par with a bloody Hobbit." You rolled your eyes and headed to the bathroom. "Though you may be more accustomed to such choices given the height similarity between yourself and Mr Brandybuck."

"Cheeky sod, not all of us have glorious Holmesian legs. I'm sure you'll survive a few hours.. Oh, you also owe Greg an apology." You chuckled, opening the message back up and tossing your phone in the general direction of Mycroft's lap before going to get dressed. After reading the message, you heard Mycroft let out a laugh from the other room, the rare kind that you knew made the sides of his eyes crease and his head tip back slightly in amusement; you were sorry you missed it.

Leaving the bathroom, you couldn't help but notice the silk pyjama clad man standing mindlessly in front of his open wardrobe, glancing over each individual item of clothing. Wandering behind him, you moved up on your tiptoes and peered over his shoulder at the rows of suits. You were still dressed relatively comfortably in a pair of skinny jeans and a t-shirt, which you felt was appropriate for the later meal that would likely be somewhere like Angelo's- but you equally knew that Mycroft's idea of 'comfort' lay within his three pieces, pocket squares and oxfords.

"Don't panic, I'm not going to begrudge you of your precious suits today. You deserve it after actually going through with my wardrobe choice for you.. I didn't actually expect you to do it." You laughed, squeezing his shoulder fondly. "We slept in late again, there's barely any morning left." You commented, glancing over at the clock that read 10:53am. "Can I tempt you in Elevenses, Mr Baggins?" You grinned, your Lord of the Rings reference not being missed by Mycroft. He cast you a playful glare, fighting the urge to childishly poke his two fingers up at you. "What? Not judging my bedside manner this time?"

"It is useless to meet revenge with revenge; it solves nothing." He quoted Frodo without hesitation, bastard probably already planned that you'd quip back with something smart and already armed himself with Shire related comebacks. You, in contrast to Mycroft, did have the tendencies to become childish and did opt for the two fingered response, an adoring smile unnaturally paired.

Not many people got to know of Mycroft's little nerdy side, and you took pride in being one of the few that did, though you took more pride in him for being able to easily reel off the quotes. Though he had told you before that The Lord of the Rings trilogy had been his favourite of everything you made him watch, then when he read the books? You wouldn't hear from him for hours at a time while he binge read through them for the tenth time round, and of course you had noticed the varying editions of the three books on his bookshelf in his personal office, rather than lining the shelves in his small library room. If anything, it just made him more endearing.

Though it was nothing compared with his love of Doctor Who. Bless his heart, you had taken him to watch David Tennant's Richard II a few years ago for his birthday and he was insistent on waiting behind after the performance to catch David leaving and got him to sign his special edition box set of his DW seasons. He even had a photo taken with him, his expression being easily comparable to the likes of a child who just got a puppy for Christmas- and, much to his dismay, the photograph had had a prime place on your desk at NSY since the event.

You made your way downstairs, calling out something about making omelettes and leaving Mycroft alone to get ready. His fingers skimmed across the expensive fabrics, tugging out an olive green suit and red tie and pocket square to match. The smell of the food you were preparing began to fill his nose, making his stomach growl as he rushed to the bathroom to get dressed. After removing his pyjama top, Mycroft caught a glance of himself in the mirror, prodding at the pudge of his stomach that settled just over his pyjama bottoms, before sucking in flat and looking again. Maybe he should forego the omelette and just wait until later.. another growl.. okay maybe just a little, just so he didn't raise suspicion. He sighed, stomach relaxing back to its natural state before finishing his morning routine, tugging his trousers up a little higher than usual to tuck away the offending belly fat.

Mycroft had always suffered with his weight, he knew that. He also knew of his past, how he would skip meals, or spend hours upon hours on his treadmill, or the time he was under Doctor Chinnery for just shy of three years following his habits of completing his meals with his fingers down the back of his throat over the toilet just after his job promotions exceeded and he found himself in much higher rankings- public appearance being far more important than any personal preference. Though his eating disorder had improved, the years of therapy didn't miraculously improve his self-confidence. It was one of the many reasons he preferred inviting others for dinners, or at the very least having his days to himself when he knew he would be going out later in the evening. Spontaneous meals out like the one he would be attending in a few hours, or having somebody at home with him while he waited for said meals threw him off balance completely- his usual routine of fasting beforehand as to not appear rude or raise suspicions when he ate in public being disturbed significantly. You knew of his past, deduced it, actually, and had been nothing but supportive, trying your best to convince him for years that he was perfectly healthy and encouraging him to eat better, to actually consume meals. He was thankful, of course he was, but it didn't help his insecurities around you, no matter how welcoming you had been or however many compliments you gave him. His body was covered in stretch marks and areas of loose skin from his weight loss over the years, his chest hair, though scarce, was a coppery ginger and his body was covered in so many freckles he looked like an explosion at a dot to dot factory. It led him to remember the other reason why he had never previously attempted to pursue a relationship with you; if he was disgusted and horrified at the appearance of his nude body then what on earth would you think when that time eventually came around? He daren't even try to imagine your face. You'd worked with Sherlock long enough to have seen him wander around naked and Mycroft had to admit that his brother at least had a body worth parading about in the nude, then there was Gregory who, despite not having an exactly chiseled body, still had the rugged good looks and toned chest- a physique that clearly represented the physical aspects of his occupation- there was no doubt you'd compare him to them and he would come up short every time.

"Myc? You gonna be long? Yours is going to be freezing!" Your voice had knocked him out of his thoughts and he quickly shrugged on the rest of his clothes, straightening his tie in the mirror and plastering on a small smile as he headed downstairs and into the kitchen.

"Apologies.. the cufflinks failed in succession to cooperate at first." You had eyed him suspiciously, knowing that Mycroft had worn enough suits in his lifetime that he could probably find a way to put one on to completion in 5 minutes in the dark with oven mitts on.

"I know I've been so against the suits, but I have to admit that you look incredible.. I think that one's my new favourite." You commented casually, placing a quick kiss to his temple as he sat at the table. "That colour is lovely." He quirked a brow.

"New favourite? You've had old ones?"

"Obviously." Imitating Sherlock. "Charcoal pinstripe with that light blue shirt- brings your eyes out wonderfully... and your bum." You winked, positively enjoying the pink that dusted the man's cheeks, and the way he would open his mouth to speak and then close it before any words came out. In his defence, he was really not used to receiving such compliments. And in your defence, you weren't particularly used to giving them, not like that anyway. You'd blame Greg, he was a terrible influence and an incredible flirt- using his charm to at the very least try and make you laugh when you had shitty days.

You lay his plate in front of him, a coffee to its side, before beginning to tuck into your own meal. You had learned early on that if you didn't wait until Mycroft was able to eat then he likely wouldn't eat at all. While drinking his coffee fairly happily, you hadn't missed that the vast majority of Mycroft's breakfast was still on the plate, cut in smaller pieces and rearranged to appear as though he had eaten more than he truly had. Frowning, you didn't press- knowing better than to point out his behaviour and just being thankful he had eaten anything at all (about a third of the omelette and half a slice of toast if your judgements were correct) but had elected to keep an eye on him. You finished your own food in silence before crossing the cutlery over on your plate and beginning to speak.

"I figured if we left now we could have a bit of time for you to go through the first set of paperwork, Greg should be getting there in the next 10 minutes or so, and then by the time we finish and have a cup of tea it'll be time to go out." You suggested, taking Mycroft's plate to clear away after he had sent a nod to show he was finished. He made a small groan at the need to go at all, but soon acquiesced, sent a text for a car and stood to go to the front door. Tugging on a hoodie, you opened the door and took a step back, the wind shooting in your face and making you scowl. Mycroft made an amused sound and offered you the scarf of his that you had worn last night. Rather than taking the garment, you stood and waited for him to wrap it the same expert way that he had the night before. "I also text Greg to run by my flat and grab my coat so I'll be able to stop stealing your expensive scarves soon.. though this one feels so lovely I may text him again to leave it on the tube." You laughed, stepping back outside once again and walking with Mycroft to the end of the road where a car was waiting. Mycroft had wanted to respond, to make a comment about how he didn't mind letting you wear his things, how he actually quite liked it. But he stayed silent, offering a small smile instead and a soft hand at the small of your back. Mycroft opened the door for you, climbing in after and settling against the plush seats of the lavish car.

As the car began to move you tensed a little, a thought popping into your head.

"Myc.. does Sherlock know yet? About us? I might have hinted at it a little when I spoke to Lestrade earlier but I didn't press.. I just.. I didn't know if you were telling people." You asked awkwardly. Christ it made it sound like you were in some forbidden relationship. Mycroft's jaw clenched a little.

"I wasn't aware it was secret knowledge, if that's what you are asking Y/N. In response to your question, no. I haven't spoken to Sherlock at all since.." He trailed. "And I am not the sort of man to walk into a room and actively announce that kind of thing. But you should know that he will likely deduce it the moment we walk through the door being as you are wearing my clothing, your hair smells like my shampoo and your skin still has traces of the scent of my soap. So if you didn't want anybody to know, then I strongly suggest we rearrange our plans for this afternoon." Who was he kidding? Of course you didn't want people to know that you were actually together now- you would look ridiculous being such a pretty young woman with a man like Mycroft in tow. You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off. "If you are going to say you could argue the soaps then it would simply be futile, he knows I have your regular brand at your disposal; he'd know you used mine in the form of... sentiment." The last word felt wrong on his tongue now, knowing you had hoped to keep your.. relationship.. behind closed doors. Mycroft Holmes was a very private man, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't want knowledge of your relationship to be at least semi-public, having felt a little giddy when you'd chosen to cross that line with him.

