#been beating my head continuously against a brick wall for the past week or so but I'm free after this weekend 🙌

[littlewitchbee]

falman ftuesday. time is an illusion and I'm dead inside anyway

[aemondapologistfrfr]

You Can Have Anything You Want

aegon x fem!reader

Summary: Aegon needs comfort and seeks out the only person who can give him what he needs. You help him calm down and offer him as much comfort he desires.

Warnings: 18+ alicent not breaking generational curses!, swearing, wine, handjob, praise kink, oral(m), p in v, unprotected, sub!aeg 🫂, overstim

Authors Note: somewhat a s1ep8 insert but different bc i just wanna take care of him rn 🙂‍↕️🫠 bruh i almost put ice in this fic and i was like damn they really didn’t have ice or freezers wtf shits crazy - what’s also crazy is i’m posting this from my graduation ceremony so i’ll add the links to my masterlist and tag my taglist in a couple hours lmfao xx

Word Count: 2.8k

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Aegon doesn’t care that Rhaenyra and Daemon are coming to court. He doesn’t care about the succession or any of it. All his mother does is yell at him lately and he can’t take it anymore. He avoids being within the Keep’s walls as often as he can but over the past week leading up to his sister's arrival she’s had him watched more carefully. The tunnels were his only form of escape but when he was found stumbling in the front gate of the Keep in the early hours of the morning she had his guard check on him in his chambers hourly to make sure he was where he was supposed to be.

“How kind of you to check on me in my cell.” Aegon turns his head as his mother walks into his chambers.

“I could have a cell prepared for you.” she looks at him with exhausted eyes. “I don’t understand what happened to the sweet boy I once had.” she sighs.

“Mm,” he nods his head and walks over to the table to pour himself a cup of wine but finds the bottle empty. He curses lowly and walks over to his stash and fishes out a clear jar of amber liquid.

“Gods and the amount you drink..” she continues to tear into his every move and every choice. He drowns out her words and walks back to the table to pour his glass to the brim. He jumps when he feels her hand on his shoulder and he sets the bottle down with shaking hands. “Are you even listening to me?” she pulls him towards him.

“You yell at me about the same things every single day, mother.” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I’m not the son you want. You don’t like anything about me and you wish I was different. Did I miss anything?” he gasps as her hand flies across his face.

Everytime she hits him he hopes it’ll be the last. Surely a woman who has devoted herself so wholly to the Gods wouldn’t subject her children to such things. He turns back to her with wet eyes and she scoffs at him. He clenches his jaw and tries to make his mind go blank as she looks over him. She offers him a sneer before sweeping out of his chambers and leaving her self hatred and poor upbringing across his face. He turns back to the table to fill his glass and drains its contents in one go. He sighs, brushing his hair back and out of his face before walking over to the tunnel door.

Aegon softly closes the door that connects to his chambers and sighs in relief as the cool air breathes against his skin. He starts down the stairs trying to push his mothers words and actions out of his head so his tears don’t start anew. Once he’s out of the confines of the Keep it feels as if weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He slips through the crowds as he makes his way deeper into the city. When the crowds get thinner the more depraved his sights become.

The sounds of people coupling in the alleys greet his ears and his heart starts to beat faster. Gods the women on their knees in front of men leaning against the brick have him wanting to stop and watch for a while. He shakes his head and keeps walking because what he seeks tonight is very specific. His pace slows as he rounds the corner and stops in front of large wooden doors. He pushes them open and is immediately greeted by the warm atmosphere.

He finds it funny that he can feel such a sense of comfort in a pleasure house but to him this is how he envisions a loving home to be. Soft lighting and plush couches fill up the main room. There is a soft haze in the air from the candles and incense and words and sounds of pleasure here are more hushed, more intimate. He inhales deeply shutting his eyes and when he exhales his shoulders relax. As he opens his eyes he’s greeted by the madam standing in front of him with a soft smile.

“What would you like tonight, my Prince?” she purrs.

“I want to see her.” he feels his cheeks flush. He looks around the room more intensely searching for your face amongst the couches. He turns back to the madam when he can’t spot you. “Where is she?” his brows scrunch.

“I’ll go get her.” the madam cups his cheek. “Go get a drink.” she pats his chest and disappears behind the curtain.

Aegon sighs and walks past the different couples, never shying away to look longer than he should. The barhand hands him an overflowing cup of ale and Aegon nods his head before downing half of the cup before walking back through the open room. Aegon sinks into an unoccupied couch and lets his eyes shut as he finishes the rest of his cup. A smile spreads across his face as he feels your fingers brushing his hair back. When your nails scrape against his scalp he cracks his eyes open and flushes as he’s greeted by your exposed chest.

“Hello my sweet boy.” you hum, softly tugging his hair. You watch as he leans back into your touch and lets out a soft whine. “Do you want to go to bed?” he nods his head once and you walk around the couch and pull him up. You lead him down the hall and into your room and start to lift off his tunic. “What’s wrong?” you brush his hair back taking in his soft pout and red cheeks. As you search his eyes you see them start to well with tears and then notice that one of his cheeks is redder than the other.

“I don’t know.” he curses himself as his voice breaks. When you wrap your arms around him he freezes and then completely falls apart in your arms. “I’m sorry.” he rasps as his tears fall onto your shoulder.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” you whisper into his neck. You smooth his hair and his breathing starts to even out. “Are you okay?” you lean back and search his eyes. You cup his overly red cheek and softly stroke your thumb over the heated skin. “Do you want me to get you a cool cloth?” he will never get used to your kindness.

“No.” he shakes his head. “I’ll be okay.” his hands squeeze at your sides. “I just want you.” he trails his fingers up your sides to rub under your breasts.

“You can always have me, Aegon.” you start to unlace his trousers and push them down. “You can have anything you want, good boy.” you blink up at him and he lets out a soft whine.

“I want to go to your bed.” he smiles as you grab his hand and lead him over to your warm bed. He’s sure you have the softest blankets and pillows throughout all of the realm and he revels when he gets to lay in them with you. He watches as you sit back against your mountain of pillows and gesture for him to come to you.

“Come, let me help you feel better.” you grab his hand and help him lean back against your chest and sit between your legs. After he’s settled your lips press against his neck while your hands squeeze at his sides. He lets out soft whimpers as your hands roam across his chest while grazing your nails down his soft skin.

“Please,” he softly gasps as your hands tease down his thighs.

“What do you want, sweet boy?” you suck softly at his neck. You look down and see his red and leaking tip and smile to yourself. He whimpers, jerking his hips up and grabbing for your hand. Aegon brings your hand to his straining cock and sighs when your fingers wrap around him. You stroke him slowly, thumbing the droplets from his tip to help your hand glide smoother.

“Please, please,” he jerks his hips up into your hand.

“Shh shh,” you whisper into his neck. You turn his head to press your lips against his mouth. Your hand cradles his cheek while the other pumps his length. “You’re my best boy.” you mumble as you kiss down his jaw and he squirms in your arms. “You have the most pretty cock, Aegon.” you softly suck on his neck.

You slide your hand on his cheek down his torso and past his length to cup his balls. He groans, spreading his legs and leaning back into you. He rocks his hips into your hands and the whines and moans leaving his mouth go straight to your center. “You’re doing so good for me.” you praise as you focus on his tip, swiping your thumb across his slit and underside. “My favorite boy and favorite cock.” his chest tightens at your words.

“Please, yes, I’ll be good,” his words broken and pleasure slurred.

“You’re always so good for me, Aegon,” you press your lips to his pulse. His jerks start to become erratic and you slowly start to move his balls around in your hand and you speed up your pumps. “Be a good boy and come for me.” you tighten your grip and he whines as his pleasure starts to shoot across his flexing stomach. “You did so good, Aegon.” you press your lips up his neck and to his mouth. He devours your mouth desperately as you continue to slowly stroke him.

“Fuck,” he groans into your mouth. “Please,” he rolls his hips, starting to harden again. “I need you to fuck me, please,” he grabs at your arms.

“I was going to suck your cock first.” you press kisses down his jaw as small moans and gasps spill from his lips. “Would you like that, sweet boy? Do you want me to give your cock the kisses and attention it deserves?” you smile when he nods quickly, desperately grabbing for your hands.

“Yes, yes please.” his chest heaves as you slowly start to loosen your grip around his length. You remove your hands from him and slowly start to scoot out from behind him. You kneel next to him and take in his flushed cheeks and parted pink lips. He reaches up and pulls you down to his lips and you indulge in his greedy grip and let his hands travel all over your skin.

You release his lips and kiss down his chest. Your tongue darts across his nipples and he squirms, digging his fingers into your shoulders. Slowing down your movements you leave open mouth kisses down his navel cleaning up his come along the way. He groans watching you lick him clean as he softly bucks his hips. You kiss around his leaking tip that’s resting against his stomach as you settle between his thighs. He props himself up on his elbows when your fingers wrap around his cock and groans as you press your lips against him.

“Such a pretty cock, Aegon.” his cheeks flush a deeper red as your tongue swirls around his tip. “Such a pretty boy with a pretty cock.” he whimpers at your words. “Who is always so good for me. So sweet.” you murmur before flicking your tongue against the underside of his tip. Aegon tosses his head back into the pillows as you suck his tip into your mouth. He whines as your hands squeeze into his hips as you slowly sink your mouth down around him.

“Gods yes,” he whines as your cheeks hollow. His fingers go to your hair and you pull up. “No, please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he removes his hands and you look up to him seeing his lip wobble.

“You have nothing to apologize for, sweet boy.” you hum. “I just want to hold your hands.” you nod at him offering a soft smile. You intertwine your fingers with his and bring them back to his hips as you press your lips against his shaft. He squeezes your hands as you suck him back into your mouth and bring him to the back of your throat. His hips jerk up and you moan around him moving your mouth faster.

“I’m gonna, fuck please,” he gasps as you suck his tip harshly while flicking your tongue against his slit. You look up and see his eyes slam shut as his hips go taught as his seed starts to pour down your throat. You continue your movements as he whimpers above you. “Please,” he squirms and tries to move out of your grasp but you dig your fingers into his as you keep licking and sucking at him. He trembles as you continue to shower him with pleasure as he cries out your name. You slowly loosen your grip on him and pull off of his cock while he whines.

“You did so good for me.” you press your lips back up his navel and chest. As you kiss up his body you move to straddle his hips as you hover above him. “You’re so pretty.” you cup his cheeks and start to pepper kisses across his flushed face. You slowly start to rock your hips against his sensitive cock, watching his eyes roll back. His fingers grip your sides as you slide your wetness across him.

“I wanna be in you. Please,” he jerks his hips up into you. Your lips fall to his and he pulls you closer molding you to him. “Please,” he whispers, arching his chest into yours.

“Relax, sweet boy.” you kiss down his jaw as you grind your hips down harder onto his slowly hardening length. “You know I like to take my time with you.” you chuckle feeling his fingers dig harder into your flesh. “Until your cock is crying for my cunt.” he gasps as your fingers reach between you both to grab his cock.

“Gods I’ll do anything, please,” his voice cracks as you pump him faster. You dip his tip into your wet core only to pull it out the next second. “Fuck,” he pants as he jerks his hips desperately. You guide his tip through your wetness relishing in his whimpers. “Please,” he pushes your hips down and you let out a soft moan. “Fuck, please let me make you feel good.” you nod, guiding his now hard cock to your entrance.

“Aegon,” you whine his name as you sink down on him. You press your hands to his chest as you start to rock against him. He looks up at you with lidded eyes as you start to bounce against him. “You feel so good.” you moan breathlessly tossing your head back. “Your cock always makes me,” you gasp as he jerks his hips up. You slow your rocking and you both moan loudly digging fingers into one another.

You lean down and move your hands to bury them in his hair as you press your lips to his. Aegon’s hands lower to your ass and squeeze before he starts to guide you. “Your cunt hugs my cock so perfectly. I wanna stay in it all night. Please,” you start to rock your hips faster at his words finally working towards your own pleasure.

“Of course, sweet boy.” you bury your head in his neck. “You make me feel so good.” you suck on his neck. Your hips roll against his faster as your stomach starts to tighten. “Fuck, Aegon.” you whine as he jerks his hips up into you. “Just like that, fuck, you’re such a good boy,” you cry out as your pleasure washes through you. He whines as you sink your teeth into his neck.

Aegon fills you with his pleasure at the feeling of you squeezing around him. He holds you tightly as he feels as if he’s being drained completely. His legs shake as you brush his hair back and offer him small kisses. You move up slightly to kiss across his hairline and you both moan at the feeling of him still buried deep inside you.

“You did so good, Aegon.” you press your lips to his. “You’re always so good for me. So good.” you roll your hips and he groans. “My perfect boy with his perfect cock.” his arms tighten around you as you continue to whisper words of praise and affection.

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masterlist 🔌

aegons the goodest boy fr

taglist ✍️

[lieutenantsimonriley]

The Other Woman | Satoru Gojo

Just a small exercise that popped into my head as i’ve been listening to a lot of lana again.

Synopsis: Gojo is promised to a woman from another clan and hasn’t stopped your shared ministrations. 

WC: 990

AO3

unedited

The other woman will never have his love to keep.

The pockmarked ceiling in Gojo’s room has never felt so engrossing; so full of detail, shadows swaying from blemishes she hasn’t noticed before. She swung a leg over the edge of the bed, kicking it to an imaginary rhythm while she put her lips to her cigarette. 

Gojo remained on the balcony, promising honeyed endearments to his betrothed. His elbows sitting on the railing with his phone tucked close to his mouth. She took a deeper inhale of the cigarette; the smoke burning her trachea before remaining in her lungs. She kicked four beats into the bed and exhaled on the fifth. 

She had reached the point where she learned not to listen to Gojo while he’s on the phone with her. Each promise he made to his fiance had sunk deep in her stomach, leaving a pit. She slumped against the pillows he had laid with her on just ten minutes ago until he scrunched her hair and said he had to deal with her. 

A laugh resonated in the still night air, disturbing the smoke clouds she had created. She pinched her eyes shut and thought of another world, one where being born into a low-grade and weak family didn’t exist; another universe where marriages weren’t political and born of greedied words. Maybe then he’d love and marry her. She took another breath and tried to believe facile thoughts.

He used to kiss her on the forehead. Gojo would cradle her head into his chest and whisper to her instead of the other woman, the one from a powerful family. He’d hold her as if she were the most delicate thing in the world, like the flowers he’d wrap and leave for her. 

When the news was broken about the unification of the two most powerful sorcery families, Gojo had assured you that it wouldn’t change anything between both of you. That she was nothing more than a guarantee for elders to mitigate their relationships. That his heart was yours to hold as was yours to him. Gojo had, however, silently plucked it back from your open palm with nothing but actions to end the deal while your anatomy remained beating in his. 

It was only a week until the marriage. His fiance’s family had taken the meticulous responsibility of planning it. Gojo hadn’t been around as much, as was expected, until he sent a text to her in the evening. She hadn’t planned on going, when she read his message she wanted nothing more than to pull away and wallow in her room.

She found herself walking the same route she always did on her way to his room, continuing her tradition of counting down the amount of stairs to walk up until she reached his floor. She still brushed the tips of her fingers along the brick wall two doors before his. She still waited four beats before knocking on his door with the back of her palm in the same spot. 

Gojo welcomed her in with a large smile, his sunglasses sliding down his nose as he looked over her. From there, they found themselves in the same routine: sitting on his couch in their spots, talking before his hand took to her thigh and sliding up with each time he spoke. She gives into his touch and lets him have his way with her, lets him bite down on her neck while burying himself deep inside of her. She lets him pull her back with a fistful of her hair, she lets him spit in her mouth and calls her a slut, claiming her for his and only his use.

When they came down from their highs he tossed her an old shirt from his drawers to clean up and only mess her hair before opening his phone to call her and heading for his balcony. There were no more loving words exchanged or strands of her brushed out of her face before he’d kiss her.

For the past seven times this happened, she promised to herself it’d be the last. That he wasn’t good for her but she only found herself corroborating that cigarettes weren’t good for her but yet she still struck one each time he was finished with her. That she still cherished the burn from the smoke and maybe the smolder in her heart too. 

“I thought I told you to not smoke in my room?” Gojo grinned and leaned against the glass door to his terrace. 

She exhaled, turning in his direction before blowing the smoke out, “thought you told your fiance you want only her?” 

He put a hand over his heart and feigned hurt while he approached the foot of the bed, “ouch, jealous?” 

The woman put the cigarette back in her mouth and sat up, stretching her limbs and quickly surveyed the room for her clothes. “Not really,” she stood to her feet and puffed the tobacco when grabbing her underwear. Gojo watched her from a distance, smirking as she pulled her clothes on.

“I’ll see you soon then,” he closed the gap, walking behind her while she combed through her hair with her fingers in the mirror. She furrowed her brows, not bothering to look at him when he smoothed a wrinkle in her shirt.

She finally removed the cigarette from her lips and focused on him in the mirror, “until next time.” He nodded and unlocked his door, opening it for her. She took a last look at his face before exchanging the gesture and continued counting the steps until she was finally surrounded by solitude.

The other woman will spend her life alone.

[potter-imagines]

Chosen Sister (Fred Weasley x Reader)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Request: I had two Ginny idolizing reader requests so this is the first one! I can't find the exact request but the other will be posted during this coming week. 

Warning: None (vv short sad part)

Word Count: 3.8k

“Give me back my girlfriend, Ginny. I heard that you’re holding her hostage.”

A loud chorus of knocks sounded out from Ginny Weasley’s dorm room. Dinner had finished an hour before and since the meal ceased, Fred had been searching the entire ground for you, his girlfriend. After about thirty minutes tracing your typical patterns and steps around Hogwarts, Fred ran into Angelina and Alicia who informed him of your whereabouts.

They happily explained to them that they saw Ginny dragging you away after dinner. The girls cooed to Fred about how adorable it was that his girlfriend hung out with his little sister, something Fred didn’t exactly view the same.

Fred Weasley checked your dorm room, the common room, the library, Hermione’s dorm, and finally Ginny’s room. As he trudged up the stone steps grounchily, his ears perked to a point at the ring of a voice that was tattooed in his heart. Your innocent, childlike giggle played like a melody in the empty stairwell.

Fred could feel the corner of his lip tugging up to a smile at the sound. That sugared chortle that he had heard millions of times before but somehow still felt his breath catch at the sound. Standing outside his little sister’s door, Fred’s annoyance was dissolving by your haromous voice echoing from the opposite side.

When Ginny failed to open her dorm up the first round of knock, Fred banged on the door again. Huffing in annoying, Ginny shot you a look, already knowing Fred was gonna scold her. She crawled off her bed and waltzed over to her door, taking her sweet time as she did. You couldn’t help the giggles that rumbled through your chest.

Swing the door open swiftly, Ginny glared at Fred with flames blazing in her eyes. If they weren’t related, he might’ve felt a hint of her wrath. But she was his little sister and not even at her angriest did Fred find her intimidating, not in the slightest.

Ginny Weasley was only thirteen yet her sass and feistiness was beyond her years. Growing up with only brothers probably played a hand. The young girl sent her brother a disgusted look then growled at him,

“I am not holding her hostage! For your information, Y/n happens to be my friend. Might sound surprising to you but she actually enjoys hanging out with me, Fred.”

Fred looked past his sister at the mention of your name. A smile lifted to his lips when he found you. You returned the gesture

“You’re right, that does sound surprising.” The snarky remark caused Ginny to furrow her face in a scowl. Lunging forward the youngest Weasley snapped for her older brother, although missed by a long shot.

“You’re infuriating, Fred!” She howled. Her face was turning red with every second that ticked by. If the situation had been different, you might’ve laughed. Getting between the Weasley siblings when they were arguing- that just wasn’t safe for anyone. Ginny’s aggravation was fuming from her pores as she sent you pleading looks to stay.

It was now that you took a look at the old wooden clock hanging on the way above her roommate's bed. The little hand was pointing to the six as the big hand was approaching eleven. The time seemed to fly by at light speed. You had promised to help Ginny hang up some lights in her room. She had wanted to decorate it just likes yours, as she practically admired anything you did. It made you feel special knowing Ginny looked up to you. You had never experienced it before so it was exciting- but also slightly pressurized- to know she was admiring you as a big sister.

Fred let out an exaggerated groan leaning against the wall next to the door.

“Can I please have my girlfriend back? You got your girl time in. Y/n promised to hangout with me tonight, so I’m rescuing her!” A cheeky wink was thrown your way as Fred walked further in the room, slowly sneaking up to you. The annoyed girl rolled her eyes then ignored her brother. She looked back at you and pursed her lips into a thin line. Ginny was too oblivious to notice his stagger but your attention remained set on him the entire time. You didn’t fight the smirk lifting to your lips as he inched closer, and closer until his feet were only steps from his sister’s back. It was then Ginny noticed the amused tint to your face but before she could bring it to light, Fred bent down in one fluid motion and gripped his hands on either side of your hips. As light as a feather he swept you up and quickly darted for the door, as to escape Ginny before she had the chance to retaliate.

“Wait- hey!” Fred slammed the large door then proceeded down the steps.

“Freddie, love, that wasn’t nice.” The giggles poured from your soul as Fred continued to carry you down the stairs, then took a sharp right, and started walking up the boy’s dormitory staircase. You rested your head against the blade of his shoulder, bobbing with every step he took. He was so handsome, even from the most unpleasant angels. His sharp features stuck out in the darkness, striking your heart. His arms cradled you while he laughed, “Oh shush, you didn’t try to stop me. Wasn’t exactly nice of you to just run off in the middle of dinner. You still have time to make it up to me, though.” The teasing arrogance didn’t go unnoticed. You laughed into the material of his sweater, clutching to his chest. The movement of his legs stopped and he softly leaned over to place you on the ground. Taking his wand out from his back pocket he unlocked his door and opened it up for you to walk in.

You stepped into the quiet room then turned to you boyfriend,

“George and Lee in?” You asked. The grin that rose to his lips was an answer enough. Fred closed the door behind him with a slam then jumped onto his bed with a flop. You watched him lay in the middle of the mattress, throwing his hands in a fold behind his head. He shrugged his shoulders and replied,

“Nope. Was there something in particular you had in mind of doing?” His mask of innocence wasn’t fooling either of you, but it was part of the fun. Keeping your eyes glued to his, you slipped the material of your robes off, leaving you in a white long sleeve button up and a small plaid skirt. You basked in the widening eyes of your boyfriend as he shifted on the comforter. His eyes raked over your body from your head down to your toes. You noticed his gaze particularly set on your exposed legs. Smirking to him you sauntered over to his bed and climbed in with him. His large hands found your bottom instantly. “I think you know, Freddie.”

Almost a week later, it happened again. Fred was scrambling around the Gryffindor common room asking every waking student if they had seen you. Most students were getting ready for dinner, some already there. George was waiting near the portrait watching curiously as his twin ran around the room from person to person. Even to George it was a bit strange no one had seen you, although as the hours dragged on he took into account the absence of his little sister also. George sighed to himself then kicked his leg into the wall, leaning back against the brick waiting patiently for Fred.

On the opposite side of the large room, the other half of the Weasley twins was talking to Lee Jordan, seeing if he had any valuable information. Lee, just like everyone else he asked, had no clue where you were. Right as his conversation with Lee was dwindling, the sigh of a curly haired girl caught Fred’s eyes and he abruptly excused himself from Lee and ran over.

As Fred reached Hermione, he gave her shoulder a line of taps,

“Hermione! Hey! Do you know where Y/n is? George said he saw you two in the courtyard this morning but I haven’t seen her all day.” Fred questioned the bright witch in a pleasing tone. She swiveled around and tilted her head to the side causing her frizzy hair to bounce like springs. Eyebrows knitted together, her lips scrunched to the side. Deep in thought she hummed to herself then answered,

“No I don’t at the moment, Fred, I’m sorry. I spent the morning with her and Ginny but I haven’t seen either of them since we left the library around lunch. That was hours ago, though. Maybe try checking Ginny’s room?” Hermione offered.

You had been studying most of the morning in the courtyard then in the library. Ginny and Hermione joined you, despite all three of you being in different years. Not that it came as much of a surprise, but Hermione helped you with your work without missing a beat. Where you were stuck for minutes, she had finished four questions ago. She was a brilliant friend to have, schoolwise and personally. You might be older than the young witch but Hermione’s advice was like no others so you loved having her around.

Fred shook his head and mumbled a ‘no’.

“That was the first place I looked. Don’t know where she is either. Did I do something? Y/n’s not upset with me is she?” The fear and worry in his voice soaked the air and Hermione gave him a gaze of bewilderment.

“What? She didn’t say anything to me about being mad at you and I’m sure she would’ve if she were. She seemed perfectly fine so I don’t think it’s that. Ginny was the one who seemed in a mood if anything.” She stated firmly. As close as the two of you were, you would have told Hermione if Fred angered you. You shared everything with her.

The towering boy nodded, eyes scanning the space behind Hermione. He was running out of places to check and people to ask. Hermione was his best bet next to Ginny and no one knew where Ginny was either which, for anyone capable of putting 2 and 2 together meant you and Ginny were more likely than not together somewhere.

“Thanks, Hermione. Let me know if you see either of them, please.” Hermione nodded and smiled kindly to Fred, then walked off to join Harry and Ron. Fred took off towards the portrait, yelling to George that he would be back shortly.

Leaving the common room Fred shut the painting behind him and made his way to the moving staircase. While standing on the middle step, he tried to think if he was a girl, where would he go? The bathroom? No, not for that long. A swim in the lake? Well, it was a few weeks out from winter so that was unlikely. Fred huffed as he hopped off the stairs on the fourth floor and walked towards the library. Passing by he noticed a group of Hufflepuff boys sitting around a table and Professor Pince shushing them furiously. He kept on past the library and made his way down a mostly empty corridor.

The clock was nearing five in the afternoon and it was definitely out of the ordinary for the two of you to go this long in one day without even passing by one another. Maybe you were in the common room. Just with his luck you would show up right when he left. As the thought seemed to be a possibility, the sudden sound of your familiar light, delicate voice, hit his ears. Halting completely, Fred peeked his head towards the staircase on his left where the noise came from.

“Y/n?” The inquiry came quietly. Fred half wondered if he had imagined it. No reply came to his question, but he did hear someone speaking again, a new voice he recognized as his little sister’s. Moving closer to the open, cobble stairwell, Fred suddenly stopped when he heard the shaky voice of his little sister and the sound of tears splashing against the hard ground.

“He doesn’t even notice me, Y/n! I’m practically invisible in his eyes… I hate it.” Ginny’s somber cries became louder as Fred stood just on the other side of the arch in the wall. He caught a small glimpse of the scene around the wall. On the bottom step, you and Ginny were sitting next to each other. Her head leaned on your shoulder as she sobbed sadly. It was a new sight- Fred was pretty sure he hadn’t seen Ginny cry since she was in diapers. Part of him wanted to beat the daylights out of whoever hurt his little sister, but he knew it would only cause more chaos for Ginny if he injected himself now. Fred was brought back to reality when your comforting tone reassured Ginny.

