#bloody hell I put more effort into this than I did for all five of my English papers COMBINED 😂

[valentine-cafe]

˖⁺. “ waiting for a hero ” : 

﹙ ex!antihero merc x gn reader. ﹚.𖹭 ݁

. . . verse 781 alessio x gn reader !! 🍓  :  ﹙  mercenary  ˖  inhuman ˖ antihero ˖ punkgoth character ﹚

you adored him, but you had to let him go. it would seem that alessio refuses to let you go completely though. you're waiting for a hero, he's waiting for you.

﹙ cws ﹚: angst | wc : 1.0k 

﹙ receipts ﹚: put your pitchforks down! PUT THEM DOWN THIS IS CHARACTER DEVEL-

꒰  other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters ˖ our lore  ꒱

Ex!Alessio who just can't believe you're not in his arms anymore.

( Heeeyy. )

You frown at the pop up text. There's only one person you know who talks like that.

( What phone did you get now? )

( I just keep changing the card baby. Not that hard. Anw, dinner tonight? )

( Sure. )

( Really!? )

( If we were fucking together. )

( Come on amor. Don't do me like that. )

You humour him one more text before this number's blocked too. You can already see his frown through the screen. As much as your heart might twinge, you'd rather it ache than shattered. How else could you separate yourself from a man like Alessio?

Not only did he cook, he cleaned too. Respectful as hell. Made you laugh. Worshipped the very ground you walked on. You needed cash? Not with him. Had a problem? Not with him!

Oh right, yeah. Apart from one: he's a damn antihero.

The prospect of him being a mercenary, while daunting at first, isn't what drove you away. The nights he trudged in bloodied, the endless weeks he'd spend away, the stray bullets of anxiety shot several times through your gut. Now, that's what took you to the edge. What sealed the deal? His consistent strings of death. Yes, he came back like a npc nudged off a pixel cliff. But this wasn't a game. Neither was your heart. There is only so much you could take.

He's simply the hero you'll keep waiting for. Only — he's not a hero. He's a murderer. Once you left the relationship, only then could your morals fully voice their opinions.

This isn't a game.

It splits two ways. On one hand, you wished he could let you go. Slip through his fingers as easily as atrocities left them. On the other, you're almost touched with each attempt he makes. As frustrating as they might be.

Phone tango is a bi-weekly occurrence. Aren't they suspicious of how many SIM cards he's buying? Isn't he getting tired? Not when he shows up at your door. He'll talk for a solid twenty minutes to your door monitor. Either fully aware you're listening to everything or clinging to hope you'll check the recording.

"C'mon am I that bad? Look! Didn't even break through the window this time!"

He seems so proud of that statement. Like a child with an A for effort. "I just wanna talk baby. Promise. Time me even! I just need to talk to you and it's hard to do that since. Y'know. You keep blocking my numbers . . . didn't you like that cat pic last night?"

At midnight. He spammed you with several cat pics before trying to start another conversation. Maybe his method worked. This time you granted him ten minutes instead of five.

Another thing he never forgets? Your flowers. You'll open the door to a new bouquet every month. Florist bought, but with his own touches of course. You fell for him that day he brought you wild flowers. Of course he's trying his luck with this. You'll turn over the card with a cartoonish-mini-Alessio sporting comically big, pleading eyes to read an even more desperate note at the back:

"For my pretty tesoro. Give me one more chance?"

The flowers are let into your home. But he isn't. You almost feel solemn as you plop the blooms into your favourite vase. When would this end? Are you stringing both of you along to a meaningless demise? Is death not what you feared?

Maybe a part of you wanted it all. The resolve. All the lose ends to tie themselves so that you could find yourself in his arms again. Unfortunately, the pain they held outweighed the pain to be apart. It's funny, you're still here. Waiting for that hero.

You hold your breath whenever you spot him in public. This time, you're far too distracted. Male company tends to do that, doesn't it?

Is this it? What you've been waiting for? The questions leave you blind to emerald strays from the side. Sat in a booth not too far from yours. Not that it mattered. Your smile wasn't for him anymore. That much he can see. Crystal clear.

Happiness. When last did he spot it? It's a memory so vividly burned into his mind. How foreign it feels to witness it on your beaming face. It suits you.

Dark nails claw at knees. Doesn't make it any less uncomfortable that it's for another man. What more should he expect? You're not together anymore. He's not your saving grace or solace tower any longer.

It's only when black tuffs catch your vision, do your ears tune to your heart's wail. You stiffen at first. Assuming a scene. That damned grin as he so readily sits beside you. Drapes an arm over your shoulder and converses with the other man in front of you. You expect to smell leather, but only the aroma of coffee remains.

Had he . . .

That night, you await the inevitable text. Your phone stays silent. Maybe tomorrow? Only the weather forecast is there to greet your sleepy eyes. Routine, right, he already texted you two days ago. You'll wait a week. But when that too passes? Your gut coils.

You turn. Neither of your visions came to pass. You catch a familiar head's back. Solemn nips at his boot's heels. So heavy in the way he walks. Undeniably swift as he leaves the cafe fate brought you together in. You see the red string laid torn over the checkered floor.

The calendar flutters. One week, two - three. Your flowers are due, but your vase is left empty. Another month, not a peep at your doorbell. Nor a beep from your phone. Even when there is, it's never him.

It's cruel to expect, you know. Distance does make the heart grow fonder. Colder. Like a damsel who forgot their coat atop a dark, windy building. Feet to the edge. Heart calling. Soul pleading. In the end, you're still waiting for a hero.

But he's not a hero, is he?

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[hungrytummyprompts]

bratty?

"Are you kidding me?" The music abruptly stopped as Ryan held up his hands before storming over to the guitarist and ripping the sheet music away from him. "Did you even fucking try to read this? At all?" He pressed his fingers to his temples with a great sigh. "I don't know why Cass even insists on hiring musicians. She knows I can play all the instruments myself."

The man at the guitar put the instrument down and stood roughly. "Then why don't you?"

"Because Cass insists on hiring you. Only for you to butcher my fucking music. I want it played as written for the recording, mate. It's my vision, my song. No improv, no creative flair. This is a Reks Lee song, one hundred percent by Reks Lee. Not by Reks Lee and some random nobody his manager picked up off the street."

He turned away before the poor sod could answer, continuing to try and massage away the headache threatening to crack his skull. It did nothing to help.

"I'd always heard Reks Lee was great to work with." A snide voice piped in from behind him. One of the other special hired helpers, he supposed. "Didn't realise he was such a prick."

So great. Not only am I stressed beyond belief, tired as fuck and packed in a schedule tighter than a nun's holes, but my reputation in the industry is about to get completely fucked too. Whoop de doo.

Ryan handed back the crumpled sheet music with a sigh. "Look, just...just play the music, okay? We need this done by five, we only have the studio until five, I want it done early if possible because I've got to go straight on to a bloody performance in bloody Milton Keynes of all places. So...please."

He stalked back to his place as his stomach twisted in that frustratingly familiar ache that came with not having eaten a thing today and barely eating yesterday. Add starving to that stupid list. Ever since he'd started gaining real notoriety, Cass had really been on his arse, keeping him busy at all hours to make the most out of having at least one genuinely famous client. That often meant wall to wall work without a single break to eat and a very grumpy singer. He paused to adjust his microphone and that was when the hell cramps in his belly released in a low, longing growl. Loud enough for the others to hear, judging by the snort of laughter from the amateur guitarist.

"So are you always this much of a cunt or just when you're hungry?"

Perhaps it was a subconscious effort to save face or protect what little reputation he had left, but he answered with a terse "just when I'm hungry" through gritted teeth. His stomach punctuated that with another insistent, burbling groan and he found himself pressing a hand to his belly, trying to ease the discomfort just a little. He gave his tummy a rub, trying to work out the knots and cramps, but every time one released another took its place.

"When did you last eat, man?"

"None of your fucking business."

"More than a day ago then. Got it."

Ryan rolled his eyes so hard they could have popped right out of his head. "Well, the sooner we get this done, the sooner I can eat." His stomach moaned miserably again.

"Anyway, you'd think you'd be less pissy considering I only got the sheet music yesterday. Like, come on, man, give me some time to learn it before you jump down my ass."

"...What? No, excuse me, what?" Frustrated, he dragged his hands through his hair. "Are you telling me Cass only...yesterday?" He took a deep breath, then kicked the microphone stand, stomped to the nearest chair and hid his face in his arms. After a moment, he heard the snide helper, he did not know her name, come up beside him.

"How about I order some pizza or something?"

"I don't have time for pizza." The thought was tempting, though. He was so fucking hungry, just the thought of even a cheap pizza from the nearby dive set his mouth watering and his stomach grumbling. "I have to get this done. Cass-"

"Get a new agent." The guitarist told him sharply, sitting down next to him. "Or manager, whatever she is. And learn to tell her no, man, for fuck's sake."

Learn to say no. That had always been a problem for Ryan. People pleaser, he'd called himself, but really it was just code for 'easy to abuse'. It was second nature by now to keep his head down and his mouth shut, do as he was told and deal with the consequences as they came.

"'Sides, your gut sounding off like that'll get in all the recordings anyway." Ryan huffed while the others laughed. One of his arms came down away from his face and clamped around his belly instead as it let out another hollow groan. "Saige, order a few pizzas. We'll fill our bellies and have another crack at the recording when everyone's in a better place physically and mentally. Trust me, man, there will be way fewer interruptions then. We might actually get a smooth run without you losing your shit again."

Ryan sighed, rubbing his poor, aching belly as he thought it over. "Fine...pizza sounds good. I'll pay."

"No, I'm buying it." Saige insisted, shaking a finger at him.

"... I'll at least chip in. Come on, this is embarrassing enough."

"You won't stop until I cave, will you?"

"I'm one stubborn bastard."

Saige laughed as she put in the order. "Fine. Pay me back later. For now, let's get you fed."

[hyenahunt]

Saga: Rivals - 16

Writer: Akira

Season: Winter

Characters: Tori, Hokuto, Chiaki

Proofreading: moricchiichan (JP) & Peace (ENG)

Translation: kotofucius

Hokuto: The look on Akehoshi’s face at that time… I’d sooner rip my heart out of my own chest than ever seeing him make that face again.

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Location: Soundproof Lesson Room

Tori: So Eichi-sama took a stand to make a change last year, right?

With fine under his lead, and probably Vice-Prez as his partner-in-crime…

Even using dirty methods he probably wished to hide from me, he wriggled out his hands to reach out for a revolution.

Hokuto: Yes. Trickstar wasn’t the first revolutionary; there was a story with the Student President as the main character before us.

There, I was a villain to be trampled on… Or rather, just one of the villain’s minions, a mook.

Tori: I’d say “Aren’t you still a mook?” …But I know that’s not right.

Anyway, maybe it’s because he was afraid he wouldn’t live long enough to see tomorrow, but Eichi-sama’s revolution was apparently super hasty, wasn’t it?

Like performing surgery with a chainsaw, as Yuzuru put it.

His goal was met, but it was so dangerous that of course there were victims from it.

Hokuto: Yes, and the prime victims were the Five Eccentrics.

Tori: Right… He framed them as villains responsible for everything.

Promoting his cause as just to unify people under him and gain support, he “subjugated” those villains afterwards.

That’s probably something that's happened in every country’s history… But it’s really atrocious, isn’t it. I'm shivering just imagining myself in their shoes.

Not that I’m one to talk, supporting fine and swallowing their pretty words whole.

Chiaki: I’m the same. I almost believed it right until the end. That justice also existed in this world… That they represented it.

Until I got deeply involved with Kanata…

I believed that the screaming, bloody mess being eradicated in front of me was a fictional evil monster, looking away from the reality that they were human beings; crying, laughing, and living as I do.

If that’s something to be blamed for, then I’m just as sinful, Himemiya.

Tori: Mm, that’s not it… I think it’s incredible of fine, of Prez and his group, to make me believe the whole time that their story was a story of good versus evil.

I can’t imitate that. I don’t want to, either.

Even so, fine kindled a new light inside the dark age. That isn’t a lie.

They resurrected the idol industry, when it had been fading fast since Sagami-sensei’s retirement.

No. Just to achieve that, they made sacrifices and fought.

But Eichi-sama was worn down and got hospitalized in the end, so things were put to a stop there, right?

Hokuto: …They’ve received proper punishment for their atrocities. No — They’re still atoning.

I can understand, as a sentiment, that there are certain things that can never be forgiven.

But the Five Eccentrics have all gotten back on their feet, while fine and the student council are looking towards the future, doing the best they can without giving in.

All so the idol industry wouldn’t wither away… So idols in general wouldn’t have to vanish from this world.

And most of all, so we could all shine even more than before.

Tori: Yeah. I think everything’s going in a good direction now. From here on out, the shining, brilliant era of idols is starting anew, isn’t it?

I want to believe that, at least. If not, it’s just too… tragic. It would mean the blood spilled from the people who got hurt, the sacrifices made, were all for nothing.

Hokuto: True. We’re both in the vortex of it all, as Trickstar and fine, so it can be hard to get a bird's eye view of the whole picture…

But as you said, Himemiya. The painful efforts and sacrifices made by our predecessors are opening up the path to a bright future.

What the top brass of CosPro did in SS was something foolish that could’ve destroyed it.

Something that could’ve tossed our world into hell. Reversing the hand of the clock back to the past would’ve rewarded no one.

It almost brought idols to an end… Even if that’s saying too much, it would’ve undeniably stagnated and sunk this era further into darkness.

Chiaki: Yeah. Even if they succeeded with their plot in SS…

All it could’ve brought them was temporary solace from getting back at the idols they loathed.

Hokuto: Father told us about their motive.

They must’ve really loathed idols. That’s just natural; they spent years being trampled, forced to serve us.

But that doesn’t right their wrongs.

The look on Akehoshi’s face at that time… I’d sooner rip my heart out of my own chest than ever seeing him make that face again.

Chiaki: Yeah… I was holding live shows and doing promotions to support you guys back then, but…

I couldn’t stop thinking about throwing it all aside to rush to Akehoshi’s aid.

I kept asking myself, “Why aren’t I an all-powerful superhero?”... I felt so powerless. I don’t want to experience that again…

Maybe a world where we don’t have to hate and hurt each other, a world only filled with love, is just a pipe dream…

But it’s the goal I aim for. And I believe that you guys feel the same.

Tori: Yup. Having more kind people will brighten the world little by little…

Ehehe. We keep making it all grand and about the world, when really it’s just idol business.

Hokuto: Fufu. That’s just the way it is; we’re all living in the same world. Essentially, these things concern every last one of us.

Chiaki: Yup. Also, a tokusatsu creator once said that although talking openly about the world or about love may be embarrassing…

Cushioning it with something else allows people to discuss it without shame.

That was about tokusatsu, but in our case, I think the cushion is the idol industry. So let’s exchange our views without constraint… All of us idols, together.

Tori: Yeah. Together. I think that’s the sort of era it’ll be from now on…

God died and the kings lost their authority, making our world a democracy. All of us are gonna have to poke around for a better future together now.

Chiaki: Yeah. Well, but even without us wearing our brains out, I bet Tenshouin has some grand scheme prepared already.

Hokuto: And my father, too. I get that impression from the way he spoke.

The idol industry, Yumenosaki Academy, CosPro, and Project-Saga… Just what sort of vision do they have in mind?

Chiaki: Hmm… Somehow, I feel like the groups that had been operating separately are finally uniting after arguing so much behind the scenes…

…And are trying to progress “the entire sphere” once they’ve gotten things in order.

Tori: Eh, what do you mean? Explain so I can understand!

Chiaki: Each one of us alone can’t become God, but we can make the same miracles happen if we unite… or more like…

Sorry, I didn’t exactly have anything concrete in mind.

Hokuto: Hmm. Well, it’s irritating to be moved around like pawns, so we should keep working our minds and speculate.

Tori: Yeah. The winners are always those who can steer the winds, so we should stay privy to the state of affairs. But without ignoring the work in front of us, obviously.

Chiaki: Fuhaha. That’s the most important thing, actually.

All we humble citizens can do is tackle our duties with everything we have. As for complex issues — Let’s just leave them to our politicians to think about.

But at the same time —

When their ruling takes an obviously wrong turn, we should all learn from Trickstar and incite a revolution.

Hokuto: Yeah. I have experience; leave it to me.

Tori: Talk about barbaric… As a member of Stuco, I’m leaning more on the politician side, so…

Maybe I should nip these seeds of rebellion before they bud? …Just kidding ♪

[ ☆ ]

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[amiscreations]

Hysteria: The Def Leppard Story; the Stuff I DON'T Like/The Stuff They Got Wrong - a Study

While it's not as bad as I remember, this film is still... bad😂 and not a great portrayal of the band it is about, especially with the knowledge and love I have for them today. I also want to mention the fact that I usually don't mind when biopics are inaccurate, as long as the person/people they are about are actively involved in the production, and are there to sign off on any changes made to their story to make it cinema worthy. (Mötley Crüe being producers on The Dirt, Elton and David being producers on Rocketman, Brian and Roger being involved in BohRhap etc.) This was not the case for Leppard however, as they were not involved in the production aT ALL and do not like the film as a portrayal of themselves. I also understand that its impossible to fit every major event into a 90 min film, but again, I think it should have been the band who decided what to keep and what to cut.

if you want to know all the things i like about the film, check out part 2 here!