"What? No, I wasn't going to talk about the sodding shampoo." You grinned, reaching a hand over to place on his knee. "Jesus Myc, I asked because I didn't know if YOU were comfortable with people knowing. I'm pretty sure everyone inside that flat knew I fancied you the last few years, I'd proudly walk in and show that my pining eventually paid off. I just know you have appearances to keep up and I didn't want to ruin that, or embarrass you in front of Sherlock." For what seemed like the millionth time in the last few days, your words surprised Mycroft. He felt his jaw loosen and he took a breath, moving only to briefly place his hand over yours for a small squeeze and moving back again. You didn't expect him to say much, he was Mycroft Holmes, not Romeo Montague, but the small smile you sent back his way let him know that you understood his thoughts. The drive to Baker Street was only 10 or so minutes from Mycroft's home so you soon arrived in no time at all, the slick black car smoothly pulling up outside number 221.

"I can only hope my dear brother deduces our relationship correctly and doesn't make a vast attempt to embarrass me in front of his peers.. again." Mycroft knocked on the door, his words casting you back to a Christmas you had all shared a couple years ago.

It was a small gathering, consisting of the pair of you, the Baker Street boys, Greg and Mrs Hudson, and a few weeks beforehand, after multiple arguments of whether or not presents should be shared, Mrs Hudson had come up with the wonderful (terrible) idea of secret Santa which, incase you wasn't aware, isn't a fun game when played with two Holmes' that knew everybody's present and Secret Santa before the packages were opened. You had pulled Mrs Hudson and couldn't have been more thrilled, neither could she when she opened her new tea set- a simple floral design decorated its sides, but she was thankful no matter the pattern, the last teapot having been found at the hands of Sherlock housing human eyes. Conveniently enough, Mycroft had pulled your name and elected to subtly buy you a personalised travel mug for work. After you had opened it, Sherlock had scoffed, muttering something along the lines of "Mycroft isn't that shit at buying presents. He bought you a necklace at first but felt too embarrassed to give it to you in such a public setting and panic bought that cup." Continuing on about how Mycroft had put a lot of thought into your original gift and how it was unusual and how it "obviously" meant he favoured you and was attracted to you. Mycroft had left shortly after that, not making eye contact with any of the silent people in the room and climbed into the back of his car, but you had followed suit and clambered in after him- easing the tension by ignoring Sherlock's allegations and giving him the envelope that you had in your pocket. You had told him you had bought him something special anyway, even though he wasn't who you were supposed to buy for, because you cared for and appreciated him- he had opened the envelope slowly and his eyes widened, that rare smile appearing on his face when he was presented with the Richard II tickets. After your exchange Mycroft had given you the necklace anyway, spouting derogatives about his brother's deductions as he did so. It was a small silver chain necklace with a sparkling silver pendant that, upon closer inspection, you had noticed was a police badge.

You smiled fondly at the memory and instinctively placed your hand above your sternum, feeling the small piece of metal beneath your clothing that you hadn't taken off in two years. You turned to face the man beside you a little more, placing a hand on his shoulder and reaching up on your tiptoes to place a lingering kiss on his lips, moving back only when you heard the latch unlock in front of you, and noticing the ever so slight pink tinge to Mycroft's bottom lip from the lip balm you had put on earlier. "That should make it easier to get it right." You commented, fighting the small grin from your face as you noticed Mycroft standing in the same way, lips parted slightly from where your own had been moments ago, a matching pink dusting his cheekbones. The door opened revealing a smug looking Sherlock.

"Be careful Mycroft, you'll catch flies like that if you aren't cautious enough."

[robininthelabyrinth]

Targets - ao3

- Chapter 5 -

Lan Xichen had had an extremely weird day.

The beginning of the week had gone much as it always did – the daily routine of lessons and chores, classes and cultivation – and he had been helping his uncle with sect business, just basic copying or taking down dictation since he wasn’t old enough to do more than that. He’d thought the rest of the week would go just the same way, but then a messenger had arrived and his uncle had asked him to leave. It wasn’t that unusual, there was plenty of sect business his uncle didn’t care for him to know about yet, Lan Xichen being not quite yet fifteen, so he hadn’t thought much of it.

What was unusual was his uncle’s sudden tension afterwards, and the second messenger that arrived not long after, and his uncle’s abruptly announcement that Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji would be going to visit the Unclean Realm.

Lan Xichen had initially welcomed the news – he’d become friends with Nie Mingjue years before when the other boy had spent some time at the Cloud Recesses, and he’d always hoped to go pay a long visit in return, although that hope had been dashed when Nie Mingjue had been forced to become sect leader far too soon and it suddenly became inappropriate for him to spend so much time with a junior like Lan Xichen. But when his uncle told him to go pack and he realized that his uncle planned to send him right away…that was when he started to become alarmed.

He asked his uncle what the matter was, but his uncle refused to say, and so Lan Xichen had no idea why they had hurried so quickly to the Unclean Realm. He’d been asked to fly on his sword, and when he started faltering, one of the attending disciples allowed him to jump onto theirs to ride the rest of the way – they only rested a few times, at the mid-way points, and that was already pushing the boundaries of what they could do, even though they were all strong cultivators.  After all, of the Great Sects, Gusu was the furthest away from Qinghe; it wasn’t an easy trip to make.

He thought that he’d ask Nie Mingjue to explain when he arrived, but Nie Mingjue wasn’t there. But the Unclean Realm’s protective shield was up, which he’d never seen, and they were searched and interrogated for a long while before being allowed inside. And even once they were, they were shown to certain courtyards and told not to leave.

“Brother?” Lan Wangji asked, and the mere fact that he’d broken his habitual silence to inquire that much told of his anxiety at everything that had happened.

“I’ll figure it out,” Lan Xichen promised him.

Only he really couldn’t figure out what to do next, and then Nie Mingjue returned with a positive gaggle of children, his face pale and almost visibly at the point of total qi exhaustion, and it hadn’t seemed like a good time to interrupt. Lan Wangji ended up getting swept up by the chattering children his age – the Yunmeng Jiang heir, Jiang Cheng, as well as the Yunmeng Jiang ward, Wei Wuxian, plus Nie Huaisang – and not long thereafter they were joined by Jin Zixuan, who poor Lan Wangji had ended up clinging to as the only other person not talking faster than the flapping of a hummingbird’s wings.

Poor Lan Wangji, Lan Xichen thought; it wasn’t his fault that Wei Wuxian had fixated on him, seemingly thinking that teasing and bullying were the only way to make friends – they’d tussled three times so far, and Lan Wangji was constantly turning bright red with either fury or elation or both.

For his own part, Lan Xichen had tried to make friends with the boy that was closer to his age – Meng Yao, apparently – but Meng Yao just stared at him wide-eyed and stuttered a lot and seemed very awkward, although he had explained some of what was happening: that the Wen sect had ordered the kidnapping of sect heirs, that his name had been on a list (he didn’t know why he himself had been included, especially as none of the other Jin sect bastards had been), that all the sects were preparing for war…

It had been a relief when Jiang Yanli stopped shepherding the smaller children and joined them, if only because Lan Xichen could stop feeling like he was tormenting poor Meng Yao. Who wasn’t even a cultivator, although he expressed an interest in becoming one – Nie Mingjue had apparently said that he could join the Nie sect if he wanted.

“You should,” Lan Xichen said enthusiastically. “It’s a good sect – a bit, uh, martially inclined, but very righteous, very upright. They’re good people. If you don’t think you’d enjoy cultivating the saber, maybe you might prefer the Lan sect – you said you played the guqin? We cultivate music.”

His face was certainly pretty enough to pass through Lan sect regulations, Lan Xichen thought, although of course there were other requirements.

“You would be a good fit in either,” Jiang Yanli said encouragingly. “My Jiang sect isn’t taking on new disciples right now without a recommendation, but if you start with the Nie sect and find it doesn’t suit, I’m sure you’d be welcome in any sect you chose.”

“Except Lanling Jin?” Meng Yao said, giving them both a look as they blushed and stuttered and averted their eyes. “Neither of you recommended that one.”

“Lanling Jin is a very strong sect, very powerful,” Jiang Yanli said delicately. “And, uh…Lan-gongzi?”

“I can’t,” Lan Xichen said. “There are rules in the Lan sect about talking behind people’s backs, especially maliciously.”

“Well, I certainly can’t say anything! He’s my future father-in-law!”

“That bad?” Meng Yao asked, though he didn’t look as surprised as Lan Xichen might’ve thought.

“My brother says Sect Leader Jin’s a useless whoremonger who doesn’t think of anything but wine, women, and corruption,” Nie Huaisang piped up. Lan Xichen hadn’t even noticed him walking over; he would have tried to change the subject of conversation if he had – he remembered very well what a little demon Nie Huaisang could be, always stirring up trouble. “That he’s got more bastards than fingers and toes, and that the women he gets with child are lucky if he remembers to pay them for it, assuming they weren’t forced to begin with. You’re better off with us, Meng-gege!”

Meng Yao looked at Lan Xichen and Jiang Yanli, who both shrugged because there really wasn’t much to be said there, and then over at Jin Zixuan, who had trailed along after Nie Huaisang along with the rest of their little gang.

“My father’s not useless,” he said, looking uncomfortable even as he kept shooting fascinated glances at Meng Yao – who was his brother, actually, now that Lan Xichen thought about it, putting two and two together. Jin Zixuan had probably never met one of the infamous Jin bastards before; none of them had. They’d only heard about them in rumors. “And he does think of – other things. Sect business. Sometimes. That part’s wrong.”

Jin Zixuan was a good boy, Lan Xichen reflected. Far too good to be the son of a snake-tongued politician like Jin Guangshan.