“Oh Ginny, don’t say that. He’s just stupid- boys are like that. I honestly don’t think he realizes what he’s doing.” Fred wondered who you were talking about. Did Ginny fancy someone? The sniffles of his sister shook the air. Her face left your shoulder as she buried it into the sleeves of her jacket. The material soaked up her salty teardrops and she forced herself to take some deep breaths in order to calm down. Just as her body stopped quivering, the thought entered her mind again and she remarked,

“He’s never gonna-”

Fred looked on in surprise as you leaned forward and pulled Ginny in for a tight hug. Your hand rubbed along her back, soothing the young girl. She rubbed her eyes constantly, the redness only worsening. Pulling away, you rubbed the drops away from under Ginny’s eyes and gave her a small smile,

“No, he will. I just think he’s got all this stuff with ‘he-who-must-not-be-named’ on his mind… but even if he doesn’t, then he’s not the one. You’re an amazing person, Ginny. Any guy would be lucky to have you but you’re too young to be heartbroken over a little boy. I don’t want you wasting your time being sad about boys when you should be having fun with me and your friends!”

“You really mean that, Y/n?” Her eyes lit in hopefulness. Ginny had quickly become a little sister of sorts to you. Seeing her upset, hurt, mad, anything, you felt it too. Although Ginny was young, only thirteen. You didn’t want her ruining herself chasing after a boy who wasn’t able to give her the time and attention she deserved. Being friends with Harry, your judgement told you that the poor boy most likely didn’t even catch onto the fact Ginny fancied him.

Chosen one? Yes. Oblivious one? Also yes.

On the other side of the wall, Fred’s heart was basically goop from the exchange. He messed with his sister, sure, but she was still his baby sister and it meant the world to him to see you, his girlfriend, so kind, and sweet to Ginny.

“I would never lie to you, Ginny.” You promised her.

“I should go wash up before dinner, I’m sure I look a mess! I’ll see you then, okay? And… thank you, Y/n. It means a lot to have you around and I don’t know, it’s cool to have you as a friend.” She reached forward and gave you one last hug. You grinned at her and said,

“Of course, Ginny. It’s cool to have you as a friend as well.”

Fred smiled to himself. He never realized just how much his sister looked up to you and it made him feel prouder than ever to call you his.

Not long later, Ginny rushed off down the staircase heading back for her dorm room. It had been hours since she’d return so it didn’t seem like the best choice to go missing for hours then show up for dinner with a blotchy face from crying. She wasn’t up for the questions and prying. You waved goodbye to her then sat for a few moments by yourself in silence. Well, at least you had assumed you were alone.

Right as your body began sinking in relaxation into the step, an entering pair of footsteps caused your eyes to snap open. Emerging from the open hallway outside the stairwell was a particular adorning red head you had grown to love so much. Fred stepped in through the arch and grinned at you. You were surprised by his presence, you had yet to see him all day, having spent most of it comforting Ginny, so you were taken aback that he was able to find you.

“Freddie! How did you find me?” You jumped up with a grin and threw your arms around Fred’s neck. His knees pulled him down from the force and his hands wrapped around your waist, accepting the embrace fully. Chuckling loudly Fred joked,

“Ah, so you were hiding from me!”

You sent him a narrowed look and pointed towards the direction where Ginny had retreated.

“No, no, I wasn’t hiding. Your sister needed me so I decided to be with her. I’m sorry, I should’ve told you-” Your apology was cut short by the feeling of Fred’s plump lips kissing yours. He kept the kiss short and sweet, just wanting to taste your lips. He went almost the whole day not seeing you so he wasn’t able to resist for much longer. You kissed him back, a bit more forcefully than Fred. His lips danced against yours, the action of snogging being second nature among you two. Fred pulled away slowly, his lips staying close to yours. Your foreheads were leaning against each other, smiles plastered on both your lips.

“That was maybe the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. You were so nice to Ginny, love. You didn’t need to do that.” He insisted in a whisper tone. Moving your forehead against his you explained,

“I wanted to, she’s my friend. I really care about her and… I don’t know, I’ve never had someone who looks up to me so, it’s kinda fun to know someone thinks I’m admirable.”

Glancing up, Fred’s eyes were already locked on yours. The warmth and homeiness of his honey pooled eyes pulled you in. Brown eyes never looked so perfect until you met Fred. Stepping up on your tiptoes, your hand secured itself along Fred’s jaw as you tugged him towards you. He parted his lips as you planted another kiss to his mouth. It was more of a peck, a tinny smooch leaving you to separate quickly. Leaning back into Fred’s arms, you basked in his hold. Never once did you ever feel exposed to danger when Fred had his arms clasped around you. It was impossible.

“That’s why I love you, you’re just perfect in every way. Everyday you find new ways to make me fall in love with you all over again...you’re too sweet, darling. Thank you for looking out for Ginny. It means a lot to me. Even if it means I have to share my time with you, which is just criminal, it does mean a lot.” His lips wasted no time scattering a mess of small, wet kisses along your face. No inch was left unkissed. You giggled wildly as he continued for a few moments. Planting one last kiss to your pursed lips, Fred stopped his attack and leaned back to smirk at you. Your laughter died out as you began to calm yourself. Smiling over to Fred, you reached for his hand and squeezed it in reassurance. “Of course, Freddie. I love you, babe.”

Lifting his hand, he rested his cheek on the skin of your hand. His face turned so he could press a faint peck to your hand, then he glanced up at you through his lashes.

“I love you too, darling. How bout we make up for all that lost time, hm?” That devilish, mischievous smirk you saw far too often had returned. Playing dumb you just chuckled,

“I was thinking the exact same thing, I was wanting some dinner too!”

“You know that wasn’t what-” You interrupted him, placing your pointer finger in the center of his lips creating a ‘shush’ gesture. He stared at you waiting for the next move. It was now you who held the bold smirk. You grasped Fred’s hand and pulled him towards the stairs so you could get to the Great Hall. His face fell in disappointment, clearly expecting a different turn of events. You didn’t leave him down for long when you batted your long lashes up at Fred and stated,

“Dinner first, then dessert after, okay?” It was the way you said it rather than the words themselves that did him in. That playful gleam that sparked in your eyes, he loved it.

Fred immediately felt his clothes, more specifically his trousers, turn tight at your words alone. He side eyed you as you skipped down the steps, unsure if you were the one teasing him now, or if you were being truthful. Narrowing his peer in seriousness, Fred tried to decipher the sickly sweet smirk on your lips. It wasn’t until you turned the tables, lifting his hand up to kiss the back of it, that he realized you weren’t joking. Eagerness took over as Fred locked his hand even more securely around yours and sped up his pace to the Great Hall. “Anything you say, love.”

He practically chased you the whole way to the dinning hall, your loud laughter filling the silence in the air. Your friends chuckled when they saw you two running in. You guys never seemed happier and it made all they ecstatic to see their friends finding love with each other. George waved the two of you over having saved a spot next to him for both of you. Fred escorted you to the opening, his hand never leaving yours even when you sat. For the rest of the meal, Fred’s hand rotated between your hand and your thigh, but never left your skin. And when Ginny sat down and smiled over at you, engaging you in conversation, Fred just squeezed your hand with a small grin, and pretended not to listen in. From then on, Fred only interrupted your hangout sessions to join in, and surprisingly, Fred Weasley was a great gossiper.

[spikesbimbo]

Drunk in Love

Summary:  Getting drunk and confessing your love for your “boy” friend and fucking him was most definitely not what you expected to go down on the usual night.

Pairing: Issei Matusukawa x Reader

Tags: Timeskip!Tattoed Mattsun, softdom!issei Hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, smut, fluff, virgin!reader, Unptrotected sex, non-penetrative sex, fingering, oral, pussy/thigh job, clit slapping, sweet dirty talk, praise, drunk sex

Word count: 7.2k

A/N: I heard pussy job and I wrote a whole ass novel

18+ Minors DNI

You run your finger over the condensation of your empty drink, drawing shapes (or what you thought to be shapes, you couldn’t tell at this point) waiting for your dear friend, Makki to bring you a refill of your cocktail.  

“Here ya go.” Makki said as he returned with your beloved Malibu Sunset. The smooth coconut rum bringing you back to your first and favorite drink that you ever got drunk on in high school. You smiling at the memory

“Thanks.” you say. Your reply being mumbled by the liquid already in your mouth.

This all started with Iwaizumi calling Mattsun up, you and Makki hearing “You wanna get wasted?” on the other side of the phone. And with pleasure, you two were already packing your stuff up, shoving yalls “pregame” bottles back in the bag. The three of you made your happy way there climbing through the fence of the abandoned skate park you were in. Needles to say it was abandoned for a reason, but what’s life without a little danger.

You three and the rest of the third years have been friends since high school, meeting in freshman year, and now including Oikawa’s girlfriend. You actually didn’t like Oikawa at first, his “pretty boy” demeanor making you internally cringe. But his personality grew quickly on you, being the perfect target to tease you and Iwa clowning him over everything.

Now back to you on your nth drink, complaining about your previous job that fired you because u got injured, even though you know you wouldn’t have lasted long there anyways because you weren’t that academically inclined. Bright? Whatever you wanted to call it.

And as-usual it wasn’t long before your crybaby ass immediately called Makki and Issei and “tried” your best to tell them what happed with your dramatic self-induced tears running down you race, while Makki urged to you to try to calm down and Issei straight up laughing at the state your were in, snot running out of your nose. You recoiling at the thought, hoping they forgot. (Spoiler, they didn’t)

But now you nanny for a rich couple and you get payed good to play with cute babies all day, sounds good to you! Luckily, you had the week off due to them going on a vacation, you think it was France, no, the south of France. Must be nice.

Cue to now, Mattsun chuckling and leaning on you and Iwaizumi; both of you, especially Iwa, being visibly done with his shit. Him reminding you about the times you bought him some random shit, which you went out of your way for since he always payed for you, like that chopper keychain because you said it reminder you of him.

He didn’t know what compelled you to say his 6’2, tattooed built self looked like a tiny reindeer but okay. It still meant a lot to him, hooking it onto his motorcycle keys. But you knew he appreciated it, despite his appearance he’s a softie.

“You wanna try this’” He says gaining his composure offering you one of the shots he got.

You took one of the mini glasses, not being the type to back down and promptly swung the drink to the back of your mouth, quickly coughing before it even reached your throat.

“This shit is fucking gross.” You coughed out bringing the glass down from your lips.

  “Imagine being sober. Can’t relate.” He said taking another shot.

  “I guess I should do that but ive passed the point of giving a fuck” You said sending yall into a giggling fit while somehow Makki was thrown in to support yall from falling over. You two carry on laughing ignoring everyone’s stares at you thinking about how much yall fit perfectly together.  

   Makki rearranges himself to sit back in his chair, far away, from the both of you, whispering “Damn. I’m really third wheeling.” under his breath. Getting a snicker out of Oikawa sitting next to him.

   “When your best friends are ignoring you. Sad times.” He continues bringing his bottle to his mouth getting no response.

  Issei chuckles and gets up shoving his hands in his pocket reaching for the cigarettes. Pulling them out while failing to find his lighter

  “Fuck.” He muttered

  “Any’all got a light?”

  No one responds so you sacrifice yourself “Yeah” you say reaching into your pocket grabbing out your prized possession of a hot pink, bedazzled lighter that you did yourself, reaching out to hand it to him.

  “Don’t lose it” you stated seriously trying not to break a smile.

  “K’ sweet cheeks.” He said smirking into the butt between his lips as he walked away. Your face now burning up, hoping that everyone would think it was because of the alcohol.

  You mind wanders, thinking about the “dates” you two go on, from watching shows you “forcing” him to watch some romantic anime, to going to the skatepark, to playing video games with the rest of the 3rd years (which you don’t really like but you’ll play for him) and him surprising you with takeout, you bringing out candles trying your best to make it cute with him telling u everything you everything about his day.

  And you always tried to remain calm, even though sometimes he deserved to get his ass beat, like that one time he broke one of your favorite pair of heels. It honestly hurt him even more, he wanted you to get mad at him but no, you just acted like nothing happened. Making the guilt rise in him. Let’s just say didn’t have to lift a finger for the next few weeks.

You basically babied him, taking care of all his “chores”, mainly making him food when you were at his place knowing he hated doing it. Makki teasing you for acting like his housewife, leading to you slapping the shit outta him while trying to cover your now red cheeks.

You’ve never been so grateful for your attire at the moment, blessing yourself for not wearing your usual outfits of short skirts and cute tops, defending yourself saying what housewife dresses in beat up vans and baggy clothes. You definitely not imaging yourself in that position for the rest of the day.

 You expressed that you just liked to take care of people, which was true. You always looked out for them, bringing an extra umbrella, to bringing cookies you made at 2 in the morning to school, always carrying band-aids (yes, the paw patrol ones you took from the kids you babysit).

You checked the time on your phone seeing it was late since the sun at last went down, your lock screen being your dogs to their complaint since they have a group photos of you all from high school as theirs. To which you replied “They’re my babies” getting a groan and huff out of them.

  Seeing the notifications of your group chat you grinned at the contact name you and Issei gave each other; yall jokingly call each other pet names, his contact being honeybun and yours being pumpkin, even including Makki in your contacts as pudding bc then it wasn’t weird, right? no.

  “What’re you smiling at y/n?” Oikawa cheekily asks teasing you. You turn to him giving him a dirty look, not having enough energy to deal him right now.

  “Don’t listen to his bullshit.” Oikawa’s girlfriend says. You’re thankful for her. She was always on your side, being the only other girl in your friend group. To be honest you just wanted her and you to hang out most of the time, but of course to your disapproval her boyfriend and his friends had to join in.

  “Fuck this. Fuck you. I’m sleeping.” You say getting up to her objection, the only thing on your mind wanting to retire for the night.

  “You sure you’ll be fine? Let us at least walk you home.” She said already grabbing her boyfriend’s arm.

  “Nah, im good. I live right down the road.” You try to say not slurring. The last thing you want is him teasing you even more, especially in this state, knowing you, you’d probably start crying at the slightest irritation when youre this drunk.

    You started to “walk” towards your house resting  your hand against the brick walls to not lose your balance, leading you to run into Issei. You stopped to watch him lean against the alley holding a cigarette between his index and middle finger.

  “I’m hiding like a bitch” He says noticing you, resting his weight against the wall.

 “Wanna be a bitch with me? He grinned  blowing out the smoke out with his words.

You didn’t reply, just walking over to him, just being around him made you feel warm.

"Fuck its windy.” He says trying to light a new cig.

“C’you make me a house?” He asks.

You go up and put your hands around his cigarette, this not being your first time. Your hands wrap a little tighter to prevent the wind from burning out his flame. He joins you with his free hand helping, finally getting his cig to light.

 “Thanks doll” He smirks.

“No problem princess.” You reply earning a laugh out of him.

He takes his first hit with his and your hands still wrapped around it. He gets an up-close look at your hands, noticing how tiny they were, seeing all the scars that he never noticed, making a mental note to ask you how you got them later.

His head gets close to yours for the first time in a while due to his height. You glance at his face, noticing his features seeing some stubble growing on his face.

“You ain’t shave?” You ask, never seeing it in the past, while he was moving back up, blowing the smoke away from you.

“What, you don’t like my majestic beard? “He jokes. Making you giggle almost losing your balance before catching yourself on the wall.

  “s’too much work.” He starts. “You wanna shave it for me?” he says slightly leaning towards you. Handing you back your lighter knowing you didn’t need him to carry it because your pants actually had pockets in them for once.

You let out a soft laugh not responding again. He catches on, you got quiet when you were tired and he made out that you were walking towards your house.

“You going home?” he asks already knowing the answer.

“Yeah.” You respond more than happy to have him walk you back, him already moving to walk next to you.

He walks you home, you two talking about random shit, both of you forgetting about your skateboards leaving Makki to deal with them. And even though you’re drunk as fuck you’re still in the right state of mind, carrying a normal conversation with him. But just because you’ve built a tolerance doesn’t mean you can do basic tasks, like walk correctly.

When he reaches your house, he types in the keycode, your first dogs birthday, being glad that you, him and Makki have each other’s memorized.

He leads you into you house setting you on the couch, petting your dogs that ran up to him.

“Mommy’s not feeling too good” He said giving them the affection they deserved.

“Yes I am.” You slurred getting them attention on you now.

He walked over to your counter putting on the playlist that you two made together on shuffle, High fashion being the first to play. You didn’t like when it was quiet because too many thoughts would run though your head. You were in no way sad, singing the lyrics while you were laughing barely being able to hold yourself up as proof.

Remembering you were tired, he takes you off the couch and borderline carries you to your room, , setting you on your plush blankets that you had so many of because it was warm and comfy.

 “Easy, there. Try to sit up.”He said, trying to ask you what draws your pj’s were in because he didn’t want to snoop around; neither of you being bothered that you were half naked, what’s the difference between panties and a bikini, he thought remembering the times you’ve been to the beach together.  

Well it was maybe the fact that you were clinging onto him because u stumbled into him and he was closest stable thing around and you wouldn’t let go because it was cold and you couldn’t stop shaking.

 He ignores his thoughts and grabs the shirt he got out figuring you don’t need to change your bra because you told him and Makki that it was normal to keep it on for a few days after they were in awe as you were explaining how expensive they were. You calling Oikawa’s girlfriend to prove your point as she immediately agreed with you…Sometimes you might have got a little too comfortable with them.

You hear the song in the background change to Love Songs, you humming along, “Hope you smile when you listen.”

You were still holding on to him, your boobs squeezing against him, him only being able to put a t-shirt on you, while you looked up at him with your red glossy eyes making him burn up.  

You fidget timidly with your face now in his chest while gripping his sweater. Trying to build up the little courage you had. He tilts your head up making you look at him, wondering what you were thinking about.

  You try to express yourself, but you can’t get the words out him having no idea what is going on in your head at the moment.

“It’s okay to be nervous sometimes. Tell me” He gently says reading your body language. He was intuitive, so there was no way you could hide your feelings from him.

But you knew you could trust him, him having full self-control, always staying collected and following through on what he said he’d do.  He went out of his way to avoid any friction coming between you two, him never raising his voice or starting an argument.

“We need to talk.” You started. “About something important.”

“Ok…What is it?” He questioned rubbing his hands on your back. You were so nervous, were you really about to say this? Confess your feelings that you’ve pushed to the back of your heart for so long?

“I… I l… I love your face. And the stuff in it. and around it.” You spoke, being surprised you did it stutter.

He stood there, hands stopped moving trying to process what you just said.

“Just you, in general…”  You finally confess trying to state three things at once barely getting your words out.

But he understood exactly what you meant, or maybe he was warping what you said to fit what he wanted.

  "I don’t even know when I started liking you, but this shit won't go away." You restated

  Nope. He clearly just heard you say that.

  He doesn’t understand what’s so different about today. Yall have been in this scenario multiple times taking care of each other, sometimes including another into the mix.  

You didn’t understand either. You just felt like the time was right, even though you know it wasn’t the best idea to confess while you were drunk off your ass.

But you couldn’t help it, your feelings overflowing, which you never until this day let get the best of you, being vulnerable and trusting is not your usual . Youve never even had a crush on anyone, him being to only in your whole life to make you blush.

  Who you been vibin' wit and why I can't make you mine?

  You should have seen the signs that you feel for him when he helped that lady that lives down the street from him set up her Christmas lights or when he first met your dog that wasn’t fond of men, but it instantly liked him. And you loved his selflessness it was something you admired and applauded.

  “y/n” He tries talking you down, making sure you weren’t just saying this because of alcohol, deep down knowing he felt the same, you always being in the back of his mind.

You were generous with your time too, always being there for him. You knew he was softer than he appeared, he was tender, sensitive and vulnerable. He tried his hardest to not get into situations where anyone would get hurt, like breakups, arguments, and so on.

Which is why he won’t make the first move. He pushes his feelings to the back of his head. He values your friendship more than anything, but he can see what develops. If love is meant to be, it will happen.

I told you I am down for the worse or the better. But I keep sticking to you cause them four stupid letters

    “You make me so happy. And I’ll always care about you. Okay? He says breaking the silence, trying to reassure you.  

  “You mean so much to me—something I can’t even put into words because nothing can compare- I’ve wanted you since that day you tripped and bust your ass in the school hallway I still want you even though you drive me insane.”

  “Iss-“ You tried to get out only to have him continue talking over you.

  "I love that you can’t leave the house without a jacket. I love the wrinkles that appear on your forehead after you call me crazy. I love that it takes you hours to get ready. I love that you always know how to make me feel better. I love that even when you don’t agree with my decisions you always trust me to make them.  I love that when I spend a day with you, I can still smell you on my clothes; and I love that you are the last person I think of  before I go to sleep at night."

  You stood there awestruck for what feels like eternity until you mustered the bravery to speak “I didn’t expect you to feel the same way-” You said, being dumbfounded because from what you’ve seen treats everyone “nice”, were you really getting special treatment?

  He tilts your chin up, locking his dark eyes with yours. “Baby I don’t know if your notice but you and Makki are my only people that aren’t my family that call me my first name.”

He has a point. You think pushing yourself more into him, trying to fuse your bodies together to hide, not relaxing what you were doing to him. He tries to nudge your legs to the side but you won’t let go still clinging onto him.

“fuck” He groans. You pulling back wondering why until you looked down and noticed. A smirk appeared on your face as you reattached your self to him like velcro. You were feeling bold, the liquid courage still in your system driving you to slide your fingers down his chest, looking him in the eyes before stopping at his waistband.  

He knows what you’re doing, him being in this position multiple times. Does he really want to ruin your friendship like this? He hasn’t even asked you to be his girlfriend. He tries to push you off him already knowing you were gonna complain. But what he didn’t expect was for you to whimper out his name in that pretty voice of yours.

 He tried to keep his calm, blood already rushing down. “You know what you’re doing”

“yeah” You start.

“y’don’t want me?” Giving him your pouty face that you know he’s weak for, hoping that’ll work, insecurity piling up. Was it because your boobs weren’t that big or that fact that you were dressed like man? Was he not attracted to you right now, only liking you when you were dolled up?

“Fuck” You think. You should have worn something cute instead of dressing like a whole ass man even with your makeup fully done. Its not like you were supposed to know you were gonna get fucked today.

His were burning holes into you now, thinking of how to say “No, I would be more that happy to fuck you!” to his best friend, soon regaining his consciousness finally speaking.

“Fuck no doll, ive wanted you for a minute. You know me better than I know myself. How did you not notice my feelings?”

 You got me singing love songs, love songs, love songs

“You’re really hard to read” You replied trying to maintain your seductive act, resting your hands back on his chest.

“So are you.” He said lowering his head, you still looking up at him, taking in your gleaming eyes.

Sex ain't the only thing that's on my mind But you get me so excited, whoa

Your heart was beating so wildly that you could only take little sips of breath. His hands running down your waist stopping at your hips.

“Can I kiss you?" He asks "...yeah” you attempted to say as confidently as you could, nodding your head along with it.

His face bent down, hot mouth breathing over you. His lips slowly moved, brushing over yours, the liquor on his lips that you hated; only choosing fruity drinks even though you got relentlessly teased you for it.  You pushed further into the kiss desperately wanting more. Your teeth clicking his from being impatient, wanting to suck him in. Your hands sliding under his shirt subconscious desires reaching out.

Irreplaceable Tattoos from your neck that drop down to your ankles

“You’re drunk…” he says snapping you out of your trance.

“So are you.”

He dove in for another kiss much more passionate than the previous one, arguably needy, pusing you on the bed to which you more than happily comply. He tugs back not letting his mind get the best of him, disconnecting your spit trial leaving you panting. “You sure this alright?” He says deep down hoping you still say yes.

  You pull him back for your answer, your grabby little hands working their way back up his shirt. He gets the hint and pauses your lips rendezvous, taking off the turtleneck that he looked oh so good in, before seeing his unclothed body.  You’re admiring his body in a new way, before just complimenting him whenever he got a new tattoo, now up under him tracing them like a lovestruck teenager.

“When did you get this one?” You quietly ask, his ears closer to you than they’ve ever been.

“I got it that day you faked sick”

“What! You said were gonna take me!” You sulked, turning your head away from his as much as you could, crossing your arms.

He let out a slight laugh before gently taking your face in his hands, guiding you back into the kiss.

This is not really what he imagined for your first time. He’s an old-fashioned romantic who likes to take one step at a time. But then again nothing was ever normal with you. That said, when he falls in love, he falls deep.

“You’ve done this before?” You uttered.

“Hmm?” He mumbles, unmoving his lips from you kissing you, moving towards your neck.

“You still with that other girl?”

“No. I broke it off her, everything that came out of her mouth was bullshit, and no she wasn’t my girlfriend.”

“You didn’t trust her? You added. Trying to distract him until you could think of a way you could say “hey in my 21 years of life I’ve never got passed kissing a guy.”

“Our relationship was purely built on lies, I’d second guess everything she said. He replied, wondering if you were interrogating him.

“Why’d you wanna know?” He asked bringing his face up from your skin.

“…No one’s ever touched me like this, fuck.” You bashfully admitted, thoughts racing through your head that he didn’t want you anymore because you weren’t experienced.

But he knew what was running through that pretty head of yours, his fingers reaching out to with your hair trying to comfort you.

“You’re a virgin?” He curiously asked dragging his hand to your cheek, you leaning into it.

“y-yeah” you muttered trying to move your eyes away from his looking down at his body.

“I thought you had a boyfriend before” he said, softly turning your jaw to make you look at him. Your eyes diverted from his arms back to his eyes.

“We weren’t actually dating” You quickly say trying to clear up the misunderstanding. “He was my friend and seatmate that pretended to be my fake boyfriend to get me out of some trouble” you spewed out “and I guess I forgot to tell everyone that it was fake.”

“Even if we were that doesn’t mean we fucked.” You sheepishly replied.

“So… what trouble did your fake boyfriend get you out of.” He questioned knowing how much trouble it must have been for you, miss independent, to go to such lengths.

“Umm, well…this guy wouldn’t stop flirting with me even after I told him I don’t like him, even following me to my other classes.”

He wasn’t surprised, you were definitely a sight for sore eyes, in fact the prettiest thing he’s laid his eyes on, your beaming eyes, your dimple when you smiled, your pretty face, your “ugly” laugh, he could go on for days.

“Why are we talking about this” You whined, reaching your hand back out to him.

He took a hint and continued kissing you, bringing you closer to him while you attempted to take you shirt off. His hands helping you seeing as that you were struggling, being lost in his touch, finishing by moving you up more on you bed, pushing your plushies out of the way, to your protested because “they had feelings too.”

He ignored you, bending down to pull your panties off stopping once he saw the slick coming through them.

“Fuck baby you’re wet” He breathed dragging his fingers across your clothed slit earing a whimper from you, leaving his fingers drenched.

 Shawty, you wanna feel good, I wanna feel good too Don't I make you feel good?

“M’always wet.” you responded.

From what? He questions taking off your soaked cotton panties, tossing them to the side.

“From me?” He smirks bringing his hand back towards your heat. You not even comprehending what he just said, just knowing that you’re ashamed of how worked up you were getting.

You were in awe. You’ve always known his hands were big, but in this situation your mind wondered. His fingers were so much bigger than yours knowing you can barely fit two inside your with out it hurting, and not in a good way.

“Do you know how pretty you are? It’s honestly distracting.”. He says kissing down your whole body, stopping at your breasts, licking lazily around and coming back to the nub. The attention on your nipples making you squirm and he finally lets go, you grateful that he stopped or you would have almost cum, how embarrassing.

“I thought you said were gonna get them pierced” He remembered, you going on a whole rant about how cute they were.

“You said u were gnna get em with me” You looked back on, reminding yourself making him promise to get them with you because you were too scared of the pain.

“That was the same day you played sick and I got that tattoo.” He stated lightening the mood, hoping you can calm yourself down before you actually embarrass yourself.

He picks back up and continues kissing all the way down your body, you playing with his hair while biting your lip to muffle your moans and whine until he reaches your entrance.