Disclaimers out of the way, here's my live-blogging of thoughts while watching! (You might need popcorn for this😅 no really, I have a LOT of thoughts! Strap in, my dudes!)

Do musicians really listen to their own music while driving with their SOs? No judgement either way😂

I might be remembering things wrong, but I swear the Camaro was red? Not that it really matters but it's an important detail.

they were nOT HIGH STOP TRYING TO MAKE RICK SEEM LIKE THE BAD GUY.

I don't like the fact that they opened with the crash scene. idk why, I just don't. If I was a writer, I would have taken the BoRhap approach of opening the film with them getting ready for a concert (Donnington or In The Round) and then cutting back to them as teens. it adds to the intrigue of "how did they get here?"

the guy who plays Joe is the same guy who plays Peter File in The IT Crowd and it is sO DISTRACTING,, if you know you know😂

While I don't mind if the actors don't look exactly like the people they are portraying, this guy just,,, does not have one ounce of Joe energy in him at all.

WIGS

Also the guy who plays Tony looks more like Rick Allen than the guy who plays Rick Allen,,, make it make sense😂

Punk Band (derogatory)

Thats a strange way of playing Freebird

Joe is a perfectionist, we all know that, but he wasn't mean about it. if he was the band would not have made it to the AD/DC tour.

Steve's accent,, its so distracting😂 (other than that I LOVE Steve in this film, but i'll talk more about that in my positive post!)

Sav would have known that was Roger Taylor, mans would have spotted that a mile away.

also I swear they called him Sav before Rick joined. why? they didn't need to differentiate the Ricks.

they're having an argument, what a perfect time to tell them about the exciting news of their tour of America🙃

NOT THE INVERTED EFFECT BAHAHA was this edited on iMovie?

Why does Sav have a surfboard? When did he have time for that? What would he do with that in Sheffield?

I swear they didn't care about the negative reviews, they just sort of joked about them?

Who tf answers the phone with 'WOT?" even if you're angry? Film Joe is such an awful person I stg.

MUTT ISNT AMERICAN

Rick lowkey catcalled Miriam there, I honestly don't think he would have done that irl. eww. also dude you're 17 calm tf down.

Them kicking Pete out was amicable. ik it adds drama, but still.

ffs they knew Phil for a while.

Phil's accent is also majorly distracting. he sounds like Oliver Twist.

STEVE HAD TECHNIQUE NOT PHIL,, they got them the wrong way rOUND

I swear they WANTED to do music videos, yk like something fresh? also the constant bickering between Joe and Rick is just super jarring, they loved each other like brothers irl.

also how can you mess up what is probably their most iconic video? heck one of the most iconic music videos period. HE DIDN'T HAVE THE BLOND HAIR YET.

"See anything you like?" (referring to groupies) EWW they really weren't a groupie band.

it might have been different in the 80s, but I swear they really took time off seriously, and make sure they took time apart to keep their relationships and ideas fresh? all this "2 weeks off and then back in the studio" "momentum" shit doesn't sound like Leppard.

Miriam: *Exists* Joe: 😡

its v well known that the first thing Rick remembers after the crash was saying "i'll never play the drums again!" tho other than that I don't mind how they did the scene.

Rick never knew that they re-attatched his arm, he was in a coma the whole time, and it was removed again 48 hours later. before then Joe was by his side the wHOLE time. all the guys were very obviously shaken and upset. here they literally don't care aT ALL and are just,, cold.

also I think it would have been really powerful to see the guys' reactions to the news. if they had played that and then cut to the scene in the bar where they talk about going back into the studio etc, I feel like it would have humanised them a bit.

PSSOM was recorded last,, it is a wELL KNOWN FACT PEOPLE! Rick was long recovered before that song was even a thought.

missed opportunity alert: yk how in the BOTHB recording scene where Mutt says "i'm the map, I can't create the treasure im just gonna guide you to it", it could have been a great 'I Told You So' scene, where Joe randomly plays the PSSOM riff and mutt hears it. idk if that made any sense at all lol but its just my thinking😂

^^ even then if we wanted it to be accurate the scene would have to be later on in the film after Mutt comes back.

fast forward to Rick's dream, I don't mind the scene at all, in fact I like it, but I feel like they could have replaced this with Sav's dream of the dog biting his arm the night before the accident. its another missed opportunity, as on the opening shot of the film there's a random dog? I always thought why there was a dog there, even with the knowledge of Sav's dream. if they'd that it would have tied everything together.

Sav also doesn't do much in the film, he's just *there*, unlike all the others who have their moments. This would have been a great opportunity to use his character more.

also I only just noticed that Steve looks like a blond version of Douglas Booth as Nikki in the Dirt,, just me? ok😂

I love the scene where Rick is practicing the drums in the hospital (its prob my fave scene tbh) but wHY TWO STEPS BEHIND? like I guess it works with the scene, bUT this song was not even thought of yet either? its my fave Leppard song, but still😂

Joe dismissing Steve's drinking problem? TF? HE WAS PROBABLY THE FIRST TO NOTICE IT AND ACTIVELY HELP BY STOPPING DRINKING?

The Gig™ which gig is this? Donnington? In The Round? the show they play at the end doesn't look like either of those.

I don't like how the last half of the film is centred around PSSOM, because 1) it was written last and 2) there are other songs they could have used! eg the song the fiLM IS NAMED AFTER ?

No flashback for Sav or Phil? I mean fair, the film didn't develop them at all, so there's nothing to reminisce on😂

THIS DOESN'T LOOK LIKE ITS IN THE ROUND TO ME TF?

also where are joe's ripped jeans? his women of doom vest? the belts? the other outfits are pretty accurate, but you couldn't get the frontman's right?

Welp, that's it! This was honestly mUCH longer than I originally anticipated, so if you made it this far please consider re blogging! Remember this is all just my opinion, based on public information, so feel free to disagree! Also feel free to add anything you want or you think I missed. If you're after something positive after all this, I have another post just like this talking about all the things I like about the film, yes that's right i'm not always whiny and over critical!😂 thank you for reading my loves!

So I watched Hysteria: The Def Leppard Story,, and I have tHOUGHTS👀

It seems to be a NYE trend in the Leppard fandom to watch this film, so I thought I'd partake in it since i've been meaning to watch it again. This is the first time i've watched it since properly getting into Leppard, and honestly, despite its gLARING flaws, I don't hate it? I liked it more than I thought, tho honestly that just made the errors a lot more obvious.

Imma reblog this twice tomorrow, once for the things I DO love about it, and again for the things I DO NOT like about it. This should be fun, so stay tuned!

[dickwheelie]

jmart request: time travel but make it funny?

I’ve seen plenty of s5 jmart traveling back to s1, but none of s1 jmart traveling forwards in time to s5....

____________

“Well that’s . . . not right.”

Following Jon’s gaze, Martin squinted up at the sky, and had to agree that yes, dark, churning green clouds and a gigantic, unblinking eye staring down at them where the sun should be was, to put it succinctly, not right at all.

“I told you not to go through that door,” said Martin. “But no, apparently we’re researchers, Martin, with obligations to investigate paranormal phenomena, no matter how stupid it is to go through a weird door that suddenly appears in your office--”

“I’m not--it’s not stupid to do my job,” Jon snapped. “And you didn’t have to follow me through.”

Martin felt his face heat. “Well, I, uh. Didn’t want something to--happen to you.”

Jon gestured around them, at the--well, at the everything. “Bit late for that now,” he muttered, his voice barely audible above the distant background noise of tortured screams.

Martin cast his gaze around the--well, hellscape wouldn’t be a bad word for it. They were definitely outside, on a . . . hill? Somewhere? But there were no other landmarks or buildings to identify. “Where are we, anyway?” he asked, not really expecting an answer. 

“Hmm,” Jon said, squinting down at the blighted ground surrounding them, as though it may contain a few clues, or perhaps had personally offended him in some way. He kicked at the dirt with the toe of his shined work shoe. Then he nodded, satisfactorily, and said, “Probably a shared hallucination.”

“A--what?”

“Shared hallucinations are surprisingly common,” Jon said, as though he were teaching a lesson to a class of students he was rather disappointed by. “Especially by people who work in close quarters, isolated from the outside world.”

“Wh--And that’s us, then, is it?” Martin said, growing frustrated now. “Two people who work in a basement together with two other coworkers just one day up and lose their minds. Is that what you think is happening here, Jon?”

“I can’t see another explanation for it,” Jon said, utterly stonefaced. In the distance, an explosion was heard, followed by a plume of red smoke and a chorus of animalistic screams.

“Right,” Martin said, mostly to himself. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Right. Okay. Of course, he doesn’t believe any of it, you could staple hard evidence of the supernatural to the guy’s forehead and he wouldn’t--”

“I can hear you, you know,” Jon said, so deadpan his voice was in danger of flattening the hill they were standing on.

“Good,” said Martin, daring Jon to tell him off, but instead he just rolled his eyes.

“Really, Martin, this is silly. I can prove this isn’t real. All I have to do is walk in one direction, and keep going, and eventually I’ll hit the wall of my office. Where we both still are.”

“Alright,” said Martin, crossing his arms. “So do it, then.”

“I will,” Jon said primly, and pointed himself at the horizon. Slowly, he began to walk, hands spread out in front of him, as though anticipating smacking into something he couldn’t see. Martin watched as Jon took five steps, ten steps, twenty . . . and after that he lost count, because Jon had disappeared over the lip of the hill.

A few moments later, Jon reappeared, huffing with some effort as he climbed back up the hill again. “Well,” he said, between breaths, “it seems this hallucination is more thorough than I thought.”

Throwing up his hands in frustration, Martin said, “Christ, Jon, I can’t believe--god, why do you have to be so bloody stubborn. And why do I have to like it so much.”

“I--Wait, what did you just--”

“Look, whatever the hell this all is, it’s real, and it’s happening, and we’ve got to deal with it,” Martin went on. “I don’t know how, but somehow we’ve got to. And if we’re stuck together, here, then . . . then we’re stuck together.” He nodded decisively, hoping he sounded more certain than he felt.

For once, Jon didn’t make a fuss. He seemed to deflate, a bit, and nodded reluctantly. “I suppose . . . I suppose it would best to play along, for now.”

Martin looked around, taking in the horror show that surrounded them on all sides. “Well,” he said, “I guess we’d better start walking.”

“Which way?”

“Honestly, I don’t think it really matters,” Martin said.

“Let’s not split up, though,” Jon said quickly.

A warm feeling spread through Martin’s chest, despite himself. “Yeah,” he agreed. “We’ll go together.”

And so they set off, not exactly hand-in-hand, on a journey with an unknown destination, for what purpose they couldn’t be sure. And maybe, just maybe, they would both learn a little something on the way.

But probably not.

[laurasimonsdaughter]

Hi! I love your urban fantasy stories, and I was wondering if you might want to write something about the fae and working at an antiques shop?

“That can’t be what really happened…”

“You think I didn’t tell myself that at first?” he hissed into his phone. “I’ve seen them.” He glanced around the store suspiciously, almost a reflex by now, but it seemed empty. Fat lot of good that did him, this place was so big and so chock-full of antique furniture that as long as they were quiet, at least five browsing customers could walk around it unnoticed.

“You’ve seen them?” at least now his friend sounded suitably impressed.

“I absolutely bloody have. Some of them can fly. One of them flew off with a silver spoon.”

“Uh, shouldn’t you tell your boss about that?”

He leaned heavily onto the shiny counter and glared at nothing. “Yeah, good idea, how the hell am I supposed to do that? Morning, Alejandra, did you know your store’s plagued by fairies and they’re driving me insane?”

“Which fairies?”

He only just kept himself from throwing the phone across the room in fright. As it was he still heard a faint “Oh shit,” croak from the speaker before his friend quickly hung up. He hastily turned around. “Sorry, there were no customers to help so I took a phone call.”

His boss waved his apology away as unnecessary and gave him a penetrating look from across her glasses. “Which fairies,” she repeated and if she hadn’t kept talking he might still not have caught on that which is not at all the same question as what. “Surely not the brownies? No more mischief in them than any common duende.”

He stared at her. “I— what’s a brownie?”

“Ah, so it wasn’t them,” she said, satisfied. “They’re short, shy little things. Helpful, even if they do like taking all the sugar from the break room. So who’s been bothering you, then?”

“Um.” He felt, if anything, a little insulted. When you discover a fae infestation at your new place of work, it ought to be a dramatic revelation to everyone else. And since it clearly wasn’t, why wasn’t this brought up during his interview?? “Very small, pointy ears, wings sometimes?”

Alejandra narrowed her eyes. “Pixies. Well, I suppose it has been a while since I put out some bread. Have they taken anything?”

“A spoon,” he replied, faintly dumbfounded. “But I hear them rustling more often than I manage to see them.”

She nodded understandingly. “Well, never mind, they’re mostly harmless.” She made an effort to meet his eyes. “They haven’t bothered you personally, have then?”

“Eh, no.” He made a mental note to ask her later what exactly she meant by that.

“Good, then all’s well.” Alejandra reached out to one of the near shelves of books and pulled out a heavy volume of Shakespeare, plopping it down on the counter before sweeping cheerfully back out of the room. “If they continue to bother you at work, read a couple passages from Midsummer Night’s Dream. They find it horribly embarrassing. Last time I recited Puck’s ending speech in full I didn’t see them for three months.”

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

And Tomorrow, Too.

I'm back!

Much love and many thanks to @stinastar @hailhailsatan @newnamesamecharlotte and @veritasrose for helping me yank this thing out of my brain!

Please enjoy this hurt/comfort that ends with glorious, glorious fluff.

TW: Blood, canon typical injury, infection

Jaskier was having a very rough day, objectively speaking.

He’d just finished dressing after a dip in the river when a lone bandit surprised him, shoving him to the dirt and kicking him in the ribs to keep him down. Having dealt with a gut-punch from a Witcher, Jaskier had recovered faster than anticipated and tackled the stranger to the ground.

“Foolish troubadour,” the bandit snarled. There was the quick flash of something silver and a sudden white-hot pain shot up the bard’s side from his hip to his ribcage.

“Shit,” Jaskier gasped, clutching desperately at his slashed doublet. The panicked bandit scooped up the largest of the bard’s travel bags and darted into the woods, leaving his bloodied weapon lying atop a pile of leaves beside his victim. When Jaskier pulled his hand away from the wound on his ribcage he grimaced; that was more blood than he’d been hoping to see. “Fucking cock.”

After he stripped to the waist and rinsed off in the river a second time, Jaskier took inventory of himself. The cut started at his left hip and slid up his ribcage to just beneath his left shoulder, and it was practically impossible to bandage; any attempt to wrap the upper half of his injury made him bite his lip to keep from screaming in anguish.

It was agony to move more than a few inches in either direction, since the twisting motion pulled at his torn skin and stung like hellfire. All he could really do was apply a loose poultice of chewed mint leaves to ward against infection and tie his shirt around his torso in lieu of a bandage. His cloak would have to work even harder than usual to keep him warm until Geralt arrived.

“Alright, well,” he muttered to no one as he accounted for the rest of his scattered clothing and supplies. “I need to find somewhere to rest and gather what wits I still possess… somewhere that’s still close enough for Geralt to find me. Shit, this isn’t good.”

The bard thanked every god he knew when he managed to find a small cave less than a hundred yards from the enormous oak tree where he met Geralt every year. He limped his remaining belongings into the slightly cramped space and deposited them against the left wall.

---

Fortunately for Jaskier, the idiot bandit had declared his beautiful elven lute “too bulky and annoying to carry”, and had left Sexy well enough alone. Unfortunately, the ruffian had still made off with all the bard’s coin from at least two months’ worth of contracted performances, most of his medical supplies, and most of his rations, as well.

But Jaskier had spent years at Geralt’s side and the Witcher had taught him how to deal with emergencies of every variety. Jaskier wasn’t about to disappoint his companion by flailing about ineffectively like some noble-born dunce at a time like this. No, Jaskier was determined to be healthy and ready to travel again by the time Geralt arrived in Kaedwen to find him. They only had a week or two together before they separated again for the winter and he wasn’t going to lose a single precious second in Geralt’s presence due to some silly highwayman.

Lovelorn fool that he was.

The bard used his remaining strength to gather a few armfuls of firewood and light some dried leaves with his flint and steel. He laid out his bedroll against the back wall so that he could see clearly if anyone approached from outside and wrapped his arms around Sexy to keep her safe. He re-wrapped his wound with more crushed mint and laid down to try and get some sleep.