“You should probably just pick another sect, though,” Jin Zixuan said, shifting from one foot to the other. “My mom – she doesn’t like – listen, she’s said some really awful things about what she’d do if any of the bastards ever actually showed up, okay? And I’m pretty sure my father agrees with her. He promised he’d throw them down the tower steps.”

“There are a lot of steps in Jinlin Tower. It’d break someone’s bones! Or neck!” Jiang Cheng objected.

“I think that’s the point,” Wei Wuxian muttered. “Meng-gege, you won’t go, will you?”

“I won’t,” Meng Yao assured him. “My mother’s coming here, so I have to be here at least until she arrives. And I think we’re all going to be here for a while, at least until the war is over.”

“That’s definitely the case,” Nie Mingjue said from the door. He looked a little better – someone must have given him spiritual energy and possibly a stimulant, possibly multiple stimpulants – though he still seemed very tired. Lan Xichen abruptly saw the point of all of his uncle’s exhortations against over-doing things. “You’re all welcome to stay for as long as this takes. I’ve cleansed the Unclean Realm of spies, as best as I can; this place is as safe as can be while you’re being targeted.”

“What about you, Mingjue-xiong?” Lan Xichen asked, anxious, because he knew, as few others did, that Nie Mingjue wasn’t nearly as old as people thought he was. “Will you have to fight?”

Nie Mingjue didn’t respond, which was affirmation. It was a stupid question to ask; Nie Mingjue was a sect leader, of course he’d have to fight. Fight the man who murdered his father only a few years before.

“I want to help,” Lan Xichen said, and Nie Mingjue frowned.

“Xichen –”

“I want to help,” Lan Xichen insisted. “Even if it’s just cutting up cloth to make bandages, or passing along messages, or something like that – I want to help.”

“I want to help too!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed. “Da-ge, you have to let us help.”

“I –”

“They’re our sects, too,” Jin Zixuan said quietly, and Lan Xichen saw Jiang Yanli smile at him.

Lan Xichen felt a moment of satisfaction at how they were all uniting, all acting together – and then, abruptly, dissatisfaction. “Why does Wei-gongzi get to call you da-ge?” he asked, indignant. “I’ve known you for longer!”

“It was convenient!” Nie Mingjue protested. “You can call me that too, if you like!”

“Not if you like,” Nie Huaisang said. “Everyone has to call da-ge, da-ge. You’re in the Unclean Realm now, and I make the rules here, and those are the rules!”

There was a small group discussion, after which it was generally agreed that it would be far too awkward to live together for days and days – amended to weeks and weeks after seeing the expression on Nie Mingjue’s face – while maintaining appropriate formalities, so everyone was going to call each other -gege, -jiejie, and -xiong, as appropriate, and of course that Nie Mingjue, as the eldest of their generation, would be called da-ge.

“Wen Xu’s older than me, actually,” Nie Mingjue mumbled. “Wen Qing, too, I think –”

“They don’t count, they’re Wen,” Jiang Cheng said. “The Wen sect is evil.”

“Wasn’t Wen Qing their doctor?” Jiang Yanli asked. “She was at the last discussion conference, presenting on some of her medial research. She was nice, I thought…?”

“She’s Dafan Wen, not Qishan Wen,” Lan Xichen explained. “They’re only technically a branch family of the main Qishan Wen – they split off a few generations back, but there was an accident and their parents died, so I think her and her younger brother got adopted as wards by Sect Leader Wen.”

“How unfortunate for her,” Meng Yao murmured, and they all looked at him. “I mean, if he’s as bad as you all say he is…”

“Was it an accident?” Jin Zixuan asked, and everyone looked at him. “What? Everyone says that she’s the most talented member of the younger generation of Wen sect – well, they say that when Sect Leader Wen isn’t around, anyway. It seems really convenient that the cousin who could’ve outshone the main branch got brought in so that all the accolades could go to him.”

“And we all know that Wen Ruohan likes to kill parents,” Nie Huaisang mumbled, kicking at the floor.

A moment later, as if by unanimous unspoken agreement, they all turned to look at Nie Mingjue expectantly.

“…she’s a Wen!” he protested a few moments later when he realized what they were getting at. “Even if the circumstances of her parents' death might be – suspicious – it’s still her bloodline; they share the same ancestors, they’re the same clan! She's not going to be a target - well, by them, anyway - though I suppose by the rest of us - and - and I don’t know what exactly you’d want me to do about it, anyway!”

[a-dusty-emerald]

Till it sinks in: Draco x Reader / Hurt-Comfort, Fluff Fic

A hurt-comfort fluff fic, with a slytherin Y/n being the girlfriend of the softie-who-hates-to-be-called-softie-so-he-bitches-all-day Draco Lucius Malfoy.

Where Umbridge uses her quill on you.

_____________________________________________

Dolores Umbridge, maybe the most hated teacher to set foot at Hogwarts, had a special dislike against anyone who disobeyed. And while that may be all teachers, not all teachers dismissed sobbing students from their detention. Every single student that got detention with Umbridge looked broken afterwards, but no one knew what she said to them; it was a mystery.

Professor McGonagall, for instance, made sure the students that misbehaved researched a wide topic for a few hours during the week, with the intimidating presence of her self. Professor Snape, on the other hand, locked students in the Potions classroom and let them out after the successfull brewing of a potion of his liking. Hence, it must be something similar.

Y/n strolled into class, her curls bouncing around the embroided slytherin crest of her robe. Defence against the dark arts was her worst subject, she only thought it was interesting when Professor Lupin taught it, and had done surprisingly well. Then, it was a hands-on, useful and fascinating module, while now, Umbridge followed the Ministry's policy to teach the students in a "risk free" way, by only reading through the theory. Not only were the lessons incredibly boring, the whole book was utterly useless.

"As if Voldemort will ask you the theory of Merlin's rule of categorisation of spells when he Avada-Kedavra's your ass", Y/n had scoffed when she saw the chapters. Draco had laughed, but told her that his father had owled him that Umbridge was a family ally, and hence he could not be out of line in her class.

"When did you become such a nerd?"

"Oh shut it Y/n", Y/n recalled.

She had also implemented some stupid rules, like "no touching between boys and girls, and a six feet distance at all times", and reduced the hours that students could go out of their dorms. While Dumbledore wanted the students to be at their dorms by 10pm, Umbridge thought that 6pm was acceptable.

As if.

Y/n entered the class, the only class she did not sit with Draco. Apparently, boys and girls could also not sit with one another, since they would eventually touch. And in a doomed world controlled by Umbridge, that was a sin.

Draco spotted his girlfriend entering the room, wearing a bored look on her face. He was not excited about DADA either. His parents might have told him that Umbridge was the best thing that could happen in this school, but he was not blind or stupid. The stuff being taught were useless and her teaching method was more boring than 5 hours of Divination with no breaks in his eyes. At least then, he could laugh at Trelawney. Now he just was supposed to stay silent and listen Umbridge reading the most basic book ever again and again.

He realised he got lost in his thoughts and was staring at Y/n longer than intended. She seemed bored as hell, but her eyes always intimidated him - yet, he would never admit out loud. Even the plainest of her looks had such passion beneath it, her deep dark orbs had a fire in them, surrounded by thick eyelashes, making her look coy and mischevious even when she was not planning to.

Y/n noticed him looking and smirked back at him.

"Stop staring, people might think that you like me" she mouthed silently to him. He grinned and shook his head. 'She is something else', he thought.

An unpleasantly familiar trotting of heels approached the creaking floor at the centre of the classroom, making students focus on the short, evil woman that was tormenting the school; Umbridge.

"Hello, my dear students" she smiled in a sickly manner. "Today we are learning about the theory of protection spells."

Y/n groaned, thinking other students would join her, however, it was this uncomfortable and awkward moment that everyone had decided to stay deadly silent, making her disapproving groan loud and clear to be heard.

"Is there an issue, miss Y/l/n?" Umbridge smiled in the evilest way she could.

"No, no, of course not. I always wanted to listen about the theory of protection spells." Y/n smiled in the fakest way possible.

"Is that irony I am sensing, Y/l/n?" Umbridge had a more serious look now, her smile not decieving anyone.

"Nope." She said, emphasising the "p" sound in her lips. Out of the corner of her eye, she quickly glanced to Draco, who had a warning glare. "Don't aggravate her!" He mouthed. Y/n rolled her eyes, and unfortunately for her, Umbridge saw that, taking it as it was directed at her.

She scrunched up her nose and stomped her heel lightly on the floor, when she exclaimed: "Detention after class, miss y/l/n! That attitude of yours is no match for a young witch!"

Draco did not know why everyone was saying Umbridge's detention was horrible, he had heard she only requested some lines. Even so, her detention had gained a horrible reputation, and he didn't like it one bit that his girlfriend would be the one going there.

Even so, he was angry at her, he had warned her so many times. She was such a brat every time she spoke to Umbridge, when he had told her that every student that was leaving her detention was crying.

The DADA lesson had finished, when Y/n saw Draco stomping towards her, stopping around the 6 feet limit, keeping his distance.

"Why do you never listen?!" His angry hissing voice aggravated her even more.

"I rolled my freaking eyes, Draco, chill."

"You were sarcastic. You know you were. Are you happy now?" His glare was piercing her soul.

"I am not, actually. I would prefer no stupid rules, but I guess my boyfriend is too much of a wuss to think for himself and see how ridiculous Umbridge is."

"She just wants order. Besides, its temporary!" He half whispered, half yelled.

"Sure. Tell that to yourself to feel better, darling." Now she was mad at him. "Now excuse me, I have a detention to go to." She closed the gap between them - breaking the rule- just to bump on his shoulder angrily, and stomped past him, going to detention.