He parted your legs, your pussy laid out before him, believing you no have reason to be shy about it either. He paused, admiring your swollen cunt and puffy clit, you were beautiful.

The feeling that he didn't want anyone else ever in his position overtook him. He let out a little breath on your clit and you thrashed around. He wasn't going to play. “I’ll take care of you.”

His lips travel over your skin, light and heated before settling himself between your legs, grabbing you by your thighs and dragging you closer. “That tickles.” you giggle, nerves making you kick your legs, almost hitting him in the face before he grabs them. He puts them down locking your legs with his arms, lowering himself until he’s on the ground facing you.

“Does it make you nervous when I stare?” he teases while your covering your face trying to hide the blush he caused.  He puts his mouth on you, quickly gripping your thighs, his hands leaving imprints in your skin dragging you even more into him, deprived kisses taking over your body. 

“yer so pretty” You purred seeing the sight of his big build between your legs, your fingers grabbing onto his curly dark locks, tugging them.

  Issei moans, his voice radiating through your body, forcing out a cry, blessing him with your pretty voice. “I-Issei!” You cry, never feeling like this before, your vibrator and hands doing it no justice.

“Shh, just look at me, doll.”

You can barely make out what he says, so drunk on pleasure. You try your best, doing anything to see the pretty man beneath you. But you get interrupted by your pleasure, your back arching not being able to control your body, grinding down to meet his lips, heat rising in you.

He kisses through your wetness playing with your bud. You choking on your spit, back arching again your body tensing up. “Issei,” You beg, grabbing him knowing what you want but not being able to express it. Luckily he can read you like an open book, knowing what you want, driving you over the edge as he makes you see stars. “Good girl,” he sighs when he feels you let go of his wrist letting him bring you your first orgasm.

“Look at your thighs shaking so much.” He teasingly cooed, wrapping his hands around them, bringing you out of your daze.

Shawty, your body is so exciting

Arching your back into the blankets, letting out a whine “Want your fingers.”.

He lets out a condescending laugh. “You need to learn to be patient. You just came and you’re already so eager for more?”

But by the time he finished your body went limp, you were totally weak, body loose-limbed and pliant. Your mind clouded by lust and deep in your own world. You gasped out a little sob, unable to comprehend anything beyond the discomfort and the need to have it gone. You can’t think straight all you can do is take action, grabbing his arm him easing his fingers into to you.

It’s not too tight, is it?” you ask clenching around his fingers.

 “Just relax… let yourself feel it” He says barely being able to move in you. Fuck so were so tight.

“I love the way you look with my fingers inside you.” He added starting to thrust them inside you, making you let out a string of moans.

“Look how good you take it.”  

“Fuck, you’re so messy.” He groaned feeling the slick running down his hands, before taking them out.

“Issei-i,” You cried when he pulled away, pleasure leaving you, tears coming back.

  He shushes you easily, his fingers wiping your tears. You were so precious to him, your moans music to his ears.  He slows down repositioning his fingers, making you let out a whimper squeezing around them. Your brains so crowded you can’t focus, can’t gather the strength to speak when he thrust them faster inside you.

  Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you fell back, fingers curling inside you, chanting his name over and over, incoherent words coming out of your mouth begging for more. 

You pussy tightens as you cum, unable to breath, letting out gasps and whines. Him still fucking you, fingers not stopping, pushing them in and out relentlessly feeling both pain and pleasure. You lay there, wet in your own cum not giving yourself a break before you went and got what you really wanted, his cock.

His eyes followed the movement of your hands as they pushed down his boxers, revealing the length of his cock, that jutted proudly from his hips. He was so pretty, so virile and handsome. Wondering how lucky you were to be in such a position with him.

You pushed away those thoughts and focused on him, pulling him forward gently, but he followed his encouragement. One of his hands tilted his cock down toward your lips. “Open your mouth for me, baby.”

You parted them instantly, tongue sliding slightly outward, and then you whimpered as the warm weight of his cock slid into your mouth. You let your eyes flutter closed and swirled your tongue around the tip of his cock not knowing exactly what you were doing, but it was working, tasting the salty tang of the precum that wept from his leaking slit. You moved your tongue as the he put his hand into your hair, gripping the strands and pushing deeper into his mouth.

“You look so good on your knees like that. “He says meeting your eyes once again, almost cumming from the picture below him.

“Slowly, baby, I’m not going anywhere.” He says slowing you down by grabbing your hair, making a pace that you follow.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby, just like that.” Seeing that sinful look in your eyes with your redden swollen lips.

You moan feeling yourself drip down your thighs, getting even wetter giving him head. Trying to ease the discomfort by closing your legs, griding them together, trying to find some friction. Your ears hearing “That’s so fucking hot.” watching the scene unfold beneath him.

Your jaw hurts, trying got make him cum faster using your hands and lips together hollowing your cheeks. “Oh fuck, oh, Jesus, fuck yes, there, just like that, fucking Christ" he groans out, his voice sounded beautiful to your ears, knowing he was about to cum.

He finally lets go cumming in your mouth, you swallowing it all, trying not to wince at the taste. “Did I do good” You ask waiting for his reply. Your doll eyes, so red and worn out looking up at him for approval. Fuck he was whipped.

“Yeah…fuck baby”

I love when you get on top and you ride it

You get back under him, his cock resting on you, drenched and clenching around nothing, resting in your cum. You working yourself up against him.

“What makes you think I’m going to fuck you?” He says to your complaint.

“You’re not ready yet.” he mumbles against your whining. Spreading your legs, slapping your clit a few times before letting his cock rest on your folds. Finally getting “seated” he picks up your legs and puts them both on one of his shoulders your thighs warming his cock, your knees touching his cheek not moving, getting a kick out of how desperate your were for him.

“s-stop being mean” You cried reaching out for him to come closer, needing affection after all you’ve been though.

“Aww, poor baby, you want me to take care of it for you? He says leaning into you, reaching your kiss, tasting the remnants of the cum in your mouth.

He plundered your mouth and slowly teased his cock over your entrance, catching it against your clit and making you whimper into the kiss, clearly wanting to be fucked. Your kiss turned you sucking on Issei’s tongue and lips, biting the swollen pout until his lips were red and puffy. He pulled back and looked down at you, a beautiful mess under him.

His fat cock head pushed between your folds. The moan escaping both of your lips was primal. You were turned on beyond imagination and the way he was thrusting forward, spreading his leaking precum on your wet clit was almost too much. He quickly picked up his pace fucking your folds, his warm head brushing against your clit with every movement, but your greedy self wanted more.

The fact that he made you cum so easily made you proud. Just because you’ve never gone this far with someone else doesn’t mean you’ve never cum, you’ve had a lot of practice over the years, being insatiable, the sheets soaked underneath you from your previous orgasms being proof.

“Keep your eyes open, look at me, baby.” He moans getting your attention him.

You tried, you really tried, but the way he was stroking you, imagining what it’d be like to actually sit on his cock, the lewd sounds echoing in the background leaving you unable to focus.

He taps on your cheek eventually getting you look at him, keeping your mind on him by placing his fingers in your mouth you letting him, hazily sucking on them, not being able to close your mouth.

“Oh, baby, you’re drooling everywhere.” He grumbles. Your spit dripping onto his fingers, the friction of your thighs making him feral, moving at an even faster pace. Your body bouncing with every thrust.

“You gonna cum after I cum on your little clit? Come one more time for me, I know you’ve got it in you.” You sob feeling the puddle beneath you, time slowing, fire pooling in your tummy.  Listening to his words you let yourself go. You come with a silent scream as the pleasure ripped through your body, your nails scratching his soft skin. Your vison fading to black feeling him lose his rhythm and moaning a mixture of curse words along with your name, feeling him cum on your tummy before resting his head in your neck while letting your legs go.

“So good for me, look at how much you came.” He says breaking the static. You whining into his shoulder, emotions high, never doing this before.

“I know, baby, I know. I’m right here, just breathe.” He says. You two laying in silence for an unclear amount of time, him rubbing your back while you rest in his chest almost dozing off.

“Are we still…friends?” You croak out trying to hold back your sobs already knowing the answer that you two were defiantly not friends now and never would be just friends again.

“Friends don’t do this type of shit” He maintained grabbing your shoulders to sit you and him up. You were worried, did he only do this with you because he was drunk? You were anxious that you scared him away because you just poured your heart out to him and pushed yourself on him. You left your head down, tears already coming out to your dismay. You moved your hand up to wipe them but he beat you to it.

“Look at me… I love you.” He says holding your cheeks in his palm. You in awe, hoping that you weren’t imagining it, that this was real life.

“R-really” You question making him worry too, preferring to forgive and forget rather than letting this a divide between the two of you in case you went back on your feelings. You were so overwhelmed, never feeling love until this moment, so happy that the person you longed for liked you back. Yours tears running once again.

 “Shh, shh, it’s alright...Don’t cry.”

You don’t even know why you were crying, the hangover already getting to you making you get a headache. You groaning in his arms complaining that your head and throat hurt.

“Ill be back” he says detaching himself from you, letting you know he was coming right back.

He walks to your fridge opening it to see every drink but water, having too dig through all of them, especially the absurd amount of apple juice guessing it was your “once a year craving for it”. He finally got you some cold water, putting It in a cup and waked back to your room.

  “Issei” you whined not picking your head up from the pillow.

  “Shh baby im right here.”

  He sat down beside you on your bed lifting your head up. “Here drink this” he reassured, to which you ignored not wanting anything to go in your mouth, just wanting the day, or night as it was now, to end.

  “It’s just water, honey, look.” You sat yourself up with his help seeing him in just his boxers, you remembering your still naked, not caring enough to cover yourself. He held to glass to your mouth, babying you, tilting it far back enough to where you could drink it. The water hit the back of your mouth feeling like a shot making you cough.

“I know, it hurts. I’m sorry but we have to” He stated. You continued to drink it, feeling the stinging in the back of your throat, him comforting you, calling you “good girl” which was unsurprisingly working.

  He put the cup on your dresser when you finished, climbing back into bed with you leaning your body into his. “Have you ever thought about...us? Y’know, as an...item?” he said causing you to look at him with wide eyes.

 “Call me selfish, but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.” He insisted making you cheeks flush. You try to think of a way to respond, not wanting to keep him waiting.

“You’re the best thing that has, and ever will, happen to me. Not only am I deeply in love with you, you’re my best friend.” You stammer out, your shaky hands somehow made there way to his neck, letting them fall slowly before he grabs them dragging you in for a kiss before you got to even see his face.

“Everybody has always thought we’re a couple.” He continued taking his time kissing you all over your face. “Then I guess we should be.” You retort, kissing him back before you could see his reaction, not wanted to be embarrassed anymore today. But he caught you, holding you still “Really “y/n? Like deadass?” He asked.

  “Yes dummy, I want to be your girlfriend” You say causing him to grin swearing you’ve never seen him smile that big, before he gives you one last kiss.

  “I always kiss you on the cheek, why are you blushing now? He teases laying back down, you following along. You just snuggle into him mumbling something along the lines of “m’tired”, he understanding and speaking to you in a soft, gentle voice while helping you to bed, so he doesn’t make it harder for you to sleep by being loud. “I’m here love, I’m not going anywhere.” He whispers into your ear mkanig your heart swoon one last time before you pass out.

  “I l-love you issei.” You sleepily mumble.

“Tell me this when you’re sober.” He says stroking your head.

“Just relax, close your eyes...”He murmurs, your heart beating slower every second. Both of you together, lazy, slow presses. Limbs pressed together, chests heaving, fingers trailing down backs, tracing lazy patterns.

  “Oh!…” He remembers. “If you really wanna get them pierced, we could get matching ones.”

© all content belongs to spikesbimbo. do not alter or repost .

[strangelysamantha]

elderly advice ❀

rafe cameron x plus!reader.

warnings: slight bullying for weight, harsh words, mention of a grandpa, use of word baby, swearing, physical and verbal fighting.

words: 1,964.

summary: when you work at a golf course as a cart girl, you are happy because that means you’ll be seeing rafe more often. but, there’s a downside when you realize that kelce and topper will see you more often as well, and with seeing them more often, you also get to hear their harsh words.

request? nope :)

a/n: i’m just overflowing with idea’s right now. :) i hope you all enjoy this story. it’s angsts at the beginning but it turns into fluff i promise! like and comment if you enjoy this story so i know what you guys want me to write more of. ily thanks! <3

my masterlist

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“you’re a fat ass who shouldn’t be working here. point blank, there’s nothing else to be said.” kelce stared at you in disgust, his eyes dragging up and down your body. topper laughs in agreement, “damn straight. we are trying to golf, not be distracted by a beluga whale who doesn’t belong here.” you quickly hand them their drinks. you ignore their remarks, just trying to finish your shift. tears slowly fall from your eyes but you wipe them as soon as they touch your nose. “can i get you anything else?” you ask, slightly urgent to ensure you leave before your boyfriend comes back.

rafe and you had been dating. not in secret, everyone knew you two were dating. which included kelce and topper. despite them knowing that, they didn’t stop being rude to you every chance they got. they believed you weren’t worthy for rafe, and that he could do much better than you. “yeah, actually. can you give us some space? damn, you are fucking all over us.” you shake your head, speed walking away. you take a deep breath, trying to slow your breathing so you could stay calm. after a few minutes of air, you got back to work. out of the corner of your eye, you see rafe had joined his friends. you avoided going over there, especially since you had just served them.

you walk over to an older man, he smiles lightly at you. “thank you.” he replies softly, taking the drink you were handing him. “why do you let them talk to you like that?” he asks, clearly indicating he had seen the whole event that just happened. “i don’t- i don’t know what i can say. if i say what’s truly on my mind, i’m afraid i’ll lose my job.” your lips curl into a small smile. you acknowledge him nodding his head before you walk off to the next table.

when you turned around, the old man you once saw had got up and moved. you search around to ensure he wasn’t complaining about your service and that’s when you finally spot him at rafe’s table. your breath gets caught in your throat. you profusely apologize to the table you were currently serving, before you start to walk in the old man's direction.

the old man looked familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. once you get closer to the table, you can hear their conversation. you arrive at the table, swiftly shielding your body with the circular drink holder that was once placed on your flat palm.

“is there a problem?” topper asks, smiling. the old man chuckles, “do you believe there should be a problem?” he asks. your heart beats faster as you fear what the man's next words might be. obviously you don’t want topper and kelce to treat you with hostility, but you didn’t want to go against them in fear that rafe would choose their side. “no sir, no problem here. you are the one who came up to our table.” kelce exclaims before putting on a fake smile when glancing at you.

your eyes are wide, and you calmly tap the old man's shoulder. “i’m sorry sir, is everything okay? is there something you need in particular? i would happily assist you and grab you anything you need.” he glances down at you, now noticing that rafe had placed his arm around your waist. he clearly notices rafe's gesture and laughs lightly. “girl, you deserve so much better.” you nod slightly, but he continues. “i’m assuming that this is your boyfriend?” he asks. rafe smiles, “yes, i’m the boyfriend.” you couldn’t understand the tone in his voice. whether it was protectiveness, jealousy, or just plain amusement, there was definitely something off.

“well, isn’t this a funny picture?” you frown at his words. your eyes plead to him to drop it and move on but he shakes his head, not budging. “that boyfriend of yours sweetie,” his eyes are trained on you. “does he know that his friends harass you every chance they get?” rafe's’ smile has fallen from his face, anger now bubbling up. “what are you talking about?” his eyes narrow, waiting for his response. “i hate to break it to you, but those friends of yours mistreat your girlfriend daily. i’ve see it everyday, she’s just walking around doing her job, and your hooligan friends fat shame and cuss her out. but obviously as her boyfriend you knew that right?” he questions, rafe's grasp on your waist tightens when you begin to walk away. his hands prevent you from walking off.

“not so fast.” rafe says, now standing. “who is this guy?” you hesitate, but he answers for you. “this guy is her great grandpa who has just flown to town a week or so ago.” your face drops as the realization hits you like a ton of bricks. your great grandpa. you hadn’t ever met your family, unless they lived in the house with you. you had only met him once for a family reunion when you were seven.

“oh. sir- i’m sorry i didn’t mean to…” grandpa cuts him off immediately, “i shouldn’t be the one you are apologizing too.” he nods, but before rafe can register it you had already ran to the employee only break room. you slide down the wall, your arms wrapping around your legs as you begin to weep. it’s hard to breathe as you realize that rafe now knows. the next interaction with rafe is detrimental as it will showcase if he truly loves you, or if he would rather choose his friends. 

“sir! you can’t be back here! i won’t hesitate to call security!” your fellow employee called out. you had a huge inkling that they were talking to rafe. “call the security, i don’t give a shit. i need to go back there, my girl is back there and i know she’s not doing okay.” rafe pushes past them and sees you crying on the floor. his heart burns in his chest as he sees the distraught state you were in. “baby…?” he questions.

“yes, rafe?” you respond, your head still hiding in your palms. “baby look at me, please.” you hesitated, but inevitably lifted your face up. he rushed over, sitting in front of you, “what do they say?” he immediately asks, while he wipes away your stray tears. you frown recalling the numerous events where his friends would bully you, “which time?” you ask. his heart drops at your words. he hated to admit it, but he was oblivious to what they were doing to you.

“please. you have to tell me what they were saying to my baby.” he frowns, his voice being lighter than you’ve ever seen it. “rafe-,” you try to tell him to drop it, but he shuts you up immediately. “what the fuck do they say to you? i’m not playing any games.” you breathe out, “they just say i don’t deserve you, and that you could do better, and that they think i’m a fat waste of space.” his grip on your hand tightened. “what the fuck...” is all he said before he stood up and stormed out of the room.

you quickly wipe your tears away, before following after him. by the time you catch up, he’s already yelling at both topper and kelce. “why the fuck have you been saying that shit? it’s not your fucking place to say shit like that about my girl!” rafe’s hand were grasping at toppers t-shirt. your hand covers your own mouth as the event in front of you unravels. “trust me rafe, we’re doing you a favor.” rafe scoffs, pushing topper, as he stumbled back. “fuck you mean man? i don’t need any favors from you.” rafe’s yelling caused a commotion as half the guests were now staring.

you frown, not knowing what to do. “alright. so what? we make a few jokes. it’s not our fault she’s so sensitive and takes everything to heart.” kelce laughs, and so does topper. “for real, she’s being extra like always. what’s fucking new.” topper exclaims, he now has regained his balance, rafe stands straighter. “you guys are assholes, you know that right? i mean what? you thought i’d never find out?” topper laughs, “well obviously, we knew she’d never tell you. i mean, we’ve been messing with her for fucking months man.” rafe’s anger grows stronger, he knew it had been going on for a while, maybe a week or two. but months??

rafe looks back at you, his eyes softening. you’d been dealing with his friends, taking every low blow and jab just so you could be with him. rafe’s attention returned to kelce and topper. “we will talk about this later. fuck both of you. that’s fucked up, regardless if she was my girl or not. such fucking dicks.” rafe pushed them both one last time before hurrying to your side.

his arms immediately find a placement against your hips. you avoided eye contact. “come on baby, let’s go.” he grabbed your hand and walked you to his car. luckily your shift had ended so you wouldn’t get in trouble with work. once inside his car, he starts it. before he pulls out of the parking lot, he’s staring at you, a question lingering in his mind.

“baby?” he quietly asks, his entire demeanor changing from just a few minutes ago, his hand reached for your thigh. “yes?” you reply, finally gaining enough courage to maintain eye contact with him. “why…” he hesitated but decided to ask anyway. “why didn’t you tell me that they were doing that? if i had any idea they were doing that… i mean, they wouldn’t even hear the end of it.” you frown. “do you want the truth?” you wait for his response. “yes.” you nod, “well. i was scared that you would pick them over me.” he was speechless. his jaw clenched as his grip on your thigh tightened.

“baby. i would never condone what they were doing. they are fucking assholes. they were undoubtedly trying to ruin the best thing i have. i would never choose them over you. i don’t- why would you even believe that?!” his eyes were soft, pleading for any excuse you could muster up. “i’m sorry, i was just scared.” he nodded, he finally drove you to your house.

once inside your house, you two were sitting on your bed in comfortable silence. you were sitting down playing on your phone, as his head was laid against your thighs. “you know i love you, right?” he asks. you nod, your hand massaging in his hair. “i know rafe. and you know i love you too.” he nodded, one hand gripping your thigh, as the other drew shapes against your skin.

“i’m really sorry they treated you that way. if i had any idea-.” you cut him off immediately. “rafe you couldn’t have known. it’s okay i promise. please, it’s okay.” he shakes his head. “it’s not okay. they are supposed to be my friends but now i come to find out they tried to actively run you away. it makes me fucking mad.” you nod. “well i’m still here. and i don’t plan on running away.” he nodded, sighing. “thank you.” you lean down and press a kiss on his hair. “of course.”

silence surrounded you again. “can i still beat the shit out of them?” he asks. you gasp. “rafe! no!! they aren’t worth it.” he slightly laughs. “fine. only because you said no.” he snuggles his face deeper into your thighs, playing with the fabric of your shorts. “i’m happy here.” you shake your head, setting your phone down. “only because you are between my thighs.” you feel him smile. “exactly.”

[mypoisonedvine]

Compromise | dark!Bucky Barnes x reader

summary: after weeks in bucky barnes’ basement, you continue to plot your escape.  unfortunately for you, he’s been plotting something, too.

word count: 4.2k

warnings: smut (noncon), oral (m receiving), forced breeding, bargaining, kidnapping/imprisonment, yandere (slightly?), a little bit of lactation kink

The jingling of keys was almost too quiet to hear, but with no other sound in your rusty shack of a prison, it was deafening.  Your heart raced with the realization that your captor was returning home, even though you had anticipated it since his daily schedule (and in turn, yours) operated like clockwork.

The door opening and slamming shut.  The rustling of chains and sliding of metal— he’s locking the deadbolts again.  You tried to count them to see if you could figure how many he had on the door upstairs, but you lost track of which sound was what after three or four.  You needed to know that before you attempted your escape, so you could calculate the time you’d need to get out the front door.  

But that was sort of a moot point when you couldn’t get to the front door.  Your first obstacle was the door in front of you.  Your first obstacle was getting out of this basement.

An issue for another day, though, because Bucky was home and he was coming down to see you.  It was earlier than usual, as he normally spent time upstairs first and didn’t come down until he had to bring you your dinner.  Even just that small disruption to your daily routine made you fear the worst.

The door creaked and groaned under its own weight as it swung open, your captor waiting on the other side,  The orange light of the afternoon was only a sliver across the wall, since your only window was no more than a few inches tall and at right at the ground level (which, in your case, was just below the ceiling; if you stood on your bed you could see out, but it was just grass and trees as far as you could see).  As he stepped down the concrete stairs and shut the door behind him, that sliver of light illuminated only his crystal-blue eyes.

The two of you stared at each other in silence for a moment; him broad and strong and glowering menacingly by the door, you cowering in the corner.

“You know why you’re here, don’t you?” he asked quietly.

“I’m here so I can have your baby,” you answered as calmly as you could manage.  He had made it overwhelmingly clear over the past few weeks, and although he��d never touched you that way in your time here, every day was shrouded with the impending reality of his purpose for you.

“Good job,” he praised flatly.  “I’ve been waiting a while, for the right time…”

So have I, you thought to yourself, reflecting on your plan but stopping yourself as if you thought he might somehow read your mind and find a way to stop you.

“Today’s the day,” he informed you plainly.  “Get on the bed.”

You pressed yourself back against the cold brick, shaking your head.  He sighed, stalking closer to you as his combat boots echoed across the room with each step.  

“Don’t make this difficult.  It’s inevitable— and if you behave, I’ll make it good for you, too.”

“No, please,” you begged, shrinking into a ball as he neared your corner, “please don’t—”

He grabbed your wrist and yanked you to your feet, ignoring your yelps of pain; with a growl, he shoved you against the wall.  “I’ve waited long enough.  I’ve given you time to accept it and prepare yourself.  Now get.  On.  The bed.”

Your mind raced as it searched for how to get out of this, but it came up nearly blank.  He was a super soldier, with a vibranium arm; fighting was not at all an option.  Begging was a waste, because you’d done that so many times before and all it did was get you punished— he never beat or starved you, thankfully, because he said it would interfere with your fertility, but he was quick to take away your few chances for privacy.  You shuddered at the memory of those times that he’d chained you up and refused to let you feed or bathe yourself, doing it all for you instead.

His eyes were burning into your skin and you knew he was going to take what he wanted from you.  You knew you couldn’t stop him from getting what he’d been waiting for… but you wondered if you could negotiate with him still.  Maybe if you appealed to his arousal, you could gamble your dignity but save yourself from getting pregnant.  After all, sex with this psycho sounded like a nightmare, but a child with him was unthinkable.

“I… I can still pleasure you,” you offered weakly, your voice and hands trembling with fear as you looked up at him.  His brows furrowed slightly as he looked back with an expression of confusion.  “You can use my mouth instead.  I’ll be so good,” you promised, swallowing nervously as his eyes scanned your face, “I’ll do anything you want, I just don’t want to get pregnant.”

“I don’t know…” he mumbled, and you smiled because he was considering it and that meant you had a shot.

“Please, please Bucky let me suck your cock,” you begged, feeling a little sick as you had to feign this sort of eagerness, “it’ll be so good, pleasepleaseplease—”

“Alright, don’t overexert yourself,” he sighed, like he was doing you a favor.  “I suppose it couldn’t hurt… just this once.  But it’d better be as good as you’re making it seem, or I’ll just fuck you instead.”

You beamed and fell to your knees.  “Oh, thank you, thank you so much— I’m gonna make it good, I promise Bucky, I’ll do whatever you like.”

“Well, you need to get it out first.”

You nodded and reached up to his belt, swallowing nervously as you started to undo the buckle.  It wasn’t too bright in the room but you could see the outline of his cock through his jeans— it was hard already, and you could tell it was big.  You figured the fabric was making it seem thicker than it really was, because it couldn’t possibly be that thick, right?

You looked up at him through your lashes as you opened the belt all the way, using touch to navigate the button and fly as you maintained eye contact.  His face was as unreadable as ever, stoic aside from a tightened jaw.  You really hoped he was enjoying this, because your ability to avoid getting pregnant was riding on it.  

You unzipped the jeans slowly, slightly afraid that teasing would get you in trouble but smiling up at him as if you had no fear at all.  You needed to act like this blowjob was the best thing that ever happened to you.  If it kept this psycho from knocking you up, maybe it would be.

As you pulled his jeans down his thighs, you gasped a little at the outline of his cock through his boxer-briefs.  “Fuck,” you murmured, “it really is that big.”

Bucky’s stern exterior finally cracked as a small smirk crossed his face.  “Think you can handle it?” he asked, a hint of playful challenge in his tone.

“I’ll try my best,” you answered as you rubbed it through the fabric.  With a breath to stabilize yourself, you slipped your fingers under the elastic, pulled his underwear down his muscular thighs— slowly, thoughtfully— and set the beast free.

With it staring you in the face like this, the tip red and dotted with a pearl of pre-cum, you wondered how you ever thought this was a good idea.  

You took a quick breath in and out to stabilize yourself and try to accept that this was really happening, before delicately wrapping your hand around it.  Your fingers didn’t even reach your palm… you were so screwed.  

“Waiting for something?” he asked you impatiently.

“It’s better if you build anticipation,” you explained, looking up at him again.

“I know,” he frowned.  “What do you think I’ve been waiting all this time for?”