Hopefully Geralt would arrive soon with his medical supplies and more water.

Hopefully.

---

After two long days spent huddled in a miserable lump at the back of the cave, anxiously scanning the horizon for any sign of another bandit (or Geralt) and unable to gather food or kindling, Jaskier was exhausted from lack of sleep. The wound in his side ached and burned far worse than it had on that first afternoon, aggravated by sweat and debris that had crept through his makeshift bandages.

Any added pressure around the edges of the cut made the skin nearly creak with the building strain of infection. He whimpered involuntarily every time he took a breath and trembled at any shift in the autumn breeze. It seemed as if his very bones were aching as his body flashed between the white-hot and freezing cold of a raging fever.

Slowly, and with a great effort on the part of his illness, Jaskier succumbed to the injury and sank into the quiet warmth of unconsciousness.

---

“Jaskier?” Geralt called, guiding Roach around another circuit of the old oak tree. “Are you there, Jaskier? We need to make it to the fork in the Pontar before the harvest ends and I’m in no mood for practical jokes.”

Nothing.

All his Witcher hearing picked up on were leaves twitching in the wind and a few rabbits foraging off to his left. Not even Jaskier could stay so still, even for a joke; his heartbeat and the uptick in his breathing would give him dead away.

“Well, I’m going to town.”

Geralt was about to wheel Roach back toward the road in search of a nearby inn when he caught a whiff of something on the wind - something that sent his heart plummeting into his boots.

Blood.

Jaskier’s blood. And it wasn’t fresh.

He dropped silently from the saddle and gave the signal for Roach to stay put. After a few careful breaths and some shuffling through the autumn leaves, Geralt discovered the bandit’s discarded dagger, still rusty-red around the tip and left edge.

“Fuck! Jaskier!” Geralt called, glancing around the small copse in the woods. “Jaskier, where are you!?”

The Witcher closed his eyes and tilted his head back to better clear his airways. He took a deep breath in through his nose and focused every one of his heightened senses on locating the bard. There it was again to his right, but slightly stronger. “Fucking hells.”

Geralt did his best to follow the trail without panicking. It wouldn’t do either of them any good if he lost his head while the bard was in mortal danger. If the bard was in mortal danger, he tried to reassure himself.

But if Jaskier had recovered he would have been waiting at the oak. Geralt knew that. He knew it with every fiber of his being, though he wouldn’t admit anything aloud. Jaskier’s long autumn absence had already set him on edge when he’d caught the blood-smell. “Gods-dammit, bard. Please be alive. Please, Jaskier, I can’t-”

Geralt bit his tongue and continued to follow the bard’s weak scent into the woods. After too many minutes - perhaps five or six at the speed Geralt was moving - the Witcher reached a small cave. The mouth of said cave was nearly covered-over with dry leaves and Geralt could tell, even from this distance, that Jaskier was not faring well at all. The whole area smelled like rot. Like decay. If it weren’t for the bard’s fluttering heartbeat echoing faintly from within the tiny cavern, the Witcher would have fallen to his knees and wept with despair at his untimely death.

When Geralt ducked inside and reached to pull Jaskier into his arms, the bard struggled weakly. “No, please,” he rasped. “D-Don’t kill me.”

“I’m not going to kill you, Jaskier,” Geralt replied softly. He shifted the thick leather strap of Sexy’s case over his shoulder and hefted the bard into his arms in one swift movement. Those usually brilliant blue eyes looked up at him in utter confusion. The irises were dull and foggy with sickness; the Witcher’s heart lurched in his chest and he turned back to the path, doubling his speed in his hurry to reach Roach. “You don’t have to worry any more, sweet Julek. I’m going to get you to safety.”

“If you must kill me-” Jaskier continued, muttering frantically as if Geralt hadn’t said anything at all “-then p-please do me one last f-favor. I need you to p-please find a Witcher. F-Find the White Wolf. Tell h-him… Tell him that I…”

Then the weight in Geralt’s arms seemed to increase by a fraction and the bard went silent. The Witcher shook the sweating, shaking bundle in his arms but Jaskier remained quiet.

“What do you want to tell him, Jaskier?” Geralt glanced down. His eyebrows furrowed deeply when he realized the human had fallen unconscious. The hummingbird pace of Jaskier’s fluttering heartbeat began to hammer even faster and his breaths were far too shallow. The Witcher rumbled out a determined, desperate plea the universe to save his darling songbird, followed by a quiet but emphatic, “Fuck.”

---

“Eskel!” Geralt kicked down the door to the kitchen of Kaer Morhen with one solid boot. He hadn't slept in two days and his body ached from sprinting up the path with a full-grown man in his arms. “Eskel, Vesemir, please!”

“Fuck, is that Geralt!?” Eskel came whipping around one corner at a sprint. Lambert and Vesemir were close behind, Lambert with a sword drawn and a scowl on his face. He lowered it when he saw that Geralt wasn't being pursued.

“Please, Ves, Eskel, please, help him to survive because I can’t- I can’t-” the White Wolf, for all his bravado and stoicism, was panting furiously. His kinsmen knew that he'd be crying if he had the capability to do so and crowded closer to help. Geralt immediately handed a warm, damp bundle to his Eskel with incredible gentleness and care. He looked up at the slightly taller Witcher and begged with all the strength he had left: “Please. I can't let him die.”

---

Jaskier woke up with a sharp gasp. His side radiated a dull, persistent kind of agony and he felt sick to his stomach. With a low groan he turned to retch off the side of the bed, into a conveniently placed bucket. He shouted when the movement made his wound ache all the more. “Fuck!”

The bard heard a heavy thud from his left followed by some clattering and a quietly whispered, “Shit.”

“G’ralt?”

“Jaskier!” the Witcher appeared at his side in a flash. Geralt leaned over him with a damp cloth in hand and wiped at the corners of his mouth. “You’re alive! Melitele be thanked. Do you need to be sick again? Would you like some water?”

“You’re o-oddly verbose,” Jaskier managed to half-smile.

“Was worried.”

“There’s my monosyllabic Witcher,” the bard grinned through his blinding pain. “It hurts, Geralt. Rather terribly.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t- We’re all Witchers so it’s not…” Geralt sighed and turned away to rinse the cloth in a bowl of cool water that had been resting on the sill. “We didn’t know which kind of herbs were safe for humans and which weren’t.”

“We?”

“How’s the patient?”

Jaskier's snapped to the doorway and his body automatically jerked in surprise. He whimpered at the reaction it elicited from his injury, his ribs blooming with a sharp sting. “Shit!”

“Fuck!” the red-headed man in the door replied, slamming his hands over his face. “I’m so sorry. Shit in the fucking nine hells.”

“Uh…”

“Jaskier, this is my brother Lambert. Lambert… This is Jaskier.”

“Ah yes,” the shorter Witcher smirked. “I’ve heard so much about you, Master Jaskier.”

“That I’m a royal pain in the ass?”

“Quite the opposite, really. In fact, when the two of you arrived, Geralt was nearly-”

Lambert’s statement was interrupted by a small wooden bowl to the side of the head, chucked across the room by a grim-faced Geralt.

“Nevermind. Anyway, glad to see you’re awake. I’ll let the others know that he's no longer going hand-to-hand with Death.”

“Others?” Jaskier glanced between Geralt and Lambert with wide, confused eyes. “Am I… Am I in Kaer Morhen!?”

“Aye,” Lambert winked. “And you slept through the first two days of snowfall, so I’m afraid to inform you that you’re stuck at Kaer Morhen for the rest of this season. I’ll let you and Geralt hash the rest of the details out in private. Tootles, Buttercup.”

And just as suddenly as Lambert had appeared, he was gone.

The bard turned to make eye contact with the White Wolf and blinked owlishly. “Wh-What did he mean about being here all winter?”

“I’m afraid he wasn’t lying,” Geralt returned to the stool beside Jaskier’s bed and sat down slowly, as if waiting for Jaskier to order him out of the room entirely. “Your injury was heavily infected and you were close to death when I found you in that cave at the base of the mountains. I ran the Killer in two days instead of one and brought you to Eskel and Vesemir for healing; they were the closest people I could think of who knew what to do to save you. I’m so sorry for trapping you here for the season when you should be teaching and composing in Oxenfurt. If you’d like, I can try to contact Yen or Triss and have them portal you back to the University before Yule.”

“Nobody would want to inconvenience a sorceress on their behalf,” Jaskier answered. "Myself included."

“So you don’t mind staying?”

Jaskier glanced up through his lashes, more self-conscious than Geralt had ever seen him before. “Were you really worried about me dying? Did you really carry me up the path all by yourself? In two days?”

“...Yes.”

“Why?”

Geralt felt his heart shatter to pieces in his chest. All these years spent thinking that if he was too obvious about his feelings he’d hurt Jaskier... and Jaskier had simply been waiting for any confirmation of his affections, friendly or otherwise.

"Because I..." the Witcher stood again and started to pace. "Because, Julek, I love you. I can't bear the thought of being parted from you. It's even worse because I know, I know that you're human and that I'm going to lose you too soon no matter what happens. Illness, age, injury... No matter how many years we have together they will never be enough."

Jaskier sniffled and Geralt turned on his heel to face the bard, hands already outstretched to offer comfort. "You enormous fucking idiot."

"Huh?"

"I have loved you since the moment I saw you sitting in the corner, brooding away," Jaskier grinned. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks and dripped onto the blanket. "Why didn't you tell me? You couldn't even look me in the eyes and call me your friend..."

"Witchers aren't very good at romance, if you haven't noticed," Geralt laughed humorlessly. "I knew I was going to hurt you eventually. It was only a matter of time."

"Well now we have all winter to figure things out," Jaskier offered, sliding his hand across the mattress to twine his fingers with Geralt's. The Witcher's skin was cool against his own and it felt glorious.

"Hmm."

"No! No going silent on me now, you fucker!"

"Get some rest," Geralt smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to Jaskier's sweaty fringe. "I will be here when you wake."

"And tomorrow, too?"

Geralt smiled oh-so-softly and kissed him again, on the lips.

"And tomorrow, too."

[that-one-shitty-fanfic-writer]

Fashionable Discharge

Part 2 - Yandere Vil x Chubby Reader x ???

Warning: Strong Verbal Abuse

Proofread and Edited By (Discord) spyratical

Part 1 - Part 3

When Mr. Χάος proposed these "hangouts" (if you can even call them that), you did not imagine that each time you were invited over, the majority of the time would be spent in an awkward dead silence between the both of you. You sincerely make multiple attempts to make friendly conversation with the man, but with your lack of social skills and Vil's blunt answers, it made for poor exchanges. Whenever the hour was up, Vil would dismiss you, and you would call Mr. Χάος shortly after, whom would always be ready to pick you up at a moment's notice; it seemed that out all of your supposed guardians, Mr. Χάος is the one whom cares about you the most. As you would relay the events of said hour, he could tell that you're crestfallen with yourself.

Shortly after each session, Χάος would treat you to your favorite snack, and spend time with you afterwards; from taking you out to a new place to explore to simply making dinner at your place whilst you wallow in your emotions within the comfort of your own space, you simply said the word and Mr. Χάος would do his best to accommodate to your wishes. As professional as his job required him to be, especially as one of your parents' best advisers and legal consultants, Χάος always made time and put effort into caring for you, only with the best intentions in mind. He understood that with you coming of age, you would want to explore more of the outside world rather than the confined limitations of the studies your parents would allow your tutors to teach. With your inept social skills, he also understood that you needed a way to practice how to mingle with others who are not from the small circle of people your parents trust with the secrecy of your existence. Hence, how he came up with his offer for Vil; Vil, being your age, could serve as a familiar to converse with, and afterwards you could also go on small expeditions in the outside world, if you wished.

The only thing Χάος wished could go better would be Schoenheit's behavior towards the temporary arrangement. He expected this conduct to happen within the first two meetings but seeing the fifth meeting bear the same results as the previous ones, he couldn't help but feel weary.

Alas, today is a new day, and with that, the sixth meeting with Vil; you hold hope for a fresh start with your acquaintance. In all sincerity, with the given circumstances, you still could not care if the deal fell through, you just wish you will at least make a friend out of Schoenheit. To have a friendship outside of your limited circle, much less your age, would mean a lot to you, an amazing stride forward towards progress of becoming your own independent being. Much like Χάος, you too wished Vil would be more kind, you wish you could confide in someone from an outside perspective of your caged life and provide some words of comfort. However, with Vil still only giving you short responses and long silences, at this point the only thing that provided you with any sort of warmth was the tea you sipped.

That is until Vil finally was the first to break the silence, with a slip of venom.

"Why do you come here?"

Unprepared for the question, you ask him to repeat himself.

"Why do you come here?"

"I'm sorry, I don't think I understand-"

"Why do you keep coming over? The past five meetings have all been reticent and a complete waste of time; yet here we are again, and nothing has changed."

The man is starting to become heated, and you know little to calm him down, "I'm sorry, Schoenheit, I don't mean to upset you. It's just that in the agreement-"

"To hell with that thing!" You jump, startled by Vil's fist coming down on the table at his interjection. "I never want to hear about that contract ever again, not when every other adult in my life is constantly nagging at me about the bloody thing!"

Your heart is in your throat, and you don't know what to say. "I-I'm sorry, Schoenheit, I didn't know that-"

"Did you ask your parents to make this arrangement?"

"What?"

"Don't think I didn't notice how you never spoke up against the engagement in the meeting!"

Your brain is pounding within your skull, and you don't know what to think. This isn't how this day was supposed to go.

"N-No, it's not-"

Yet the man still addresses you in disgust.

"Fucking Pervert. Wasting my time with what could be some semblance of peace and quiet for myself."

"..."

"Do you always do whatever your mommy and daddy tell you to do?"

Tears start to cascade down your cheeks freely, and your vision starts to blur. You couldn't argue against him at that moment, after all, that is what you have been doing with your life up to that point. "Please... stop."

"Of course, you still keep up formalities, even with a man whose face you still refuse to even look at and insults you to your fatty cheeks. Pathetic."

"Please... please..." Your pleads grow weaker as you fists clench tighter onto your being, hugging yourself; you feel helpless and weak. A small reminder goes off on Vil's phone, telling him to check the time. After leaving money for a toll phone in front of you, he stood up from his chair and begun to walk away.

"Times up… I'm done... Like I would ever want to marry the likes of you. Go call your lawyer, fat pig."

Once the clicking of shoes disappeared, you finally stood up and slowly started to step away from the scene. Steps turned into a walk, from walk to a jog, and naturally, jog turned into a run. None of this was supposed to happen, you were not supposed to be crying, you shouldn't be running away, Vil was not supposed to be so cruel. Yet it did happen, he was that cruel, and you're crying and running through the nearby forest as though your life depended on it. Perhaps your life did depend on it, seeing as you allowed thorns, twigs, and branches to scratch and claw at both your skin and clothes, all while running away from your current reality. It's only when you had tripped over an unearthed root that you came to a halt, crashing down onto the forest floor, whimpering for the putrid shame that overwhelmed you for your very being.

If only the ground could just break open and swallow you whole, then you wouldn't be in the predicament that was about to occur. If only you had called Mr. Χάος, like Schoenheit had told you to, then he wouldn't have heard the soft and distant thump of you hitting the ground. If only you could stop whimpering to yourself in self-hatred, then he wouldn't be able to follow the sounds of your soft weeps. If only you had obeyed direct orders one last time, then he wouldn't have found you.

"Oh goodness! Are you okay?" Through your blurred vision, you see the vague shape of a man with splashes of yellow and blue rushing over to you.

Trying your best to wipe away any tears, dirt, and grime, with a raspy voice and a heavy heart, you answer with, "I'm sorry... yes, I'm fine." Though with tattered clothes, bleeding scratches, and puffy wet eyes, it would be hard to convince anyone that it was true. Slowly helping you up to your feet, the stranger puts your arm around his shoulder and allows you to lean onto him for support as he leads you out of the forest and into safety.

As he begins to aid you at his place of residency, he questions as to what events occurred that led to him finding you so far away from the closest town. As he continued to press for reasons, the floodgates reopened and you recounted that day's events, though you did make sure to not bring up Vil by name, not wanting to tarnish his reputation even now. After the retelling of events, the stranger comforted you with genuine kindness, consoling you with lighthearted banter, getting you to feel mirth and relief, allowing you to welcome the distraction. Whilst exchanging pleasantries, you briefly brought up your desire for a friend, but just before you could move onto a different subject, the stranger asked, "How about we become friends?"

A twinge of guilt courses through you, afraid that you may have put him in a tight spot; you're quick to answer with, "No, you don't have to-"

"Sweetheart, please, I want to, truly!" Pulling out his phone, he's quick to unlock it and pop open an app. "C'mon, let me just add you on-"

"Oh, I'm sorry, but I don't have a social media presence."