"Fine! I don't give a fuck, then!" She heard her boyfriend's voice. She knew he didn't mean it at all, but she silently prayed he changed his mind after her detention, he had an hour to think by himself after all. She was hoping for an apology.

Y/n lightly knocked on her door, listening to Draco's advice for once. She should be polite, calm and collected no matter what she said to her. She couldn't risk an expulsion. Umbridge's sickly laugh was heard. "Come in, y/l/n."

Y/n opened the door, fighting back her urge to laugh or roll her eyes. Her least favourite colour, fuchsia pink, was plastered everywhere, cats trapped on the walls, and a heavy, sickly, sugary aroma filled her nostrils, she did her best to keep her pokerface.

"Sit", the teacher ordered. "You will do some lines today, Y/n."

Relief passed through her. That wasn't that bad. She grabbed a piece of paper and moved to grab her quill, when the fuchsia toad in front of her stopped her. "Oh no, dear. I'm afraid you wont need that." She smiled, and handed her a large black feathered quill from her own collection. "Use this, please. It is one of my favourites."

Y/n grabbed the quill and moved again to reach for her ink. "Oh, silly me, I forgot." She heard the professor giggle. "You won't need any ink, dear."

She looked at Umbridge confused, her tamed eyebrows furrowing to her words. Still, she went with it. She grabbed the quill and before she started, Umbridge directed her "you shall write the line: I must not be arrogant." Y/n resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"How many times, Professor?" She said.

"Hm... let's just say... till it sinks in." Umbridge giggled once again, sipping her tea.

Y/n scoffed silently and started writing the lines, red ink magically appearing on paper. Her left hand was uncomfortable the whole time, but she ignored it. As soon as she finished the first line, though, the discomfort became a burning sensation, and hurt so much, like someone was creating small cuts in her skin. She looked at her hand to see what was going on, only to see the line she wrote engraved in her hand.

'You evil bitch' Y/n thought.

Every time she would rewrite the sentence, it was like the invisible knife digged deeper and deeper in her skin, twisting at each twist of the quill. She looked at Umbridge with teary eyes, a silent plea to stop this torture. Blood was seeping out of her wound uncontrollably now, staining her robe. Umbridge just glanced at her and said "one more page."

Through silent tears, a wrecked bloodied hand, trembles and gritted teeth, she finished her torture without making a sound. She excused her self, said goodbye to the professor, and closed the heavy door behind her, exhaling with a trembled sob escaping her lips. An exhale that she was holding for an hour.

She contained her tears and hid her hand from plain sight. She did not want to worry anyone, and she sprinted with all the energy she could muster to the dungeons. She just wanted to wash it off, wrap it in a clean cloth, and have a good cry.

As she was approaching the dungeons, it dawned on her: she could run up to Draco there. What should she do? On one hand, the thought of making him feel bad enticed her, she was still mad about his behaviour. On the other hand, she knew he meant no harm, and that he would make her start a legal war with Umbridge. She really didn't want to do anything right now, as much as she hated her guts.

She hid her hand better, wiped her eyes, took a few deep breaths and prayed that her boyfriend was not in the common room, as she opened the door.

Unbeknownst to her, Draco was waiting restlessly at the common room all this time. He didn't like the fact they fought before, he hated not being on good terms with Y/n. He didn't think he was entirely on the wrong though. 'Maybe if she listened to me once in a whi-'

His thoughts came to a halt when he saw a trembling Y/n enter the common room. Her eyes were red and glassy, and she was crouched in a weird position. He instantly forgot everything he was thinking of and sprinted towards her. When her eyes fell on him, she inhaled sharply, sttaightening her posture. He was terribly worried and she could feel it.

"Darling?" His soft voice was music to her ears.

Her eyes avoided his, refilling with tears just from his worried voice.

"I-I need to go to my room." She said with a lowered gaze.

"Tell me what's wrong please-"

"I thought you didn't give a fuck." Her voice was low when she said it, her teary eyes finally meeting his. She did not mean to snap at him, but everything was too much.

He finally locked eyes with her now, the emotion he saw in her overtaking him. He pursed his lips and looked down.

"I'm sorry. You know - baby you know thats not true. I want to know what happened. What did she say to you that made you cry? You don't cry easily, I know that. If you want I'll report her!" He was frantically searching for her gaze again, his grey irises full of concern.

"She said nothing bad to me. She instructed me through my lines." She avoided his gaze once again.

He lowered his gaze as well, and broke the -for once- uncomfortable silence, his voice slightly broken.

"Do you not trust me?"

His words echoed in her head. She did. She did with her life. She could not stay mad at him, no matter her anger. "I do. I'm sorry, I'm a-a bit of a m-mess, i'll tell you, j-just give me a few m-minutes..."

His hand grabbed hers to pull her into an embrace, to hold her close, to calm her. As soon as his hand grasped her own, though, a strong wave of stinging pain shot through her, a hissing sound escaping her lips as she yanked her hand away. She was holding it close to her heart, a few hot tears escaping her eyes. There was no escape now.

Draco looked at her wide eyed, a blank expression of confusion mixed with worry resting on his features. "What-"

He looked down on his hand. Blood.

He inhaled sharply. Blood? His heart was pounding in his chest now, his fury for Umbridge boiling. What exactly happened in her detentions?

"Darling." He spoke. His voice was low and steady, and Y/n could swear she could hear her own heartbeat. "Your hand. Please." He extended his own to signal her to give her hers. Slowly, she put her bloodied palm on his own.

"Did she do this?", he hissed angrily. Y/n nodded but winced at his tone, not ready for facing an angry Draco. He saw that, and his features calmed down.

He grasped her shoulders carefully, gently pulling her in a hug, lightly kissing her forehead and letting his lips linger there. He tilted her chin up, pressing a quick peck on her lips.

"Im not mad at you". He said steadily, to show he meant every word. "I'll kill her, honestly" he mumbled, as his eyes examined the wounds.

"I must not be arrogant?!?"

He felt his anger rise again, as he managed to read the cuts that were filled with blood.

"She h-had a black quill. I would write on paper and it would transfer the letters in m-my hand. Must be c-cursed." Y/n said between small sobs.

His one arm cradled her head and she felt him moving the other one on her waist, urging her to move. "Come on, lets get you cleaned up. I'll send a letter to my father. She will be out of her position tomorrow."

Y/n's eyes widened "No n-no I-"

Draco didn't let her finish "Y/n, I love you but please shut up."

For the first time in a while, Y/n giggled, music to Draco's ears.

He took his time being extra gentle on her wound, making sure it is clean, before putting a few healing spells on it, muttering apologies whenever Y/n would wince.

"Tomorrow your hand will be good as new. Trust me."

"I trust you Draco. Thank you."

His eyes looked up from her wound, and Y/n was sure she could melt. He had the softest gaze ever. They fell asleep in each other's embrace, soft kisses taking away the pain.

The next morning, Y/n could hardly stiffle a laugh at the annoucement of Umbridge being suddently fired. She turned at her boyfriend, who looked smug as ever.

His eyes glimmered and his eyebrows wiggled with smugness, as he said:

"She should not have been that arrogant. Guess karma is a bitch." He shrugged.

That Malfoy boy was your everything and you knew it.

FEEL FREE TO LIKE AND SHARE!! Feedback is always welcome, love you all!

[shurisneakers]

shut in [7]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, implied abuse, death, implied ptsd, injuries, broken bone, origami and paper planes

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: ONE MORE WEEK !!!!!!!!! ONE MORE WEEK !!!!!!!! also gif is somewhat related except steve isn’t there sorry to crush any hopes

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“Is there a reason you’re back so early?”

Both of the men nervously glanced at each other, silently urging the other to talk. A quiet form of encouragement.

“We chec- we checked all the neighbouring towns. All your safehouses,” one of them finally sputtered up after his partner elbowed him in the ribs.

“And?”

“We coordinated with all our guys across the country to look for them-”

“All I’m hearing are a bunch of excuses,” they twirled the gun on its barrel like it was a plaything. “Get to the point.”

“No one knows where they’re hiding,” he finished, swallowing thickly. “We’re still looking though. We just thought-”

“What?” their voice was surprisingly calm. “That your little status update would impress me? That I’d feel sorry for you for working so hard?”

“N-no boss,” his partner finally pitched in, saving face for his companion who opened and shut his mouth wordlessly. “Just keeping you in the loop. We’re close, I can feel-”

“Do you remember what I told you the last time you were here?”

Both of them shut their mouths immediately. Knuckles white, nails digging into their skin as they clenched their fists shut.

“That you wanted them dead,” the first one said with faux confidence. A waver in his voice gave it away.

“Yes, but you’re forgetting the important part,” they tsk’ed, shaking their head, eyes downcast.

They didn’t give anyone a chance to react. They slammed the gun down, swiftly picking it up before taking aim at his partner’s face.

“I said I’d blow your brains out.” They pulled the trigger.

Bits of bone fragment and blood splattered across the first agent’s face. He inhaled sharply, chest rising and falling haphazardly. He had his eyes shut tightly, face away from the carcass slumped over next to him..

“I want every fucking part of this country searched,” they roared, throwing the gun to the side carelessly, leaving someone else to scurry after it. “And since it’s so fucking hard for you to finish two tasks, just get me their location.”

The agent barely nodded, looking like he was about to throw up. His partner’s blood trailed down the side of his face like sweat.

“I’ll kill them myself.”

Hugh Grant was starting to look less appealing on your 6th rewatch of Notting Hill. In fact, he was starting to blend together with the characters from Die Hard and it was becoming difficult to differentiate which part belonged to which movie.

Sam sat opposite to you at the dining table, a set of papers assigned in front of him. The TV was left on, serving as background noise and occasional fillers to substitute the lack of conversation.

“That movie is not making sense anymore,” he stated objectively.