You were trying not to think about where you were, what this was, who he was.  Of course he would remind you, just to make it even harder.

You leaned forward and licked the head with a long, slow lap, tasting the warmth and musk of his skin on your tongue.  You met his gaze when you did it again, finishing the motion by wrapping your lips around the head.  Your tongue swirled over the skin and tasted everywhere you could reach, paying extra attention to his slit, and you finally got the slightest reaction as his mouth fell slack.

Needing some relief for your jaw already, you pulled back and stroked him slowly with a smile.  “You taste soooo good,” you purred, internally cringing at your own poor acting.  “I bet your come’s gonna taste even better.”

Spreading the wetness from your mouth over the rest of his shaft, you were able to get a bit of a rhythm going with your hand before you swallowed the head again, bobbing up and down and taking him a little deeper each time.  You tried to change it up and watch for what might get him going: teasing him with the tip of your tongue, moaning around him, reaching down to grab his balls and rub them— but he was slow to warm up.  His first real sign of pleasure was when his fingers pushed your hair out of your face, then traced down your cheek where it was hollowed from sucking.

“You look so good with my cock in your mouth,” he groaned, grabbing your chin and guiding you to take him a little deeper.  You moaned again and tried to relax your throat as his tip began to brush over the back of your tongue.  

You got into a routine fairly quickly— suck, bob, stroke, gag, repeat.  Your free hand fondled his balls a bit, and you would stop to lick and suck them from time to time, but it seemed like you needed to keep trying to get him in your throat if you had any chance at making him come soon.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath, putting his hand on the back of your neck and starting to buck his hips up against you.  You almost reached up to put your hands on his thighs and slow him down, but stopped yourself; you couldn’t afford to say no to him right now.

“Choke on it,” he growled, holding you down and watching you gag as tears welled in your eyes.  Just as you thought you might throw up or pass out, he let you go and you were able to pull back.  You coughed a little but started stroking him in the meantime while your throat recovered.  You knew he was getting closer to the edge, you just hoped he was getting a lot closer, for your sake.

When you couldn’t take gagging anymore, and when you started to really feel him flexing and throbbing against your tongue, you pulled off of him and stroked his cock eagerly.  “Do you wanna come on my face, Bucky?  Or do you want me to swallow it?” you moaned, trying to sound sultry in spite of how exhausted and fucked-out you must’ve looked.

“Neither,” he replied, throwing you off-guard again.  “I’m gonna come in your mouth, but I don’t want you to swallow it until I tell you to.  Is that clear?”

You nodded, even though the idea of having to keep his come in your mouth for any longer than a moment sounded wretched.

He slipped his cock back into your mouth, hitting your throat every time and ignoring when you gagged.  His breaths got heavier as you could feel his cock begin to pulse again.  “Gonna come,” he warned you with a deep moan, “fuck, you ready?”

You did your best attempt at a nod, looking up at him the whole time.  He looked back at you, his teeth bared and eyes wild, and the way he glared at you made you throb between your legs.

His moans were shaky as he came, the taste of him coating your tongue and throat with every thrust.  He came a lot, more than you’d expected, and you sucked lightly on the sensitive head before pulling off.

“Fuck,” he sighed, “that was good.  You were right.”

You didn’t smile, because you were afraid to let any of it spill.  You got the impression that if you got come on his boots, you’d get in serious trouble.  He helped you stand up, examining your face for a moment. 

“You’re not swallowing yet, right?  I wanna see it in your mouth,” he purred.  He held your chin gently between his forefinger and thumb and you opened your mouth for him, letting his spend gather on your tongue.  “Good girl.”

You stayed still as his hands wandered over your body, settling on the knot that held your robe tied together.  He didn’t let you dress in anything more than that, though he thankfully kept the temperature nice enough that you didn’t need a lot more.  With one tug, he undid the knot and it fell open; another quick push off your shoulders and you were completely naked in front of him.

He hummed contentedly, running his fingertips over your skin until you shivered, goosebumps forming in the wake of his touch.  “I’ve seen you before, but that was strictly business,” he explained, his voice dreamy like he wasn’t focusing that much on his words but rather on what he was seeing in front of him.  “Now I can finally appreciate you the way you deserve.”

You were terrified of what this all meant— apparently this is how he relaxes after an orgasm, some sort of cryptic take on pillow talk?— but you stayed still and kept your mouth shut, literally and figuratively.

“Spit it out into my hand,” he instructed.  Confused and a little disgusted, you obeyed as he cupped his palm beneath your mouth.  You were still trying to process that when his other hand— the metal one— grabbed you by the neck and forced you down, expending almost no effort in order to bend you over the edge of the bed and pin you there.

It all happened so fast that you didn’t even have time to scream before he was wiping his come on your pussy, shoving it in with his fingers.

“No!” you cried when you realized what he’d done, but it was too late to beg because it had already happened.  You could feel it dripping out of you, but he never let it get very far before two fingers dragged it back and pushed it in.

“You’re soaked,” he observed with a cruel laugh.  “You love sucking cock, huh?  Maybe I’ll let you do it again sometime.”

All you could do was sob, hoping he would be done soon and you could get back to preparing your escape plan; he’d already come, so what more could he do to you?

“I don’t know if it’s getting deep enough,” he frowned as he knelt down and examined between your legs.  If his hand wasn’t already wrapped around your neck you would’ve considered trying to kick him in the face or something, but you felt so helpless already and didn’t want to anger him further.  “Here’s what we’ll do,” he decided, standing up and leaning over you as he started to get on the bed with you.  “I’m gonna fuck this come into you, as deep as I can go.  How about that?”

You shook your head and continued your sobs as he grabbed you and tossed you on your back, grabbing your legs and placing them on his shoulders.

“Bucky, you can’t!” you begged weakly, reaching up to cover your face with your hands.  He didn’t care for that, grabbing your arms and pinning them to either side of you.

“Look at me!” he demanded, and you blinked your eyes open even as you turned your face away slightly to hide that last little bit.  “Yes I fucking can.  I can fuck you five more times tonight if I want to.  I don’t think I’ll be able to come any more after that, but I could still fuck you again just to be sure.  So, do you want to spend all night full of my cock?  Or just the next half hour?”

Clearly, you’d underestimated the ramifications of his ‘super’ status.  You had assumed that finishing once would satiate him, but you saw now that he had a lot more in store for you.     

“Make it quick, please,” you whispered, your last piece of negotiation for the night— hopefully.  He grinned and you swallowed.

“Oh, I think you ruined any chance of that.  I probably wouldn’t’ve lasted too long if we’d stuck to my original plans— what, with all the waiting for the past few weeks,” he chuckled.  “But now that you got me off already, it might be awhile before I can come again.”

You closed your eyes and sighed in defeat.  He pushed down on the backs of your knees, keeping your legs spread wide and your body all but folded in half.

“I think my fingers warmed you up enough, don’t you?  You can take it,” he decided as he started to slide his cock over your folds; like he was going to play with his prey before he devoured it.  “Beg me to fuck you.”

“No, no,” you whispered, shutting your eyes tighter.

His voice got closer as the weight on your legs shifted; he was leaning above you, looking right at you, and you were too terrified to open your eyes.

“Beg me to fuck you and get you pregnant.”

“Nonononono,” you sobbed, because maybe it was all a terrible dream and it would end soon.

“Sooner you do it, sooner I start, sooner I finish.  And then it’ll all be over and I’ll leave you alone.”

It’ll only just be the beginning, some voice in your head told you, but did it even make any difference?

“Please… fuck me,” you whispered, so quiet that only a man with enhanced hearing could pick up on it— but he would rather pretend not to.

“Speak up, honey, I can’t hear ya,” he grinned, “and look at me with those pretty eyes.”

You blinked your eyes open, staring back at the man above you.  “Please, Bucky…” you said, a little louder, “please fuck me… I want you to g-get me pregnant.”

And part of you was almost thankful when he finally slammed his cock into you, because at least he wasn’t going to make you beg any longer.  Still, your back arched and your mouth fell into a silent scream as the pain of his forced entry shot through you.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” he growled, already pulling back to thrust deeper, “oh my god, you feel so fucking good.”

It was all too much, and the way he had you positioned made him go so deep in you that you could barely breathe.  You knew you’d be sore for days from this, and he had only just started.

He fucked you relentlessly, looking down and watching in awe as his cock slid in and out of your dripping hole.  “Taking me so well,” he praised you with a rough voice, “such a good girl for me.”

His attempt at praise felt like the most humiliating thing he could’ve said; you wanted anything but to be good for him— after so many tries to fight back, to stall, to resist, all you’d done was make everything worse for yourself, and now he was calling you his good girl.  You felt disgusting as he leaned down and grabbed your jaw, forcing you to reciprocate his aggressive kiss.

He stayed close when he pulled back, watching your expression twist with pain.  “Does it still hurt, doll?  It should start feeling good soon.”

It had already started to feel good, but you hadn’t admitted that to yourself.  Every thrust pushed the fat head of his cock right into some part of you that was so sensitive and it was all very overwhelming.

“It’ll be better if you come,” he explained.  “I wanna make it good for you, and it helps our chances of conceiving.”

An hour ago, you would have objected to the use of ‘our’— it’s not ‘our’ plan, it’s not what ‘we’ want, you would’ve said, or at least thought.  But you were so distracted that you didn’t even notice it, and in a way, you two did have the same goal: you both wanted this to end, just for different reasons.

“I bet you can come just from this,” he wagered, “but it’ll be easier for you if I touch you here, right?”

One hand moved down and suddenly his thumb was circling your clit.  Instantly your hips were bucking up and your walls were clenching down on him.  He began to praise you for how sensitive you were, but his words were lost in your mind as you put all your energy into not having an orgasm.  You couldn’t come from this— you’d been kidnapped, held captive, molested, manipulated, and now this… you just couldn’t allow that to happen.

“Let go, baby, I know you’re so close,” he encouraged, “it’s okay— it’s good, my good little girl…”

The coil snapped, and at that moment, your last piece of dignity fell and shattered.  It must have been that holding it back for so long only made it more intense when you gave in, because you’d never come so hard in your life.  Your eyes went from wrenched shut to shot wide open, and your back arched as your nails clawed at the sheets beneath you.  You couldn’t be sure what noises you made because your ears were starting to ring, and through all of that he was still fucking you.

“Fuck yes, just like that,” he grinned, “Jesus fucking Christ, you get so tight when you come.”  

As the intensity of your orgasm faded, all your fight was gone with it, and you went limp as you resigned to letting him use your body this way.  He leaned down and kissed your neck, sucking bitemarks into the delicate skin there— even venturing down to your collarbones.  All of that meant he didn’t have to go very far to be able to whisper in your ear about how he was so close, how he was going to get you pregnant any second now, and how he couldn’t wait to see you round and swollen with his child.

“These’ll get bigger too,” he moaned as he reached up to grope your tits.  “Our baby will get first serve, of course, but if there’s anything left over, I’ll help you take care of it.”

It could’ve been hours of that, for all you could tell.  You came again and again— they started to blend together after a while— as he moaned the most terrifying, filthy things in your ear.  You were afraid you’d go numb before he finished, his cock moving so fast and so deep that the friction nearly burned.  It didn’t burn, though, because you were unendingly wet, which really just made it worse because you hated that you were, on some level, enjoying it.  Every time he whispered praises to you, arousal tingled in your spine and you fluttered around him.  It was obvious that his words, his body, and his cock were doing things to you that you hadn’t ever experienced before.

You were crying still, but you weren’t sobbing.  No sound or heavy breathing, just tears streaming silently to the wet patch beneath your head.  

“You’re so perfect,” he cooed, “and you’re gonna be a great mom.  You’ll be a great wife, too… with a little more training.”

He was fucking you even faster, the lewd slapping of skin echoing through the room.  You could hear how wet you were, and you could feel that it had begun to coat your inner thighs.  His moans got louder, occasionally muffled as he kissed your neck some more.

“God, baby, I dunno if I can last much longer… need to fill you up, doll.”

Your legs were shaking, but the rest of you was still and silent, resigned to your fate.

“Fuck, I love you,” he groaned.  “Is that strange to say?  I hope it’s not too soon— but it’s true.  I love you so fuckin’ much.”  His sweetness dissipated instantly as he grabbed your jaw, hovering over your face again.  “Say you love me, too,” he instructed.  You weakly tried to shake your head.  “Say it!”

“I love you too, Bucky,” you whispered, and you heard yourself say it but it didn’t sound like you at all.  He smiled softly, looking down at you with gentle affection in his eyes.

“I know, sweet girl,” he hummed before he kissed you again.  And as the kiss deepened, the way he moaned against your lips and his hips started to falter made it all too clear he was coming inside you.  It went on for what felt like eternity, with him thrusting into you with every flex of his cock, each time slamming as deep as he could go.  

He pulled you close, keeping his cock inside as he started to catch his breath and kiss your neck and shoulders slowly.  Your kidnapper, after everything he’d done, actually had the audacity to cuddle with you… how bizarre.

“Might be able to go again soon,” he informed you with a sleepy mumble, “but I jus’ wanna hold ya first… I could fall asleep with you in my arms like this…”

You glanced over at the door, sadly seeing he’d locked it behind him— even locked from the inside, you couldn’t open it, due to the outrageously heavy metal bar that only he could lift.  Meaning you couldn’t make your escape while he slept.  With no hope of freedom in sight, and with your own eyelids getting heavy, you figured it couldn’t do any harm to fall asleep with him.  You’d worry about your plan tomorrow— right now, you could just enjoy laying your head on his chest and being wrapped in his embrace.

[fruitcoops]

Hi, I love your blog so much! I recently got ankle lateral ligament reconstruction done, and as an athlete, it sucks so bad. I watched my basketball team play yesterday, and it felt really horrible to watch them lose by one point in overtime when I know I would have made a difference if I were on the court... I know you have lots of asks and prompts, but if you have the time and want to, could you possibly hurt me more than I’m already hurting with some angsty ankle injury stuff😩 like maybe Cap watching the Lions lose without him.

Thank you for all the awesome fics you write! Your blog is amazing!

Anon, this ask really struck a chord with me and I wanted to do it justice as best I could--going through a sports injury like that is the worst feeling in the world, and watching your teammates play without you just adds salt to the wound. Sending all the love and healing vibes your way, okay? Please keep me updated on how you're feeling if you feel comfortable <3

Combined with an ask for pre-Coops and Sirius' photo of Remus! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove

TW for canonical injury and mentioned scars (Remus)

Sirius felt a nudge at his arm and his irritation flared, but he did not take his eyes off the game. “Fucking hell,” he muttered as James missed yet another blatant pass. There’s three.

The next nudge was more insistent.

“What?” he snapped, sparing half a glance to his left and feeling his stomach swoop.

Remus raised his eyebrows and held the mouthguard out further. “Either put this in or unclench your jaw.”

You’re not my mother, Sirius almost snarked back, just to be even more of an asshole. He was cold from being at the rink without his gear, severely pissed off by the general bullshit happening on the ice, and the itch in the boot locked around his stupid fucked-up ankle was slowly driving him mad.

Remus offered the mouthguard again, and Sirius’ temper cooled by a few degrees at the soft encouragement on his face. Pretty, his brain supplied. He swallowed hard around his sudden dry mouth and shoved the plastic between his teeth, beating back the unruly emotions with a mental baseball bat. Nope. Not tonight. Focus on being angry.

Logan got distracted, and Finn paid the price as an enforcer slammed him against the boards; he bounced back immediately, but Sirius ground the mouthguard so hard it squeaked. “Tabarnak—”

“Come with me for a sec,” Remus said, raising his voice just enough to be heard over the angry shouts of Lions fans.

Sirius shook his head. What he wouldn’t give to be in the heart of the fight, letting off some of the steam that had been building with no outlet for weeks. “Game’s not over.”

Remus pressed his lips together, but said nothing; Sirius’ throat constricted as he looked at the scoreboard. There may have been three full minutes left on the clock, but the Lions had already lost—unless they pulled a miracle out of their asses, this game would be a stain on their record. Or if they just let me play.

Sirius sighed through his nose. The urge had been growing stronger the longer he stayed cooped up and restless, banging at the walls of his brain and bringing headache after headache.

“Cap.” The hand on the back of his bicep was surprisingly gentle and he closed his eyes as Remus gave him a light tug. “Come on. We can at least be productive instead of sitting here and stewing.”

He smells nice. How does he always smell so nice? Sirius stood and followed Remus down the tunnel, not even bothering to force smiles for the people pounding on the glass partitions. Don’t focus on the game.

Focus on his shoulders, something close to his heart suggested. You like his shoulders.

He scrunched his nose up at the thought—if he dwelled on the smooth, strong curve of Remus’ upper back for any longer, he would start remembering the one time he saw them bare, covered in sweat with scars that shone like moonlight and—

“Are you okay?” Remus asked, snapping him back to reality. Sirius jumped and concern flickered over the golden planes of his face. “You’re twitchy tonight.”

“Just…” He made a vague, aborted motion toward the ice before continuing toward the PT room, though he did not miss the worried look Remus shot him. Fantastic, now I look like a dick and an idiot.

“What’s going on, Sirius?” The door clicked closed behind them and Remus leaned against it with his arms crossed loosely as Sirius limped over to the table and sat down, pulling the mouthguard out. He stared at the floor and the hunk of plastic—don’t think about how nice his voice sounds around your name. Don’t.

He shook his head; through the door, the sounds of the game were faint. “They’re better than this.”

“Yep.”

“They’re all going to be angry tomorrow, which makes them sloppy.”

“Probably.”

“Coach will be upset.”

“No question.”

“It’s the Badgers.”

Remus made a face. “I know, right?”

“They’re a good team, but—” He tightened his jaw again and looked away.

“But we’re better,” Remus finished for him.

“Yeah.” Silence fell between them for a few moments, though it wasn’t uncomfortable. Being quiet around Remus was never uncomfortable, and Sirius was pathetically grateful for every scrap of it he could get. “I—the game would be different if I was out there.”

“Would it?”

“It would.” He had been going over every mistake for two and a half hours, placing himself in like a chess piece to stop the missed passes, fumbled pucks, and thoughtless plays. “They need me with them.”

The paper crinkled as Remus sat down next to him, and every one of Sirius’ senses went on high alert. “They need to you get better,” he said simply, those caramel-apple eyes making Sirius’ knees go weak. “Have you been doing your exercises?”

“Of course,” he scoffed.

“Good.” There was no defensiveness or indignation in Remus’ voice—guilt snapped, a firecracker behind his teeth.

“Sorry.”

Remus smiled wryly. “When you’re around injured hockey players all day long, you get used to a little bit of bitchiness.”

“I’m not bitchy!” Sirius spluttered. The poorly-concealed amusement on Remus’ face made mortification heat his cheeks. “I’m not!”

“Uh-huh.” The note of smug disbelief should not have been as attractive as it was. “Alright, lay down.”

Sirius swore he heard a few crackling noises as his brain short-circuited. “Quoi?”

“I’m not kneeling on freezing linoleum to check out your ankle, Cinderella,” Remus snorted. “Now get a wiggle on.”

“You have the strangest sayings,” he said as he laid back and stretched his leg out, bewildered and yet somehow relieved.

“And you—” Remus pulled the top buckle free. “—have no appreciation for the great American north.”

“I can take it off,” Sirius mumbled, feeling redness rise once again.

He cocked an eyebrow. “The boot? I might not be a muscle-bound athlete, but I’m pretty sure I can manage a couple strips of Velcro.”

“No, it’s—doesn’t touching people’s feet freak you out? Like, the sweat and everything?”

“If it did, I’d have to find another profession, because I’m damp all the time from you fuckers and you all seem to have a habit of breaking things below the knee. Bend.”

Sirius complied, drawing his knee toward his chest. His bare foot looked weird in the bright lights, pale and still swollen, but Remus was as golden as ever. You can watch from afar, he conceded when the cute little furrow appeared on Remus’ forehead while he felt around the bone. Just for a little while. “Your hands are warm,” he said before he could stop himself.

Remus glanced up, and his small smile caused a flood of butterflies in Sirius’ stomach. “Thanks. They’re usually pretty cold, so I’m glad I’m not accidentally giving you foot hypothermia.”

“Is that real?”

“No,” Remus laughed. Sirius wished he could keep that sound forever. “How’s that feel?”

“Uh, fine.” He blinked a couple times to come back to himself as Remus put light pressure on the sole of his foot. “Still fine.”

“You’re a lot more flexible than before. Things are healing well.”

A loud buzzer went off outside—Sirius closed his eyes as disappointment and frustration fired up once more. The crowd wasn’t cheering. The windows weren’t shaking. He didn’t even want to look at the TV to check the score. I should be out there, he thought for the umpteenth time. I’m letting them down.

“I’m sorry,” Remus said quietly as he worked through a few more exercises.

“Not your fault.”

“It’s not yours, either.”

Sirius wanted to believe him. “I’m the captain.”

“And you’re being responsible by doing this with me so you can heal faster.” People rushed past the door outside, but the PT room remained peaceful. Sirius stared at the plain ceiling and wished for a miracle. “They miss you.”

“Y’know, that’s not exactly making me feel better.”

“Sorry.” They lapsed back into silence. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Cool.”

Sirius chewed the inside of his lip for a solid two minutes, following Remus’ simple instructions without looking at him. He should have been out there with them, ankle be damned. It was basically healed anyway; they were just tying up loose ends, and maybe Remus needed to be a little less careful. “Is this really necessary?”

“I’m gonna give you five seconds to ask a different question.”

“I’m just saying, it feels fine and—”

“Time’s up.” Remus let go of his foot and Sirius only spared a moment to mourn the loss of his comforting touch before he caught the stormy, mulish stubbornness that took the place of Remus’ concentration. “Sit.”

“I am.”

He narrowed his eyes, and Sirius dragged himself upright with a huff. Arguing with Remus Lupin was about as useful as arguing with a brick wall, and that was coming from someone who won the ‘Most Stubborn’ superlative at their last end-of-year party. “First of all, ankles are annoying and the soft tissue will still be damaged even if the bone is healed. Second, it’s my job to fix you up so your boys stop whining to me about healing you faster. And third, I’m not giving up on you.”

Sirius paused for a long moment. “What?”

“I’m not giving up,” Remus repeated. His jaw set and he made direct eye contact. “I would love nothing more than to kick Snape in the kneecaps and let you go out there as soon as you can stand on your own, but that’s not what I’m here for. I’m here to make sure you’re ready to kick ass and take names no matter what that little shit was trying to do. So don’t you dare sit there and try to chicken out at the finish line, because I know you want this even more than I do.”

In his chest, Sirius heart was hammering like he had just run five miles. I’m not giving up on you. Sirius had never wanted to kiss him more. “Thank you.”

Remus softened with a slow breath. “We’re in this together, Sirius. You and me.”

“I know.”

“Then let’s get to work. Next time you play the Badgers, make ‘em regret this game.”

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

Sirius walked back toward the locker room feeling rather nauseous. The whole team leaked their bad moods into the air—Arthur had barely looked at them before sending them home with a quiet “we’ll talk more tomorrow”, the equivalent of an arrow through Sirius’ heart. I need a pick-me-up, he thought as the rest of the guys trooped out in a melancholy raincloud. He fist-bumped each of them, per tradition, but their responses were weak at best.

Ice cream sounded good. Maybe a milkshake. Oh, who was he kidding, he needed a solid hug and something other than ice to look at. Not for the first time, he contemplated getting a dog, just so the house wouldn’t be empty and dark when he returned.

Laughter rang out ahead and Sirius inhaled sharply, letting the sound roll over him. “I’m not kidding!” Moody chuckled.

“Bullshit,” Remus countered, still snickering. “There is no way—”

“I’ve been around here longer than you’ve been alive, kid.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Remus groaned, though Sirius could hear the smile in his voice even from around the corner. “You only bring it up every goddamn day.”

“Brat.”

Sirius entered the room just in time to see Remus playfully knock the side of his foot against Moody’s; both were grinning. “Isn’t it past your bedtime, old man?”

Moody nodded to him. “Night, twelve.”

“A demain,” Sirius called, offering a slight smile as his eyes lingered on Remus. He was leaning back against the wall with stick tape in his hands—his hands, which never failed to make Sirius throw caution to the wind—and raised it in farewell. “See you, Loops. Thanks again.”

“No problem, Cap.”

He grabbed his duffel off the floor and slid his keys, wallet, and phone into his pockets as Moody and Remus resumed their conversation. He wondered how long they usually stuck around, and if they would oppose him staying—he wouldn’t interrupt, but being around people who weren’t going through the five stages of grief already felt nice.

An idea struck as Remus’ laugh raised goosebumps on his arms once again. With a careful glance over his shoulder, he slipped his phone out and snapped a picture before hurrying off toward his car. His breaths were shallow; that was such a creepy move, and surely one of them noticed—

No voices chased him. Nobody gave him strange looks. He waited until he was safely in the front seat of the car before unlocking his phone, and all the air in his lungs left in a rush.

The photo was perfect. It caught the lopsided tilt to Remus’ mouth, his slender-but-strong fingers, his long legs, the scrunch of his nose mid-laugh. Everything Sirius never let himself look at for long. He didn’t have much space left among the collection of paper memories on his dresser, but maybe if he put it in the back where nobody would see it unless they knew where to look…

He turned the car on. Later. He would print it out and deal with the taut rubber-band-ball of feelings later. Until then, he could settle for the imprint of Remus’ warmth taking away the pain in his ankle and the determination on his face as he promised to bring Sirius back from the personal hell he was living in. You and me, he had said, and Sirius wanted nothing more than to believe it.

[separatist-apologist]

Part 7

I'm considering our little serial to be completed with this chapter. Thank you @forestwitch7 for the prompts, I enjoyed writing them. I was thinking we could continue our serials with a new prompt, and my asks are open if you want to see something that could be extended over the course of a week or longer. I do have a jealous Elain prompt (non-smutty) and a jealous Lucien prompt (smutty) that I want to complete, so if you're hoping to see either of those things, they are in the works.

As per usual, this is NSFW, 18+, edited with my eyes closed, and more soft than teasing. It's also the longest chapter thus far (as warning). These two dorks can't help themselves.

--

--

Elain was nervous when Lucien stepped into the River House, a stack of paperwork tucked beneath his arm. His eyes slid through the room, surveying the occupants without betraying his emotions. If he cared she sat there, needlework abandoned in her lap, he didn’t say. Rhysand met him just outside the hall and gestured for Lucien to follow. He left without a backwards glance. Starfall had happened weeks ago and though they’d had a nice night, he’d left the next day and hadn’t said a word since. She felt nervous and, if she was honest, a little hurt. It had been her first time being intimate with a man that way and she supposed she’d hoped he might…call on her that next day.

Take her on a real date. She’d fretted over his silence to the point of anxiety and now that he was back, she couldn’t untangle what it meant. Had he come to see her or for some urgent political matter that could not wait? Elain turned her thoughts over and over in her head until she was a mess. Feyre joined her, Mor at her side, the two unaware of Elain’s inner turmoil as they drank tea and discussed the previous evening at Ritas. Elain listened absently, letting herself tune out her own thoughts in favor of their excited gossiping.

“Elain?” Lucien’s voice cut through the chatter just as the sun began to set. All three women silenced, their eyes locked on his face. Besides Solstice, had anyone ever seen the two of them friendly in the same space? Judging from the surprise on both Mor and Feyre’s faces, Elain guessed not.

“Do you want to get dinner?” He asked smoothly, arms crossed over his hunter green jacket. His expression was almost a dare. Say no. Reject me in front of your family.