"Well in that case, we can just start off by texting each other."

"I apologize, but I also don't own a phone."

"I guess I don't have any other choice..."

Feeling defeated once again, you lowered your head to hide revived tears, making themselves present at the brink of cascading, having already lost your first friend.

"I'm sorry-"

"We'll just have to visit one another as often as possible!"

"What-? I mean, you really don't-"

"Too late~ it's already set-in stone! Instead of going to meet that other man every two weeks, from now on, you'll visit me! In turn, whenever I get a chance, I'll go visit you, Chipmunk~!"

"Chipmunk?"

"Lots of people like to come up with nicknames for their friends as their bonds bring them closer. Since I'm going to be your first real friend, I figured that you would like to already have that kind of bond with me. Start out early so we can grow even closer as time moves on; plus, Chipmunk sounds like a cute and fitting nickname for you, doesn't it?"

Not willing to bite the only hand offering you any semblance of friendship, you nod in agreement instead of offering your discomfort on the matter. Was it normal for people in your generation to advance friendships so quickly?

"Great! Now, to commemorate our first milestone, let's take a picture together~!"

Quickly remembering your parents' rules regarding the public's knowledge of your existence being limited to what they would allow, you try to shut down the action, "I don't think that would be a good idea. I'm not really comfortable with putting myself out there all that much."

"Oh, don't worry! I won't share it with anyone, you can trust me, Chipmunk."

After some personal deliberation, with a light sigh, you situate yourself next to your new friend as he brings you closer with his hand on your shoulder. As the little timer starts to count down, he retorts a clever little joke that makes you genuinely laugh just at the nick of time of the photograph being taken.

"Thank you for becoming my friend-... I'm sorry, I don't think you ever told me your name."

"Oh right, where are my manners, I'm Neige LeBlanche."

[anabsolutetrainwreck]

oh, honey || h. styles

warnings: mentions of sex, kissing

word count: 2.3k

summary: when harry is struck with writer’s block, you come to the rescue and inspire him to write a song, which later becomes known as ‘adore you’...

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t harbouring a crush on a man you’d known for about five years. And for four and half years of that, you found he was the only thing that seemed to occupy your mind. With any crush, it was fun at first. The thrill of being around him brought a new spark to your life. But then, gradually, it became tiresome; the constant butterflies and the overthinking every tiny action began to aggravate you.

You’d had a boyfriend since you met Harry. He loved you and you tried to love him. You knew it wasn’t fair on him, and you felt an ounce of extra guilt every day that relationship went on. You knew it was selfish to paint yourself a mirage of a perfect life with a man you knew you couldn’t love.

The relationship lasted eight months. It had never meant to last that long. At first, it was all fun and games - neither of you took things too seriously. A bit of harmless sex and late nights with red wine and David Attenborough documentaries. But then things took a turn, and he began talking of moving in together and meeting each other’s parents. Your parents would have loved him, you knew that. But what good was that when you didn’t love him?

Eventually, the two of you sat down and decided that maybe it was best if you went your separate ways. It was a mutual decision. And you both agreed that it was fun whilst it lasted. So, this relationship you’d gotten yourself into to get your mind off Harry had ended because you could never love this man the way he wanted you to.

It had been a rough eight months for you. Harry had been in somewhat of a mood with, well, everybody. Mitch concluded that he was probably just stressed with writing for the album and making sure everything was perfect for his debut solo album. But, though nobody necessarily picked up on it at the time, when you announced that you’d broken up with your boyfriend, Harry seemed to be in a much better mood ever since.

So, now, as you walked into the studio, you ran your hands along your jean-clad thighs. It was a desperate attempt to rid your palms of the sweat your nervousness had caused. Sarah had called you and asked if you were free to swing by the studio. She said something about needing a new mind to help Harry. Instantly, you agreed. You would always be there for Harry.

Sat on one of the couches was Harry Styles himself, his hand over his eyes. He was alone, his guitar beside him. A notebook of his lyrics was tossed aside, clearly neglected in tiredness or frustration. “Harry?” you called out, closing the door behind you.

He looked up quickly, startled by the sudden disturbance. “Y/N,” he smiled slightly, sitting up properly. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought you could use some help,” you shrugged, slipping out of your black puffer jacket. “And clearly you need it. Where is everyone?”

“Oh, they went to get some lunch at some place down the road,” he replied.

“And what about you? Aren’t you hungry? You need to eat, Harry.”

“I know. I will, I will. I’m just trying to finish this song, is all.”

You nodded slightly, sitting down in front of him on the coffee table. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were resting on top of dark bags. “Let me see,” you said, extending your hand.

Slowly, he placed the notebook into your hands. You stared down at the scribbled lyrics. Things were crossed out; things were circled; things were accompanied by little doodles. On the very top of the page, though, was the rushed title (above a few others, which had been crossed out): ADORE YOU. “I’m just gonna put it aside and come back to it,” he sighed. “Wanna get high? It always helps me write music.”

“No, Harry. I don’t want to get high with you. If you leave it, then you’ll never come back to it and nobody will ever get to hear it,” you replied.

“Except you. I want you to hear it,” he said quietly, so quiet, in fact, that you barely heard it.

He wasn’t looking at you, thankfully. At least he wouldn’t see the mix of nerves and excitement at what he’d just muttered. You shifted slightly, placing the notebook down beside you, “Well, then you’ll have to finish it, won’t you?”

Finally, he looked up at you. You felt tiny as his eyes explored your face, drinking in every last inch of your features. A small smile worked its way up onto his face, “I suppose I will.”

So, Harry began projecting his ideas onto you. He explained what the song was about and the kind of things he wanted to write. He sang the chorus to you, and you swore you melted right there and then. Hearing his voice fill the otherwise silent room you were in, with no other intent than to please you, filled your head with all sorts of fantasies. “It’s good, Harry. It’s really good,” you nodded, smiling sweetly at him.

“Obviously not good enough if I can’t think of anything other than the first verse and the chorus,” he groaned, raking his long fingers through his unruly hair.

In a moment of fleeting confidence, you reached out and squeezed Harry’s hand. He looked up at you, his green lagoons of eyes staring directly into your own. “Harry, stop. You’re doing yourself no good thinking like that. No songs start out as the greatest thing ever written; you have to put time and care and effort into them,” you said gently. “Let me help, Harry. I don’t want you to go through this alone.”

He nodded, squeezing your hand in return. He pulled out a pen and stared expectantly at you. You smiled - you were happy he was willing to let you help. “What did you have in mind?” he asked, eager to hear a new outlook on these lyrics he had grown sick of reading over and over again.

“Well,” you began, “it obviously has a sort of ethereal vibe to it. So, summer skies? Like, maybe something about ‘you under summer skies’?”

He nodded slowly, absorbing your suggestion. Until, suddenly, his eyes lit up. You knew the look. You’d seen it many a time before. It was the look he adopted whenever he’d been struck by the perfect slice of inspiration he needed to write an incredible piece of music. “You, Y/N, are a bloody genius! ‘Your wonder under summer skies’,” he grinned.

He scribbled the lyric down desperately. You couldn’t help but admire him as ideas escaped his brain and fell onto the paper before him. He finally looked back up at you, the page now littered with prompts and snippets of lyrics. “Thanks, Y/N. You’re a lifesaver,” he said.

You chuckled, “I didn’t do anything.”

“Well, you didn’t do anything for my other songs but they exist because of you,” he rushed out, clearly not comprehending his words. “Shit. Sorry, that- that didn’t mean to come out.”

You smirked. You had the power now, after four and a half years of falling in love with Harry Styles and making a massive fool of yourself in front of him. He’d slipped up and now you were in control. “Yeah? What songs did I unknowingly contribute to?” your confidence was rare, especially when it came to things like this, and yet here it was.

Unfortunately for you, Harry’s natural confidence matched your own. A playful grin swept up his features as he said, “Wouldn’t it be more fun for you to listen to the album and figure it out for yourself?”

“Or you could just tell me the titles?” you asked, your tone hopeful.

He hesitated for a moment, his confident smirk faltering for a split second. But, before you had time to say anything else, he said, “There’s this song called Sunflower, Vol. 6. I wrote that because your favourite flowers are sunflowers. And I wrote Cherry because I know you love cherries. And then there’s Golden, because that’s what you are, Y/N. And then there’s Watermelon Sugar because I know that In Watermelon Sugar is your favourite book. And now Adore You, because, I swear to God, Y/N, that’s all I want to do.”

He was rambling and you couldn’t help but smile. Whilst you’d spent your days rambling to your friends about how you were convinced you’d remain single forever if he didn’t happen to fall hopelessly in love with you, it appeared that he’d been writing down all the tiny details about you in his songs. Because it was true: sunflowers were your favourite flowers and cherries were your favourite fruit and In Watermelon Sugar was your favourite book.

He was staring at you now, his eyes searching your face for some sort of a hint on how you were feeling. When you said nothing, your lips parted slightly, he went on, “Hell, I wrote Cherry years ago. I wrote it when you were dating that guy... what was his name?”

“Ollie,” you replied quietly.

He knew what his name was. He never forgot. It had been two years but he’d never forgotten the eight months of hell where he had to watch you cuddle up to him and take him home after your group of friends had gone out for drinks. He didn’t know why he wanted to hear you say his name again. Some sadistic form of self-torture maybe, hearing another boy’s name on your lips. “Yeah, Ollie,” he played it off as if he really had forgotten your ex boyfriend’s name. “I wrote it when you were dating him. And I’ve been sitting on it for two years because I thought if I released it then you would know I’ve been in love with you for four years. But then I just thought ‘you know what, fuck it’, so I’m putting it on the album. And Anna, that was about you. But I’ll never officially release that one. Because I wrote it one night when I was alone and I couldn’t get you out of my head and I needed to tell somebody how I felt about you. Even if that was just a bit of paper. But then I played it to you, do you remember? And you loved it, so I swore to never release it because it felt like I’d confessed to you how I felt.”

As you listened to him ramble away about all of these songs he’d written about you and how much you clearly meant to him, you couldn’t help but smile. You’d dreamed of Harry confessing how much he, well, adored you. And you’d only ever thought it would be an occurrence in your fantastical dreams, and yet here he was, staring back at you, rambling on about how much he loved you. “Wait, Harry,” you spoke up, “isn’t ‘watermelon sugar’ something to do with oral sex?”

You chuckled as he flushed, “That’s besides the point.”

“And what is the point?”

“That I’m in love with you and, I pray to God, you’re in love with me back.”

Overwhelmed with joy, you couldn’t help but throw yourself at Harry. The feeling of his hands around your waist in a way that wasn’t just a slightly prolonged hug goodbye after a night out or a slightly overly flirtatious gesture of Harry’s felt electric. Harry’s hands on you in a way that was meant to be a moment of appreciation shared between two lovers was how it was always supposed to be.

After so long of knowing one another, falling for each other and sharing life changing moments, everything was finally slipping into place. You’d been there when One Direction first began their hiatus. You’d been there when he cut his hair off. You’d been there when he went to Jamaica to write his first solo album. You’d been there, albeit your eyes were shut most of the time, when he was dangling a thousand feet in the air for the Sign of the Times music video shoot. He’d been there when you finished university. He’d been there when you lost your mum. He’d been there when your sister had her first child. He’d been your date to your brother’s wedding. All of these things, and you couldn’t help but feel they mounted to this very moment.

You pulled your head back, admiring his face for a moment. Your arms were around his neck and everything just felt... right. His smile was bright and his eyes were full of nothing but loving joy. Without another moment’s hesitation, your lips were on his. You weren’t sure who leaned forward, but all you knew was that this was what you’d been waiting for for almost five years. And, now you were here, showing Harry how much you loved him, the wait seemed worth it. “We’ve got so much time to make up for,” he whispered.

“Good thing we’ve got all the time in the world then, isn’t it?”

He grinned, embracing your body. All he’d wanted to do for four years was to praise it. And now he finally had the chance to. That was until the two of you heard a voice behind you, “We only left for lunch!”

[thran-duils]

And Those I Can’t Charm, I Can Kill (P.4)

Title: And Those I Can’t Charm, I Can Kill (Part Four) Summary: Fem!Reader x Mafia!Tony Stark. Too many fringe gangs were making ties and your father noticed. He reached out to the Stark mob for an alliance, offering up a piece of his territory at first. When Stark told him he had enough land, your father offered up the next best thing: you. He knew Stark needed a wife and what better way to solidify a relationship between the two mafia families? You were not naïve, you knew the life and you were trained with guns and negotiations. Your father had made sure of that. The two of you had seen each other on multiple occasions at mafia get togethers and knew of each other. Stark accepted the transaction but little did he know he was going to get a little hellion handed over to him that would not kiss the ground he walked on. He would grow to love it too. Words: 3,561 Warnings (more WILL be added, I am sure): Eventual smut, power dynamics, sexism, smut, public sex, fingering, dom/sub powerplay, kidnapping, violence, death, knife kink, gun kink, angst with a happy ending

Part Three || Part Five || Masterpost mobile || Fanfic masterpost

You and Tony had stared at each other – you down at him and him up at you. It had felt good, fucking him. You had surpassed the real intimacy of a relationship – something the two of you had never had – straight to physical. It was how you normally did things, but it had just taken longer this time than a one-night stand.

But this was different. This was your husband.

You had a deeper connection now. You were startled out of your desire for this to be continuous.

And suddenly by your own doing, the two of you were apart, you standing yourself and him sitting, and you brushed at your hair, uncomfortable before turning for your clothes just to try to escape this unfamiliar territory. Normally, you would say something witty, grab your clothes, and leave. But there was no leaving him. You slept in the same bed. Even if that bed itself had not been christened by the two of you yet.

Tony was off the couch and came up to grasp your arms, stopping you and you looked up at him.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

The words fell around you. And your breath was short, working yourself up again. Tony saw it too and his thumbs caressed your arms, peering in closer. It was not threatening the way he was acting – comforting more than anything.

“I’m here… I’m here to be with you,” he started slowly, stumbling though. He was a man after all in the mafia, raised with the toxic masculinity that came with it. He was trying to navigate his feelings and be soft with you as well. “I want you to feel safe with me. In all aspects.”

It was intimate. And it was reassuring to know that he was making the effort to move even deeper with it. It was exciting. But you still wanted to be guarded.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you answered. Your eyes shot down and then you said, thinking on your feet, “We are both just naked in this room… standing in front of each other. I want my clothes. In case someone walks in.”

Tony’s eyes shot down and he gave a strangled laugh. “Right.” He let you go.

You gave a half smile before you ducked down and grabbed your bra, doing it up. Tony followed suit, beginning to dress himself back up. And then you grabbed your dress. You pulled it over your head and turned around promptly, “Zip me?”

The complete opposite of what you had asked merely ten minutes ago.

Tony cleared his throat, “Yeah.”

He zipped it up and his hands rested around the base of your neck. You were only suspended for a few moments before you turned around to face him again, your faces close. His slacks were back on, belt done, but his dress shirt half buttoned up, that drew your eyes for a split second.

“This is awkward,” he acknowledged sheepishly.

“Yeah,” you agreed and then cleared your own throat. “Um, let’s exit separately. That would seem normal to everyone else. Don’t want to shock them and all.”

He was amused, giving a little laugh, “Right. Don’t forget your thong though.”

“And there you go being the ass that I know,” you retorted, going to grab it and shimmying into it as he gave another laugh.

<><><>

You saw Bucky and Rhodey watching you come back out, curiosity painted on their faces. They had seen how angry Tony had been taking you back into the room and now that you were coming out alone, that was sure to draw their attention. Shit. Tony should have walked out first. You looked away quickly walking past their table and going back to where your friends were sitting before they could stop you.

Moving through the center of the group, you sat back down, adjusting your dress but did not miss the white-hot stares you were receiving from your circle of friends. You met their gazes and leveled them before giving an expectant shrug.

“Where did you go?” one of them asked.

“Nowhere,” you answered simply. You picked up one of your bottles on the table and began pouring shots. “Let’s drink.”

Another friend answered with a giggle, “She went somewhere with her husband.”

You glowered, stalling in pouring the shots, and asked, “So?”

“Did you finally give it up then? Because you’re being defensive. Oh, look, here he comes.”

Following their gaze, you saw Tony walking out now. He was being as normal as you, no sign of a smirk on his face. But then he did give it away. His gaze did flick over to you and the two of you locked eyes for a moment before he looked away again.

“You totally did,” your same friend crowed.

“If you don’t shut the hell up, I’m going to kick you out of the VIP section!” you threatened her.

“Touchy, touchy! Fine, I’ll drop it. It’s done. And so is your honeymoon officially!”

“Ass,” you snapped as you passed the shots out.

<><><>

Tony sat down at the booth and straightened out his suit jacket. “Where are the shots?”

“Well, we took them without you because you were gone for so long,” Natasha said with a twinkle in her eye.