“It stopped after the third time for me.” Your words were hushed, your focus remaining on the swan you were trying to create from scratch.

“If I hear her say ‘I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy’ one more time, I actually think I’ll projectile vomit.” You could tell that his eyes didn’t shift from the screen though. “I can feel the bile. It’s going to happen.”

You only hummed in agreement, more interested in his lamenting than the actual movie.

Although origami wasn’t one of the skills you picked up in the fucking mafia, you still knew a few basic things. The rest you just folded with confidence and prayed it would work.

What other options did you have when you were stuck together in a house with no WiFi?

Sam had made a paper bowl to hold the car keys and the few dollars you picked up from Pierce’s place. It looked like it would fall apart at any given moment, its structural integrity questionable at best.

You had made a small flower that rested on the table in front of you. You were sure it would go missing the minute a draft entered the room.

He had given up after his contribution of the bowl. Apparently his creative expertise extended only towards that and paper airplanes, not that that stopped him. He was folding and manufacturing them with a vengeance.

“How is this supposed to help, Wilson?” you questioned, unable to contain the smile that grew on your face at the sheer number of planes he was making.

“Just because it’s not a decorative marvel-” he shot back in its defence, “-doesn’t mean it’s useless.”

“Oh, yeah? What else can it do other than not fly?” You watched as he launched one of them. It did a loop before falling miserably to the floor.

“Hey, you can put a message in it. Maybe one of those button trackers, a microphone. The possibilities are endless.” He laughed, folding another one out of the limited supply of paper he had left. “Besides, your thing won’t even lift off the ground.”

“Yeah, but this one can float.” You held up the swan that you had created. That about concluded your knowledge of origami.

“That’s actually… pretty cool,” he admitted. “Teach me how to make one.”

“A true master never reveals their secrets,” you eluded, placing it on the table.

“I dare you to make another.” Sneaky bastard. He knew you wouldn’t be able to replicate it. He saw you struggle the first time.

“Why, so you can just copy off of me?” you dodged, and Sam narrowed his eyes at you. You followed the same.

Neither of you blinked for a while.

“I’m out of paper,” he finally relented, gesturing to the fleet of planes that littered the table.

“I’m out of ideas.” You paused, looking down at how you’d spent the last hour. “Do you wanna go test these outside later?”

Sam looked up eagerly and you could just tell he was intending on getting competitive. “Hell yeah.”

“I’m going for a run in some time.” You got up to stretch your limbs, shrug off the fatigue that was setting in. Along the way you left the swan and one of the paper planes on top of the mini fridge alongside the car keys. It was cute. “We could do it then?”

“Sure,” he affirmed. “What time?”

“At around 6-” your eyes landed on the clock on the wall before widening, “-shit, shit, shit, I didn't realise it was five thirty. We have a call with Ransone.”

“Phone’s on the couch,” he mentioned to the living room, sitting up straight. “Why are you freaking out? We still got a few minutes to go.”

You pushed yourself away from the table, forcing yourself to shakie off the drowsiness that had begun to set in.

“You wouldn’t get it,” you mumbled, “He gets pissy if I don’t do things his way.”

You grabbed the phone, punching in the buttons and having it at the ready.

You noticed Sam focused on you with knitted eyebrows but not voicing whatever he had on his mind.

“Ready?” you questioned, but more as a formality. You had to do it regardless.

He simply nodded, looking on as you let the phone ring. If he had noticed your antsiness towards the call, he didn’t bring it up.

Ransone picked up on the last ring, not skipping a beat in answering, “Y/N.”

“Hey Ransone.” You switched the call to speakerphone.

“Are you alone?”

You glanced at Sam. He shook his head, arms crossed over his chest, edging you to continue with the arrangement you had planned the day prior.

Ransone trusted you more. He was more likely to communicate openly if Sam wasn’t around.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Where’s the other one?”

Sam silently scoffed.

“He’s taking a nap.”

“Ah,” Ransone’s tone was condescending. “How have things been?”

“It’s fine.” You press your lips into a straight line, not elucidating. “What’s the update out there?”

“Everything is a mess. We’re trying to figure out who attacked you but since there wasn’t anything left behind or any kind of trace, it’s proving to be... inconvenient.”

“Is it safe to travel?”

“What, with your face on national television?” he laughed. “Nah, I’d say it’s a little too early to be thinkin’ of a road trip. Just stay where you are, I’ll tell you when you can come out.”

Your fingers were thrumming at the table rhythmically, peeking at Sam every now and then for anything he found suspicious or wanted you to ask about.

“Listen, we’ve paid off every big guy to keep this under wraps as much as possible but Pierce was an important person. All the higher ups want this to be solved as quickly as possible. They don’t care about sacrificing a player here or there.”

Pinning the blame on you was easy enough. The faster you were put away, the faster they could stage an “accident” in prison so that none of their secrets were exposed. Wasn’t like they hadn’t done it before.

“Others in the business aren’t likin’ us accusing them of attacking one of our own. Our best bet right now is Serpentine but we haven’t gotten anything to prove it.”

You doubted they ever would. Even if they did do it, Serpentine was notorious for being cunning and stealthy in their operations. They made sure there would be no tracks leading back to them.

“So, we’re at a dead-end,” you verified. There was no telling when this would end, your exit looking further and further away. “We’re fucked.”

“No. We’ll just- Y/N, listen to me,” Ransone called out, drawing your attention back to the call.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve always protected you,” his voice was noticeably softer. “Don’t you trust me?”

You felt the temperature in the room drop.

“You said there would be no one there!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ransone scoffed. “I never said that.”

“I walk in there and there’s four people, completely armed.” Forcing yourself to recall it was making your head spin. Maybe you could ask the nurse for a painkiller. “It was supposed to be empty.”

“I think the blood loss is making you delirious,” he chided, looking at the bag of drips hanging above your bed. “It wasn’t even that bad-”

“You’re lying.” The words slipped out before you had the chance to think it over.

“Excuse me?” he tilted his head, tone suddenly sifting to that of warning.

You knew he was. You had agreed to this mission because it was supposed to be easy. It was a break.

“Ivan was there when you briefed me.” You lifted your good arm to point at him shakily. “He knows you’re lying.”

“Does he now?” Ransone quirked an eyebrow, studying his aid who stood in the corner of the dingy hospital room.

A beat of silence passed where Ransone stared at Ivan, waiting for a reply of confirmation.

Ivan only lifted his shoulders in unawareness. “I don’t remember you sayin’ that.”

Your mouth fell agape but you quickly rushed to shut it. Fucking liars. You shouldn’t have expected anything better.

“Told you.” Ransone shrugged. “You’re a smart one, Y/N, so I’m going to let that slide this time. But next time you accuse me of something I didn’t say…”

He trailed off, resting a hand on your broken shoulder. You flinched, jaw clenched so tightly you thought your teeth might break. You tried to imagine yourself somewhere else, desperate to reduce the quivering of your body when he squeezed it lightly.

“You know I’ve always tried to protect you.” He put a finger under your chin, tilting your head to meet his eye. “Don’t you trust me?”

A beat passed before you responded.

“I do,” you said through gritted teeth, pulling your face away from him.

“I’ll ask them to up your dosage.” Ransone took a step away from you, dropping his hand. “I’m going to need my best player on the field as soon as possible.”

You didn’t acknowledge his statement. Every part of your body felt like it was going to combust.

Did he really say that no one was going to be there or was it just the injuries playing with you?

“Get well soon,” he offered, one step out the door. “Buttercup.”

“You trust me, don’t you Y/N?” he repeated when you didn’t respond.

“Yes.” You swallowed, gaze falling to the floor.

“And I trust you. You wouldn’t do anything to break that, would you?”

Sam raised his one hand questioningly as if to ask what the hell he was talking about. An intimidation tactic. He had been using it for several years to reinforce your loyalty.

“I wouldn’t.”

There were things you weren’t telling him, of course. Details about that day or where you and Sam were hiding right off the top of your head. More if you thought about it deeply.

“Good,” came his response. “So if there’s anything you need, let me know. I’m always a call away.”

“Thank you.”

“Talk to you soon.” He ended the call there.

You stood there blankly for a while before dropping the phone to the ground and crushing it. Usually you wouldn’t have to do that; removing the battery would be enough. This time you wanted to.

Your chest rose and fell heavily. You loathed him. Yet, you couldn’t fucking leave. 

“Hey.” Your eyes snapped back to Sam. “We still going on that run?”

__

The wind felt good.

Your muscles were burning and you could feel the constriction of your lungs but you liked it. The endorphins were working their charm.

Sam was right beside you, not questioning why there was so much aggression in your movement. You had lost track of how long you had been running. You couldn’t bring yourself to focus on that.

The path was paved with fallen branches and roots sticking out, forcing you to hop over some of them to avoid falling. It only annoyed you further.

You wanted to punch something. Or someone. The tension was rolling off your back in waves, and if someone saw you the’d probably believe you were going to commit an act of violence.

It was a while before you felt your steps begin to falter, the need for a proper breath taking precedence over the want to run more.

“Timeout?” you asked Sam breathlessly, slowing your pace to a jog.

“Sure about that, Usain Bolt?” he huffed, slowing his pace to match yours.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismissed it. “T’was fun.”

Now that you had slowed down, it forced you to come to terms with how much energy you had just burnt out.

“You wanna talk about what’s on your mind or ignore it?”

“Rather not talk about it for now.” The more you thought about him, the angrier you got. And as of late, you had realised that your method of dealing with that anger wasn’t the best.

The air was getting colder. It was getting harder to see what was in front of you, relying on the few rays of sunlight that shone through the treetops. You took a roundabout at your self declared checkpoint, changing course back to the house.

Sam followed wordlessly, but his presence was strangely comforting. Warm.