“Yes,” she replied, too breathless. No one in that room believed this was the first time he’d asked her to spend time with him after hearing her response. If there was any doubt, Elain knew she squashed it when she stood quickly, tossed her needlepoint onto the chair behind her, and walked confidently towards him. Lucien was smiling with such open affection it made her heart flutter.

She waited until they were out of the River House and walking down dark, paved streets before she asked, “Are we really getting dinner?”

“I do plan to eat,” he replied, causing her to flush. “Sorry I was gone for so long. There was a disturbance…but I thought I’d show you something.”

“Oh?” She asked, her heart pounding a near painful beat in her chest. Lucien only smiled, both eyes focused straight ahead.

He stopped her in front of a pretty brick building half covered in inching, leafy vines. Lucien pulled a silver key from his pocket, slid it into the door, and gestured for him to follow her. The interior was beige and housed two doors on either side of the walls, with a staircase leading up. Lucien walked her up two flights of stairs to the third floor and opened the door with a shiny number 7 hanging just above a peephole.

“I have an apartment in the city,” he told her with a wink, pressing a spare key into her hands. “I should have told you about it ages ago.”

“That’s okay,” she swore breathlessly, stepping inside. She wondered if Lucien had decorated it or if it came furnished. She supposed it musthave been him, given the rich oranges, browns, reds and yellows that stared back at her. It was very much an Autumn pallet, bright and lovely and put together by someone with an eye for art and fashion.

“You can come even if I’m not in the city,” he continued, walking her through the living room and down a hall where his bedroom lay. “If you ever need to get away…or you miss me.”

He said that last part like a joke. She opened her mouth to inform him she missed him all the time but got tripped up when her eyes fell on a huge, four poster bed hung with sheer white curtains. A bed. On the floor were dozens of fat red pillar candles and with a snap of his fingers, each sprang to life.

“You’ll get wax on the wood,” she whispered, frozen in the doorway.

“A small price to pay,” he shrugged, putting his hands on her shoulders. “You can say no, you know. It doesn’t have to be tonight.”

Elain nodded, her mind forcing her to compare the scene before her with her only other experience. The room had been dark and cold, sparsely decorated and entirely masculine. She’d just assumed that was the height of romance in the moment but even though Lucien’s room, too, was masculine, he’d softened it considerably with the candles and the draped curtains. Even the blankets were a soft brown with a cream-colored throw tossed over a corner, making his bedroom feel warm and inviting. She looked over her shoulder at him, unsurprised by the flame burning in that russet-colored eye. His gold eye was wholly fixed on her face, and she wondered if he could see past her flesh.

And though there had never been a choice in whether they would be together, hearing him tell her she could say no if she wanted, that he wasn’t in a hurry, did something to her. He made her feel seen, feel special.

Loved, even, though she was too afraid to admit that was what was happening out loud. What had started as her attempt to get Azriel’s attention, to distract herself from her own boredom, had become much, much more. She almost laughed at how different things were, how important Lucien had become to her. She wrapped her arms around his neck instead and pressed a kiss to his mouth.

“I want it to be tonight,” she told him softly, her lips touching his as she spoke. Lucien smiled, his skin practically glowing.

“Good,” he replied, hoisting her off her feet and into his arms. “Because I’m tired of waiting.”

Lucien dropped her to his bed, climbing onto the mattress with her. Elain yanked down his neatly made blankets as Lucien shucked off his shoes, jacket, and shirt. Her fingers moved towards the buttons at the back of her gown but he stopped her.

“Let me,” he asked, his voice rough with desire. She nodded, nervous and excited, shivering when his hair brushed over her collarbone and his fingers slid down her spine, quickly undoing the buttons of her dress. She watched, eyes wide, as he slid the sleeves slowly down her arms, the skin of his hands rough against her own.

Lucien leaned back, shirtless and gleaming beneath the flickering candlelight, eyes reverent. “You are so damn beautiful,” he murmured, reaching out to brush her cheek. The way he looked at her and the way she spoke the words made her feel as though her value to him was not just her beauty.

“No, you,” she replied, pleased when a flush stained his golden cheeks. He smiled, charmingly embarrassed by the compliment, before going back to her under garments. She let him fully expose her, resisting the urge to cover herself with her hands as she looked at her again, his jaw slack and eyes wide just as he’d been when she’d come out on Starfall. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. She wanted to tease him but something about his expression made her stop. Instead she settled back against the fluffy pillows on his bed and gestured for him to come to her.

He did without hesitation, his lips slotting between her own quickly. He poured all his unspoken words in the kiss as he settled between her body. She wanted to tell him, wanted to say the words but she was afraid she’d break the spell.

So she poured back. I love you. Don’t leave me again. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Lucien’s hips ground against her, proof of his want and Elain gasped as memory of his cock in her mouth flooded back. He was so very large, much bigger than Graysen had been. Would it hurt, she wondered, running her nails down his back.

“I can feel your thoughts,” Lucien gasped, nipping down the side of her neck. “I won’t hurt you.”

She frowned. Had he felt everything? “Yes,” he replied again, smiling against her skin. His fingers tweaked against her nipples, the sensation hooking roughly in her gut. He looked up, his face resting in valley between her breasts, his eyes impossibly soft. “I love you too, you know.”

She started to say it back, a giggle bubbling in her throat, but Lucien’s mouth clamped over one over sensitive nipple, and nothing felt funny anymore. Desire coursed through her veins, taking over her body just like the day he’d taken her in the garden. She felt needier now, desperate in a way she hadn’t then.

He surged forward again, kissing her hotly, his tongue messy against her own. It was a prelude to what he planned to do between her legs, and she wished he’d stop teasing her and get on with it. She was way too shy to just ask and when he broke the kiss, she whined, pushing his head down her body.

Lucien chuckled darkly, his breath warm on her cool skin. “Say please,” he whispered, rubbing the flesh of her thighs just close enough to the crease of her center without actually touching her. She lifted her hips and wondered if he’d deny her if she didn’t do as he asked.

“Please,” she begged, delighted at the groan that slipped from his throat.

“Embarrassing,” she teased, squirming against his fingers.

“Oh you don’t know the half of it, sweetheart,” Lucien crooned, lowering his mouth to her body. She squealed, delighted by both the nick name and how willing Lucien was to play along. Her thoughts vacated at that first swipe of his tongue, dragging her back to that place of limitless burning heat. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, his hair spread over his broad, muscular shoulders, one hand pressed against her lower abdomen to keep her pinned to the bed. His eyes were closed, the expression on the part of his face she could see utterly lost, as though he were experiencing some form of nirvana just by touching her. She could see his hips grinding against the bed in time with her own and she wished he wasn’t wearing pants. She wanted to see him fully undressed.

She felt electric beneath his touch, building up, up, upbefore she shattered around him with a scream and a fistful of his hair, forcing him to stay clamped between her trembling thighs. He didn’t stop, his tongue sweeping over her in quick, efficient circles until she was sobbing mess. She tugged and he came, his mouth covering hers with an intensity that excited her. She hooked her fingers in the waist of his pants and tugged.

“Impatient,” he tried to tease but the word was more groan. She watched him roll over and stand quickly to shuck off his pants.

“Wait!” She cried, drinking in the hard, naked, muscular body standing in front of her. Lucien shifted his weight from one foot the other other, his cock twitching beneath her gaze.

“Now who is beautiful?” She asked while he crawled back to her.

“Still you,” he promised, kissing her gently. She hesitated when she felt the crown of his cock notch against her entrance.

“Go slow,” she murmured. Though his expression seemed pained, Lucien nodded, his hair creating a curtain between the pair of them. She could pretend they were in their own little world where no one but them existed.

She sighed when he slid that first inch in, her body stretching but not in a painful way. It was pleasant and comfortable and by the time he was fully seated inside her, Elain regretted asking him to go slow. Lucien seemed to be strained above her, his body weight braced on his elbows beside her.

“Are you okay?” He gasped and she nodded, leaning up just enough to kiss him.

“You can move,” she told him with what she hoped was a sweet and not deranged smile. Lucien nodded, sliding himself out too slowly for her liking, grunting as he came back in. She let him for a moment, worried that perhaps he needed to prove to himself he wouldn’t hurt her, before she hooked her legs around him and drove her heels into his ass, forcing him to snap into her hard.

“Oh,” she gasped at the same time he did. “Again.”

Whatever leash Lucien held himself with vanished and Lucien thrust hard, the sound of their flesh meeting punctuating the silence around them. She was building again, writhing beneath him, doubly so when his hand snaked between them to rub quick circles over her already swollen clit. She was panting, begging.

“Harder,” she heard her voice plead, half stunned at the sound. “Don’t stop, Lucien, please.”

Lucien grunted again, sweat dripping down his back. “So fucking wet,” he groaned, the sound more animal than man. “So tight. Fuck, Elain—”

His words were drowned by the sound of her scream, so loud she was sure his entire building heard it. Lucien didn’t stop though the snarl that erupted from his throat made her shudder even as blinding white pleasure stole her last little sense of self. She was an extension of him and he the other half to her. Connected, Elain felt as though life suddenly made sense.

“Again,” Lucien demanded, somehow increasing his speed, pounding into her with an intensity that threatened to drive her mad. She was whimpering, her whole body overly sensitive beneath his hands. She moaned at the feel of one of his hands palming her breast, tweaking her nipples before gliding back to the quivering nub of flesh at her apex. “Again.”

And whatever it was that existed between them, the bond or their connected souls, made her desperately want to please him. She bit her bottom lip so hard she tasted blood, her hips unable to keep up with the pace he’d set, her thighs still trembling from her last release. He didn’t let up, even in the wake of her pleas.

“Please, Lucien. Lucien, Luci—” Her climax was edged with pain, the scream hoarse. Lucien growled with pleasure, pumping once, twice, and then once more before he held himself over her, groaning loudly with his own release. She could hardly catch her breath, her vision spotted, her body utterly wrung out when he collapsed atop her, head buried in the crook of her neck.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked, kissing along her jaw.

“No,” she whispered, her words threatening to turn to hysterical laughter. “You were perfect.”

His teeth tugged along her ear and though she was exhausted, more arousal speared through her.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, withdrawing himself from her body. She frowned, mewling with protest. Lucien merely smiled as he clambered from the bed, padded across the room, and returned with a warm rag to wipe her up with.

Elain propped herself up on her elbows to look at his flagging erection, his beautiful body, his absurdly lovely face. “I love you,” she said, tasting the words as she said them. Lucien beamed, seeming as though he were lit with some inner light only she could see. He tossed the rag back into the bathroom before joining her in the bed again. He dragged the blankets over them, cuddling her into his arms.

She smiled when he kissed the top of her head. “I love you, sweetheart. Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” She admitted, snuggling closer into his chest. “But it can wait.”

“Tell me what you want, Elain.” “You,” she said without hesitation. “With me, all the time.”

His thumb stroked over her cheek. “Consider it done.”

[jinmukangwrites]

@damianwayneweek Day 1 (6-13): Truth serum | Damian Wayne Protection Squad™ | Best friends to lovers

Note: Rushed. I'm sure it's still the 13th somewhere.

Warnings: kidnapping, nonconsensual drugging, needles.

-o-o-o-o-

Dick wakes to the taste of blood on his tongue.

Thankfully, after slowly moving his tongue around, it's just because he bit the inside of his cheek sometime between when he was knocked out and when he woke up. His head pounds like a war-drum with his heart as he tries to get ahold of his situation. Without opening his eyes, he assess his arms are restrained behind his back and he's sitting on an uncomfortable metal chair. His legs are also tied to the chair, keeping him from running.

The suit he wears feels suffocating, proof that—once again—him wearing Batman's cowl isn't some sort of sick joke. However, his shoulders are a bit lighter suggesting his cape has been taken. Not that he'll mourn it.

His cowl is on. He silently curses himself for not checking that first. It would be the first thing Bruce checked.

He always prioritized the identity. The mission. Secrecy before safety, Gotham before everything else. Not injuries, not friends, not family, partners-

Dick's eyes fly open, reminding him of the real thing he should have checked for first.

"Robin," he gasps out loud, looking wildly around the room and tugging on the ropes holding his back to the chair.

The room is dark and small, the walls made of cinder bricks that have water mold where it connects to the cement floor. In front of him is a metal table with a black, palm sized box placed on top. Dick ignores that for now and looks to his side, only relaxing when he finds Damian to his right, tied similarly to another chair with his chin to his chest. Only unconscious, Dick notes as he watches his stomach rise and fall.

However, anxiety flutters in his gut when he sees there's a dried trail of blood running down the side of his head.

"Robin," he tries again, knowing at the back of his head that Bruce would be telling him to be quiet. Check for cameras. Look for an escape route. Don't let them know you're awake until you have a plan-

Dick shakes his head. Damian could have a concussion, and that takes priority. Dick could have one as well, considering how badly his head hurts, but Damian is only ten years old and Dick knows better than anyone the lingering effects injuries could have when you're a child.

He presses his feet to the ground and pushes, attempting to slide closer to his protege. He does nothing more than jolt in place. There's not enough leverage.

However, it seems the sound of the metal scraping against the ground is enough to wake up the boy. He comes to with a small groan and a pain laced crease between his brow.

"Robin," Dick repeats a third time. He can do nothing but sit as Damian blinks slowly behind his mask; his shoulders tensing as he too notices the restraints.

Damian opens his mouth, but before any words could leave there's a loud clang. The door in front of Dick and Damian, on the other side of the table, swings open.

In walks three men; two are unfamiliar, but the third Dick recognizes from the case files he and Damian got from Gordon about a week ago. Jonas Gibbs. Known arms dealer and smuggler. He's made his moves in Gotham these past few weeks, getting the police and public nervous about shootings with illegal guns. Batman and Robin had finally pinned down the date, time, and location of his next shipment and intended to take him down then, but he was smart and had hired help from various mercenaries that Dick could confidently bet used to be in the military before they were dishonorably discharged.

The way they moved, worked, and attacked was too strategic and planned. It was only a matter of time before one got a lucky hit on Damian; a blow with the butt of their rifle across the kid's forehead. The barrel of the rifle pointed down at Damian's unconscious body was all it took for Dick to raise his hands in surrender.

And now they're here, in some damp old room. Tied to chairs. A table placed in front of them with a mysterious box set on top of it.

"Perfect timing," Gibbs says, grinning. The two other men, clearly mercs, stand on either side of him as he drags up a chair and sits on the other side of the table. "I was almost afraid we'd have to dump water to get you up."

"What do you want?" Dick growls. He must want something. He hasn't taken off the cowl… or at least he hasn't tried to get through the various traps to pull it off. It means he must need something that an identity reveal wouldn't give him.

"I'm glad you asked, Batman," Gibbs says, a grin spreading on his face. He looks to one of his goons and they immediately pull a small camera out from a bag they had around their shoulder. He points it at Dick.

Dick gets a bad feeling about all of this.

"I want you to tell your real name for the camera."

Dick glares. "Are you serious?"

"Very. One of my men has second degree burns thanks to that cowl of yours electrifying him. So, I decided I'll let you go without any more harm. You tell me your names, and I'll let you go. Won't even show the video to anyone. Well," he smirkes, "unless you get in my way."

Dick clenches his jaw. Besides him, Damian mumbles something.

"I'm going to give you to the count of three," Gibbs says, unphased. "Otherwise it will get unpleasant."

His eyes drift to the black box, signifying it's mysterious importance. Dick doesn't let it scare him. He's not going to let this low life criminal blackmail him... put him and his family in danger. He'll take whatever will be thrown at him until he can work out a way to escape.

Gibbs counts down, and he reaches zero uninterrupted.

"Well," Gibbs says, unsurprised. "The hard way then. Gag him."

The grunts move like clockwork, and before Dick knows it his face is being grabbed and held in place while the other shoves a rag into his mouth and wraps a layer of tape around his face to hold it there.

"Batman..." he hears Damian mumble as the grunts back up. He sounds out of it. In pain. Dick can only hope that the hit he took to his head isn't too serious.

Gibbs retakes his attention, however, when he reaches forward and presses a hatch on the side of the black box, flicking it open on spring-loaded hinges. What's inside makes Dick's stomach drop. A needle and a glass vial filled with a yellow tinted liquid lays neatly inside. One of the grunts lifts the needle and the vial to begin filling it up.

"Do you know what this is?" Gibbs asks as the liquid fills the syringe. "I've yet to test it on anyone, but word is from the man I bought it from... It forces the truth out of you." The grunts finishes filling the syringe and flicks the bubbles. "Truth serum."

Dick has no doubt that the serum will work. He only wonders why he's threatening with it while he's gagged.

When the grunt walks around the table to Damian, he doesn't wonder anymore.

He can only tug on his restraints as the grunt grabs Damian's arm to aim the needle. Damian, for his effort, attempts to pull away, but the weakness of his head injury and his restraints do nothing to stop the needle from entering the inside of his elbow.

"You could have done this the easy way, Batman," Gibbs says. Dick watches as the syringe is pressed down, pushing the liquid into Damian's body. "I never like getting children involved."

Damian squeezes his jaw shut and turns his head away from the needle in his arm. It only takes a moment before the grunt pulls the empty syringe out before returning to standing besides his leader. A bead of blood appears where the needle left Damian's skin, but the boy doesn't move.

The air feels solid. Dick can hardly breathe as he tries to conceal his panic. He wants nothing more than to get out of these restraints and punch Gibbs and his men into next year, but he can't reach anything useful to do so. All he can do is watch Damian sit stock still as drugs spread through his veins.

A minute passes as Gibbs sits there in smug silence. Then, when a few more moments pass, he speaks.

"Robin," he says. Damian flinches, but doesn't look his way. His jaw still clenched. The goon with the camera points it right at Damian. "Why don't we start with something easy? What's your favorite animal?"

Damian curls his fingers behind his back and keeps his jaw grinding shut.

"Tight lipped huh?" Gibbs chuckles. He doesn't look surprised. Or worried. "Don't worry, I was assured that once it's fully in your system, it will hurt more to say nothing. What's your favorite animal, Robin?"

Damian says nothing, but he looks ridged. Tense.

"You look uncomfortable, Robin. Do you feel it in your head? I promise it will get better when you stop resisting. Let's try something different while we wait. Are you from Gotham?"

Damian's knuckles must be white under his gloves.

"How about your favorite color? Is it blue?"

Damian breathes a shaky breath through his nose, and Dick's heart breaks. He works harder to find a weakness in his restraints.

"My, your resilience is admirable. Were you trained on this?" Gibbs asks. Damian remains stubborn, but Gibbs still doesn't look worried. "Who were you trained by?"

"The best," Damian whimpers, cutting himself off with a growl and shutting his jaw. Gibbs smiles.

"What's your favorite animal?"

Damian shakes his head, a frustrated cry caught in his throat.

This continues, Gibbs finding victory in the one slip and pressing with everything he's got. Dick doesn't know how long Damian can last like this, and he doesn't want to find out. With every passing second, Dick knows it's only a matter of time before Damian's lips loosen. No amount of training can beat a good concussion and drugs designed to make your lips loose.

"What grade are you? Do you have any friends?"

After each question, Dick can see more and more discomfort in Damian's position. He's beginning to fidget and whimper and Dick's... Dick's had enough.

"What's your favorite color, Robin?"

"Green," Damian says with strangled gasp, sounding horrified with himself.

Gibbs smirks like a predator, knowing he's finally won.

"What's your real name?"

Yeah. Dick's had enough. With a hard tug, the ropes around his wrists finally snap against where he's been rubbing at them with his gauntlets. Gibbs and his men can barely react before Dick's upon them, cutting away the rest of the ropes with a batarang from his belt. He makes quick work of them in their shock, knocking them out and leaving them on the floor in unconscious piles.

He almost bends to put cable ties on their arms and legs, but he hears a tight whimper behind him. The moment after, he's rushing over to Damian to undo the ropes.

"Are you okay?" Dick asks, cutting through the bonds.

Damian shakes his head. Dick almost kicks himself.

"It's okay," he quickly says. "No one can hear. Let it out."

He's almost afraid Damian will force himself to remain silent, but to his relief and heartache, Damian opens his mouth and lets out a heaving sob. "It hurts- it hurts-"

Dick finally undoes the ropes, then he pulls his kid in close to his chest. "Get it out," he soothes, rubbing Damian's back.

"Dogs-" Damian starts, dissolving into quick rambling breaths. Every question he had been asked begins to be answered. Dick holds him close and lets him get it out with his tears. Silently, he sends a message to Gordon to pick up Gibbs and his men, then he messages Alfred to get the med-bay and lab ready. Soon enough, Damian is silent except for pain laced gasps, he holds tight to Dick's chest as Dick lifts him up and stuffs the vial with extra serum into his belt.

"I got you," he says as Damian continues to cry all the way to the batmobile. "I got you."

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Love Me Now, Love Me Always // F.W.

Summary: Five times Fred has been in love with you, and the one time he tells you.

A/N: This is my entry for @kalimagik‘s magical winter writing challenge. My prompts were friends to lovers and my other is in bold in the text. I hope you like!!

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: pining, light angst

Word count: 3k

One:

It was in the height of summer when Fred Weasley came to the realisation that he was in love with you.

It was the height of summer; temperatures teetering on the edge of the twenties – no mean feat for a British summer. It had been dreadfully humid; to the point where Fred was pulling his shirt away from his torso in a futile effort to keep the sweat from soaking through the thin material.

Cold drinks and ice creams were on the menu the day that Fred realised he was in love with you. From fairytales and stories, Fred wondered whether he would feel this grand moment in which he knew he had found the one he wanted to love for the rest of his life. His own mother had regaled him stories when he was a young boy about witches and wizards like themselves who had found their one true love; of brave princes who fought magical beasts to save the princess and ask for her hand. He had heard them all from being a youngster.

However, for Fred, it had been a smile and a laugh.

You had spent the majority of the summer with Fred at the Burrow. Your family travelling abroad to see distant relatives in Europe, and you had chosen not to go with them; instead, asking Molly Weasley whether she would mind you staying with the Weasley family until school started in September. Molly had accepted; she would never leave one of her children’s friend out in the cold.

It had been weeks of laughter and mischief filled smiles. Fred felt certain that he had not felt this happy in a long time; the attention he so happily soaked from you bringing colour to his cheeks.

A smile and a laugh; that was all it took for Fred’s heart to skip a beat and his mind to come to terms with the knowledge that over the weeks you had been staying with his family, Fred had been falling deeply and irrevocably in love with you.

The realisation knocked him breathless as he continued to listen to your laughter; your reaction from a story told by Ron. The words faded to white noise as he focused his entire attention on you; your smile, your laugh, the way your eyes lit up under the summer evening sun. His eyes poured over every inch of you and he simply couldn’t help but question whether he had always been in love with you or whether this was a new development in your long friendship.

Tossing your hair over your shoulder, flashing a warm smile in Fred’s direction before returning your attention to Ron, Fred thinks that no, he’s always been in love with you.

Then and there, he’s more than certain that he always will.

Two:

“Are you trying to get yourself killed or expelled, is that it?” You demand, hands firmly on your hips as you glare at the redhead.

Fred has the decency to look somewhat ashamed of himself as he avoids your gaze, looking absolutely anywhere else in the room than at you and the disappointed look on your face.

“The prize money…” He trails off, making a dismissive gesture with his hand; wanting to explain it further but not able to find the right words.

Your eyes soften at his explanation, understanding dawning across your face. “Fred,” You whisper, “This isn’t the way to go about it.”

“Then what would you suggest?” He snaps, instantly hating the acid behind his words as he watches the hurt bloom in your eyes.

You throw out your hands in exasperation, “I don’t know! A bank loan or something. We can figure it out but entering into a competition that risks your life is not the way to go about it.”

Fred remains silent; feeling thoroughly put in his place. You cross your arms; trying not to let the hurt you feel so deep inside show across your face as you ask, “Why didn’t you tell me you were doing such a thing?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but quickly shuts it. He doesn’t know what to say; he doesn’t know how to tell you about his plans for the future, about how he sees you by his side through it all. He hasn’t the foggiest on how to explain his deepest desires, so he settles for silence for now.

You hold a hand to your stomach as your other reaches up to only juts contain the sob that bursts free. “I was so worried. If your name was pulled out of that cup, Fred Weasley, I don’t know what I would do.”

Something in Fred softens; his heart yearns to take you into his arms, to kiss you senseless as he reassures you he would never do something so utterly reckless again. But he doesn’t do that. Instead, he reaches out for you, a hand beckoning for you to join him on the hospital bed.

You scramble to him, settling next to him on the bed, automatically resting your head on his shoulder and grabbing his hand. He squeezes your hand; silently comforting you as he dares to press a kiss to the top of your head.

A friendship this old, there were very few boundaries. A friendship this old, he was bound to have feelings for you. The realisation from the past summer becoming all too clear as he takes in the tension coiling your body tightly, as the kiss he presses to the top of your head does very little to relax to the tightly bound muscles.

Truthfully, he adores you. He would never utter the words to anyone else but you for the fear of having the mick taken out of him, but he does. He adores you entirely, and to see you almost broken at the idea of him possibly entering such a competition – it stirred something in him. A desire to never put you through something like this again.

He presses two more kisses to the top of your head, still worried about the tension tightening your body. “Love,” Fred starts; voice low so other students can’t listen in, “I need you to know, I have absolutely no plans on leaving you without telling you.”

You sniffle, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. “Good,” You whisper, “Because you definitely do not have my permission to go anywhere, Weasley.”

Fred chuckles, tugging you closer, ignoring the rapid beating of his heart as you cuddle closer to him. He drops one more kiss to your head before murmuring, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Three:

Eyes wide, you glance around the brightly coloured shop. For anyone else, the orange and purple design would be classed as gaudy, but for the Weasley twins, this was nothing short of an explosion of their personalities.

Fred follows you like a lost puppy; hands fidgeting at his sides as he clenches them into fists and then relaxes them once more. A nervous habit, you realise. He waits patiently for your thoughts as your eyes continue to dance around the shop. Repressing a grin, you turn your attention to Fred. His eyes are bright with questions already waiting, poised on his lips as he tries his best not to bombard you and beg for your opinion.

Spinning in your spot, you release a happy laugh, all the while exclaiming, “Fred, this is wonderful.”

“You think?” He asks, a note on insecurity in his tone.

You grin, nodding your head, “All of this, Fred, is wonderful. It’s going to be a hit, so many are going to love it.”

It almost overwhelms him then. His feelings for you. They rise from his gut; almost cutting off his air as the words he has wanted to say since that fateful summer threaten to choke him. He gathers you in his arms, spinning you in a circle, “Thank you, love.”

For Fred, opening the shop was his dream. However, watching you stand in the middle of the shop, a wide smile on your face as you take everything in, Fred is almost overcome with the intensity of his desire to take your friendship to the next level. Not yet, he tells himself, everything was still so new with the shop and something dark was brewing. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to put you in harm’s way.

Not yet, he tells himself, but soon.

Four:

Endless screaming; endless shouting; endless fighting. That was all it had been. For hours, the castle once thought of as a second home for many students had been the battleground for the opposing sides of war. Those siding with the Dark Lord making it their aim to destroy such a symbol of power and innate goodness; those against him doing their best to keep the castle standing whether it meant laying down their life in the process.

Fred’s mind had been one thing through the whole battle: you.

Even as the wall next to him began to crack; even as it shattered into a million pieces and he was blown out of the way by a spell from Percy, his only thought on his mind had been about you.