“There’s plenty of alcohol in this bar. I should know. Where’s our bar—”

Someone showed up at the table, dress in the staff uniform and asked, “What’ll it be, Mr. Stark?”

“A round for the table. Bourbon.”

Natasha and Bucky protested. “No, vodka, please.”

“Fine, bourbon and vodka. Just bring two bottles, everyone has their glasses already. Blanton’s and Grey Goose.”

The server nodded, “Of course, Mr. Stark.”

As soon as they walked off, Tony looked around the table again. And they all averted their eyes. Sighing annoyed, he asked – even though he had a good idea already what was going on – , “What is it?”

Clint took the dive for everyone else and tried to say as nonchalantly as possible, “You look… not pissed off.”

“And?” he asked with a sharp edge to his voice. “Do I always look pissed off?”

“Yes,” came the chorus around the table and he frowned, displeased.

Unable to help himself, Bucky chortled, “You fucked,” as Rhodey cracked a wide smile at his statement.

“Be respectful,” Tony snapped at them.

Bucky closed his mouth, biting his cheeks as Tony took a long swig of his drink.

“Respectful? You’re the one that’s been complaining she sleeps turned away from you!” Rhodey said, still laughing lightly. “I was frankly getting tired of hearing about it. This is good news for everyone.”

“You’re welcome then,” Tony muttered to everyone’s continued amusement as the server came back with their bottles. He thanked them and took the bottles, beginning to pour everyone their own respective shots.

“To the King and Queen then,” Natasha proposed, holding up her shot glass.

<><><>

A few weeks later, there was commotion at the front door, and you put your book down before sliding out of the recliner you were in. You could hear Tony; he was angry, ranting. You came into the entrance hall cautiously and found him storming up the stairs. He stopped and was shouting still back at Steve, something about making sure that the car was destroyed and far from the city.

He noticed you were standing there suddenly and that is when you got a full view of his face. He was scraped up.

“Christ, what happened?” you asked him worriedly, coming closer to the bottom of the stairs between him and Steve. Steve took the hint and told Tony he would make sure it happened and turned on his heel to leave.

To you, Tony said, “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.” He began to turn to go up the stairs further.

You followed quickly, “You don’t look fine. Here, let me help.” He started to protest but you were already there, going past him. You stole another glance and saw there were scraps by his eyebrow and upper cheek, bleeding still. “There’s a kit in the guest bathroom. That’s closest. Come on.”

Tony followed you and you told him to sit on the toilet. He did as you said, looking hesitant. You dipped to grab underneath the sink and pulled out the first aid kit. Working quickly, you got the hydrogen peroxide as well and used the cotton balls to wipe at his face. He hissed and you apologized gently, dabbing with care.

“What happened?” you asked again as you wiped at the cuts.

“It doesn’t—”

“Tony.”

He ground his teeth for a few seconds before saying, “I almost got run over.”

You stilled and pulled away to meet his eyes. “Excuse me?”

“One of Weston’s guys.” You knew Weston. He ran an outfit outside the city, smaller but it was influential for keeping the borders secure.

“Weston?” you asked in disbelief. As far as you knew, he did not have any issue with Tony.

“I don’t know. We were working at a site and all of a sudden I heard someone coming in quick and Thor shoved me out of the way.” Your heart clenched and he saw. “He’ll be fine. He got nicked and it sent him spiraling. If it had been one of us, we would have had broken bones. He’s shaken up and bloodied, but he’s gonna be fine.”

“That’s good,” you said dropping the cotton balls into the trash and moving towards the bandaids and antibiotic ointment. “But, did Weston send him?”

“I don’t know,” Tony said honestly. “I don’t think so. The guy is someone who had an issue with me personally. Seems his brother got killed or something in a recent raid. Wanda and Rhodey were interrogating the guy after Steve forced me to come back here in case there were other people gunning for me.”

“That was smart of him,” you said tapping the ointment onto the cuts. “I’m glad he brought you back.”

“Oh, yeah?” Tony asked with a small smirk, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yes, I would like you to always come back alive if you could manage that for me,” you retorted, opening up a bandaid. You bandaged up the worst of it and added for good measure, “And if you could be more cognizant of your surroundings that would be a good place to start to make sure that happens….”

Turning away from him, you heard him give a light chuckle at your quip. You felt the air shift behind you, and you closed the kit, pushing it back further on the counter.

You made to ignore how close he was and walked towards the door, but he was quicker, grabbing your arm and stilling your movement. His other hand grasped the door, and he threw it closed before turning you around and holding you against it. Staring up at him, you stayed still, waiting for him to make his move.

“I’ll take that into consideration, just for you. I’ll keep my head on a swivel. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like a good plan.”

Tony’s lips curled into a smile before he leaned in and you followed his movement, coming in to kiss him softly. He hummed in approval, his hands ghosting up your sides. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, and you wrapped your arms tight to paw at his ass through his pants. He liked that by the noise he released, and you sucked in at his bottom lip. Pinning your wrists above your head, his lips dragging roughly over yours. You bit at him now in a mock threat, and he chuckled before capturing you in a passionate kiss. Your pelvis ground towards him and your tongue slipped into his mouth, swirling. The two of you were locked in a passionate dance.

Tony groaned, pulling away as you brushed his length through his slacks with your thigh. He turned you around in a fluid motion, keeping your wrists pinned and pressed himself against your back. Your neck was sucked and peppered with eager kisses, him dry humping you. You dragged your teeth across your bottom lip, a wanton whine escaping.

He let go of your wrists and made quick work of pulling your sun dress up and freeing himself from his pants. Working with him, you spread your legs and arched your back, anticipation crawling over your skin. Pulling your underwear aside, he drove up into you, holding tight at your hips.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you gasped as he picked up speed.

Anyone walking by outside the room would be greeted with loud, pleasured moans and the sound of skin slapping skin with how hard Tony was driving into you. You hardly cared; it was your damn house after all.

The two of you found a slow rhythm to relieve the intensity, a needed break. You rolled your hips, riding him with precision. His hands flexed, one coming up to cup your breast, kneading at it through your dress. He leaned forward enough to suck at your earlobe, whispering filth into your ear before he gave a rough nip.

You pushed back roughly and hissed, “I’m so close. Please.”

Tony’s hand fell from your tit and found its way between your panties and wet pussy. His fingers worked at your clit, and you groaned loudly, begging for him to not stop and he promised you he was going to fuck you good. He was working fast again, his breath coming quick and hot.

“I…I…” you stuttered moments before you clenched, your heat enveloping him tighter.

“Oh, god, that’s it, baby,” Tony praised in a low groan, his fingers faltering on your clit. But he thrusted quicker for a few seconds before he was pulsating. His hand fell to your thigh, fingers digging in as he stilled, emptying completely.

His head rested on your shoulder, the two of you breathing heavy. He found his breath again and laid a soft kiss at your neck.

“Well, that helped my stress,” he breathed.

Leaning back, you turned your head to be able to see him well enough to give him a kiss. Against his lips, you smiled, “Glad I could be of some assistance.”

<><><>

Erick was walking beside you, checking his phone. He suddenly stopped, holding out his arm to stop you as well. “We should go to another store.”

You furrowed your brow and said, “What? Why? I’m done. And they said they would be at the café now for lunch.”

“They’re going to be late.”

Shooting a look across the street, you spotted Bucky inside and slid your eyes back to Erick, looking completely unimpressed. “Nice try. Bucky is already inside.”

Erick swore underneath his breath and you frowned, sensing you were being kept out of the loop about something. You had been surprised when Bucky and Natasha had asked to ride along with you and Erick when they learned where you were going to be going shopping but had told them to come along. They had made it clear they were going somewhere else but would meet back for lunch.

You began walking again and Erick said more firmly, “Y/N, we should find another store to go into.”

Pressing the crosswalk button, you crossed your own arms, your bags bumping up against your middle. You always insisted on carrying some of the bags. Erick was your bodyguard, not your servant.

“Y/N.”

“I heard you. And I’m choosing to ignore you.”

Erick sighed loudly as the light came on to cross and you did so, hearing him follow you despite his protesting. Bucky spotted you through the window and his eyes shot back to Erick, giving him a disappointed glare. It only served to encourage you to move a bit quicker. Upon entering the café, you saw Bucky staring directly at you and Natasha looking at you over her shoulder.

“You’re supposed to be shopping,” Bucky said as you approached the table.

“I’m done. I thought we were having lunch,” you told him, sitting down beside him, placing your bags on the ground. “What’s the hold up?” Natasha was tight lipped as was Bucky as Erick sat down next to Natasha. You exhaled deeply and said in a quieter voice, even though you were alone in the corner, “You can trust me. You know you can. You’re doing a drop off, aren’t you?” Bucky cocked his head and you picked up his coffee and took a sip. “I know Salazar likes to do business in that building. You must need some new toys.”

Natasha and Bucky exchanged a look and for once, you noticed Erick actually looked amused at the fact you had forced yourself into the situation. He knew you were not stupid and he was probably feeling a little sense of pride that they were noticing that as well.

Adjusting in his seat, Bucky admitted in low tones, “Yes. And someone who isn’t gonna be happy about it has people set up inside watching to see who goes in and out.”

“I can do it.”

“It’s dangerous, Y/N,” Erick told you immediately before the other two could respond. His amusement was gone.

Seriously, you asked, “For me? They’re not even to think twice about me walking in. Sure, I’m married to Tony and my dad is a boss. But people really don’t pay attention to me except thinking about getting me on my back.”

Natasha ground her teeth at that, uncomfortable.

“Well, it’s the truth,” you said, shrugging. “They’ll think I’m just going in to look at the back jewelry room. All I care about is shopping anyways, right?” Natasha cocked an eyebrow and you said with a smirk, “Yes. I do know about that too, and I’ve been inside. Problem is I’ll have to actually go up to the room and that guy — Tucker — is a sleazebag.”

“You think I’m gonna let you go alone?” Erick asked.

You patted his arm, “Look at you being chivalrous.”

“Tony would have my balls if I let you around Tucker without me.”

“Wait, we did not even agree to this,” Natasha cut in, holding up her hand.

“Give it to me,” you told her, holding out your hand. “I can carry it in my purse. Go upstairs, get something small from Tucker or act like I was not impressed with the selection, and then come back down a back way to drop it into the chute before circling back and coming back out the front entrance.”

You flexed your fingers after they did not react quick enough. “I have concealed carry if anything goes wrong. And you know Erick is a great protector.”

“I have to ask Tony—” Bucky started to say.

“Bullshit,” you told Bucky. “This needs to get done. I’m assuming it’s time sensitive. And you had an unexpected snag and you have the solution sitting right beside you. Not acting on it is going to make you miss your goddamn window. I have gotten my hands dirty before and involved with this type of shit. It’s nothing new.”

Natasha nodded at Bucky stiffly and he sighed, reaching into his jacket, pulling out a thick bag and handing it to you. You felt it was money and put it into your purse swiftly. It was concealed by the fact it was hidden in a grocery store bag, not see through. Picking the menu up, you quickly scanned it.

“Erick and I both like breakfast sandwiches, his with ham and mine with bacon,” you told them putting the menu back down on the table. “I want an orange juice too. You?”

“Water,” Erick answered before following your movement to stand up.

“I’ll be back before you know it. Hopefully before the food gets here. Mind my bags, please,” you told the pair before striding off and not waiting for their answer.

Tucker was a sweet talker as always, commenting on how nice your jumpsuit looked. His hands trailed along your own and you pulled away naturally, not forcing it. When you politely brushed off his advances, he congratulated you on your recent marriage since he had not seen you since it happened. You bantered back and forth with him about how he was always able to find out the latest gossip. He told you that it was big news that Tony had gotten married; if you did not know it, you were not keeping your ear to the ground at all.

To your surprise, he had something in stock you really wanted. And it was for Tony. A nice new ring and you took it happily. Hopefully if Tony caught wind of this �� which he certainly would, you doubted Bucky or Natasha would lie to him – this would soften the blow.

On the way down, you did exactly what you said were you going to do and you dropped the bag off in the chute and came back around. Walking right past the people that you knew were watching for whoever it was that Natasha and Bucky were worried about. They only glanced at you and looked away when they saw the small signature bag of Tucker’s business.

Sliding back into your chair, you placed the bag on the table and said, “It’s done. Also, do you think Tony will like that?”

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney  @biiskuitx @buttercupfangirl @namjoonwatcheshentai @kaylamcd2000 @damntonystarkandhissmile @aditimukul

Fic tags: @patheticallysentimental @suchababie @downeyreads @teenageregression​

[racheloveyunho]

Till Death do us part - 1

Y/N grew up in a wealthy family, she always was seen as a beautiful and smart kid and was most likely to take her father’s place as the CEO of one of the most important companies in South Korea. However, after the death of her mother, Y/N’s family slowly started to break apart. Her father was always working to forget his uncalled pain while his kids were left alone at home.

She was 17 years old when her life took a sudden turn when she met him in a dark alley. He was a bloody mess, bruises everywhere but behind blood and dirt, she could see his beautiful features and his addictive gaze. Maybe she should have walked away, maybe she shouldn’t have helped him, but the moment his gaze locked with hers, she was already his.

Choi San was his name.

Genre: Mafia AU, angst, fluff, stranger to lovers

Words: 2486

 TW: Y/N is described as an OC. Please be aware that this story will contain a lot of triggering content such as smut, blood, death, murder, drug, kidnapping, etc. Do not read if you are under a legal age!

Chapter 1

 I still wonder what would have happened if I didn’t meet him during this gloomy night? We were young and I was way too brave for my own good. Maybe it was my faith or maybe it was a sheer coincidence but now, I know that I will love him till death do us part.

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 5 years ago.

 "Hey Y/N, wake up sleepyhead! It’s time to go to school and I will surely not wait for the princess to wake up" my brother yelled loudly from the first floor, waking me up in the process.

I groaned and shifted uncomfortably in my bed; it was too much noise at such an early time of the day. My long-browned hair was messy from the last night, as always. I was the type of girl to move a lot during my sleep and my morning head was always a funny one, swollen, with small eyes and with some of my lightly curled hair stuck in my mouth. After five minutes of rethinking my life decisions, I found enough motivation to get out of my bed and walked down the stairs.

"Why the hell did I agree to help other students during holidays, huh?” I asked my brother as I lazily rubbed my tummy.

“Maybe because you are too dumb to say no to your teachers?” he answered, his mouth full of food.

“Do you mind keeping your mouth shut while you are eating? It’s disgusting.” I shook my head disapprovingly.

I headed toward the kitchen to get a cup of fresh milk. Jin, my brother, childishly opened his mouth wide to show me the content of it. I let out a long “Ew!” before smashing his arm playfully.

“No, but seriously Y/N. There’s no use to be brilliant at school if that means you have to help your classmates with their studies during holidays” Jin said after taking a sip of his coffee.

“Yeah, but the teacher who asked me this favor told me that he will write a recommendation for me if I agreed to help him” I answered.

“You don’t even need a recommendation, we’re from a rich family” Jin mumbled to himself but it was loud enough for me to hear it.

 He wasn’t totally wrong and I knew it. We were born with a silver spoon in our mouth. We were “cake eater” as the other kids used to call us when we were younger, we never knew what it felt like to run out of money and everyone at school was jealous of me because of that.

But they didn’t know. No one knew how hard it actually was for me and my brother.

My mother passed away 2 years ago, and since then, my father didn’t stay at home with us longer than a week straight. He was always working, working, and working again, his job had literally become his life. He was one of the richest men in Korea and still, he was always eager for more and worked every day and night for it.

He wasn’t a good father for me and Jin. He never made any compliments to us, all he was able to do was to pressure us to be as perfect as possible or at least perfect enough to not ashamed him and his reputation. Unlike my brother, I wanted to hear my father say that he was proud of me, just for once. That’s why I was trying hard to be the perfect daughter, with good grades, good manners, and good appearance but even if I tried my best, it wasn’t enough for him.

 “Do you know why I’m working so hard, Jin?” I asked him, voice as soft as a whisper, almost not daring to tell the truth.

“Why?” Jin put a hand on the top of mine, a sign of comfort since he already knew my upcoming answer.

“I don’t want to follow his rules forever. I’m still a minor so I had to stick at them but when I’ll turn 20, I will leave this house and will never come back” I sadly stated, “I want to marry a man I’m in love with, I want to do a job I like and most of all, I don’t want our father to commend my life.”

 Jin tightened his grip on my hand. He understood me, he understood me too well. We were indeed rich but we were far from being happy. Jin was 6 years older than me which means he was already an adult. He wanted to leave this house as much as me but couldn’t bring himself to do so and leave me behind.

Unlike me, Jin has never been a good student, he always has been considered a failure to our father, and even if he finally was able to run away from here, he stayed there for me. I was really lucky to have a brother like him and I was well aware of that.

 I took my breakfast and came back to my room to take a quick shower and get ready for this day I knew would be exhausting.