“Thank you.”

“For...” he trailed off, prodding you on.

“I don’t know. This.” You gestured to the path ahead of you. “I didn’t think you’d agree to it.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” His eyebrows knit together in puzzlement.

You didn’t have an answer to that. Probably because you weren’t used to people just doing nice things for no apparent reason.

“How are you so calm all the time? I’ve never seen him get under your skin,” you asked quietly. “How do you do it?”

He didn’t answer straight away. He mulled over it as he dodged broken sticks and upended roots on the ground. You would be fine if he didn’t answer either; as long as he knew that you appreciated it.

“I just realised that everything he put into me was destructive. Actively worked on unlearning it,” he replied after a while. “It took me years to even begin.”

You expected to hear that but it didn’t make it easier.

“I don’t even know how to start,” you mumbled. It was so tiring, even thinking of where and how it began. It was all you knew. All you were taught.

“If I could add something?”

You looked at him questioningly.

“You had a different relationship with him than all of us, Y/N. A deeper one. It’s not easy to forget that,” he pointed out. “But… you’re not him. That takes strength.”

These weren’t new revelations. It was things you had told yourself earlier to rationalise all your actions. You knew it on a surface level but it was difficult to convince yourself sincerely.

You didn’t say anything, just continued jogging with an eye on the ground. 

It felt better to hear it from someone else. A starting point to maybe get to where he was, too.

“I just can’t believe anyone took him seriously enough for him to get this far,” Sam added, a tick of annoyance in his voice. “I don’t condone bullying but someone should have just punched him in the face as a child.”

It wasn’t even the funniest thing you had heard him say but for some reason it elicited a snort from you, soon giving way to a laugh.

His face snapped to yours at the sound of your laughter, a small smile growing on his face.

His brief moment of distraction was all it took for him to not notice the tree root sticking out in front of him. His ankle got caught in the wood, sending him stumbling to the ground face forward.

“Oh shit,” you cursed, halting in your place immediately, dropping to your knees to where he was.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he groaned, turning onto his back. “I think I broke my face.”

“That may be a bit excessive but your nose is definitely bleeding,” you knew this was serious but you were finding it difficult to control your laughter once you realised it wasn’t a life threatening injury.

“Just leave me here to die.” He covered his eyes with his elbow, refusing to look at you.

“C’mon, Wilson. Let’s get you fixed up.” You stood up, offering your hand. He grabbed onto it, hoisting himself up.  “Can you stand up straight? Do you think you have a concussion?”

“World class assassin,” he grumbled, shaking his head to imply he was fine other than a possible broken nose.

“Promise I won’t tell. Your reputation is safe,” you said it humorously but with conviction, hoping to make it less embarrassing for him. Not that you’d let him forget it any time soon.

It took longer to walk back considering how far you had ventured out, along with the fact that you had to guide him as he held his nose in the air to try and control the bleeding.

You pushed open the door to the house, holding it open as he walked in. Sam made his way to the dining room after you told him you’d get the first aid kit for the second time during your stay there.

By the time you returned from the bathroom, grabbing an old t-shirt along the way, he had a single ice cube pressed to the bridge of his nose.

“That’s not going to be enough.” You dropped the kit onto the table, opening the mini fridge. You emptied the ice cubes from the tray onto the t-shirt, twisting it into a small ice pack.

“These are my battle scars.” You could tell that he was trying not to use his nose. He sounded ridiculous. 

“Whatever makes you feel better, Sam,” you chortled. His mouth eased into a half smile and you didn’t get why until you realised it was the first time you had called him by his name. You didn’t acknowledge it, surprised by how easily it slipped out from your mouth when you weren’t actively stopping it.

You gave him a bit of cotton to wipe off the blood that had dried on his face.

“Look up,” you instructed, standing over him so you could assess the damage. He complied, letting you cradle his jaw softly, tilting his head to see if there were any signs of a fracture or anything worse.

It was a bad fall, but nothing he hadn’t been through before in terms of severeness. It wasn’t going to leave a mark.

“Definitely going to bruise but it’s not broken,” you concluded, going over it once more to make sure.

“Thanks, doc,” his voice came softly from below you. Only then did you realise how close you were standing to him. You could feel his breath on your wrist that was still caressing his face.

It felt like eternity, but he didn’t make an effort to move or shove you away. Your eyes flitted down to his lips for a second. If you just leaned dow-

“Right,” you cleared your throat, taking a step back. “Just hold this to your face for a while to reduce any swelling.”

You handed him the makeshift ice pack, feeling the heat creep up your neck.

“Your turn to use the bed tonight, right?” His voice was significantly lower than what it had been a few minutes ago, something you weren’t acclimated to hearing. It only made your face feel hotter.

“Yeah.” You avoided meeting his eyes, using the time to close the first aid kid. “Unless you want it.”

“No, go ahead.”

It was too early to retire for the evening but suddenly you weren’t all that hungry anymore. Apparently neither was he.

“See you tomorrow, then?” you inquired, turning away before he could see you cringe.

“See you tomorrow,” he confirmed, “Good night.”

You just gave him a short wave over your shoulder and physically restrained from walking to the room, shutting the door and never looking at him again. You hoped he didn’t notice or at least never bring it up if he did.

You couldn’t do this. Not again.

Not when you knew the consequences.

Next part

[peachyyykid]

Deceivers Ch. 4 - Flit

Word Count: 3748

Chapter 3 - Noble

Chapter 5 - Pirates

One week had passed since the world noble Charlos bought you at the auction house. After the branding, the guards had put you into skimpy lace underwear that barely covered your nipples and ass. You had felt slight relieve when they brought out a piece of fabric to put around your waist, but it was completely see-through and therefore, useless. The exploding collar was still in its place and Charlos added a leash to it.

You would walk behind him with another woman next to you, whom you weren't allowed to speak to. He pulled you through the streets and alleys of Sabaody, the eyes of the people in town made you uncomfortable, their gazes lingering on your exposed body.

It was so utterly embarrassing and degrading. From time to time, you would feel tugs in your chest, but you managed not to cry. Tears meant him kicking or punching you in front of all these people, and that somehow embarrassed you more than being half naked.

Some looked at you with pity, some shady men enjoyed your private parts almost spilling out, but most people just looked away. You were walking with a world noble after all, and they probably didn't want to die. He was usually riding on the back of another slave, and although you were in the same predicament as him, your heart hurt every time he trembled under Charlos' weight. But how could you help him if you couldn't even help yourself?

Every time you spoke without being asked, he gave you a hard back handed slap and if he felt particularly angry, he kicked you until you fell to the ground. The first few days this hadn't stopped you from annoying him on purpose, but the bruises piled up and soon you felt a stinging sensation in your ribs while breathing. The branding on your back healed quite well, although whenever you saw it in a mirror you cringed. They called it "the hoof of the flying dragon", which would be a beautiful name if it didn't have such a horrid back story.

Death, either yours or his, became an option you considered every time "Saint" Charlos groped your ass or fondled with your breasts. The thoughts you had about him grew more and more violent each day. You just wanted to hurt him.

The worst day so far was today. He wanted to eat dinner at a very fancy restaurant, and you stood next to him while he ate, making disgusting smacking and slurping sounds and laughing about "peasants" with his father and sister, who you despised as soon as you met them.

"Dear son", Rosward whistled, "you must give wife 14 the infertility shot as soon as we are home. It would be a shame if our blood were tainted with an improper heir due to your activities."

Your eyes widened as he mentioned infertility shots and the "activities", but you didn't dare to speak. Actually, thinking about it, it didn't really surprise you that much. He gave you the name wife 14, and he most definitely doesn't just display his wives somewhere just to look at them. His intentions were clear as glass.

"It will be so much fun, wife 14! I will get good use out of you", Charlos cheered while grabbing a handful of your exposed ass, making you flinch. You just wanted to smash his head into the plate of food.

"I know a good doctor, brother. If she wears out, he can stitch her back up, my friend said his mistresses were just like new", Shalria giggled behind her hand and Charlos formed his mouth into an o-shape. The fact that they spoke so freely about these things as a family, while normal families talked about their kids' school days or something, made you shiver in fear of what he was ready to do in private.

Her mentioning stitching you up sounded so nonchalant, while this practice was nothing else than disgusting. Some of your medicine books mentioned it, but it was a really old tradition that was actually forbidden by the world government. And here were the world nobles, completely ignoring rules that applied to everyone else (and for a good reason that was).

Jeany was right and all your life, you had blindly believed all these great and noble things you learned about the government and the world nobles.

How could I have been this stupid..., you thought and lowered your head. Small tears were forming in the corners of your eyes, and you blinked them away before anyone could see them.

If you had told your past self about the life, you had now you would have laughed. It was kind of ridiculous. Suddenly, something dawned you: You definitely had to flee, but time was running out. As soon as Charlos took you to Mary Geoise it was over, there was no way to get away from there. Your escape had to happen on Sabaody, basically the sooner the better.

Carefully, you eyed your surroundings in the restaurant. It was a fancy place, white furniture and walls with floor length windows. All the waiters were dressed in suits and had impeccable posture, carrying shiny silver plates with dish covers.

According to their status, the world nobles were seated on an open landing above the other guests. A flight of stairs led to the ground floor, with the kitchen on the left. Waiters scurried in and out of the room, trying their best to satisfy the demanding customers.

The world noble's table was the only one on the landing. It looked very expensive, clad in a white satin tablecloth reaching the floor. They sat on comfy chairs that matched the table.

Charlos' disgusting smacking and slurping never left your ears and it was becoming unbearable. Neither him, nor his father and sister were paying you any attention while they indulged on their food. You would expect table manners from someone like them, but they just looked like hungry pigs.