Desperately, Fred stalks the lines of injured and dead in the Great Hall. Frantically searching for a glimpse of your hair or a flash of your clothes; anything that would answer the one question circling his mind.

It’s the sound of your cry that has him whirling towards you; relief already being written across his handsome features as he spies you sprinting towards him. He spies blood on your face and on your clothes, but he doesn’t dare ask where it stems from, he doesn’t dare ruin the sweetness of this moment.

You come to a stop in front of him. No words dared uttered as eyes scan the other, worriedly checking for any sign of injury. “I can’t lose you,” You cry, “You have to promise me you won’t leave me.”

Fred hauls you into a hug; crushing your face to his chest as his arms wrap around you so tightly that it almost crushes the breath from your lungs. His hand runs down the length of your body, starting at your hair and ending at the small of your back, “Never. I never plan on leaving you.”

Both of you stand there; clinging onto each other for dear life, inhaling each other’s scent. He smells like brick dust, but underneath all the dirt and blood, you can still smell the citrus and cedarwood that you have come to associate with him.

Gently, Fred rocks you from side to side. To so many, Fred is known to have rough edges. To be loud and spontaneous, and to act before thinking. However, for you, he would be soft. He would be the comforting presence in your life; to be the one to whisper reassuring words and sweet nothings whenever you needed.

He wanted to be the one to love you for however long humanly possible. He just needed to work up the courage to confess.

Five:

The nightmares are the worst part of it all. The constant nightmares that make him question whether he’s awake or asleep.

You’ve taken to sleeping on the couch. It started a month after the end of the war; your flat too small for you to feel comfortable enough on a night. Fred would never tell you this, but he’s glad that the size of your flat drove you to his. Knowing you sleep mere feet away helps him return from the terror inflicted in the night.

He doesn’t like to think of how many times he has woken you in the night. His screams permeating the night air as his fear invades every room of the flat. He doesn’t like to think how often you calmed him down; your fingers carding through his hair until his heart slows to an acceptable pace.

It’s as you crawl into bed with him; a side of his bed already stained with the smell of your perfume, that Fred admits to himself, he is doing better. The healing process has started; the nightmares only being part of it.

Fred believes it’s down to you. You push him to work on himself; to fight through the terror that keeps him in its grip every night. To talk about what happened and his near death experience; you were the first he confessed everything to. He couldn’t face George; he couldn’t face explaining just what went through his head as he readied himself to meet the winged clutches of the reaper.

Fred knows it’s down to you, and he loves you more for it. In the early months after the war, he thought you would leave. He thought that after the first few nightmares, you would call it quits, distancing yourself from him in preservation of your own sanity. He didn’t like to admit to himself how often he kept himself awake with that very thought; how long would it be until you walked away and out of his life?

The time never came, however, and he loves you all the more.

One:

Fred tells you he loves on a sunny day in March. Over a year since the end of the war, and over a decade of friendship, Fred simply cannot remember a time when he didn’t keep you close to his heart.

The day had started off by following its usual routine; breakfast then opening the shop. From there, Fred would manage whatever customers would walk through the door, greeting each and every one with a smile and a pleasantry. He may be a famous prankster, but that didn’t mean his mother had raised him to be impolite.

You join him just before lunch; bell ringing above the joke shop door as you walked in. A smile already on your face at the mere sight of Fred working so devotedly. The smile that breaks across his face when he spies your presence has your heart racing and your palm sweating; you don’t think he even realises the effect he has on you.

“Fancy grabbing lunch with me?” You ask, hoping he says yes.

“When do I ever say no to you?” Fred jokes: mischief bright in his eyes as he grabs his coat, shouting to George that he would gone for a bit.

You never grab lunch. The weather being too nice to spend it inside a café. Outside the shop, you turn to the tall redhead to find him already watching you with a look you cannot decipher. Smiling, you ask, “Shall we just walk instead? The weather is too nice to eat inside.”

Fred chuckles, dramatically bowing at the waist before exclaiming, “After you, my lady.”

You snort, stepping past him to continue up Diagon Alley, heading towards The Leaky Cauldron. Fred asks few questions about the destination you had in mind; just that the hustle and bustle of muggle London becomes apparent as you turn right outside The Leaky Cauldron.

Fred grabs your hand part way through the walk; an almost absent minded action that has your heart fluttering in your chest. Briefly, you wonder if this is it, if Fred is finally going confess that he reciprocates the feelings you’ve long held for the redhead.

As you both continue to walk, each step if more tension-filled than the last. The electricity between you crackling almost audibly.

He pauses suddenly, his feet no longer moving forward as he’s overcome with the depth of his feelings for you. He tugs you to a stop; wanting to smile at the puzzled expression on your face. “Fred? What’s wrong?” You ask; nothing but concern lacing your voice.

“I need to tell you something,” He rushes out, “It can’t wait any longer.”

The crease between your eyebrows deepens; it takes everything within him not to reach out a finger and smooth it down. “You can tell me anything, Fred,” You state firmly; fingers squeezing his tightly before letting them drop.

“I’m in love with you.”

“What?”

“I’m in love with you. I want to love you today, tomorrow, and every day from now on, if you’ll let me,”Fred gasps; the emotions choking off his voice as the sentence ends in a whisper of a plea.

The tears fall down your face freely. “You do?” You sob, voice breaking from the emotions building inside of you.

“I do,” He states. His voice more confident as the feelings he has had for you since he was sixteen years old take root within his heart. The very muscle growing in size to accompany the scale of his feelings for you.

“I love you too,” You confess, your teeth worrying your lower lip as you wring your hands together.

Something within Fred snaps, and before you’re fully aware of it, he has you in his arms. He pulls you tight to him; the length of your body pressed entirely up against his as he buries his face in your neck, practically shuddering with relief.

It takes a moment for Fred to regain composure, to pull his head from the safety of the crook of your neck. He smiles down at you; a wide grin that only heightens your happiness. You reach out tentatively; gently running your thumb across his cheekbone and down the length of his face. He captures your hand in his, pressing a kiss to each fingertip, all the whole his gaze never leaves yours.

He searches your eyes for a silent answer to a silent question. Nodding, you stand on your tiptoes, desperate to reach his height. Timidly, you brush your lips against his. A barely there kiss that has Fred’s veins igniting to flame.

He drops your hand. Instead, he curls his fingers around your waist, tugging you even closer to him as the pressure against your mouth increases. Fred’s mouth insistent on yours as his desperation to memorise every inch of you reaches fever pitch.

You wind your arms around his neck, gasping against his mouth as his hands begin to travel, splaying against your lower back. Fred takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss; he tastes of the tea he drank with his lunch. You cling onto him tighter, wanting nothing more than to take this further until the need for air becomes too much and you reluctantly pull away.

Breaking the kiss, you murmur into the small space between you, “Love me now, Fred. Love me always.”

********

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @theweasleysredhair @harrypotter289 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @figlia--della--luna @idont-knowrn @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @teheharrypotter @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @starlightweasley @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lestersglitterglue @msmimimerton @obx-beach @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03 @bbeauttyybbx @breadqueen95​ @acciotwinz​ @slytherinsunrise​ @kylosleftbuttcheek​ @remmyswritings​ @xfirstfemale-marauderx​ @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon​ @ria-rests-here​ @superbturtlemakerathlete​ @inglourious-imagines​ @ithilwen-lionheart​ @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown​ @ilovejjmaybank​

Fred Weasley taglist: @whiz-bangs78​ @susceptible-but-siriusexual​ @seppys-return-to-madness​ @hexmione​ @ickle-ronniekins​ @oh-for-merlins-sake​

[mxtantrights]

PAST LIVES - 2 blurb

this takes place after the epilogue, when the reader and bruce’s relationship is growing. happy reading!

“And what can I get your partner?” the waiter asks.

You do an actual spit take. The waiter jumps back a bit at your reaction, and begins to stutter in his place. Bruce puts his hand up to calm him down.

“It’s alright. We’re uh-” Bruce begins to wonder what word would fit best.

You want to laugh a bit. Because to you, there’s only one word to explain it. Family. He’s your father. Your his child. But you haven’t had any run-in’s with people who have, to your face, mistaken your relationship. Therefore, there was no way to correct them.

“Family,” You begin then look down at the menu, “I’ll take the clam chowder soup. Do you also have the crackers you know to- dip?” 

The waiter nods his head feverishly. He then takes the menu from you.

“Coming right up, and I'm sorry about the mistake.” he says.

“You’re good.” you and Bruce say at once.

The young man leaves your table. You look at Bruce and he’s got that same look on his face. It’s a copy of the one that he had when you talked while cleaning the dishes. It felt like a life time ago.

“It would probably be good to get ahead of the rumors.” you say.

“Yes.” he says.

“I mean, if we do continue to have fancy lunches like these.” 

And by some stroke of luck, you see Bruce Wayne crack a smile in public. And not the ones that Dick says he plasters on for others. The one that doesn’t reach his eyes, and doesn’t show his bottom teeth.

He clears his throat, “How do you suggest we do so?” 

You raise your pointer finger up while you other hand digs into your coat pocket. When you take out your phone, you unlock it with your finger print and open instagram. 

You rarely use it. It’s really just a place to post cool photos of food and sunsets from your place. And it’s basically Fallon’s fan account. 

With a few click you open the camera and turn around in your seat. You watch through the screen as Bruce seems to pose? You only question it because it feels like he doesn’t do much. He just shifts into a better position and smiles.

You snap the picture and turn back around in your chair.

Putting your phone on the table so he can approve of the picture.

“Operation Rumor Queller is a go.” 

You feign a pained look, “Please tell me you don’t name all the operations and missions.”

He shakes his head.

“I leave that to the boys. Mostly Dick and Tim. Jason when he feels like it.” 

“And Damian?” “He’s only come up with one mission name so far.”

“Which one was that?” “The mission to save you from al Ghul. He said it under his breath, though.”

You gulp. It’s not that you didn’t think Damian didn’t care about you. In fact you could place a very big bet that he cared ample about you. But you know that him growing up with Ra’s made it difficult for him to outwardly express emotions.

You only spent a couple of of years there and you found it hard, once back in Gotham, to control your resting face. Let alone expressing your emotions.

“What did he call it?” you ask.

“Operation half blood.”

“Jeez, okay I won’t hold it against him. He’s only a child.”

-

TWENTY FOUR HOURS LATER

You sit with Bruce on the patio. Since you were working on an upcoming project about Dog’s you were granted permission by Damian to hang out with Titus. 

You laptop hasn't been opened even a crack. You’re lap was occupied with more precious cargo, Titus’ head. And even though he was sleeping, you could tell Bruce had something on his mind. Something he wanted to ask you.

“Okay if you hated the selfie you can tell me that, the silence if really unnerving.” you say.

Bruce lets out a very quick chuckle. 

“It’s not the picture. Which, by the way, Tim put up on his wall.” he says.

You laugh lightly at that, trying not to wake Titus. But you don’t make another nudge to get him to speak. You’ve found that once you’ve asked him something, he’ll answer in one form or another. 

“When you were fighting Ra’s, you took the hits like they were nothing.” he says.

You don’t know what to say really. You’ve been in enough counseling and therapy sessions to know that it must’ve effected him to see that, and to want to bring it up. But there’s no sweet words that you can offer him about it.

“I’m okay now.” you say.

Out of your peripheral vision you see him shift in his chair. He’s uncomfortable.

“I know you are, but- I just couldn’t stand to see it. You're-”

“I’m your child. I know. It’s hard to see your child get a beating by an immortal mad man.” 

You want to laugh because the joke you made was kinda funny. But you also know the it’s not the time. Bruce Wayne was a man of many faucets and he was trying to make emotions one of them. Right now. With you.

“I’m sorry for failing you.” 

It hits you like a ton of bricks really. You don’t think he would ever say that. Because you don’t blame him for anything. You’ve learned to not blame anyone for anything, on most days. Bruce wasn’t to blame for anything that happened to you, on any day.

You turn you head over to get a good look at him. He’s got the beginning streaks of grey in his hair. He hasn’t shaved in a while, no Gala’s this month. And Tim has been handling things publicly for the company.

And yet he’s got bags under his eyes. Visible bags. 

“You couldn’t have failed me Bruce, you didn’t know there was a ‘me’ to fail. Besides, right here and now, I think you’re doing a great job.”

He looks over at you. And maybe he’s got allergies. Or he’s just put in eye drops while you weren’t looking at him at the speed of light. But you swear you can see his eyes are glassy.

-

A WEEK LATER 

“And what happened to your reflexes?” Damian asks.

It becomes silent at the dining table. You’ve sat across from Damian and his friend Jon. To your right is Jason, your left is Tim. Across from Tim is Conner. Bruce is at the head of the table like usual.

“I mean I haven’t had the need for them so...” you trail off.

“Not at dinner Damian.” Bruce says.

Damian rolls his eyes and you stifle a laugh. 

“I mean I was able to get your grandfather off my tail a bit so they’re not lost.” you say.

Damian smirks.

“Knock it off we have guests.” Bruce tries again.

“Oh come on, it’s nothing new to them.” Tim says.

Bruce stills for a moment. Tim’s comment makes you look at the two young men. They were brothers, as you were told, and that was about it. You knew they had to have known something about the LARPing that goes on at night. But you wondered how much they knew.

Jason sighed, “They’re part of the superfamily.”

Your eyebrows rise up your forehead, “Woah.”

Both boys look at you sheepishly. Then it hits you. How Damian was able to get into your apartment the other time when it wasn’t connected to the fire escape. He provided Jon as the reason, and now you knew why.

You put your fork down.

“Okay but wait- does this mean your best friend is superman?” you ask Bruce.

He puts his fork down too.

“Define ‘best’.” he says.

“Oh, so he’s you’re only friend. Got it.” you answer with a curt nod.

Tim and Jason laugh at that. The super boys hold back their chuckles. Damian’s smirk is still on his face.

“I’m going to give your phone back to Killer Croc.”

[9tzuyu]

children of tragedy (rewrite)

note: heyo, rewriting an old fic of mine. i hope to be able to rewrite all 5 chapters quickly. if you guys don’t like it, i won’t continue because its kinda dark and idk i feel like no ones gonna like it anyways. please leave feedback though, im on my knees begging for validation. also sorry if its ooc, please forgive me.

++ sorry the beginning reveals how rusty my writing is </3

(*** i wrote this as as a fem reader fic because it worked easier with how i wrote things.)

+ please remember that this is purely a way to get out my own feelings/struggles in a healthy way. also i’m sure this works better as a ship fic, but someone asked for this version so yeah :).

** mistakes are mine im too tired and lazy to proofread right now.

warnings: talk of alcohol abuse, slight mention of domestic abuse.

🏷 @peggycarter-steverogers

ch.2 | ch.3

[love, fragility, and the memories that eat us alive.]

meeting wanda changed everything for you. she wasn't like anyone you’d ever known. she was always kind, never quick to lose her temper or scream and yell at you for things you couldn't possibly control. she was warm, tender with everything she did.

your relationship with her was very new to you. it was much different in comparison to your past experiences — and you weren't quite sure what to think of it. there was no doubt that you appreciated her and everything she did for you, but you were still waiting for her to snap. it was almost like a need burning throughout your body. being able to grasp the idea that someone could ever really, truly be gentle with you was out of the question. in turn, you’d push all of her buttons, hoping that she would get mad enough and get it over with.

no one could really fault you for it. the steady stream of abuse was the nearly the entirety of your life, both physical and mental.

lately wanda was having to pick you up from wherever she could find you, most of the time in the alleyways of of bars you’d been kicked from.

once you were drunk enough (anyone really) you weren’t afraid to say the first thing that came to your mind, offensive or not – which meant it was no surprise when you’d been involved in fights. the alcohol numbed a majority of the pain anyway, so didn’t really make much of a difference to you.

with this happening so many times, you figured wanda would be angry with you – perhaps so angry she would find it within her to hit you. but each and every time wanda brought you home, she made sure you were comfortable before tending to your inuries.

what you didn't know was that being so worried for you all the time, every second of everyday, was beginning to take a toll on her. wanda only wanted to fix you, but you were making it more than difficult for her to do that.

she knew very little about your past, simply because you didn't like talking about it and she didn't want to push. but there was no denying the fact that wanda was curious.

sometimes she would ask questions, only between the soft moments the both of you shared. much to her dismay, most of her curiosities were turned down. on the rare occasions you shared brighter memories of your childhood, wanda would bookmark them in the back of her head.

no harm would ever come from her, but you didn’t know that. at least not right now.

too many times had your exes used the trust you’d so politely given against you. to be fair with wanda though, you shared only the brightest parts of your childhood. they were very seldom, but the ones you could remember were the ones you enjoyed talking about the most. 

despite her limited knowledge, it wasn’t hard for her to tell that you’d already been hurt plenty of times before. apart from the fact that wanda was overall truly a good person, it made her even more gentle with you than she’d ever been with anyone before. 

on top of that, wanda wasn’t stupid. she picked up on every little flinch you tried to hide, or the times you had to ask her if it was okay if you could do something on your own free will, and she definitely didn’t forget about the countless times you berated yourself over small, humanly mistakes. a frown never failed to decorate her face when these things happened. 

wanda tried her hardest to make it known how much she loved you, and how she would never intentionally hurt you. she never once lifted a hand on you or raised her voice in the slightest, even when she felt like she’d met a breaking point.

the last few weeks seemed to be putting more stress on her than usual. the gashes on your body seemed to be cutting deeper and the bruises on your jaw and rib cage were beginning to turn a darker shade of indigo as each fight became more aggressive. your knuckles had been swollen, irritated to the point your hands trembled when your palms were held open.  

you completely missed how drastically wanda’s mood had changed. she became quiet, seemingly lost in thought most of the time until she needed to take care of you. she grew tired, a purple tint claiming a spot below the lip of her eyes. fifteen pounds of weight had shredded from her body and her head grew dizzy every time she stood up. none of that mattered to wanda though, you were her number one priority.

alcohol was the biggest issue in the way. if wanda could get you to stop drinking for just one night she might be able to reason with you. 

the brunette knew that was out of the question though, because she knew no matter how many times she told or expressed her love for you, you wouldn’t stop until you wanted to, not when she wanted you to. 

you never allowed yourself to be vulnerable around her, so she never knew how you truly felt about the things going wrong in your life. there was an unbearable amount of pain when it came to confronting what you tried so hard to push away. the idea of allowing yourself to heal, to mourn the things taken away from you caused a lump in the back of your throat. living in denial was the easiest way to cope - that was as long as you could bear the damage it created.

 (and whether wanda knew it or not, knowing that you were causing her so much misery was the worst feeling you’d ever faced. all she had ever given you was love and in return she was met with destruction.)

so once again you found yourself walking alone, a slight stagger between steps. it was cold, each breath exhaled from your lips could be seen vaporizing into the air. every movement ripped what balance you thought you’d gained right out from underneath you. the feeling of numbness in your fingertips brought your attention away from the fact that you didn’t know where you were. 

the buildings all looked familiar, but everything was hazy. being drunk wasn’t always the fun everyone bragged about. too tired to carry on, you found yourself slumped in the back of an alleyway next to a dirty garbage bin. it reeked of sour, expired food, but you’d given up on caring about anything else other than trying to drink yourself numb. 

your mind began to wander. flashes of early mornings with wanda’s hands wrapped around your waist, breath tickling the back of your neck while the sun began to rise started filling your thoughts. the warm feeling wanda gave you outweighed every bad emotion you could possibly think of.

but as you stared at the ground beneath your feet things began to spiral. your throat contracted, the guilt you tried so hard to swallow began clawing its way out of your body.

(and holy fuck you could not deal with this right now.)

you curled your head between your legs in an attempt to shield yourself away from something that was born from the inside.

it was too much.

without a chance to stop what was happening, your stomach began heaving. a mix of bile and alcohol drooled from your mouth as you continued to vomit.

you missed the sound of footsteps coming from behind you. the feeling of a hand on your shoulder caused you to jerk back, slamming your back into the brick wall.

“hey, hey, it’s me. you’re okay. it’s just me, wanda.” she cooed.

through teary eyes, you looked up at the woman in front of you.

she’s your girlfriend.

(but you weren’t sure that you deserved to call her that after everything you’ve put her through.)

“what are you doing here?” your voice wavered as you wiped your mouth free of excess vomit. you sniffled backing away from her.

she tilted her head, desperate to read what your eyes would give away. “i’m here to bring you back home. can you stand up for me?” you shook your head. you were too exhausted and dizzy from the alcohol to even think about standing.

“that’s okay,” she whispered. “here, i’m going to pick you up, okay? wrap your arms around my neck and your legs around my hips.”

“mkay.” your speech was still slurred, but at that point all wanda cared about was getting you home safe.

you didn’t remember the ride home or wanda carrying you out of the car to lay you on the couch. by the time she got the supplies she needed to wrap and tend to your wounds, you were completely passed out.

when you woke up you were greeted with a glass of water and an over the counter pain medication. you swallowed the pills and moved to set the glass on the coffee table, but wanda beat you to it and took it out of your hands. she smiled down at you, taking a seat next to you. she tucked your hair behind your ears, giving your face one last gentle stroke.

thats when you noticed her eyes were red.

you immediately sat up, crossing your legs and moved closer to her. you’d hoped to comfort her somehow, but the shake of her head broke sonething inside you.

you bit your lip, anxiety shooting throughout your body. she sensed your nervousness and took your hands in hers, rubbing circles on the outside of your wrist with her thumbs.

“i love you, you know that. at least i hope you do,” she let out a soft laugh. “but i can’t keep doing this.”

your heart dropped, and you could feel the all too familiar feeling of guilt building its way back up. you tried to speak, but wanda cut you off.

“i need you to hear this.”

when you didn’t respond she took the opportunity to continue saying what she needed to get out.

“i have exhausted myself to a breaking point. i can’t keep worrying about you every single night you’re gone. i can’t be there every time you need saving. i’m losing myself.”

she paused to check and see how you were handling her words. for once you weren’t shutting down. you were genuinely trying to process what she was trying to say.

(and she was so proud of you for that. she almost considered giving you another chance. but she knew for the better, she couldn’t do that. not to you, not to her.)

“i’ve packed your things. you can leave tomorrow morning if you wish, i don’t mind having you for another meal or two.”

she squeezed your hands and got up from the couch, allowing you to take in what she said. it was in that moment when you realized that even when she’d finally drawn the line, had enough, she didn’t yell at you. she wasn’t angry, she was just sad.

you were chasing after something that wasn’t there, and it never would be there.

and now you were able to register just how much you’d fucked up the one good thing in your life.

[systlinsideblog]

Part 5

Systlin slept. 

She always dreamed in vivid detail; scents, sounds, touch. Often, the dream felt quite real, until of course she woke. 

This dream was warm. The warmth of the feather bed, of the blankets. The pleasant warmth from the summer breeze blowing through the open window. The warmth, most of all, of Foicatch. 

She rested her cheek against the solid warmth of his chest, eyes closed. The beat of his heart, the tickle of the hairs on his chest against her nose, the smell of his skin, were all as vivid as reality. 

He smelled faintly of smoke; he'd been in the forge, then. He didn't need to, of course. Hadn't, for a long time. A Bloodguard earned quite enough to  hire a smith for whatever they might need, and a King Consort had the royal smith at his disposal.

But Foicatch, before any of that, had been the son of a master carpenter, and a smith's apprentice. He wore the tattoo on his arm that proclaimed his journeyman status proudly, even after two years spent in a city guard, a decade and more in the Bloodguard, and another twenty years as King Consort. 

He rather liked rubbing it in the faces of some of the high lords and high ladies, to be quite honest. A smith was an honored craftsman. And he liked the forge. He liked watching the colors of the flames, the smell of hot metal and smoke, the steam from the quench tank. He liked the sound of the hammer and the feel of it in his hand. And so, quite often, the King Consort of the Northern Lands, the father of the heir to the Throne of the North, would go down to the royal smithy and serve as assistant to the master smith of Stellas Keep. 

He joked sometimes that he was still working for his master-craft tattoo. It was, Systlin knew, not entirely a joke. 

She pressed her cheek against the solid warmth of him. His hand was moving, fingertips stroking her spine from nape of neck to small of back and back up.

His fingers were rough, both from a sword and from the forge hammer. Systlin liked that about them, and how strong they were. 

The sensation of his heartbeat under her cheek, the lingering glow of pleasure shared, and the fingers stroking her back were glorious. She hummed in pleasure, and felt him chuckle softly. 

"Little cat." He said, teasingly. "You're purring."

"Mmm." She kept her eyes closed. She was the Queen Regnant of the North, had fought two wars, held the high lords in check mainly through fear of her and had earned the love of the common folk by shedding blood and sweat for them. She was a Breaker, the first in centuries, and rumored to be the most powerful yet to live. She held that power, and herself, on a tight leash.

 But here, in the bedroom she shared with her husband, it all melted away for a little while. 

She wondered, yet again, if he knew just how much he was the center of sanity that kept her moored and grounded. She had told him, of course, but still. 

Foicatch shifted. She made a sound of protest, and he tweaked the gold ring in her ear playfully. She sat up reluctantly, eyeing the matching bond-ring in his ear and contemplating tugging back. 

"I have something for you." His voice was soft. 

She raised an eyebrow. He rolled to the side; she appreciated the shift of his muscles under his skin as he did so. He was a wonderfully built man. 

"Here." He took something from the bed-table, and turned back to her. "I made this today." 

'This' was a small round piece of iron. It was beautifully made, twisted threads of wire in a complicated interlinked pattern of knots. In the center was engraved the eight-pointed star of her family. It was strung on a chain, and clearly meant to be worn as a pendant. 

"You made it?" She put it on happily. 

"I purified the steel from ore myself. And quenched it in water mixed with a drop of my own blood. I burned three of my hairs, three of yours, and three of Serra's on it, for the forge spirits." He ducked his head a little, as if embarrassed. "They'll protect you, if you wear it." 

It was an old ritual, Systlin knew. Hairs from her head, his, and their child, offered to the forge-spirits for protection. His own blood in the quench-tank, to keep away rust and wear. 

"I know you don't need it." He was saying, still seeming embarrassed. "But..."

She kissed him. Hard and at length. 

"Thank you." She told him, when they finally came up for air. He smiled, his face lighting up like the sun, and kissed her again....

Systlin woke. 

The furs next to her were empty, of course. On her breast, the iron of the pendant Foicatch had made her long ago was as cold as ice. 

The loneliness hit her like a brick, but there wasn't time to dwell on it. 

From outside the wagon there was a cry of alarm. 

She was on her feet and had her weapons in hand before it faded. There were sounds of a struggle from outside, and she was moving, barefoot and wearing her sleeping tunic, reactions honed by decades of experience engaged instantly. 

It was coming from the rear of the wagon. The wood that made the wagon was sturdy, but it was roofed in canvas. Even as she leapt towards the sound of the commotion, a knife blade was stabbed through the canvas to slice a way into her wagon. 

The wood of the wagon was sturdy. 

That did not matter, to a Breaker, in the slightest. 

The rear wall of the wagon fractured violently into a million splinters as she Broke it; she closed her eyes and raised an arm to protect them as she dove through the cloud of them. 

She went low out of sheer instinct. Dove through the splinters, hit the ground outside in a shoulder roll and was back on her feet in an instant. Spun, taking in the scene before her. 

A woman was on the ground, her throat slit. Another was crying the alarm, pointing to the wagon. A man was struggling to regain his feet as splinters rained down around him; he must, she surmised, have been climbing the back wall of her wagon. A knife lay beside him. 