My brother was already waiting in his car. Jin took me to school as often as he could. He was working on a supermarket he owned and even if he was pretty busy, he wanted to spend his mornings with his “sweet baby sister” as he liked to call me.

I am indeed lucky to have a brother like him.

 8 pm, it was already late when I heard the bell ring for the last time today. I was the last one to leave the class as I helped my teacher with the preparation of some material for the next day. It didn’t bother me too much, I wasn’t in a hurry to get home since I knew my dad was finally coming back home from his work.

In all honesty, I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t miss him at all, even after all this time. I wandered here and there even though the street was already pitch black.

 “Oh! It’s been a while since I last went to the haunted alley!” I happily exclaimed to myself.

I knew every nook and cranny of Seoul, I grew up there after all. My favorite place was the haunted alley. As its name suggests and according to some beliefs, that path would be haunted.

It was an old story I heard with my friends when I was less than 10 years old. A grandma from our neighborhood scolded us and told us not to stay there because there was a woman who had been murdered in the walkway and that since then, one could hear her cry every night.

A simple way to scare naïve kids you may think, and you are more than right. However, this story is known by everyone, not just by kids. That’s the reason why I love this place, thanks to all of these rumors, no one uses this path except me. It was like my secret place.

 I walked around the alley with heavy steps, thinking about my father and his upcoming lecture about how to be a good girl. My thoughts were suddenly stopped by the voice of two men who seemed to be fighting each other. I stayed still for a moment, trying to figure out where the noises were coming from.

“You piece of shit! And you claim yourself as the Boss” son?” One voice laughed.

I hid in the dark and saw what could have been mistaken with a scene from a horror movie. Between two old houses, a tall man was beating up a boy who seemed to be around my age.

I felt shivers down my spine but before I could even think straight, my body started to move with its own will.

“Hey! Let him go!” I shouted, my voice betraying me by showing how scared I really was.

 I moved closer to the two men, I could now see them more clearly.

The young boy was sitting on the ground, badly bleeding, whereas the tall man was standing in front of him, blood on his hand and his nose broken.

They were watching me. The silence was heavy, the only thing I could hear was the beating of my racing heart and the shake of my knees that were begging me to run away from this place. The silence was soon replaced by an ominous laugh.

“Wow. What a beauty! Is she your girlfriend? Huh?” The tall man laughed and hit the youngest on his stomach before coming closer to me.

He came closer, until he was in front of me. I had a better view of his poor state. He wasn’t less bleeding than the other man, his blood was actually covering his whole face.

I don’t know what had taken into me at this exact moment, the adrenaline was rushing in my veins and even though my feet were stuck on the ground, unable to move, my hand reached the pepper spray I always carried in my bag. Before the man could react, I used my weapon against him.

When the chemical product had reached his eyes, he screamed and placed his hands on his face, trying desperately to soothe the pain. I took advantage of the situation and kicked him as hard as I could on his crotch before he fell loudly on the ground.

I quickly grabbed the boy by his arm and helped him stand up. He was badly injured but followed me without any complaint.

 I was panting when I reached a lighted street. We stopped there, trying to catch our breath.  I turned around to face the man I was still holding and my breath hitched in my throat, not from the run I previously had but because of how beautiful this man looked.

“Are you okay? What is your name?” I asked him but he simply stayed silent, staring at me with his piercing eyes.

I took a better look at his features, he was really handsome with a well-defined face. He wasn't older than me but he hadn't the body of a teenager either. His broad shoulders and his arms muscles could be seen without any effort from him. His dark hair was harmonizing with the dark of his eyes and his dimples were visible as the border of his lips turned upright in an inviting smirk.

How can someone like him be involved in such a fight?

“The sight is at your taste?” he giggled, his smile spreading wider.

I finally took notice of my staring when I heard him laugh. I must say it was the most beautiful laugh I ever heard, slightly high-pitched but almost bewitching.

“I wasn’t staring!” I shouted from embarrassment. Fortunately, the darkness of the night was covering the redness on my cheeks.

“Sure, you weren’t” He added, amused by my reaction “I’m San. Choi San. I didn’t need your help earlier but thank you, I’m glad you rescued me”

He came closer to me and gave me a sincere smile, showing even more his dimples.

My heart was going crazy in my chest. This boy seemed small earlier compared to the other man but he was way taller than me, maybe 7 inches taller.

“You’re welcome”

I was a bit intimidated by him but I dared not to look away. He had something special, an aura that seemed as dangerous as comforting. His gaze was intense and deep, it was like he was looking through me, memorizing every detail of my face.

He didn’t move and didn’t talk for at least 2 minutes and even if I was feeling uncomfortable, I did my best not to let him know.

“Where is your house?” he finally asked after what felt like an eternity.

He startled me with his sudden question, I didn’t expect him to talk this soon. Why did he want to know where I lived? He probably wanted to walk me home and I would have gladly let this handsome guy walk me home if I hadn’t met him in an odd situation.

‘But he is really handsome…’  I thought, sighing softly, making San arch an eyebrow.

“It’s okay, I live near here, no need to walk me home. You can go ahead…” I said “Go ahead to…the hospital, your house or…go murdering someone…whichever comes first” I added, lowering my voice at the end of my sentence.

His face changed into a surprised expression “I wasn’t going to walk you home, don’t worry”

I sighed in relief even if I felt a bit disappointed, maybe he wasn't that bad after all.

“I want to stalk you” he stared at me with his beautiful smile as if it was the most natural thing to say.

‘What the fuck?’

“Sure, stalking me haha, it was obvious, silly me!” I gently hit my head and laughed awkwardly, taking a step back from him.

He laughed sweetly and took my chin between his thumb and his index to lift my face up. His mouth came closer to my ear and he whispered a small “Just joking” before turning his heels back and leaving me, alone, in the dark street.

  I was finally back home. Fortunately for me, my dad hadn’t noticed me since he was already sleeping on the couch.

I quickly went upstairs to my room and collapsed on my bed, my mind still processing what had happened earlier. It was scary to say the least but fascinating at the same time. I was still confused even after showering. This San had a deep effect on me, not only mentally but physically too.

“Choi San…” I muttered before closing my eyes and drifting into a deep sleep.

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This is my first story, it’s bad but I’ll try to improve myself!

This series will be uploaded slowly since I don't have a lot of time.

Thank you for reading!

[bloodletterepicness]

Possible Bloody Endings...

I was shaking from how frozen my body felt. Was I laying in a fucking ice bath or what the ever hell? I could hear my teeth chattering. Warmth, I needed some ASAP. At this point I would yank my glove off and set anything on fire, to get some heat flooding back through me. This was a kind of cold that’s painful. My lungs hurt as I took in some air. I had yet to pry my eyes open, I wasn’t even sure if I could. The last thing I remember was working in the Pit, drinking a little, and…It all came flooding back, every fucking second. One name passed my cracked lips. It was the last one that was strangled out of me ‘Rhage’. 

It was time to access the damage and figure out how to get the fuck out of dodge with me still breathing. I could tell right off the bat I was fucked up. My body was telling me the story without using words. I ached from scalp to the bottom of my soul, there were parts that throbbed in ravaging pain and those were the wounds I knew the Beast had locked his teeth onto. The fact that I made it out alive after any fucking kind of altercation with the Beast, is one of those miracle things. 

I was putting off the hardest part. I knew when I faced it, there would be two point five seconds for me to gain control of my shit. Breathing was imperative, even if each lungful caused spasms of pain. My eyes pried open and the world was upside down. More to the point, I was. I was strung up, chains wrapped around my ankles, hooked to a ceiling beam, my arms were strapped to my sides and my blood was drip dropping into buckets…

Well, that explains why I’m so fucking cold, I was being bled me out. 

It was at that moment I heard the clicking sounds of heels walking over the crude concrete floor and then she appeared. A petite female with long brunette locks and dressed as if she was prepared to go to evening at the opera. 

“Apparently I’m underdressed for the occasion.”

That took some effort, but now my adrenaline was kicking in, actually I was really fucking pissed.

‘I had thought about having you dressed in a Tux but then I didn’t think your brother had the capabilities of doing so.’

My nostrils flared and my icy eyes blazed, blaring illumination over the room that was an exact replica of where my forge was located deep in the tunnels of the Manse. How did I not notice that before…Loss of blood might have my brain scattered. I decided to chalk it up to that. This bitch had skills and my head started trying to add this shit up, but I didn’t have to try too hard. 

‘Forgive my rudeness!’

She almost sounded sincere and had I not been strung up like an animal ready for slaughter, I might have bought into it. 

‘I know who you are and yet you have no idea of who I am.’

And right there in a dark dungeon like setting, this vision of an angel, curtsy. I’d laugh if it didn't cause bouts of gasps and coughing. 

‘I am Devina and you are a problem that I must remove, but I decided to play with you first. You lasted much longer than I expected. Most go mad just days in.’

My brows drew down and as if all the doors and windows to every answer I’d been chasing down, were suddenly there before me.

“You fucking bitch…”

My vision started to blur the longer I was stuck in the wrong position and my lifeline was draining out of me but I saw the images playing out on the burnt black brick wall. She laughed as she moved out of the way and motioned to the bloody scenes playing out. The same ones that the Brotherhood had been killing ourselves to put a stop to. 

‘I’m much more than that my dear Vishous. I am capable of things that your mind can not even fathom. But I have given you a small taste.’

Bile built up in my throat and I fought to keep it back as realization of how hard I was played. From the start it had all been this witch’s manipulation. My mind tried to connect it but a wall would slam up in front of me, and now I knew why. 

‘I’m the new big bad around these parts and I am having fun so far. The Brotherhood has been immensely enjoyable for me. Especially the Beast.’

At the mention of my brother I felt that familiar rage wrapping itself around my already hyped adrenaline. You can fuck with me and that was one thing, but fuck with those I care about, and that’s a whole other motherfucking story. She was running her mouth as her home movie played out on the wall, adding in details in a jovial tone, obviously well pleased with herself. 

‘You see it was quite simple really. Once I was able to get inside of Rhage’s mind, that allowed me entrance into the Brotherhood. From there I was free to plant beautifly wicked realities for you all.’

It was more of a headfuck than I realized. The bitch had quite literally fucked with our heads. Altered our realities. The Brotherhood had capabilities to manipulate some memories and I had my own skills with going into dreams, but this was another level. 

“Are you waiting for me to congratulate you? You’ll be waiting awhile. I’m not big on giving others what they want.”

That rewarded me with a snarl, which showed the first hint of the evil that lay beneath the mask she layered herself with.

‘You’ll be giving me exactly what I desire very soon.’

With that statement she came close enough to dip her finger in the pale, getting it stained red and taking her time to suck my blood from her tip. I rolled my eyes at that and would have shrugged if I had the ability to, which I was working really fucking hard to ignore. But It wasn’t a mystery as to what she was referring to, my death. 

“That sucks. I didn’t pencil in dying, on my calendar. We might have to reschedule this.”

‘You taste so special. I knew that you would. It’s a shame really. You and I could have had a blast together but I know that I could not trust you to not try and take me out.’

“Smart woman, because that would happen often. You might do for a blow job but not anything more.”

‘You’re talkative for a man not far from death. Do you know why I wanted to do it this way? I mean of course I could have come up with more savage ways. But to witness the slow descent into death in those oddly fascinating eyes. I’ve dreamt of it and so it must be.’

I almost admired her dedication to seeing a dream through, if it wasn’t my fucking death.

[singingcroissants]

Patch Me Up

Hello, I’m back friends!! Things have been so busy lately, but I couldn’t stay away for too long! Of course I wrote this at 11 pm instead of translating Homer like I was supposed to be lmao. This is probably terrible but I figured I’d post it bc why not ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Enjoy!

Warnings: language, blood/injury, cheesy a$$ fluff

Note: This fic is aged up, as always!

Eyes heavy and muscles aching, you turn your key in the door.

The routine after a big fight was always the same: kick your shoes off, fumble through your dark apartment, and try not to think about whatever shitshow you just survived. But tonight, your side stung a little too much, and the blood seeping through your white t-shirt sent a shiver down your spine. Once you locked your door, you shuffled over to the bathroom sink to take inventory of your wounds. Lifting your shirt with a wince, your suspicions were confirmed. It was a shallow cut, you wouldn’t need stitches...but it was a pretty long gash, and it was definitely aggravated from rubbing against your shirt. In addition to the knife wound, you had a large bruise on your cheek, and your arms were peppered with little bruises from where the attacker grabbed you. Suddenly you froze, bile rising in your throat at the reminder of his pockmarked face and sadistic grin. Refusing to linger on the memory for too long, you splashed some water on your face, but grimaced when the action sent a searing pain into the laceration across your rib. Your vision turned white for a moment as you swayed, briefly losing your balance. Leaning your back against the bathroom wall for stability, you slid down to sit on the cold linoleum floor, head back, as you rubbed your knees in an effort to busy your shaking hands. Suddenly aware of hushed breathing coming from the doorway, you looked up, startled. To your surprise, Five Hargreeves stood in the doorway, watching you coolly. You two had a complicated relationship, constantly competing to be savior of the city. Over the 5 years you had known each other, you had never seen him smile; he was all business, all the time. What he was doing in your house on a Tuesday night, however, you couldn’t say. You were pulled from your thoughts as you felt his eyes on you.

“What happened?” He asks after a pause.

“On my way home from work I saw the Baxter Street gang following a young woman down 5th avenue, and I tried to take them on my own.” You hesitated, your pride wounded. “...It didn’t go so well.”

Five rolled his eyes, and muttered, “Yeah, I can see that.”

His jaw clenched and unclenched as his gaze slid over you. You watched him back intensely, surprised to catch a momentary glimpse of alarm in his eyes as he took in your bloody shirt and bruised cheek.

“Stand up,” he commanded.

Confused but too tired to argue, you began to rise to your feet, but not without muttering an indignant “What are you even doing here?”

To your embarrassment, the moment you stepped away from the wall you faltered, and he blinked across the room to catch you before you hit the ground. With his left hand resting on your back, and his right gripping your hip beneath your shirt, he guided you to an upright position wordlessly.

Through your haze of pain, you noted deliriously that he was making a suspiciously low number of snide remarks about your current position.

He lifted you up effortlessly and sat you on the countertop.

“Can I take this off?” he motioned to your shirt. Trying very hard to ignore the blush spreading to his ears, you whispered a faint, “Yes.”

The electricity skyrocketed when your eyes met, the tension of the moment visible in the slope of your shoulders, and Five’s bobbing adam's apple.

In a swift motion, he lifted the shirt up and stoically began cleaning your wound. You searched for any sign of concern in his face, but he showed none. Silently he worked, your heavy breathing and the buzzing electric lights the only sounds in the bathroom. Once he had disinfected the gash and carefully wrapped bandages around your waist, he quickly straightened and removed his sweater. Clearing his throat, he looked away and said casually, “Put this on.”

However grateful you were for his first aid skills, you began to grow shy at Five’s unceremonious kindness towards you. Fidgeting with the hem of your bloodstained shirt, you stubbornly said, “Oh thanks, but I’m actually perfectly comfortable in this. It’s actually designer-”

“Put it on,” he interrupted, his tone rising. A voice crack betrayed his attempt at austerity as he reigned himself in once more: “I’m not going to ask again.”

He left you staring, sweater in hand, as he turned to face away from you.

“Fine, fine... Thank you,” you conceded. You slipped off your soiled shirt with a wince, and put on Five’s sweater. It was soft -really soft- and smelled like leather and pine. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Echoing off the wall came a muffled and surprisingly gentle “You’re welcome.”

“You can turn around now, Robin Hood,” you called, in a half-hearted attempt at sarcasm. You had hoped that in using your usual nickname for him it would ease the tension in the room, but it did the opposite if anything. But maybe, you thought to yourself, the tension wasn’t necessarily unpleasant.

The two of you made your way to the couch in your living room, and within minutes Five had helped himself to your kitchen and returned with steaming mugs of tea.

Now you sat, side by side, staring into the swirling vapor rising from your cups.

Five broke the awkward silence: “You shouldn’t have tried to take on that gang by yourself, especially when you’re not prepared. That stab wound was worse than it looked, y/n. You could have been seriously hurt.” He hesitated,” Or worse.”

“Since when do you tell me what to do, Five?” you responded, heat rising to your cheeks. “You’re not my partner, you’re my competition. And what do you care, anyway? If I died, you’d have everything you ever wanted! They’d hand you the fucking key to the city!” Your emotions overtook you, exhaustion having decimated any boundaries you might have clung to otherwise. “So why the hell are you on my couch, and why am I wearing your sweater, and why does it smell so good?”

Shit.

To your surprise, Five Hargreeves laughed. He sat in front of you, mug of peppermint tea in hand, laughing. Miracles do happen, you joked to yourself, awestruck.

His laughter slowed, and your face burned bright red in the soft glow of your table lamp.