You frowned and carefully glanced at Charlos' other wife next to you. When she looked back, you motioned towards the stairs with your eyes. She widened her eyes in shock and shook her head, telling you to stop having crazy ideas.

If you were honest to yourself, you didn't even know what your plan was. You went through some ideas in your head.

Plan A was running, nothing else. But you ditched that plan quickly, they would just catch you or make your collar explode. Plan B was better, attacking them to get a chance to get rid of the collar. But how? The guards in the auction house said even attempting to remove it would trigger the explosion. Both of these possibilities weren't perfect, but you didn't have a plan C either.

However, fate decided to play in your favour.

A young waiter was coming up the stairs with another plate for the nobles, which was filled up to the brim with food. He visibly struggled balancing the silver platter and just before he reached the safety of the table, the plate wobbled dangerously, and he lost concentration. With wide eyes you watched as the plate tipped over in his hands, comically slow. The waiter tried to catch it, but he only made it worse. Mid-air, he hauled the plate towards Charlos and his family instead of catching it and the dish landed on their faces with a splattering sound.

The whole situation seemed like a theatre play. Before you could even think twice about it, you used the confusion around you to roughly yank at the leash that was connected to Charlos' chair, resulting in it tipping over with him on it. With a loud thud, his body hit the ground. Shalria and Roswald shrieked, trying to wipe the food away from their faces. Charlos tried to get up, but he just rolled around on his back like a fat bug.

"Shalria!", he yelled from the floor, "get the remote!"

This was your cue. You made a beeline for the stairs, carefully not to trip over the poor waiter. You pulled him up by the collar.

"You need to run, they'll kill you", you said and then looked back at the other enslaved woman, who was still standing there motionless. She shook her head and didn't budge, and you knew that she was too scared to run. It was her decision though, you couldn't help her if she didn't want it.

The leash was rustling behind you as you hurried down the stairs. If Charlos got a hold of the remote to make your collar explode it would be over for you, but it would still be better than being tortured and raped in Mary Geoise until they disposed of you.

Since the nobles were still screaming their heads of, you figured that they still hadn't found it.

At the end of the stairs, you quickly jumped into the kitchen, past some waiters who wanted to attend the scene on the landing.

"Ok, what do I do now", you panted, running around the room hurriedly. While scanning the counters and appliances with your eyes, they fell on a big pot of cooking oil.

With no hesitation, you grabbed the pot and poured the oil over your head and the explosive collar. If you tried hard enough, you could squeeze your head through it with the help of the greasy liquid.

"Hot!", you swore when the oil hit your skin, but luckily it wasn't hot enough to burn you.

You sat on the floor, rubbing the oil over your head and neck. Suddenly, the collar started beeping and you put two and two together. It was only a matter of time until the collar would explode. Breathing heavily and stretching your neck as far as possible, you pulled on it with slippery hands.

"Please... please. Come. Off!", you cried and with one last pull, the collar slipped over your head, landing on the floor next to you. You felt a sharp pain in your ears from the collar going past them, but you had to ignore that for now.

Your breathing picked up when the collar started beeping faster and you kicked it mindlessly, to get it as far away from you as possible. You managed to kick it a good meter farther and the collar exploded with a loud noise. The impact pushed you to your back and your ears were ringing.

A sharp pain travelling from your foot up to your hip pulled you back into reality. The explosion had been too close after all, and you saw your leg bleeding.

"Oh my god", you panted, and tears were threatening to blur your vision. Reading about such things in books was way different than seeing yourself being actually hurt, and the pain was numbing your head.

I don't have time for this, you thought and pulled your leg up carefully, wiping the tears away. You had another look around the kitchen and found some towels and a roasted piece of meat with some string around it.

Somehow, you heaved yourself up, finding support on the counters. The string around the meat easily came off and the paper towels weren't far either.

"Ok, I know what to do. I learned this", you said while wrapping the towels around your injured leg. You hissed when the material touched the wound, but it couldn't be helped. You tried your best tying the string around it and when it felt like it could last a while, you started limping towards a door at the end of the kitchen that you assumed would lead outside.

It was only a matter of time until the nobles came after you, so you approached the door as fast as possible. Luckily, it wasn't locked, and you peered through the frame. You were right, it did lead outside and even better, you couldn't see anybody. When the door fell back, you could hear aggravated screaming outside the kitchen door.

"What am I paying you stupid bodyguards for! If you don't find that slut, I will feed your guts to the dogs!" That was Charlos, who had apparently called his bodyguards inside the restaurant for a little help.

You couldn't afford to think about the consequences of your escape if they found you, so instead you picked up your pace. Your leg hurt like hell, but you would have to deal with it later. Your primary goal was to survive.

When another wave of adrenaline hit you, you started running in the direction that would lead you the farthest away from the restaurant. Charlos and his guard dogs would surely find you in no time if you hesitated, although it was getting dark outside.

"Shit", you exclaimed when you saw where you had ended up after a good minute of running. It was the shore, and there was no way to run any further. Sabaody was made of several small islands, but there wasn't a bridge or anything that would lead you to the next island. If you ran along the shore, they would spot you instantly.

Anxiously, you looked around. The only thing you spotted was a ships mast behind a tree. No matter who this ship belonged to, it was your only hope. The furious voice of Charlos rang in your ears and you made your way towards the ship.

It seemed like there was no one aboard and when you were close enough, you wanted to shout out to them, but you decided against it when Charlos' voice came closer. There was no ladder on the ship, so you had to think quickly.

The adrenaline made the pain in your leg more bearable, and you managed to jump high enough to grab the gunwale. You lost the hold as soon as you wanted to haul yourself on deck, since your hands were still slippery from the oil. You tried to hold onto the hull, but to no avail. With a loud splashing sound, you landed in the ice-cold water.

"Shi-", you hissed and cursed Charlos' clothing choice for you. The coldness was all around your body and you were afraid that you'd freeze to death, although the sea water soothed your injured leg.

"Guards!", bellowed Charlos' nasal voice and your heartbeat picked up instantly.

They found me!

You pressed your body under water and as close to the bottom of the hull as possible. If they couldn't see you, they would maybe retreat. Your heart beat so fast that you thought it was impossible to overhear from where they stood. But instead of checking the water, the men jumped on the ship.

"Search that ship and then come back immediately!", Charlos ordered, and you prayed that they wouldn't sink it when they were done. It was your only hiding spot.

Shalria's shrill voice came from the distance. "Brother! Brother come back quick, wife 10 tried to escape but we managed to stop her!"

Charlos tsked angrily, turned on his heel and his guards left the ship. They slowly went back to the restaurant, and he muttered inaudible things under his breath, sounding very upset.

Wife 10 tried to escape... that poor woman, why didn't she come with me!

The other woman's fate was settled. It was surely over for her, and you felt guilty that you didn't take her with you, by force if necessary. But it was too late. It was a miracle that you managed to escape, and luck had really been on your side tonight.

By now, the sea water had washed away the oil, and you started another attempt at climbing up the hull, digging your fingers into the bumpy wood as hard as possible. Maybe you could treat your wounds on the ship and find something to eat, in the best case some new clothes. This was probably a ship belonging to some merchants or something. If you explained your situation to them, they'd surely understand.

It was a particularly dark night, so you did neither see that the bow was actually a dinosaur skull, nor the pirate flag swaying proudly in the breeze. A white skull with fiery red hair and goggles glanced down on you and watched you as you intruded the ship.

You didn't make it far because a wave of fatigue washed over you, so you decided to sit down first. Immediately you regretted that decision because it took away the adrenaline and you now felt the pain in your entire body. Your leg, your ears and your hands were the worst. You shivered in your wet, skimpy clothes and hugged your body tightly to gain some warmth.

For the first time since the start of your escape, you felt empty and lost. You had thought that it would become better, that being away from the world nobles would make your situation more hopeful, but nothing changed. You had nowhere to go. Your parents were still dead, everyone at home was dead. You didn't know where your brother was and no way of finding out. You had never been told where exactly Deku-sama lived and walking around on Sabaody wasn't an option either.

For now, you could only sit around on this ship. You wanted to stand up, to at least find a blanket and some food, but at the same time you wanted to sit in the freezing cold to numb the pain. Finally, you were able to cry. It was relieving to at least feel some kind of emotion.

Violent sobs racked your body and the planks below you turned dark with tears. At last, you could let it all out. You curled up into a ball on the wooden planks. It must have been pitiful to look at, and you wished for someone to pull you into their arms, rocking you back and forth to comfort you. You craved the gentle embrace of your mother or even just your father patting your back. Something, just some kind of physical comfort. But you would never feel that kind of tender care again because everyone was gone.

After what felt like hours of crying, your tears had dried and only occasionally you let out a quiet whimper. You didn't know if the physical or the emotional pain was worse. The makeshift bandage on your leg was merely a piece of cloth now, but at least the bleeding had stopped. You looked at the throbbing limb and tried to concentrate on something other than the obvious pain.

It was useless. The crying and the pain took a toll on your body, and you slowly slipped into a rough sleep, feeling as numb as never before.

You woke up startled, scurrying around on the deck because of one of many nightmares that you had since you were abducted. You blinked rapidly, trying to make out your surroundings. It was dawn already and you could finally see what kind of ship you climbed onto. It was quite colourful, a black mast and sail, a green galley, red quarters, and a giant yellow skull in the front. A very odd merchant ship.

A giant yellow skull in the front? A black sail... there's a skull with flames on said sail..., you thought, looking up.

"Holy shit, not again!", you exclaimed while letting your eyes roam the ship. Again, you had somehow ended up on a fucking pirate ship. A brutal looking one at that. It was a lot larger than the ship of that dirty captain and looked more special. There was no doubt that it belonged to a ruthless pirate crew.