A second man was stumbling backwards, caught off guard by the explosion of splinters. He was armed with a quiva and a lance. 

He saw her, and his eyes widened. 

The cold light clarity of battle was setting in already. Systlin bared her teeth in a horrible parody of a smile, and lunged. 

She was faster than him. She was better trained than him. She had the element of surprise. 

It was a credit to his own skills that he managed to regain his footing and twist out of the way of the sword strike that would have gutted him. It was even more to his credit that he managed to parry the dagger strike that would have torn his throat open. 

He did not dodge the knee kick. Systlin slammed her heel into his kneecap, and felt the crunch as bone gave way. He fell as the leg gave out, and lashed out savagely at her with his lance. 

He was very fast. She was faster. Ice  snapped down to parry the lance, and she sank her dagger to the hilt in his neck, just above the collarbone. 

Then she was past him, and advancing on the stunned man struggling to find his breath again. He'd fallen a good eight feet from the top of her wagon, and the wind had been knocked out of him. He was bleeding in a dozen places, from where splinters had driven into flesh. 

He saw her coming, and reached for the knife. She smiled at him, baring her teeth in the sheer bloody delight of battle, and stepped on the weapon, kicking it away. 

"I was wondering," she told him, even as her guards finally arrived with weapons drawn. "how long it would take you bastards." 

 An hour later, the bound prisoner had been carted away. The corpse had been disposed of, and Systlin was back to bed. 

They'd both been men granted freedom for apparent good behavior. To be honest, she'd known that some of them were acting, and had expected this. 

It had been some time since she'd had assassins try to kill her in the night. It was rather refreshing, actually. Her aunt had always maintained that regular practice was needed to keep skills sharp. 

The chill had faded from her pendant. She held it, for a long moment, imagining for a moment that she could still smell him, could still feel his touch. 

She reached up and touched the rings in her ear...two of them, one a gold ring set with a ruby, the second silver, and set with sapphire. Foicatch wore a matching sapphire bond-ring. Sura wore a matching ring of ruby. 

How long had she been here? Four weeks now? 

Systlin Stellas, Queen of the Northern Lands, was not given to tears. But even so, as she lay in her bed alone, she felt wetness on her cheeks. 

 Come morning, when she had the prisoner dragged before her as she held court in the open space before her wagon, she had composed herself again. 

The man who'd tried to kill her was not the only prisoner present. She'd had the men who'd not yet been freed dragged before her too, and set where they could watch. They were silent, and stoic. Systlin had come to expect that of them. 

Despite this, of course, she noted with some pleasure that the presence of the severed head of her would-be assassin spiked on a lance set in the ground did seem to draw their eyes. 

She smiled pleasantly at them. She'd learned years ago that it unnerved people when she did this. 

"I am honestly surprised," she said. "That it took you this long."

The bound prisoner spat at her feet. She ignored this. 

"I would like to publicly recognize," she continued, "Dina of Turia, who was clever enough both to recognize that an attempt would likely be made, and to think of setting guards at the rear of my wagon as well as the front."

Dina smiled brilliantly at the praise, and brought her lance to her forehead in salute. Her smile faltered, though; Systlin knew that she'd insisted on arranging for the death-rites of the slain guardswoman personally. 

"I am sorry, Ubara." She said. "That your guards failed to stop them." 

Systlin shook her head. "You cannot expect to best trained warriors after a month of practice. I have said as much. But they saw the men, and warned me, and it was clever of you to deduce where such an attack might be made."

That got another smile. "I have lived among Tuchuks." She said. "I've learned how they think."

"Now, of course, we deal with you." Systlin stood, and drew her sword. The prisoner met her eyes, defiant. 

"Go on, sleen." He said. "You are no Ubara." 

"Ah. Of course. Because I have not killed your former Ubar." She smiled at his shock, and in the gathered prisoners there were many suddenly wide eyes. "What? You think that I've not spoken to people? You think that the other women didn't tell me? What kind of fool do you take me for?"

Shock, from many of the men. But from the women, mocking laughter. 

"It is a situation easily remedied." She smiled at him, and then planted her feet and cut, swift and hard, pivoting from the hips. 

Ice cut through muscle and bone quite easily. The head hit the ground with a thump and rolled. Systlin ignored the body as it fell, and pointed towards the prisoners with the bloodied blade of Ice. 

"You," she said, still smiling. "Kamchak, is it? Ubar of the Tuchuks?"

The man met her eyes steadily. She saw anger there, but no fear. He was, if nothing else, brave. 

"A lesson I learned long ago." She told him. "Is that a queen with no people who follow her is no queen at all. And you, former Ubar, have barely a handful of men loyal to you. I have six thousand loyal to me. So who, here, is Ubara?" 

He spat. 

"But I am willing," she continued, "to do this properly. It will be a pleasure, even." She nodded to her guards. "Remove his chains, and give him weapons. If he wants his position back, he can fight me for it." 

There was a roar from the gathered women, and Systlin smiled as Kamchak's eyes narrowed, and he bared his teeth right back at her. 

 We had known, of course. It had been whispered about camp, and the men who had managed to convince the women to free them had consulted Kamchak many times in the previous days. It had been done quietly, of course; Tuchuks are clever.

On the night that the attack was to occur, we of course heard the commotion, as the wagon we were chained to was not far distant from that claimed by Systlin. Adjacent to it, in fact, as I seemed to be of special interest to her and she apparently wished to keep me under close scrutiny. 

I had asked for Kamchak to at least be chained near me. The request had been granted. We sat practically on, indeed, the flat space of grass before the great wagon that she used as her court. 

We heard, quite quickly, that it had failed. Systlin sent out messengers immediately, and spent an hour before her wagon in plain view of any and all who wished to  see that she lived. 

She was wearing a brief silk tunic, as she had no doubt been startled from sleep. Her legs were strong; far too strong for Gorean tastes, but still shapely. The image was somewhat marred by the blood that had dripped down her thigh as she carried the head of her slain enemy to the lance fixed in the turf for this purpose. 

The second man who'd attempted the attack was dragged to the grass before her, chained hand and foot and hand to foot, and tied down to lances sunk deeply into the turf. 

The women, I noted, did not cringe so any longer when shouted at by an angry warrior. His cries of rage were ignored. 

I noticed, for the first time, how well formed were the muscles of the women. I supposed that the hard work at camp and the running after the kaiila of their masters had always left the girls in excellent physical form. Had the last month of their play at weapons truely wrought such a change, though?

Or had the girls always been so fit, and I had simply not seen them drag a grown warrior by his hair before?

Systlin sat there holding court, clad in red silk and the blood of a slain warrior, a man who'd been sent to kill her bound before her, the firelight casting flickering shadow and light over the scene, seated on the furs and pillows as if they were a throne of gold and rubies. 

She met my eyes once, in the shadows, and her smile was a terrible thing to behold.  

For the first time since the she-demon had arrived, I understood how such a creature could be called a queen. 

It's said on Gor that a woman who enjoys the touch of silk is a slave at heart. I wondered if the man who had first said it had ever seen a woman wearing silk and the blood of a slain enemy. I found myself, for the first time in a great while, doubting the phrase. 

Come morning, of course, we were dragged to court. And there, of course, Systlin killed the warrior who'd attempted to kill her before all the Tuchuk. I had supposed as much would happen, once I had heard of the failure of the attack. 

I had not supposed that she would call out Kamchak, or agree to fight him. 

Kamchak, of course, accepted. 

As the corpse of the executed warrior was removed from the circle, I realized that I had never yet seen the she-sleen truly fight. 

"Be careful," I said to Kamchak. 

He nodded, once. She was only a woman, of course, and he was proud...but I saw him narrow his eyes at her, thoughtful, as his chains were removed. 

He was sly, the Ubar of the Tuchuks. I knew this. 

"It is unfair." He said, as his ankle chains were unlocked. "You wear armor, and I am nearly naked." 

Systlin smiled, just a twitch of her lips, and removed the red larl-hide cloak, and her leather vest. The glittering shirt of strange scales was brilliant in the sun. I could see no two scales of precisely the same shade. 

She bent at the waist and wriggled out of the armor, leaving her in just the padded shirt that went under the armor. She unsheathed her dagger and spun it around the back of her hand, quicker than the eye could follow, the hilt sliding neatly back into her hand as the spin finished. 

"There." She said. "Choose whatever weapons you please." 

Kamchak observed her, eyes narrow, for some time. Then at last, he spoke. "Lance," he said, "And quiva." 

Systlin nodded, and weapons were brought. 

"You have the sun at your back," Kamchak observed. "So that it will shine in my eyes." 

"Yes." She answered him calmly, matter of fact. She made no offer to change the situation. 

"That is wise. I would do the same."

She inclined her head perhaps an inch in acknowledgement. 

"If I defeat you, I will simply kill you." He informed her. "You are too dangerous to make a slave, witch." 

She smiled at that, showing teeth. 

"I suppose if I seized one of these women as hostage, you would simply overpower me with sorcery." He stretched, and weighed quiva and lance in his hands. 

"Of course." 

Kamchak approached her, cautious. Systlin waited, and I saw her shift her weight slightly. She was balanced on the balls of her feet, I saw, her legs spread slightly in a way that would give her stable footing and allow her to move any direction at the slightest notice. 

"Tarl Cabot," Kamchak said, and I started. "It would be a terrible thing, should this witch slay me, and no one else know that which you seek is currently within my own wagon, and has often served me as throne." 

I started; the gray, leathery thing that I had supposed was a bundle of old leather, and which Kamchak often sat upon? 

Of course, it was like a Tuchuk, to hide such a treasure in the most clever of ways...

There was a ring of metal on metal, and I was torn from such thoughts. Kamchak had hurled a quiva, as he had at me once upon a time. And as I had, Systlin had apparently seen the throw coming, though it was so quick as to be missed upon blinking. She had moved, just as quickly, and the ringing had been her sword meeting the quiva in mid-air, and parrying it to the side. 

I had seen her before in bits and flashes in the battle that terrible night, and later executing bound prisoners. Her form with a blade, I had thought, was good. 

I had been wrong before. Her form with a blade was excellent, and beyond excellent. 

It struck me, as she nimbly dodged a striking lance and the slashing blow of a second quiva, Kamchak bringing it up and around in a hidden strike close on the heels of his lunge with the lance, that she would have compared favorably with the best of the warriors of Ko-ro-ba. 

As she danced in, light and nimble, and drove him back on his heels with a vicious, lightning quick series of strikes, it occurred to me that she was likely quicker on her feet than even I. 

The sword and dagger at once was not a common combination on Gor, but the she-sleen used them to devastating effect. One may parry while the other attacks, and attack may follow attack without the slightest moment of respite. Equally, both may be used to turn aside blows given in return, though this relies upon the warrior being quick and nimble and possessed of excellent timing.

Systlin was all three. She was quick, marvelously quick. She was nimble, her footing flawless. Her timing was precise and deadly.

Within the first exchange, she had opened a deep bleeding slash into Kamchak's arm with that dagger, and as he fought to hold those biting blades off the sword slipped around and opened a cut into his thigh. 

Kamchak's lance gave him reach, and he was quick on his feet as well. As she pivoted neatly around his lance and cut for his neck with a vicious flat slice of her sword, he threw himself to the side unexpectedly and hurled his quiva, at nearly point blank range. 

She saw, and with a degree of control over her body and momentum that I had thought nearly impossible checked her momentum and changed direction, but still the quiva opened a cut across the front of her thigh. 

Both warriors fell back, eyeing one another. Kamchak was serious, deadly so. Systlin was grinning, and I have seen that grin before on the battlefield. 

Only warriors who truly delight in the fight smile so. 

As we watched, the she-sleen lowered her hand, dipped two fingers into the blood flowing from her wound, and drew them across her cheek, smearing scarlet like war-paint across her skin. 

"U-BAR-A!" There was chanting from the massed Tuchuk. A few, though, including the other still-imprisoned warriors, were crying "U-BAR!"

"You are good." Kamchak admitted. 

Systlin simply grinned, and began circling. If the pain of her wound was troubling her, she did not reveal it. 

Twice more they clashed, and twice more the she-sleen opened up wounds on Kamchak and then retreated to resume her circling. Kamchak did not manage to wound her a second time in these clashes. 

I realized to my horror, as she closed the third time and hooked a blow of the lance out of the air as neatly as one could please, simply to rotate around and drive her elbow viciously into the back of Kamchak's skull, that she was toying with him. 

Kamchak knew as well, as she retreated to resume that relentless circling again. The blow had dazed him for a moment, and she could have slain him on the spot, but she only pricked him yet again with that dagger, opening a slash across the back of his shoulder to join the half-dozen others he was bleeding from. 

"Sleen." He panted. 

"I prefer" she said, still smiling that cold and vicious smile, "to be called 'Queen'."

And with that, she moved in again. 

Kamchak was a great warrior, and a canny one. Kamchak fought well. Kamchak fought with a skill that would have been credit to any warrior of Ko-ro-ba. Kamchak fought with skill and speed and guile. But no man can stand forever when bleeding from a dozen wounds.

Kamchak fought well. Kamchak fought bravely. And Kamchak died, a warrior of the Tuchuk, without begging or crying out in pain, when the she-sleen tired of the game. 

She did not quite behead him. When his guard dropped, dragged down by exhaustion and blood loss, she cut again with that strange sword and opened his throat clear back to the bones of his spine. 

Kamchak, Ubar of the Tuchuk, fell. I did not look away as his life bled out across the grass; I owed him that much. 

Systlin turned to us as Kamchak fell, fierce and furious. 

"There lies your Ubar." She cried this out, and I knew at once that she was used to speaking so that her voice would carry over battlefields. "Now we will have done with this! Is there anyone else among you who would challenge me? Because now is the time! If you wish to avenge your men, if you wish to claim the Ubar title...now is the fucking time! Because the next time I have to get out of bed to an assassination attempt, I am going to slow roast the balls of anyone involved and feed them to you." 

Silence. 

"Then." She hissed. "Who is the fucking Ubara here?"

I could say nothing, and I was not the only one to look away.

“That’s what I fucking thought.”

 Three days later

“Fuck.” Systlin dug her fingertips into her temples. She could feel a headache coming on, and it was only midmorning. “Fuck. What is wrong with this place?”

Dina gave an apologetic sort of shrug. “I cannot answer that for you, Ubara. But the Tuchuk had been preparing for the Love Games for some time, and it is considered the event of events on the plains. We could simply move the bosk on and skip it, though it will be noted.”

Systlin gritted her teeth. Her new warriors were not well trained enough to put up against those who had been trained, as she had, since they were old enough to hold swords. They were eager, she knew, but simply not yet ready for such a fight. It would be a slaughter, and she would not have it.

“Abominable fucking tradition.” She muttered. “What will happen to the Turian women placed at the stakes if we simply do not show?”

Her advisors glanced at each other and shrugged. “I do not know, Ubara.” Said Shayla, a fiercely intelligent woman. She had a keen mind for numbers and a genius for organization, and Systlin had promptly snapped her up to assist with logistics. Her former and very deceased master had kept her in a length of nearly transparent silk that barely counted as a scarf; now she wore a long bosk-wool skirt and a conservatively cut tunic, and her hair was braided and pinned up in a coil. “But I am not Turian.”

“It would be counted as a win for the Turian champions.” Dina said. “And they will be free to go. But the Tuchuk will be marked as cowards, and runners will be sent to investigate.”

“Ah.” Systlin relaxed a bit. “Well. That’s no problem. I don’t care what they think of us for now, and a few runners are easily disposed of. We simply do not go, then, and we will come back and deal with Turia when the warriors are ready.”

“The Turians,” interjected Mettna, a Tuchuk Free Woman. She also had a keen mind for logistics, and was the matriarch of a large extended family with many ties throughout the Tuchuk. Gorean laws or not, she ruled her family uncontested, and her word was law among them. Even her teenaged sons and nephews bowed their heads when she fixed them with a flinty stare. “Will consider the women the Tuchuk would have placed at the stakes theirs by default, and they will come looking for them.” A dark look; her youngest daughter Hireena had been among those intended for the stakes. “They take pleasure in breaking us to the collar and chain.”

Systlin’s hand tightened reflexively on her dagger. “If they come looking,” She said. “I’ll make drinking bowls of their skulls, and send the rest of them back to Turia.”

“Good.” A nod. “I simply wanted you to know, Ubara.”

“And it is appreciated.” Systlin tilted her head at Dina. “It would be good practice for the warriors. Fighting for real with your life on the line is much different than doing it in practice. I know that you are impatient, Dina, but I didn’t learn in a month either.”

Dina nodded. “When DO you think…” she trailed off.

“A year, perhaps.” Systlin shrugged. “It depends on how hard you train, and how many chances there are to raid and test yourself in small skirmishes. You’ve all thrown yourselves in heart and soul, and are progressing remarkably. Keep training, and you’ll be flaying slave masters sooner than you think.”

Dina looked mollified at that.

“So it is decided then. We continue to move over the grazing grounds, bide our time, gather our strength, train, and ignore this abomination called “Love Games.” Systlin nodded to each of them. “Ah, Shayla. I had meant to ask…you had located the stocks of that stuff you call the ‘releaser?’ And the stuff you call ‘sip-root?’”

“We have, Ubara. One or two of the women have requested the releaser. I gave it to them. I hope that was not…”

“Not at all. Such things are entirely up to the individual. Continue to distribute it to any who ask, and notify me if stocks run low. I am not adverse to raiding for more supplies of any sort, should they be needed. How many men remain living?”

“Thirty two of adult years. Many more nearing adulthood, though many of them have been…difficult. There will be problems there, Ubara.”

“I know. But those will be dealt with as they come. Children have not owned slaves or raped women yet, and I’ll not punish them for their upbringing. There’s hope of teaching them better yet.” She tapped her fingers against her thigh thoughtfully. “Your siproot, quite honestly, rather reminds me of stoneseed, from my own world.”

“And Silphium.” The woman named Elizabeth put in abruptly. “From mine. The Romans…an empire, some two thousand years ago…used it so much that it was harvested to extinction, but it was apparently quite effective.” She worried at her lower lip with her teeth. “I wonder…if this siproot was grown on Earth…there’s so many who don’t have access to birth control yet. It’s a hardy plant. It could change so many lives for the better.”

Systlin raised an eyebrow. “Indeed. Stoneseed is considered a basic stock necessity for any civilized place on Ellinon, as siproot seems to be here. What is done then on Earth, to prevent unwanted children?”

“Well.” A helpless sort of shrug. “We’ve pills that work well, and barrier devices, but…well, in some places there’s not much, and while we’ve plants too many are toxic or don’t work well. So, in those places there’s just…nothing.”

Systlin hissed through her teeth in disapproval. “It’s a worthy thought, then. But before we can figure out how to return you to your own world, we must set this one to rights.” She rose, as did the other women in the wagon. “Thank you all. We will speak again later.”

Outside the wagon, she found her kailla, mounted, and went for a ride around the perimeter of the camp. She’d taken to doing so regularly; an early and hard lesson had been that people need to see their leaders.

Her father had ignored this fact. He’d died for it, with her brother, and the northern lands had dissolved into war for a decade.

After her circuit of the camp, she went to the field where the fighters were training. A few of the freed men had offered to help teach, and were so far proving helpful. Systlin had been dubious; the women of this place were so conditioned to expect nothing but brutality at a man’s hands that she’d wondered if it wouldn’t cause more harm than good. However, it seemed, after some tentative starts, to be helping both sides. The women were faster losing their ingrained flinching cringe when a man moved towards them, and the men, she knew, had been stunned by how quickly the women took to training. She’d heard them speaking to the still chained men about it, and arguing. She’d seen them as well cuff and get into yelling matches with a few of the sullenly furious teenaged boys who were nearing manhood, and had found their expected power ripped away in a moment.

The man named Carl Tabot was there too. He was still chained, foot to foot, and was simply allowed to correct errors when he saw them. She’d contemplated killing him; she was certain, in her bones, that he was guilty of the same atrocities of most of the other men. But she’d no proof, and the man was a skilled warrior; she’d only broken his leg rather than killed him for that, and because she’d noted the first time he spoke that he was not of these wagon people.

He spotted her, and glowered. She was more than certain that he’d happily stick a knife through her throat in her sleep if he thought he could get by with it. She smiled at him in return, the sharp, worrying flash of teeth that was famed and feared across the sands and the northern lands. He flinched, and glowered at her.

Fuck, but she would have given anything to have Foicatch there. The ingrained misogyny of this world ran deep, and she knew that words from a man would be more seriously taken than her words, however thoroughly she demonstrated that she was, in fact, the new superior power on this planet.

Actually, the idea was quite amusing. The men of this place had made it quite obvious what they thought of being ‘true men’, and that men not like them were ‘weak’ and ‘unmanned’. Foicatch, all six feet three inches and two hundred fifty granite-hewn, deadly warrior-trained pounds of him, could hardly ever be called either. But, like most real men, Foicatch was quite secure in himself and felt little need to loudly proclaim it for everyone to hear. He was, really, far more even-tempered and easygoing than she. He’d be mostly bemused by the arrogant, angry posturing and bellowing and rage of the men of this shithole.

Until he was not. It took a great deal to rouse Foicatch’s ire, but once roused it was terrible.

Systlin entertained the thought of one of the sullen, angry Tuchuk boys being dangled from one of ‘Catch’s hands, her beloved bellowing at the little shit, and smiled again in private amusement.

[ssoojinism]

BONNIE & CLYDE | pjm

Pairing ; criminal! Jimin x criminal! y/n

Genre : angst, nsfw (16+), crime au

Warning : alcohol consumption, kissing, graphic murder (pretty gory but some might find it isn’t, idk)

Plot summary :-

“you make this world a little wild, and we shout through crowded streets, turn up the noise and make it loud, and let the world fall at our feet,”.

The story of you living a reckless life with your boyfriend, Park Jimin as the most wanted criminal couple in the big city of Seoul. Inspired by Yuqi's Bonnie and Clyde and also the story of Bonnie and Clyde itself.

[next]

--

The atmosphere in the nightclub located in the center of Seoul is very noisy with the presence of young people dancing on the dance floor, enlivened with lively songs and colorful lights flooding the dark room. The smell of alcohol filled the space mixed with the smell of sweat from those who were still fiercely dancing at the middle of the club.

Meanwhile, in one corner, there was a woman sitting alone in a drinks bar accompanied by the alcohol she had ordered before. She was seen staring at another man who was also sitting not far from her sitting spot. The man who was also aware of her gaze turned around and carved a sweet smile, making the girl to shyly blushed. She then sipped on her drink to relieve the embarrassment before she got startled by a voice that suddenly greeted her out of nowhere.

“Are you new?” He asked.

His voice dripping with honey, not too deep and not too feminine as it’s sounds a bit raspy to her ears. A seductive smile and droopy eyes staring at her that had her heart beating a little bit too faster than usual.

“Kinda. I always want to try the alcohol here,” she said. He then stares at the glass in her hand.

“Martini. Nice one,” He complimented. “Whiskey sour is my favorite,” he added, showing her his half empty glass. She just smiled before he lifted his glass, signaling her for a cheer which she then clashed her glasses with his.

“What’s your name?” He asked first before sipping his drink.

“Yerin,”

“Cute. I’m Jimin,” He reached out for a handshake. Yerin happily accept it but when she about to pull back, Jimin tighten the grip of his hold while staring deep into her face, causing the girl to get flustered, especially when she saw the way his pupil dilated and get darker as he darted his tongue out to wet the bottom of his lips.

“I wonder if you’re…single?”

--

Her back slammed against the brick wall before Jimin once again hovered her to attack her lips for another messy, rough kiss. Yerin let out a breathy moan, her hands wrapping around his neck to deepen the kiss.

“Jimin, Jimin!” She tapped his shoulders for attention but he didn’t seem to listen when he continued to french kissing her like there is no tomorrow.

“Let’s get a room, yeah?” She suggested after she managed to get him off from her for a while. He pouted. “But I can’t wait any longer,” He whined.

Yerin blushed. “It’s embarrassing to have people watching,” She replied while looking around the alley. It was dark but anyone could freely walk in to them so she rather doing it in a closed area. “I will rent a room and I’ll let you do whatever you want, okay?”

Jimin’s lips curled into a mischief smile and nodded. He gets off to let her walk out from the alley towards the open streets but after like one or two step, her way got blocked by someone, judging from a strange silhouette in front of her.  

“Who-“

Yerin looked up and saw you, standing in front of her with switchblade in your hand, pointing towards her. Her brows connecting in a confusing manner.

She recognizes you. You are the woman sitting next to her at the bar back then. She remembers you ordering beer next to her and silently drinking while Yerin still busy having her great time with Jimin before.

But why are you suddenly show up like this? Pointing a knife at the base of her throat in a threatening manner like she doesn’t even know you!

Yerin doesn’t even get a chance to scream because you had slashed her neck open with the switchblade, the blood splatter on your black dress and some even landed on your face too.

The woman collapses lifelessly with her eyes still wide open. You breathe out meanwhile Jimin stepping out from the shadow with a grin.

“That was beautiful, baby!” He applauded, referring to the gruesome image in front of him. You sent him a glare before let out a grunt while walking away, earning a confuse look from your boyfriend.

“Hey! At least get her wallet! Gosh,”

Jimin get into the car after he managed to retrieve the wallet and some jewelry belongs to their previous victim and he saw you wiping the remaining blood on your face, even trying to erase the red lipstick painted on your lips but Jimin was quick enough to stop you from doing so.

“Why are you trying to ruin your lipstick? You know I like it,” He whined, lips jutting into a disappointed pout.

“Uh huh. I know. That’s why I wear this for you but I always ended up seeing you kissing someone else. So, what’s the point?”

You tugged your wrist back while Jimin drew a smile. “Come on. This is not the first time we doing this. You kissed and seduced someone else too. Fair and square, isn’t it?”

“You think I enjoyed it!?” you barked.

“Woah, chill their babe. Okay, I’m sorry, okay?” He apologized, bringing both his palm together in an apologetic manner. You instead glared at him, brows still creasing together.

“Fuck you!” Your snarl doesn’t intimidate him at all that he replied with a wide grin since he knew that you didn’t mean those words at all.

“I love you too,” he reached out for your face to cup them in his palm, squishing your cheeks gently that even you automatically leaned in for more contact since you’re too used to his affectionate touches.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” His whisper makes your eyes flicked up to meet with his face, at the same time making your expression to soften as soon as you met with the pretty face of him.

“Yes please,” With a nod, you answered. He didn’t let you wait for any other second as he crashed his plump lips on your soft one. You quickly buried your fingers into the his light blonde locks, messing them a bit while your lips busy moving in sync to his kiss as if they just found their rightful home.

--

When he arrived at the scene, he could see group of people circling around the area. Seokjin padded his way towards the crime site, carefully slipping in between the crowds who chattering and whispering at the sight of the forensic team busy taking photos and collecting evidence.

“Captain Kim,” Seokjin immediately turned around when his underling coming from behind. Namjoon then handed up some pieces of photos to him. It was the photograph of the victims and some close up to the wounds that was believed to be the cause of her death.

“Victim known as Shin Yerin, 26 years old was found dead by the bartender of the nearer club this morning. The body has been brought to the forensic for autopsy. They however assumed that the victim had been slit in the neck by a sharp weapon, thus being the cause of her death. After a few more research, victims also lost her jewelries and purse which led it to a murder and robbery case,” Namjoon summarized everything he could get from his early investigation.

“I believe the crime was committed by the same persons,” He added. Seokjin pursed his lips.