“Do you really not know why I’m here?” he asked in a low voice, suddenly more serious.

You shivered.

Closing the distance of the couch, he reached out and caressed the bruise on your cheek after a brief moment of hesitation. The uncharacteristic warmth in his eyes made yours shimmer with tears, and you weren’t quite sure why. It had been a long time since anyone looked at you like that.

“I’m here because not only would I care if you fell into harm’s way, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. It’s impossible not to notice you when we’re both out there, trying to keep everyone safe. You’re brave, and strong, and kind. To be honest, you’re the reason I keep fighting for this city, your selfless desire to protect and care for others...I just never knew how to tell you. It didn’t seem right. But when I heard you had gotten hurt, I imagined the worst, and I just... well, I just had to tell you.”

Your heart swelled, and suddenly he was kissing your lips, his eyelashes fluttering against your cheek. One hand rested on your thigh, and his other was combing through your hair. The moment was tender and new and so very fragile, the opposite of everything you had known about Five Hargreeves. He shifted his position and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on the bruise on your cheek. You leaned into him, finally allowing yourself to give in to your fatigue from the evening’s events. Five quietly took you into his arms and began rubbing your back, calming you even further.

Normally physical touch made you shrink up, but somehow the man beside you was learning how to break down your barriers at lightning speed. Perhaps you had been closer to each other than you realized for quite some time.

In all the excitement, you felt your eyelids begin to flutter closed as you fought to stay awake.

“Darling,” Five whispered, “You can fall asleep, it’s okay. Let’s just rest.”

That was all that you needed to hear. You drifted off in his arms, his chest rising and falling slowly beneath you. The stinging in your side drifted to a dull ache, and your tight muscles began to slowly unwind themselves as you slept. And it felt good.

Now that you know what it’s like to be taken care of by someone, you don’t think you can ever go back to your old “post-fight” routine.

Five knows you won’t have to.

[taeyongdoyoung]

summary: you are a mermaid and you save a handsome man from drowning but little do you know it’s not his first rodeo when dealing with mermaids. seonghwa, a former prince, is currently hongjoong’s first mate and boyfriend. hongjoong is the captain, the pirate king of the most savage crew across the seas. and you want nothing to do with them. not because they’re pirates, but because they’re humans…

ship: mermaid!reader x prince/pirate!seonghwa x pirate!hongjoong

genre: little mermaid!au, pirate!au, angst, fantasy, romance

author’s note: demon!jongho x wizard!yunho let’s get ittttt

warnings: some swearing, mentions of demonic activity & torture, hell references (idk, just in case someone’s uncomfy with that), mentions of drowning, kissing

word count: 3.3k

chapter one ☠️ chapter two ☠️ chapter three ☠️ chapter four ☠️ chapter five ☠️chapter six ☠️ chapter seven ☠️ chapter eight ☠️ chapter nine ☠️ chapter ten ☠️ chapter eleven ☠️ chapter thirteen ☠️ spotify playlist

Jongho’s POV

"It appears your time is up," I smirked triumphantly the minute I snatched Hongjoong away from his ship. Humans were so foolish it would almost be amusing if a tiny part of me didn't feel bad for them. Key word: tiny. 

Collecting human souls and becoming more powerful was a far more pleasant activity than whatever sense of guilt had briefly visited me. As I was saying, humans: 0. Me: 8524. Or was it 8525 already? I began losing count of how many souls I'd acquired throughout my immortal life. 

And it's not like I wasn't a benevolent demon. I had warned Hongjoong what would happen if he achieved true happiness. It wasn’t my fault he found joy so quickly. It wasn't my fault he couldn't find a way to be miserable in order to prolong his life on earth. Or should I have said life at sea? Damn pirates and their weird habits.

"Please, I need more time," Hongjoong begged wretchedly.

"If I had a soul for every time I heard that line. Actually, nevermind. I do have a soul for every time I heard that," I shrugged smugly.

"So what's one more week to you? You can't die, right?" he bargained relentlessly.

"Fair point, but a deal is a deal. Any last words?"

"I just want to say goodbye to my friends. My soul will be yours for eternity, so what's the rush?" Hongjoong kept talking. 

Ah, humans and their never-dying hope. If it wasn't so pathetic, it would have been admirable.

"Hm, let me think...No," I rejected his plea without even bothering to consider it. 

And just as I was about to put an end to his mortal existence and absorb his soul, I felt a surge of faintly familiar power calling me. No, summoning me. Oh, what the hell?

🔮🔮🔮

Yunho's POV

"Hello, demon," I greeted Jongho reluctantly.

"What do you want, wizard?" he scoffed. "And why have you trapped me in this ridiculous circle?"

"I have my reasons," I responded vaguely. "Care to explain what you've been intending to do with that pirate's soul?"

"It's none of your business," Jongho rolled his eyes.

"I suggest you tell me unless you want to stay here forever."

Jongho laughed maniacally. Ever the narcissistic prick.

"You think this can hold me down?" he moved towards me swiftly, as if intending to break away from my spell. 

Once he realized there was an invisible wall preventing him from escaping, he eyed me with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

"Now, I'm intrigued. How did you become so capable?"

"Answer my question first and then I'll decide whether to tell you," I suggested, fully aware of the fact I had the high ground in this situation. 

Maybe not forever like I'd threatened, but it would certainly be long enough to make Jongho speak.

"Very well. I was intending to devour his soul. I don't seem to have enough pirates in my collection. Too many corrupt politicians, which is kinda gross, don't you think?"

"When will you put this obsession of yours to an end? Aren't you already powerful enough down there?"

"Obviously not powerful enough since you've managed to entrap me."

I shook my head in disbelief.

"I can't let you take Hongjoong's soul."

"Why?"

"Like you said before, it's none of your business," I wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine.

"Humour me, wizard. What's so special about this pirate?"

"Alright. To put it simply, I've invested too much of my energy and magic to his loved ones' well-being. If he is taken away from them, all my efforts will have been in vain. It would be a waste."

😈😈😈

Jongho's POV

"Who are they? His loved ones?" I asked despite myself. 

Even though I was furious at Yunho for summoning and tricking me into this circle, my inquisitiveness was growing by the minute. Wizards usually didn't meddle in demons' affairs. But for some reason, I kept running into Yunho every now and then. And though he was a bit annoying, he certainly wasn't boring. So, I kept playing along.

"A mermaid and a former prince. Satisfy your curiosity?" Yunho replied without giving too many details. Okay, I'll bite.

"Juicy," I murmured. "And what exactly did you invest in them?"

"Let's just say I have helped them transform in ways previously thought impossible."

"Aw, come on, you've got to give me more than that," I insisted.

"Maybe I will. But first, you're gonna have to promise me you won't take the pirate's soul."

"And what's in it for me?" I pouted. "You know I don't do things for free."

"Bloody demons," Yunho muttered under his breath. "I'll give you something that will make you as powerful as you want."

"As powerful as the devil himself?" I blinked incredulously.

"Yes," he confirmed.

"And what, pray tell, is that?" 

"A wizard's soul," No. He couldn't... "Mine, to be specific."

Idiot. Beautiful, impossible idiot.

"You dare compare yourself to the devil?" I cackled.

I didn't understand it myself but a part of me was actively trying to talk him out of it.

"Not right now. But in a few years, I'll be even stronger. With my powers in your collection, you'll be invincible."

"You're willing to give up your soul and yet you don't even know that pirate?"

"I don't need to," Yunho waved me off.

"And if you trick me? If you don't become powerful as you suggest you will?" 

I kept trying to change his mind. It was insane. He was presenting me with an unbelievably good possibility and I was attempting to dissuade him. What was wrong with me?

"Well, then, you'll have eternity to torture my soul."

"Hm. Tempting, I admit."

🔮🔮🔮

Yunho's POV

"Then, just agree to it, Jongho," I pleaded.

"You must be really desperate to call me by my name," the demon observed correctly. Damn, how I hated that he was right.

"Don't pretend you haven't made up your mind already. No other wizard would ever offer you something like that," I couldn't take no for an answer.

"So what makes you so different from other wizards?"

"I don't know. But the fact remains. You can't reject me. You're far too greedy to let go of your ambitions now."

"This is your last warning, Yunho. If I give up the pirate's soul and take yours instead, you will regret it. Human souls wither in time and their miseries become less painful. A soul like yours? It could last till eternity and beyond. And every second in hell will be agony. It will destroy you little by little. And even when you might think there is nothing left, it will still persevere against all odds. I wouldn't wish such a fate on anyone."

"Aw, are you worried for me, demon?" I teased him. "You don't think I can handle it?"

"Shut up and get me out of this obnoxious circle."

"I take it we have a deal, then?" I said confidently.

"Regrettably so."

"You'll let Hongjoong go?" I needed a confirmation.

"Haven't I made it obvious? What could I possibly do with him when I'll have you in a couple of years?"

"You didn't strike me as the patient type," I laughed, while undoing the spell trapping him.

"I can be patient for the right reason, wizard."

"The right reason being my immortal soul?" I joked, even though every cell of my being was telling me to run, even though I was already beginning to regret my impulsive decision. My love for humans would be my downfall...

"Can there be any other reason?" Jongho, now free, traced his finger across my jaw. "Hell, I can't wait to devour you."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

☠️☠️☠️

Hongjoong's POV

That damn demon just disappeared?! I had no idea what was happening but before I could waste any more time wondering, I decided to take advantage of the situation and try to escape from wherever his lair was. However, it was too dark to see anything and no matter how much I ran, I couldn't find a way out. I was beginning to panic, thinking about the demon's potential return when I felt a pair of strong arms pulling me. Not given the chance to protest, I could only determine that I was suddenly being taken away. Soon enough, I was greeted by a familiar sight that reminded me of the happiest memories of my life. I was back on the ship! I couldn't believe my luck and whoever my mysterious saviour was, I knew that I owed them everything. Letting go of me, I attempted to discern their features but in vain. The pitch-black night surrounded us from all sides.

"Who are you?"

"A friend. That's all you need to know for now."

"How can I repay you for what you did for me?" 

"You can't," the stranger replied sadly, obviously leaving something out. I was too terrified to ask what they meant by that. So, I asked something else, instead.

"Will I see you again?"

"At sunrise. I need to talk to all three of you at once."

"All three of us?" 

But before I could inquire what exactly my saviour was suggesting, they disappeared. Were they referring to Seonghwa, Y/N and myself? I groaned quietly and figured I'd just have to be patient and wait until the morning. Until then, I couldn't do much but see Seonghwa again (since I assumed Y/N was back in the sea during the night). I wasn't sure whether (and if so, when) the demon would return for my soul, so I hurried to our room. Imagine my distress when I didn't find Seonghwa there. Running a hand through my hair, I hurried to check my other crewmates' rooms. There was no trace of any of them. If something had happened to them while I was at the demon's lair...I would never be able to forgive myself. Even if I didn't have much time left, I was determined to spend every second of it looking for my friends. Eventually, I decided that checking Mingi's cell was the only solution. If he was still there, he might know something about my crew's disappearance. If he wasn't...then, I would have no idea where to go next.

"Mingi?" I yelled but in vain. His cell was empty. Fuck. Was this some wicked game? Had the demon taken all of them just to mess with me? Where was everyone? I couldn't think of anything but...No, this was too dangerous. But it's not like I had something to lose, right? I had already sold my soul. So, I abandoned my ship and jumped into the sea.

"Y/N! Y/N!" I started screaming while swimming further away from the ship. She probably wouldn't be able to hear me. But I was desperate, okay? And besides, what other choice did I have? To my utter disbelief, she appeared on the surface soon after I began looking for her. An involuntary sigh of relief left my mouth. But then, it hit me. It was a full moon. Which made Y/N more like a siren. Oh, fuck it. If I was about to go to hell, I might as well be drowned by her instead of have my soul absorbed by that demon.

"Hongjoong!" she exclaimed. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I lied and swam towards her, completely disregarding the potential danger. "Where did everyone go?"

"They went looking for you, of course!" Y/N explained. "And I had to return here, because of...well, you know why."

I smiled nervously.

"And Mingi?"

"Yeosang let him go," she said.

"Yeosang?" I was shocked.

"I don't know, he said they would need more hands or something," Y/N chuckled at the cruel irony of it. "Yeo's been visiting him. He said Mingi's...different. Kinder."

"Why do I have difficulties believing that?"

"Everyone can change, I guess," she shrugged. Wait, when had she gotten so close?  Almost too close...

"Y/N..." I whispered her name in warning, but she didn't seem to hear me. Wrapping her arms around my neck, I felt unable to move. Completely transfixed by her, a small fraction of my brain was terrified of the fact I didn't feel terrified, at all.

"I missed you," she responded with a song-like voice. "Come with me."

"Okay," my mouth agreed even though my mind was still struggling to accept this. Then, she pulled me under. This was it, then? Surrounded by the endless water, her lips touched mine, giving me a breath of air. A couple of moments later, I realized something unexpecting. She wasn't trying to drown me. She was trying to save me. Her siren nature had made her take me beneath the surface. But her human nature was the one providing me with oxygen. After what felt like centuries of kissing, I felt Y/N letting go of me and pushing me upwards. What had just happened?

🧜‍♀️🧜‍♀️🧜‍♀️

Reader's POV

Finally! Oh, how much you'd missed the sweet sunrise! You swam towards the ship. Memories of what had taken place mere hours ago flooded you. You wondered if Hongjoong would be angry with you. You had to explain everything to him and it couldn't wait any longer. You hoped he'd understand...And that he had made his way back home safely.

"Hongjoong!" you cried out, overwhelmed by guilt. He appeared soon enough, looking absolutely wrecked, like he hadn't slept at all. Knowing him, that was probably the case. You climbed up the ladder and the first thing you did was hug him. You were surprised he didn't flinch away. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know you didn't," he replied calmly.

"I thought I could control her. I didn't think she'd try to drown you. I tried my best to stop her but..." you were rambling before you could realize what he was saying.

"I know, sweetheart, I know."

"Wait...what?" you looked up at him in confusion.

"If you hadn't kissed me, I would have drowned. I could feel you struggling against your siren nature."

"So, you forgive me?" you mumbled nervously.

"There's nothing to forgive," Hongjoong unconsciously repeated your words.

You smiled at him gratefully and then, it hit you.

"Hold on, if you're not mad at me, why do you look so miserable?"

"Seonghwa and the crew still haven't returned. After our nocturnal encounter, I thought it sensible to come back to the ship and wait until dawn. I have no idea where to start looking for them."

"Oh, shit, I was so focused on fighting against my siren self that I forgot to tell you," you mentally slapped yourself. "They took the boats and said if they don't find you, they'll come back to the ship in the morning."

"So, why aren't they here yet?" Hongjoong asked anxiously.

"Aren't they?" you grinned and pointed towards the horizon, where a couple of boats were approaching the ship.

☠️☠️☠️

Seonghwa's POV

"Oh my God," I whispered as soon as I saw Hongjoong on the ship. Safe and sound. I ran towards him and enveloped him in a suffocating hug. "Do you have any idea how worried we were?"

"Relax, Hwa, I'll tell you everything I know," he promised.

"You better! We resorted to letting Mingi go in order to search for you!" I hissed.

"You know I can hear you, right?" Mingi complained.

"Yeosang kept saying some nonsense about how he was a changed man or whatever," I kept going.

"Still right here," Mingi announced awkwardly.

"As you might have guessed," Hongjoong interrupted us, completely unbothered by Mingi's freedom. I assumed Y/N had told him already. "I was taken by a demon."

"We figured," Yeosang confirmed.

"I told them about your stupid deal," I groaned.

"Hey, it's not stupid, Yeosang's still alive, isn't he?" Hongjoong argued.

"It is stupid. It's not like I would have killed my favourite pirate in the universe," Mingi intervened.

Yeosang had the audacity to wink at Mingi!

"Shut up, Mingi," Hongjoong said and continued telling us of his adventures. "Now, where was I? So, the demon told me he'd take my soul and like, I tried to talk my way out of it but before I could achieve anything, he disappeared. Naturally, I tried to escape from wherever I was but it was so dark I couldn't see a thing. Eventually, I was saved by some stranger who teleported me back to the ship. My saviour said we'll meet again at sunrise. That's when they vanished, as well, and I noticed you all weren't on the ship. I checked Mingi's cell and of course, it was empty. So, I decided to wait until the morning."

Hongjoong and Y/N exchanged a strange look that led me to believe that wasn't the whole story. I made a mental note to ask them in private what that was all about. But until then, we had more pressing matters to discuss.

"So, the demon just let you go? This doesn't make any sense," I pointed out suspiciously.

"I don't know why or how but I'm grateful I get to spend more time with you. All of you," Hongjoong clarified. "Even Mingi, for fuck's sake."

Mingi chuckled cutely at being acknowledged like that.

"You think the demon will come back for you?" I inquired.

"No idea, but let's hope not," Hongjoong said.