Loud chattering and hoarse laughter shifted your attention towards the shore. Carefully, you peeked over the railing. You saw a group of men in the distance, making their way towards the ship. With wide eyes you watched them banter with each other, but soon your eyes fell on the tall man walking in the middle, who didn't engage in the playful antics of the others.

He just smirked, carrying a bottle of alcohol in his right hand, his left hand stuffed in his trouser pockets leisurely. He wore a dark, heavy looking fur coat with golden spikes and a thin leather bandolier around his chest, holding a dagger and a small gun.

You looked at the sail above you, then back at his face. No doubt, it was his jolly roger up there. The fiery red hair and the goggles on his forehead were definitely his trademark. You studied his appearance a little more, even though you were scared to your bones.

His height was impressive. He was the tallest among the crew and the fur coat didn't hide his bare chest, his muscular torso clearly visible. His amber eyes, no, his whole face was intimidating. It took you a few seconds to realise that he didn't have eyebrows, but it didn't look ridiculous. He had red lips, kind of matching his hair.

You found yourself staring at him a little too long, not really knowing why. Something just drew you to him. His face and demeanour screamed danger, but he somehow fascinated you with his confident stance and his fierce eyes. His presence was overwhelming, although not in a bad way. He was different from the other men you had met in your life.

You should have escaped the ship while you still had time, but you had lost yourself in the man's eyes. When you came back to your senses, the group had nearly reached the ship, and you hurried to the other side of the deck to jump into the water. Finding a hideout on Sabaody to look for an innocent soul to help you or the marines seemed a better option than staying on yet another pirate ship, even with the world nobles at your heels.

You wanted to run but your leg didn't really allow it. With a few last limps, you barely reached the opposite railing. A whooshing sound behind you made you halt and turn around. The huge shadow of the man in the fur coat blocked the rising sun as he jumped onto the deck. Frozen in shock, you missed the last chance of escaping into the water.

With doe eyes, you watched him as he landed in front of you, inspecting your sitting frame with a frown.

"Who the fuck are you and why are you on my fucking ship?"

[thearvariblues]

A Man of Easy Virtues

Just another ‘I’m so sorry but I couldn’t resist’ fics I wrote instead of, you know, doing the important things I should be doing.

This time it’s based on @likecastle‘s post about the kind of pants Jaskier should be wearing (and isn’t wearing, obviously) in the show and all the fanfics.

Warning for almost underage slutty bard (don’t worry, though, he’s eighteen, so definitely not a kid) and no Geralt in sight.

And yes, there will definitely be a part 2.

*

“You don’t understand,” Jaskier sighs and looks down at the tiny, fat tailor in front of him. “I just need a pair of pants that stays up without a hundred tiny ribbons.”

“They aren’t ribbons, young man,” the tailor says. “They are actually called–”

“I don’t care what they’re called. I don’t want them anywhere near me.”

“How would your pants stay up, then?” the tailor frowns.

“I don’t know. You’re the expert!”

The tailor sighs and lifts his hands to fix Jaskier’s partially unbuttoned doublet.

“Young man. How old are you?”

“Eighteen,” Jaskier mutters.

“Eighteen,” the man repeats. “Are you aware, young man, that what you’re asking for is very inappropriate?”

“But very practical. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get into appropriate clothes when you’re in a hurry?”

“There are things you cannot hurry up, young man. This is one of them.”

“Have you ever tried telling that to an angry cuckold?”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing,” Jaskier bites his lower lip. “Could you at least consider–”

“No.”

“I will pay you double–”

“Still no. There,” the man smiles, straightening Jaskier’s collar. “Much better now. Your chemise is meant to be hidden. You wouldn’t want people to think that you are a man of easy virtues, would you?”

“Oh, no,” Jaskier mutters. “That would be horrible…”

*

“Fuck, yes,” Jaskier moans as a pair of eager hands slip into his doublet. “Please.”

“Mhmh,” his lover’s deep voice answers, impatiently tugging at Jaskier’s chemise. “More skin. Right fucking now.”

“I actually don’t think,” Jaskier murmurs between the kisses, “that it will be possible to… Oh, yes.”

The hands slip lower and try to get into Jaskier’s pants. They don’t succeed. The man – the Witcher, for fuck’s sake – growls.

Which is fair, Jaskier assumes, because while the young student’s fingers are roaming freely over the scarred torso and firm buttocks, Jaskier is still fully clothed. And it is going to take forever before he’s naked.

“Drowner’s shrunken ball sack,” the Witcher swears, tugging at one of the points holding Jaskier’s clothes together. “I’d sooner get into a noonwraith’s rotting cunt than your asshole!”

“Yeah, it’s a little complicated, but if you let go for a little while–”

“Oh, fuck off,” the man grunts and before Jaskier even blinks, there’s a long knife in the man’s hand. And before Jaskier manages to open his mouth to protest, the man makes short work of all the points and unceremoniously throws Jaskier onto the bed, grinning.

“Well, fuck me,” Jaskier whispers, feeling his blood rush straight to his crotch (well, at least the tiny amount of blood that wasn’t there already).

“That’s the plan,” the man nods, cutting Jaskier’s chemise open. “The name’s Lambert, in case you forgot. Because I expect you to scream it until your voice is fucking raw.”

“Yes, sir,” Jaskier purrs.

The Witcher smiles.

“Good boy.”

*

“Melitele’s tits!” Jaskier swears, staring at his pants in disbelief.

Lambert lifts his head from the pillow and raises an eyebrow.

“Problem?” he asks.

“There is, actually. You completely ruined them!” Jaskier growls and throws his currently useless pants at him. “How the fuck am I supposed to get back home?”

“Oh, come on. I was careful not to cut anything but those motherfucking tiny ribbons. It’s not the end of the world. What do you need them for, anyway? I mean apart from driving potential lovers insane with lust.”

“Well, for nothing important. Just holding the fucking thing up,” Jaskier sighs and puts on his doublet, which is his only piece of clothing that’s intact. He’s slowly coming to terms with walking home with his ass bare. Again. Third time this week.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Lambert frowns. “Shit. Sorry, I guess. Would you like my spare pair?”

“Does it have the points, or did you cut them off when you urgently needed to take a shit?” Jaskier smirks.

“I honestly don’t know what the fuck are you even talking about.” Lambert gets up and after a few seconds of rummaging through his bag he pulls out a pair of worn-out leather pants and throws them to Jaskier. “Here. Take them. Guess what. They stay up on their own.”

“They… do?” Jaskier whispers, his eyes going comically wide.

“Honey, when werewolves attack your camp while your Cat Witcher boyfriend is balls-deep in your ass, you don’t have time to tie some fucking ribbons.”

“Cat Witcher…” Jaskier blinks.

As if on cue, the room’s door open and a lean, long-haired blond man rushes in, slams the door closed behind him and starts dragging a large chest in front of it.

“Oh, you’re done. Good,” he says to Lambert. “We need to leave. Now.”

“Aiden, I swear by Vesemir’s flaccid cock…” Lambert groans. “What did I ask you – no, beg you not to do tonight?!”

“I swear I didn’t cheat this time!” the man says, leaning with his full weight against the chest just as someone starts to bang on the door. “It’s not my fault I’m so fucking good at gwent, is it?”

“Good at gwent my ass. I could beat you drunk if you didn’t have another whole pack stuffed into your sleeves.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Lambert. It’s not a whole pack. Just like… twenty cards or something, usually.” The man grins at Jaskier. The doorknob rattles. “Hey, Lambert’s fuck of the day. I’d suggest you start getting dressed.”

“Just how many did you manage to piss off this time?” Lambert asks, already pulling his shirt over his head.

“Not many. I could deal with them in a matter of seconds, but you always say your brother doesn’t like it when Witchers murder innocent citizens.”

“You mean my brother the fucking Butcher of Blaviken?” Lambert laughs.

Jaskier looks up from fastening his (well, Lambert’s) pants and gapes at the two Witchers.

“Your brother,” he whispers. “Your brother is Geralt of–”

“Not now,” Lambert says. “We’re in a bit of a hurry. Tell me, Jaskier, have you ever jumped out of a window before?”

“Four times just this week. Mostly to escape jealous husbands. A jealous wife, in one case.”

“Good,” Aiden nods, letting go of the chest supporting the door and grabbing his bag. “Let’s jump.”

*

The tiny, fat tailor is staring at the pair of worn-out black leather pants laid out in front of him with polite disgust.

“Not possible,” he says for the fifth time.

“Let’s be absolutely clear here,” Jaskier smiles and his voice holds just a hint of a promise of some very unpleasant things that could hypothetically happen to the tiny man. “Do you know my name?”

“No, young man, and I wouldn’t care even if you were–”

“Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove,” Jaskier says calmly.

“Oh,” the man replies and he suddenly seems even smaller than before.

“I am willing to pay you twice your usual fee–”

“Sir, what you’re requiring is outrageous–”

“Three times.”

“I couldn’t possibly sully the name of my shop with such an immodest–”

“Four times your usual fee, and an opportunity to start a fashion revolution.”

The man closes his eyes and nods slowly.

“Four times my usual fee. You can keep the revolution. It’s not as if you can find another man willing to wear something so scandalous…”

*

In a month, almost every young man in Oxenfurt (and several young women) wears the same model of pants Jaskier does. It’s much more comfortable, and also much easier to get into if you happen to get caught naked in a bed you shouldn’t be in, making it an instant hit among the students.

When Jaskier jumps, completely dressed, out of yet another window, this time running from a father whose two sons he just fucked into the bed, he thinks that he definitely has to thank Lambert and Aiden properly the next time he sees them.

Or any other Witcher he meets until then.

They basically saved his life, didn’t they?