“It’s definitely them,” He sighed. He obviously was talking about you and Park Jimin.

You and Park Jimin are the infamous criminal partners that are currently being at the top of the police wanted list. Based on some witnesses, both of you are known to be a pair of attractive that would seduce their victims, lure them into a quiet spot to brutally murder them – by slashing their neck – before proceeding to fled along with valuable things belongs to the victims.

“This is their fourth victim, Captain…” Namjoon said with worries painted all over his face. “We can’t let them roaming around any longer. They will put more people in danger,”

Seokjin was silent for a while, staring at the chalk outlines that used to mark the original position of the dead victim.

“What did she do in her past?”

Namjoon let out a sigh, as if he knew what is running in his head when his superior began to throw that question. Namjoon flipped the notepad in his hand to read another information he has written down before.

“Shin Yerin, has a history involving hit and run case. The case happened around 2 months ago where she ran over a 12 years old boy. The boy died. She was arrested but later was released with no specific reason. I believe it involved bribery,”

Seokjin smirked. “Heh, I knew it,”

One thing he are sure about this couple is that they didn’t target just random people. Majority of their victims are people that have criminal past that most of them managed to get away from getting the punishment they deserve. For example, their previous victim is a man in 50s, whose the occupation is a teacher at one of the private schools in Seoul. He was once reported to have sexually assaulted some of his students, both boys and girls but he was freed from being sentence as they said that he lacked of evidence.

A week later, he was found dead in a car with his pants half undone other than the familiar slash on his neck which obviously, it was your doing.

Namjoon let out a low grunt which it immediately distracted Seokjin. “But it’s still doesn’t justify their actions, Captain. Murder is still considered as murder. Those are crimes and they need to be charged over it!” Namjoon exclaimed.

“You know something about them, isn’t it, Captain?” The younger squinted his eyes at him. “You are the only officer that managed to see their face. Why you didn’t give out their details when we ask for your testimony?”

Seokjin glared at him with brows a deep frown. “I told you that I barely saw their face. I don’t know how they look. Do you really think I’m lying? You doubt me?” The older guy had both his palm on his hips while staring deep into Namjoon’s soul.

“I’m sorry, sir. I did not mean to offend you. I’m just making sure,” Namjoon lowered his head, cowering at Seokjin’s sharp stare that didn’t stop from penetrating his face. It made him realized that he probably has spoken something he shouldn’t. Seokjin snorted.

“Whatever. Send reports on my table once they are done with the autopsy. Call me if you guys need anything,” Namjoon nodded. Seokjin turned his heels around as he slowly walking away, with Namjoon bowing at him while telling him to have a safe journey. Seokjin quietly fishing out his phone out of his jeans.

He slammed the door of his car shut once he entered it with his eyes still glued to the screen of his phone. It was shown that he was calling someone with “***” saved as the ID of the mysterious person. Seokjin quickly pressed his phone on his ears while eyes looking out if anyone is watching him at the moment.

--

Hums and giggles can be heard throughout the air. Clothes can be seen scattering on the floor of the hotel room and there’s also two figures hiding under the thick white comforters before one of them decided to pop out to take a breath after being confine under it for a long period of time. Jimin later on followed that he appeared on top of you just to cup your face and smooched your lips again and again.

The kissing got interrupted when your phone on the nightstand rang but you decided to ignore it by letting Jimin proceed with the making out, not even bothering to shove him to answer the call or anything.

But as the time goes on, the ringtones start to irritates your ears that you told Jimin to hold on so you could check on whoever the hell that was bothering you at the moment. Your eyes rolled when you see the ‘Captain Busybody’ ID popped up at the top of your screen. You never felt this confident when rejecting someone’s call, especially from that person.

“Is it him?” Jimin asked. You nodded, lips pouting.

“Ignore him,” He dived into your naked collarbone to leave another mark even though your skins are already full with his love bites he made from last night. But you never complain, instead you enjoyed the way his lips trailing down your skins, making it way to your stomach, lower and lower.

“Yeah, Jimin. Please eat me out, will you?” You demanded, inviting a Cheshire like grin on his lips.

“Of course, m’lady..”

You leaned back on the pillow, relaxing your body and let Jimin do his work when another ringing breaking the moment, making your eyes to shot open. An annoyed groan emits from your throat as you rolled to get the phone and answer it because if you don’t, he will definitely not letting you leaving in peace.

“What the fuck do you want?” No hello or hi, you straight growling at Seokjin. The male’s guess was right though.

“Sorry. Did I bother you?”

“You always bothering me. Are you not aware of that?”

“Is Jimin with you?” His question makes your eyes moving lower to look at your boyfriend who just came up to comfortably lying on your chest, one of his hand fondling with one of your boobs, treating them like a stress ball. When he saw you looking at him, he just draws an adorable smile without saying any words.

“He is. Now, what do you want?” You replied lazily.

“We found another bodies today,” His unimportant information makes you to rolled your eyes once again.

“Okay and?”

“You two did it?”

“So, what if we did it? That woman is one of the scums on this Earth too. Sleeping with your higher ups in return for a jail bail. She deserves to get her neck slashed by me,” You glanced at Jimin who obviously was proud by your witty answer. But, of course, Seokjin was not having it.

“You still can get arrested, y/n. You are literally one of the most wanted criminals right now along with Jimin! Do you ever plan to stop?”

“Blah, blah. Are you done? We are busy right now. If that’s what you want to talk about, I’m hanging up,” You wish you could throw your phone away and let Jimin fuck you senselessly like what he supposed to do.

“I’m being serious, Y/N!”

“So am I,” This time you sat up a little bit but your boyfriend still clinging on your chest, burying his face into your skin despite you have those annoyed frowns on your face since he know, the frowns aren’t made for him.

“Look, Seokjin. We broke up ages ago. Back then when you barely care about me as you are busy chasing your dream to be a police officer. Now, you got what you want and I’m happy with my life too,” Seokjin scoffed at your last statements.

“Your life? Your life as a criminal? Are you happy with that?” His question earned him a chuckle.

“Yeah, so what? I chose this. I don’t care about your nags or if you disagree with my choice, just stop sticking your nose into my business like you are my mother. We are supposed to be done long time ago!” You ended the call with a loud grunt before tossing them to the side of your bed. Jimin’s snuggling into your neck made you to close your eyes and taking a deep breathe to soothe your anger.

“You alright?” Your boyfriend brushing some strands of your hair that were sticking on your face. You nodded, drawing a tiny smile at him. He never fails not to make you feeling calmer everytime you look at those eyes. The eyes that deceive lot of people despite on how innocent they look.

“Yeah. You know, Seokjin just bothering me like what he always does,” You let out a sigh while brushing your hair back. Jimin smiled as he once again snuggling into your skins like a cat which only make you to giggle when his breathe tickling your skins.

“Understandable. I mean, I, too, wouldn’t stop bothering if you looking this gorgeous,” You burst into a laugh when his ticklish touch spreading to your sensitive spots on your neck that make you to fall your back on the mattress where even Jimin immediately get on top of you.

You stuck your tongue out to licked on your bottom lips as your palms running down his bare chest, your fingers dancing on the inked skins at his abdomen.

“I love you,” You whispered. Jimin tilted his head, lips never stop smiling at you while he rests his forearms above your head to support his weight. He somehow didn’t respond you right away to planted a soft kiss on your lips before he finally whispered something against your lips.

“I love you too,”

--

A/N : This is pretty short bcs its just introduction to the characters haha next chapter would be a flashback to y/n’s early backstory

[heejinnien]

bts | roses chapter one

word count: 3.9k words

pairing: bts x reader

synopsis: y/n is a member of the seoul behavioral analysis unit. usually, she’s the cat in the typical game of cat and mouse played with the criminals they catch, but when a mysterious string of murders has her on edge, she discovers she’s caught the attention of one of a dangerous criminal — and he’s determined to make her pay for it.

or, not all attention is the good kind.

genre: horror, angst

warnings: yandere themes, descriptions of gore, descriptions of violence, murder, the reader carries a gun because they need to defend themself against bad guys, guns, manipulation, victim blaming, this is overall just a very dark fic

author’s note: this chapter takes place one month before the events of the prologue, and the prologue isn’t necessary to understand it. this chapter was originally 2k words before i did a deep edit. the “terms used throughout this fic” section of the masterlist was updated to include terms in this chapter. if you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to shoot me an ask or dm, or just let me know your thoughts! i would be happy to explain things to you, and i would also love to hear your feedback or who you think is suspicious. as always, adhere to the warnings and do not read if any of those things trigger you.

roses masterlist

“Y/N! How have you been?”

The elevator doors open with a ding, revealing your best friend and coworker, Jungkook. He gives you a hug, squeezing you tightly. “I missed you so much, how was Busan?”

“It was great, Kook, thanks for asking.” Your lips quirk upwards as you smile at your best friend. “I’m ready to be back, though.”

“I’m ready for you to be back, too, Jimin has been insufferable with you gone. He keeps stealing my banana milk,” Jungkook whines, and you laugh, ruffling his hair playfully.

“Well, did you steal his jam? Again?”

Jungkook coughs, suddenly taking interest in the floor’s pattern, and you laugh. “I haven’t been gone that long and you’ve already managed to get yourself into trouble.”

“He started it — ”

“Y/N, Jungkook.”

Jungkook immediately ceases his accusation, and you both turn at the familiar sound of your team’s leader’s voice. Namjoon walks down the hallway towards you, air full of authority and pristine shoes echoing against the tile floor, giving you a nod in recognition. You recognize the grim set of his mouth and already know what he’s going to say.

“I’m sorry to cut the reunion short, but we have a case,” he says.

Silently, you and Jungkook follow your team’s leader to the briefing room. The rest of your team is already there — Hoseok gives you a friendly wave, Seokjin blows you a kiss, Jimin nods in your direction, Taehyung smiles, and Yoongi grunts, leaning back in his chair and looking as if he’ll fall asleep at any moment. As you and Jungkook take your seats, Namjoon turns and powers on the TV screen mounted in the room, pulling up an array of photographs. Three unfamiliar faces are positioned at the top of the screen, and photographs of the crime scene and what you assume are their bodies are displayed below.

“This is Soojin, Miyeon, and Soodam. Over the past month, Incheon police have been finding their bodies scattered in alleys cutting through the city. Soodam is the most recent victim and was found this morning, and that’s when the police contacted us. Yoongi has sent further details about the crime scenes to your tablets.”

You reach down for your bag, pulling out a thin, black device. Around you, your teammates do the same, and you power the device on, quickly bypassing the standard security protocol and pulling up the recent photographs. Instantly, the photographs of the crime scene make you reel back in a mixture of surprise and disgust. Although you are by now a decorated agent, the sheer brutality of each murder catches you off guard.

Stab wounds and lacerations cover each victim. Blood mats each victim’s skin, making their features almost unrecognizable, and a jagged, gaping incision at the neck immediately draws your attention. Each victim’s skin is ashy and waxen, and copious amounts of blood are spattered throughout each crime scene. Beside you, Yoongi, never one for gore, looks as sick as you feel.

“The coroner said that the cause of death for each victim was exsanguination,” Jimin says, reading the forensic report off his tablet. You quickly switch to that file, scanning through the official document.

“This definitely looks like overkill,” Jungkook adds, and his face is so calm and composed it is as if you are discussing the appearance of a floral arrangement. Looking around the table, the rest of your teammates’ faces are also indifferent. You suppose that’s what happens when you’ve seen as much as you have, but the sheer brutality of this crime still makes you uneasy.

“It says the unsub has been leaving behind white roses at each crime site,” Jin, passively swiping through the crime scene photographs. “They look staged, each victim was posed so that they’re holding the rose.”

“White roses typically symbolize innocence and purity, while red ones symbolize love.” Taehyung ruminates. “Maybe the killer is trying to make some sort of point about his victims?”

“Like they’re cheaters?” You suggest. “This could have a double meaning, maybe he sees them as tainted or impure.”

“Whatever it is, it’s clear he has a preference.” Hoseok waves his hand idly. “Each of the victims had black hair and brown eyes.”

Namjoon nods at each member’s point, face thoughtful. “When we get there, we should break up into smaller units and examine each part of the profile. Y/N and Jungkook, head to the crime scene. The leading detective on the case will meet you there, see if he can tell you anything else. Taehyung, begin a geological profile, Hoseok and Jimin begin the unsub’s profile, and Jin and I will begin victimology. Yoongi, start checking into each victim’s lives, we need to see if they had any overlap or somehow knew each other at all.”

You and your teammates nod at your assignments, standing and gathering your things. Yoongi gives everyone a lazy smile before slipping out the door, heading back to his computer lab.

Namjoon continues. “The unsub will strike again soon so the Incheon police need us down there now. It’s a half-hour drive down there, so wheels up in twenty minutes.”

“Detective Jaehyun.”

You and Jungkook slam the doors of your car shut, gravel crunching underfoot as you greet the Incheon police’s head detective. You give him a courteous smile, you and Jungkook both giving his hand a quick, firm handshake.

“Pleasure to meet you, although I wish I could say it was under better circumstances.” You jerk your head in the direction of the alley. “What can you tell us about this victim?”

“Agent Y/N, Agent Jungkook.” Jaehyun nods at both of you before waving an arm in the direction of the crime scene. “A random passerby stumbled upon the body this morning.”

“What were they doing in this alley? It’s pretty remote,” Jungkook asks, boredly appraising the empty lot around you that the alley leads from. “You said they were coming from this direction, too, right?”

“The other end opens up along a busy shopping street, and if traffic is busy sometimes people will park here and use the alley to get there.”

“Are there any cameras?”

“Here? Unfortunately not.” Jaehyun’s face is grim. “We’ve been asking the city for months to get them repaired, but with everything happening an old parking lot isn’t on their priority list. They would rather keep making the main city look more modern and impressive because that’s where all the tourists go.”

You hum, noncommittal. You step in the direction of the alley, soaking in every detail of the scene. Although you saw photographs of it, you still don’t ever think you could ever be truly ready for the gravity of it to sink upon you.

Blood coats the walls like a mural, pools on the ground like a shimmering mirror. The blood staining the concrete and brick is dark, while the liquid pooled on the ground still appears bright, fresh.

“This is a lot of blood.” You observe dryly.

“Yes, well,” Jaehyun purses his lips. “Recent lab results show that most of the blood doesn’t actually belong to the victim.”

You pause, head snapping up to look at the detective. “That wasn’t in the report.”

Jaehyun swallows dryly. “We didn’t think to check for it in our first few victims.”

“Did you not run toxicology on them?” Jungkook asks, voice hard, and if possible Jaehyun looks nervous.

“We didn’t think to; the cause of death was obvious.”

Jungkook exhales, closing his eyes for one beat, two, and then opens them, fixing Jaehyun with a look that could send him two feet under. “The report you gave us said that there was a one week window between when each of the victim’s was reported missing and when they were found. That means they were most likely kidnapped and subdued during that time. There are abrasion marks on their wrists and ankles from when they were held captive, but no blunt force trauma to the head, which rules out the unsub launching a surprise attack on them when capturing them. Did you not think to investigate how they were taken?”

Jaehyun stutters, unintelligible, and Jungkook scoffs. Glancing at Jungkook, you speak to the detective, voice soft.

“It doesn’t matter now. What kind of additional blood was found?”

Jaehyun’s eyes flicker between you and Jungkook, and he swallows hard. “We aren't sure, but the coroner narrowed it down to animal’s blood. He thinks it might be lambs.”

You silently exchange glances with Jungkook, recognizing the familiar furrow of his brows that signals he’s deep in thought. “What are you thinking?”

“Well, the killer definitely knew their way around the streets here,” Jungkook theorizes. “The use of lamb’s blood was probably to add to the terror of whoever finds the body.”

You nod in agreement. “This is a city, so there aren’t many farms or areas to house animals here. So if the animals aren’t alive, then they’re probably dead and the next likely answer would be a butcher. We should ask Yoongi to see if any butchers or any businesses who deal with animals, alive or dead, reported anything suspicious.”

Jungkook nods and steps out of the alley, pulling out his phone. You watch him go for a moment before refocusing your attention on the alley.

“Um, Agent Y/N.”

Jaehyun shifts from foot to foot beside you, looking as though he’ll vomit. When he speaks again, it’s as if the words pain him. “There’s something else we didn’t mention.”

You allow a beat of silence to pass before raising an eyebrow, waiting for Jaehyun to continue. He clears his throat, once, twice, before continuing.

“We found a note next to the latest victim, along with the rose.” Jaehyun wordlessly pulls out his phone, seeming to struggle under your scrutinizing gaze as he searches for something before he holds the device out to you.

Displayed on it is a picture of the bloody rose that you had seen in official crime scene photos, a pair of hands wrapped around the stem. You recognize the photograph from the report sent to you, and you open your mouth to ask Jaehyun about it when you spot a small piece of cream-coloured stock, poking out of the hand.

Your eyes flicker up to Jaehyun. “Why didn’t you include this?”

Jaehyun shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t know if you know much about us, but we’re a small force policing a huge city. If word of this got out, there would be panic — much more than there already is.”

“Lives are at stake here, Detective,” you say, voice firm but not unkindly. “You can’t play around with that.”

“I know,” Jaehyun says quickly, before sighing. “Listen, Agent. Both of our jobs are to keep the people safe. You may not agree with me or my decision, but this was the right call.”

You stare at Jaehyun wordlessly, scanning Jaehyun’s face to see if you can detect anything that will tell you what to say next when you hear a crunch of gravel and look to see your best friend approach. He scarcely saves Jaehyun a glance, focusing instead on you.

“Namjoon wants us back at the station,” he says. “The rest of the team is going to share their profiles with us.”

You nod, glancing at Jaehyun briefly before heading in the direction of your car. As you turn, you spot Jungkook staring at Jaehyun, expression unreadable, and then they are both out of your sight. You open the car door, sliding into the SUV’s passenger seat and waiting as Jungkook walks around the front of the vehicle, slipping into the driver’s seat.

“I don’t trust him,” he says simply, staring out the dash as you fasten your seatbelt and he starts the car.

“Jaehyun?”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything else, humming as he pulls out of the parking lot. The tune is eerily beautiful, and it sends chills down your spine as Jungkook pulls onto the main avenue.

“That tune is beautiful,” you confess.

From his profile, you see Jungkook smile boyishly. “Thanks, I picked it up from Jimin while you were gone.”

“What song is it?”

Jungkook’s smile vanishes. “I don’t know, he never told me.”

For some reason, an uneasy air settles over the car. You wrack your brain, trying to figure out if it’s something you said, when Jungkook laughs and the tension dissipates.

“Do you remember that time you got a pair of chopsticks stuck up your nose?”

You let out a string of expletives as Jungkook laughs, the sound light and cheery, and Jungkook’s suspicious behavior is pushed to the back of your mind, already forgotten, as you two trade sarcastic comments.

With the conversation flowing smoothly, it doesn’t take long for you to arrive at the Incheon police station. You quickly hop out of the car, a sharp wind that wasn’t present earlier biting at your exposed flesh. A shiver wracks its way down your spine as you hurry to the station’s entrance, pushing open the doors, Jungkook close behind you.

Inside, Taehyung is the first to greet you, standing near a desk and flashing you a smile as he jerks his head in the direction of the back of the station. “Namjoon and the rest are in the back, I’m just picking up some files from the detectives here.”

Jungkook nods, heading in the direction Taehyung indicated and you move to follow him when Taehyung’s hand shoots out and grabs your wrist, grip gentle but firm.

“I need to talk to you.”

He glances over his shoulder and then tugs you after him, scarcely giving you time to follow his words and react.

“What is it, Taehyung?” You ask as he drags you down an empty hallway. He stays quiet, stopping outside of a door labelled “break room” and pushing it open. It’s deserted, the door swinging shut with a soft click behind you, and Taehyung turns to you, expression is inscrutable.

He opens his mouth, speaking so quickly in a low, furtive tone you strain to follow along with what he says. “I was doing some research into each of the victims. Before she went missing, Soojin had red hair, and Miyeon had brown. I couldn’t find anything on Soodam, but…”

“You’re assuming her hair was dyed, too?” You presume.

“Yes.”

“Why aren’t you telling the rest of the team this?” You grab Taehyung’s wrist gently. “And I thought you were doing the geological profile.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” You ask gently, recognizing the fervent, determined glint in Taehyung’s eyes.

“I am, I mean, I was. I was going to, I just…” Taehyung groans and runs a hand through his hair. “I was, but something about the victims was nagging me so I called Yoongi to see what he had.”

Taehyung fixes you with an unimpressed look. “You know why, Y/N. Don’t tell me you didn’t think about it earlier.”

You swallow, remaining pointedly silent. You had thought about the similarities between you and the victims earlier, but had pushed it aside as your paranoia, a hazard of your occupation.

“Just promise me you’ll be careful, okay?” Taehyung pleads, voice soft.

“I will be,” you promise. “We’ll catch this guy, don’t worry.”

Taehyung smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and you can’t erase the sinking feeling in your gut.

“Detective Jaehyun, I just saw you a few hours ago.”

You release a pair of gloves, feeling the latex snap against your skin and give the Incheon detective a wry smile, flashes of blue and red lights illuminating his face. You and Jimin stand at the entrance of another alley, the lights of the police cars responding to the scene and flashlights from the other officers providing you your only source of luminance. “Who’s the latest victim?”

“Kim Jisoo,” Jaehyun says, holding up the police tape for you to enter the crime scene. You do so, Jimin following close behind you. “She was found by Kim Jennie, her roommate. She said she had just seen Jisoo this morning, and they often cut through this alley to get back to their apartment.”

You crouch by Jisoo’s body, nose wrinkling at the combination of death and copper that pervades your nostrils. Out of the corner of your eye you see Jimin cringe at the sight, and you can’t help but agree. Somehow, it looks more visceral, more horrifying in person.

Like the other victims, multiple stab wounds litter Jisoo’s body. Blood matts her hair and clothing, and a gaping, visceral hole is torn in her neck. Her hands are positioned so that they are resting on her stomach, a single rose clutched in between them. Your eyes seek out any hints of cream, but you find none and your eyes flicker up to Jaehyun.

He opens his mouth, hesitating. Ultimately he decides against whatever he was going to say next, staring at you wide eyed, and you gather the meaning perfectly well. There was also another note. You purse your lips, annoyance rippling through you.

Jimin reaches for the flower, gently tugging it from Jisoo’s grasp. “The flower is freshly cut,” he says, prodding carefully at one of the petals. “I’ll have the lab run the blood who or what it belongs to.”

“Most of the wounds on her body aren’t as deep as the previous victim’s.” You gesture to the victims’ body. “Maybe because she wasn’t kept as long as the others and the unsub couldn’t take his time.”

“That means the unsub is speeding up his attacks and most likely devolving,” Jimin says grimly.

“I’m willing to bet the victim was killed in this alley, the time frame was too short for the unsub to abduct her, transport her to wherever he kept the other victims, and dump the body.” You chew on your lip in thought. “Detective, are there any cameras nearby?”

“There are cameras positioned on the main street, but with the way they’re positioned none of them capture the alley’s entrance,” Jaehyun responds, grimacing.

“How many alleys aren’t covered by camera surveillance?” Jimin asks, handing the rose to a nearby officer to place in an evidence bag and standing, peeling off his gloves.

“I don’t know for sure, but I would say about fifty or so.”

Jimin swears, and Jaehyun flinches at the sound. “That’s fifty places the unsub could be heading next. This city is ripe with potential victims, too.”

“We should head back and let the rest of the team know,” you suggest to Jimin. He nods, and together you walk out of the alley. You pause by the entrance. “I’m going to get a ride back with Detective Jaehyun, there’s something I need to talk to him about.”

Jimin nods, unquestioning, and slips silently into the car. You stand, watching him drive away before turning to the detective. His appearance is ashen in the light, and you give him a dry smile.

“Well, Detective? Shall we?”

He nods stiffly, slipping into the police cruiser. You slide into the passenger seat as Jaehyun turns the key in the ignition, the car rumbling to life beneath you.

You waste no time, and as Jaehyun backs the car out you ask, “What did the notes say?”

“Agent Y/N — ”

“Listen,” you say forcefully, cutting the Incheon detective off. “I don’t agree with your reasoning, but I’m not going to fight you on it. But I need to know what those notes say.”

Jaehyun is silent. Finally, he sighs, keeping one hand on the steering wheel and, briefly pressing his finger against it, tossing you his phone with the other. “It’s in the gallery.”

You pull up the app, ready to chastise Jaehyun about why he has official evidence from a crime scene on his personal phone when you spot them.

It’s a basic photo, the cream paper the focus of the frame and resting on a desk, words typed on it in black ink. You swipe through them, quickly scanning the paper’s contents until you reach the most recent one. This photograph is different, blurry and dark, and you can tell it was taken at the crime scene you left moments ago.

“Do you see why I kept them hidden?” Jaehyun asks when you wordlessly hand his phone back to him.

“Let’s just say,” you begin, pausing to consider your words. “For your sake, I hope that your actions aren’t to blame for anymore deaths, Detective.”

You sit cross-legged on your hotel bed, idly scanning through case files and eating a carton of take-out jjangmyeon. Even though Incheon is not far from your residence in Seoul, Namjoon had still decided that the team would stay in a local hotel; in case anything happens, you can respond quickly.

Taehyung had shared his discovery about the victim’s hair with the team earlier, and you would have been blind to notice the glances that flickered between your teammates and the photographs of the victims and yourself. Luckily, Namjoon had chosen not to comment on it, instead instructing you all to focus on the results of your team’s earlier profiling.

Hoseok and Jimin reported their profile of the unsub (“upper twenties to early thirties, male”). Jin reported that he hadn’t found any overlap between the victims’ lives, and you and Jungkook reported what Jaehyun had told you about the animal blood. You had chewed on your lip earlier, unsure whether or not to tell your leader about the notes. Fortunately or unfortunately for you, that’s when Namjoon had received the call about the latest body, sending you and Jimin to check out the crime scene before you could say anything.

You pick up a photograph of Kim Jisoo, your latest victim. It is a recent picture of her and a group of her friends, given to the police by her roommate to help with the positive ID. In the picture, both are wearing a pleated uniform and holding up diplomas. Your heart wrenches as you realize that she was a recent college graduate and now will never have a chance to pursue her dreams. Another life cut short, just like that.

A heavy knock on your hotel room door causes you to jump, your hand knocking your noodle container aside. You curse, quickly scrambling for the napkins on the bedside table.

“One moment!” You say loudly, hoping whoever is knocking can hear you. You swear under your breath as you throw the napkins on your bedspread, moving aside the case files that were luckily spared and pressing down on them, hoping that can remove the dark stain that formed from the oily noodles. After a few frantic presses and a few noodles thrown off the bed, you rush to the door, hurrying to unlock it.

“Who is it?” You ask, sliding the lock open and pulling open the heavy door.

You are greeted with silence. The hallway is empty.

You frown, scanning the empty corridors for any sign of life but tacky, floral wallpaper is the only thing that greets you.

You glance down at the disjointed striped carpet and see a blank white envelope. Glancing down the hallway once more, you pick it up, retreating into your room and shutting the door behind you. You reach for your phone, tempted to text Jungkook about it, but you stop before you can press the call button, assuring yourself it is nothing. You plop in your desk chair, tearing the side and running your finger along the top of the envelope.

Peering inside, you are greeted with a plain piece of cream colored cardstock. Realization dawns on you and the stench of copper and rose wafts out of the letter as an image of Jaehyun’s phone flashes in front of your eyes.

You scream.

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