🔮🔮🔮

Yunho's POV

As I was a man of my word, I teleported myself back to Hongjoong's ship at sunrise. And apparently, my timing was particularly appropriate, because the crew had gathered around Hongjoong and he was obviously telling them of his recent experiences. Making myself invisible on purpose, I appeared in the most dramatic fashion, taking them by surprise.

"Holy shit!" Seonghwa yelped in shock but soon enough, remembering how I'd helped him, visibly relaxed. "Yunho!"

"It's the wizard of the lighthouse!" Y/N exclaimed gleefully.

"Hello again," I greeted them.

"Wait, I know that voice!" Hongjoong announced. "You're the guy who saved me last night!"

"In the flesh," I confirmed, a little too smugly.

"You said you need to talk to the three of us," Hongjoong repeated my words. "Did you mean Seonghwa, Y/N and me?"

"Aren't you a clever pirate?" I patted his shoulder proudly. "No offense but I'd like to keep our conversation private. For now."

"None taken," another one of the pirates shrugged.

Hongjoong led me, Seonghwa and Y/N to a room where I assumed we'd be able to have some privacy. As I informed them of the deal I'd made with Jongho, their faces lit up with a mixture of relief and terror. Relief, I imagined, because they were happy Hongjoong would stay with them. Terror, I figured, because humans and mermaids alike, were quite compassionate by nature, and they probably felt bad for me.

"I don't understand..." Hongjoong spoke quietly. "You don't even know me and you would give up your soul for me?"

"Funny, that's exactly what the demon said," I shook my head. "The truth is, I'm too invested in the three of you already to watch him break you apart. First, with transforming Seonghwa's face so that he can have a new life away from his parents. Then, with fulfilling Y/N's wish to have legs during the day so that she can be with you two. Now, this...I can't explain it myself, but seeing the three of you happy, I feel like it's worth the risk. If Hongjoong was taken away from Seonghwa and Y/N, all of the good magic I've done would go to waste."

They looked at me with so much gratitude and worry I couldn't bear it and told them something I probably shouldn't have.

"Don't worry about my soul. I have a plan that demon will never see coming."

"Do you need our help?" Y/N asked.

"I'm not sure yet, but if I do, I'll come to you."

"Please, do. We owe you big time," Seonghwa responded.

"Don't mention it," I waved him off. "But until then, enjoy your lives."

To be continued…

[samadiw]

SOULMATES 🖤🔥

Sneak Peek into my upcoming fic 😍

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The hunt for hocruxes take longer than expected, the trio are well into their twenties but they tirelessly continue their efforts to vanquish The Dark Lord.

It is by an unfortunate misunderstanding that Ron gives away their location.

Giving her friends a chance to escape and continue their journey, Hermione makes the ultimate sacrifice and surrenders herself to widely proclaimed Angel of Death.

Her terms of imprisonment are strange and baffling to her.

She is to be well cared for and educated. Her captor, Draco Malfoy and his family are entrusted with her care, a decision that does not sit well with the ice blonde man now nearing twenty five years of age.

Voldemort has plans for her, he harbours a strong infatuation that he keeps hidden, except when they are alone.

He keeps his advances to subtle touches and lingering glances but does nothing else to thwart the headstrong woman he holds captive.

Hermione devises a plan, she decides to seduce the young handsome Malfoy into bending to her will and letting her leave.

She entices him with her clothes, secret glances and lingering touches but her advances go unnoticed, it frustrates her that he is immune to her charms.

He notices her alright, it takes all his will power to not kneel at her feet and claim her for himself.

She looks, smells and probably tastes like a forbiddenly enticing fruit.

Hermione puts her plan into motion on his birthday and bites off more than she can chew.

Her body betrays her shamelessly and he takes his birthday present in the form of her orgasm on his tongue but after the deed he leaves her to mercy of the shadows with her cum dripping down her thighs as a reminder of the dangerous game she's playing.

Her existence isn't harrowing, it's the best one could hope for.

It isnt until Narcissa's famous Malfoy Christmas ball and the untimely appearance of Theodore Nott that Draco loses his composure and cracks.

T : "Is that Hermione Granger?"

D : "Yes."

T : "The ugly duckling has blossomed into a beautiful swan."

D : "If you are into that sort of thing."

T : "You have eyes, Malfoy."

He did have eyes and Granger looked stunning in a flowing dark green gown that hugged her neck in a high halter and left her entire back exposed teasing the rise of her shapely arse.

It was obvious his mother had taken it upon herself to dress Granger for the occasion. Malfoy family jewels glistened around the former Gryffindor's neck and wrists.

He didn't appreciate Theo's lustful eyes roving over her body.

T : "I fancy a dance."

D : "She's for show only."

T : "Is that jealousy I hear?"

D : "Granger's fate is in the hands of The Dark Lord."

T : "Indeed, but excuse me, I want to get to know the most beautiful woman in the room."

D : "Theo, I'm warning you."

T : "Fuck off, Malfoy, you have no control over my actions."

Draco simmers in unadulterated fury as he watches Theo approach Hermione and engage her in conversation.

The bloody nerve of her, he narrows his eyes and glares as she touches Theo's arm and throws her head back in laughter.

Hermione locks eyes with a pair of icy swirls of grey, he looks positively good enough to eat.

Handsome is a word wasted on Draco Malfoy such is his presence, she gravitates towards him unwaveringly but tonight a willing good looking man is paying her attention and it feels refreshing and oddly satisfying.

Theo leads Hermione to the dance floor and pulls her close to his body, his fingers tease her exposed skin, she willingly moves in and let's her hand slide around his neck.

She peeks a look over Theo's shoulder at Draco, he continues to stare at them unblinkingly, his body radiates anger and a reddish glow emits from his fingertips.

From afar, Draco watches Theo's slow movements on the woman swaying in his arms.

Theo bends to kiss Hermione"s cheek and Draco stiffens.

The song ends, Theo kisses Hermione's hand and with the promise of a walk under the moonlight, they part ways.

She grabs a flute of champagne and walks into the wide terrace. The night sky is particularly pretty with many stars scattered across the heavens.

Her thoughts linger on Ron and Harry.

Soon, I'll be free.

A voice of pure steel cuts through her thoughts.

D : "Having fun, are we?"

H : "The best one can hope in prison."

D : "Did you enjoy him touching you?"

H : "As a matter of fact, I did."

H : "It gets so lonely and Theo is a distraction I wholeheartedly welcome."

H : "He says he's spending the night, perhaps we can get to know each other better."

D : "Like hell..."

Draco closes the distance between them, pulls her roughly to his chest and apparates them away.

Their feet touch solid ground and Hermione pushes Draco away angrily.

H : "Get away from me, don't fucking touch me."

Draco tosses his jacket aside and begins to unbutton his black shirt.

D : "You don't mean that."

He stalks towards her purposely and Hermione steps back at once.

H : "I'm warning you, Malfoy."

D : "I've been meaning to do this all night."

He grabs her around the waist, pulls her to him and claims her swollen lips hungrily.

Hermione stills as his kisses invade her body and mind but she has some fight left in her.

She struggles, manages to free a hand, bringing it across she slaps him hard with all her might.

The slap echoes through the quiet confinement of the room, her fingermarks stain his pale skin and even in the dim light it stands out.

Draco touches his lip and his fingers glisten with blood, he grins at the woman in front of him.

Her fiery spirit turned him on, but when he took her it would be with her consent and not otherwise.

Hermione stares at her trembling hand and then at the imposing man before her.

She breathes rapidly to calm her shattered nerves.

He turns to leave but a small hand grabs his arm in an ironclad grip, he turns to face her and is momentarily blinded by her mane of thick brown hair.

Hermione grabs Draco by the collar and kisses him fervently.

Their need urgent, they shed their clothes and caress and touch every inch of their naked bodies.

She is impressed by his length and girth, the sight fills her with a sensation she is not familiar with.

It presses into the skin of her inner thigh and she closes her eyes in anticipation.

He trails his fingers along her body, tracing the luscious curves of her full body.

Draco sucks on the delicate skin on her neck, he grabs hold of his rock hard cock and guides it into her entrance.

Without a second thought, he rams into her hoping to make a lasting impression, the wanting to stand out from her former lovers is strong.

Her fingers dig into his back and expensive sheets, a pained moan rolls off her tongue.

A whimper follows and Draco stills as her tight walls clamp down around his dick and the tip tears through a barrier.

He brings his head up and stares at the woman beneath him.

Words desert him....

D : "You're a virgin."

He had already taken her, Hermione almost let's out a laugh.

Boldly, she locks eyes with him and runs her fingers through his silky fine locks.

H : "Not anymore."

D : "Granger, fuck...why didn't you tell me?"

H : "Does it matter?

D : "Yes, I shouldn't have been your first."

H : "Why? What difference does it make?"

D : "Forgive me."

H : "There's nothing to forgive, I wanted this."

H : "I want you."

He claims her lips passionately.

D : "Everything about you is special."

D : "I want to ravish you slowly."

H : "Finish what you started, Draco."

Hearing his name coming out her mouth was explosive, it went down to his core.

He slows his pace and pleasures her until they are bathed in sweat and completely spent.

Draco withdraws reluctantly, throws his long legs off the bed and strides naked into the massive ensuite.

He opens the gold plated tap, takes his cock in his hand and stares at it.

The tip is covered with blood and semen.

Her blood, the evidence of her virginity and purity.

It was pure and untainted, not a drop of mud or discoloration to it.

She was his.

It was nothing like he had ever experienced, he was well versed in bedding a woman, but this, being with her felt as if he was reborn from the ashes.

The roaring feelings from his core scares him, it paralyzes him and he holds onto the porcelain sink to steady himself.

The generations old magic flowing through his veins speak to him, it pulls at the strings of his heart and propels him to her.

Their union is an unexpected one, a forbidden love in dark times.

Draco narrows his eyes at his relection and smirks, he would protect her, cherish her and love her with all his being.

Hermione touches her body, it was mere minutes but she craved him again, her heart aches for his presence, she couldn't understand what was happening but it felt glorious.

The need to be surrounded by his warmth engulfed her, she closes her eyes, throws her head back and groans in frustration.

Large hands palm her ripened breasts and teeth graze her sensitive skin.

He pushes his throbbing cock into her tight cunt and pleasured moans escape their lips.

He growls protectively, "Mine."

She sighs in content, "Yours, always."

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Their Doll 7

Helping Hand

B.Barnes x Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis:  y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: Bucky helps y/n in more ways than one

Warnings: talk about sex kinda

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Training with the soldier wasn't all bad, really. I mean sure, being knocked on my ass every five minutes when we sparred was hell, but there were other aspects too. HYDRA basically made the soldier train me into being their own personal assassin.

Today, it was knife-throwing. One of the few skill I already had - after all, being left in boredom for a whole year led me to experiment and find something new. I was self taught, not very good, but I knew the basics.

I walked up to the target carefully, eyes wide at I watch the soldier throw a knife that pierced through the handle of a blade that was already embedded in the bullseye. I shook off the shock, focusing on my own target as I walked up to it. Lifting a knife out of the belt I wore, I angled it at the target - keeping my wrist slightly loose - and threw. Fuck. Landed in the third ring out from the bullseye.

Again. I threw, wrist loose, and a similar outcome. As I lined up for a third throw, I felt a hand on my right shoulder, stopping me. I looked up, eyes piercing into the soldier's as his averted from me, to the blade in my hand, to the target.

My breathing became heavy, laboured, as he made his way around me, the soldier positioning himself behind me. His hands ran down my arms, resting either side of my wait - one radiating heat, the other cold and making my flinch slightly when it came into contact with the exposed skin from where my shirt had ridden up slightly. He used this grip to correct my stance, remaining behind me and grabbing my wrists to move them into the right position. His hot breath on the back of my neck was making me unfocused, intoxicated.

"Loosen your wrist." He said lowly, "more. It's all about the flick of your wrist." He explained, waiting for me to be ready. "Good. Now, release on your exhale." He breathed.

I took a deep breath in, letting the small blade loose on my exhale, eyes trained to the flash of silver as it flew through the air. Just to the left of the bullseye.

"Good. Try again." So I  did, landing a fraction closer to the black dot in the centre of the target. "Good girl." The soldier remarked, the praise sending an odd tingle through me. I could practically hear his smile as he spoke, but before I could respond, his warmth from  my body was gone - the soldier back at his own target one again.

...

I stood in the shower room, back bare and bloody still after I had managed to stagger from the whipping room. I stood with my back to the mirror as I looked over my shoulder, wincing every time the small towel touched any of the wounds.

Today's punishment had been unusually brutal, with the whip cracking down on my back in the same two places for every lashing. As a result, two long gashes spanned widthways diagonally across my upper and lower back, oozing crimson tauntingly as tear stained my already reddened cheeks.

I huffed out a frustrated sigh, turning back around to wash the blood from my once-white towel. Steam clouded the edges of the mirror and I could hear a steady stream of water coming from behind one of the curtains, meaning the the Soldier was probably washing after our training session.

In my efforts to get my towel as close to it's original colour, I was completely oblivious when the stream of water cut out and the stained-white curtain ripped back - the rings making a horrible noise against the metal rail. My eyes slowly drifted up to my own reflection staring back at myself, a grimace forming on my face at the sight.

Harsh, purple and green bruises decorated my right jaw, a small cut split across my left cheekbone and a now-drying cluster of blood was dripping down my forehead and tangling with my sweat-crusted hair. I tentatively reached up with one hand, running my fingers so lightly over the bruise on my cheek you'd barely know I'd touched it if I hadn't been for the whimper that escaped my lips.

A movement in my peripheral vision caught my attention, my eyes drifting to the side to see the soldier looking intently at my back in the mirror. I swallowed deeply, dropping the water-clad towel into the sink without looking away from the soldier. I suddenly felt hit, with his eyes burning into me, and tried to make a move to leave. But his hands on my waist stopped me, kept me in place.

"This is how they're punishing you?" The soldiers husked deeply beside my ear, and I nodded meekly. What he did next I didn't expect in a thousand lifetimes, but the soldier reached around me and pulled open the cupboard beside my head before pulling out a role of bandages.

We stood in silence as he dressed my wounds, my eyes never leaving the mirror as I gazed at his focus expression. He looked different to how he did when he fought, calmer, tranquil even. He didn't look like a killing machine, like a lackey of HYDRA, no. He looked more like a vulnerable boy who had been forced into something he didn't want, but with no choice other than to do as he'd been told. Neither of us said a word every time I flinched or let out little yelps and winces of pain, his eyes only drifted to mine in the steamed mirror and only left when I'd give him a small nod, a signal to continue.

When he'd finished he stepped away, using a soft grip on my hips to turn me around. He gave me a small smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. I returned it, but gasped sharply as he lifted my up and placed me atop the counter beside the sink. He picked up the sodden towel and run it out until it only remained damp and carefully lifted it to my forehead, cautiously and gently rubbing the wound there clean, until only a small cut on my hair line remained.

As his attention shifted to the cut on my cheekbone, I couldn't help but let my eyes wander down his toned torso, over his abs and to his v-line which disappeared beneath the towel he had wrapped  around his waist. When my eyes trailed up again, the couldn't help but observe the mess of scars at the base of his metal arm - where it was connected to his shoulder.

"I know it isn't pretty, but at least I have an arm." The soldier remarked, dropping the little towel in his hand back into the sink and looking into my eyes. I quickly averted my gaze from his body, cheeks flushed with the embarrassment of getting caught. He smirked slightly, using one of his fingers to tip my chin upwards so I had no choice but to look in his eyes.

It wasn't a rough, power-asserting position like it was intended to be when the general did it. No, it was soft, endearing and I couldn't get enough of him. The soldier used his metal hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, a shiver finding my when the cold metal came into contact with my skin.

"Thank you." I murmured, eyes flirting between his own and his lips. The soldier's were seemingly doing the same. My overwhelming urge to kiss him was quelled when his lips came into contact with mine, dominating but not hard. His lips were plump, yet chapped - I mean how could you expect any less, it's not like the Winter Soldier was going to think about putting some lip balm on. I sat there, dumbfounded, unmoving. My eyes clenched shut at my hands brushed lightly up his arms before settling on his shoulders.

He pulled away all to soon. His smile seemed more genuine, touching his eyes slightly as his lips curled upwards. I was sure I was grinning like an idiot, but I couldn't find it in myself to care as my eyes because mesmerised with his own, now blown wider with lust so only a small ring of cerulean blue rimmed his pupils. That was not the only evidence of his arousal though, as I could feel the other give away poking at my thigh. The towel around his waist did nothing to hide it, and my eyes widened slightly when I registered how big it must be.

Sensing this, the soldier's smirk grew, and he leant in slowly to capture my lips in one last, gentle kiss, before he was retreating from the room. The sound of the metal door swinging shut made me snap out of my hazy daydream trance and come back to reality, the pain throbbing from my back now in full focus as I hopped down from the counter with a groan.