#but she kinda just staggered around trying to get them all done

[aanabear2803]

*Ana approaching the stall owner* : Hello. I would like that single Hunter keychain (because Shiro wanted it)

Owner: oh that's great and-

Ana: and one each of all your miraculous keychains

I definitely do not have a hyperfixation of any kind.

At all

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Dad!Lee Felix x F!Reader TW : it's still pure angst ; Felix pining over reader ; biiig regret ; arguing ; Y/N has an idol boyfriend, but I'm gonna keep it a surprise, let me know in the comments how you feel ; Word Count : 4.7k Request : So many... It's here now! A/N : I kinda did a fast forward here because I feel like I do a lot of fics like this where the child(ren) are newborns and there's not much that I can do with all that. So, it's set about 2 and a half years after the first fic!

“You can finish editing tomorrow…” Your boyfriend said, coming up behind you as you sat in front of your laptop that felt like it was now burning holes through your eyes. “And the offer is still on the table, I can have one of the editors from the company take on the videos. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.” He leaned over your chair, his chin resting on your shoulder as your head jerked forward, your lack of sleep catching up with you fast. 

“We’re not even supposed to be together, I don’t think the company would really be okay with editing the vlogs… I’m fine, I just need another cup of coffee.” You excused, making sure to save the current editing file just in case you passed out and accidentally clicked something. “Are the babies still sleeping?” You asked as you pushed yourself up from the chair, about to head to the bedroom door, but his hands grabbed your hips, holding you in place. 

“Yes they’re sleeping. And you don’t need another cup of coffee, you need to get to sleep too.” He gently led you to the bed, stifling his laughter as you staggered and tripped over your feet on the way over, only letting you go to pull the blankets back far enough for you to get under them. Once your head hit the pillow though your eyes were shut. “Goodnight, baby…” 

//

“Who the fuck is that?!” Felix groaned as he watched the video on the tv screen, hoping that if the image were bigger he’d be able to figure it out, but you seemed to perfectly blur the guy in every shot and you didn’t even show his face. “Clearly it’s her boyfriend or something… He’s holding the kids and he’s in every single fucking video!” 

He had only found out about your youtube channel and your twice a week vlog uploads because one of the guys had shown him, none of them had even known that you had been pregnant when the two of you broke up, but when they saw the babies, they immediately knew that they were Felixs kids. He became a regular viewer, and he had even created a fake account just to follow your channel so he’d be notified when you uploaded. 

It was the only way he was able to see his kids, he was too ashamed to try to reach out to you, and you had done so well with working while you were pregnant and saving up money that you didn’t even ask him for help. Now that your Youtube channel had taken off, you were making more money and you seemed happy and that destroyed him. 

“Dude… Why don’t you just call her up and ask her who it is? I mean, they’re your kids, you have the right to know who’s around them…” Hyunjin groaned, watching the video on the screen be rewound for the hundredth time so Felix could once again try to make out the mystery man just by his blurred back. “This is ridiculous… You’ve been watching her videos for a whole year… It’s giving stalker vibes.” 

“Shut up, everyone watches her videos. You’re not calling them stalkers.” Felix mumbled, leaning forward until he was almost halfway off the couch and slowing down the video before pushing play again. “What if he’s an idol… What if he’s like… One of us, and she can’t show him because it’s against company rules. I haven’t heard anyone talk about her though… I know a lot of people… Fuck!” 

“Yeah but people that watch aren’t acting like you.” Hyunjin retorted, rolling his eyes as Felix got on his knees in front of the tv now, his face practically against the screen. “For fucks sake, just fucking text her and ask. The worst she could do is tell you to fuck off… Which honestly wouldn’t be far fetched considering the way you were… But still.” Felix paused the video once more only to look at Hyunjin over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed at his hyung. “Don’t even… You’ve literally been watching your kids grow up through a screen. Just… fucking try to set something up so you can at least meet them. It’s kind of pathetic that you’re doing all this.” 

Felixs eyes rolled as he turned back towards the screen, now focused on his son and daughter, both of them being held by the blurred man in each of his arms, their smiling, freckled faces looking at the camera that was directed towards them. He had missed so much, but in some way, the videos made him feel like he was still there, he was still a part of their lives in some way, even from a distance. It’s all he had. “What am I supposed to do? Run back to her house and try to apologize? I said awful things, Hyunjin… I can’t take those things back. Let me at least have this.” 

Hyunjin sighed heavily, running his hands over his face before looking down at his phone. “It’s 2 in the morning, Felix. At least do this shit when you’ve had some sleep. Your eyes are barely even open.” And, knowing that Felix wouldn’t move unless someone else moved him, Hyunjin got up off the couch and yanked Felix up off the floor. “And think about what I said… It would be way better than doing this every single night.” 

//

“You’re bringing them in today, right?” Your boyfriend asked as you sat between both of the kids' highchairs, taking turns making train sounds as you fed them their morning oatmeal. You eyed him curiously. You had never brought the babies into the office, you never felt the need to, plus, nobody knew about them, nobody even knew that you and your boyfriend had been together for an entire year now. Everything was kept under wraps to protect him and the children. 

“And why would I do that?” You mused, your eyes still darting between the kids to make sure none of them were spitting up their breakfast. He simply shrugged, but you saw the glint in his eyes, he was up to something. “They’re not old enough to be trainees yet, and I don’t even know if I want them to live that kind of lifestyle. You see how hard it is.” You were being honest, but you also knew that that wasn’t what he was thinking of at all, and usually when you said something so off the wall ridiculous, he’d quickly correct you and tell you what he was really thinking, and that’s exactly what happened. 

“I don’t want them to be idols either. I want them to be happy and not have to hide from cameras all the time. I want them to be able to date… When they’re old enough, and not have to worry about scandals and rumors. I want them to be able to live their lives normally.” He agreed, pulling out the chair next to your daughter and lifting her bib to wipe her chin. “I want the guys to meet them, I want management to meet them. If they say anything, I don’t really care. I love you three, and I’m tired of things being so secretive. I want to be shown in your vlogs. I’m tired of everyone assuming I’m Felix because the kids look like him.” 

You snorted loudly, drawing the attention of the kids beside you who both tried to mimic the noise you had made. “I think that’s the craziest thing you’ve said all week.” You joked, but he was serious, and you could tell by the look he was giving you. “Babe, I love you, and I’d love to be able to show you in the videos… But do you know how much backlash you and the group would get? I can’t do that.” You explained, scraping the last bit of oatmeal out of their bowls and feeding it to them before cleaning them up and letting them out of their chairs to go play. 

“What are you talking about? Fans love watching us with kids, they live for it. We could get so much footage of not only me with the babies, but the other guys too. The fans will go crazy in a good way!” He tried to reason, and you knew he wasn’t exactly wrong. That’s why BabyClouds channel had so many views and so many subscribers. People really did love watching their biases in domestic situations like that. “Plus, I already told the managers that I was bringing in a couple people today that I wanted them to meet, and they cleared their schedule a bit to meet you guys.” 

You huffed loudly, running your hands over your face. “Do they know exactly who they’re meeting, or did you just say someone?” You asked, and he pursed his lips, averting his gaze. “You’re throwing me and the babies into the lions den… What the frick?” He chuckled lightly at your censored curse, he thought it was adorable. “It’s not funny. You said it yourself that you didn’t want them being followed by cameras, and if the world finds out that it’s you in my videos, they’ll never leave you, me, or the babies alone.” 

He reached across the table, grabbing your hands and giving them a light squeeze. “You’re thinking too hard about all this. Just go get ready, I’ll watch them while you do, and then I’ll help you get them ready so we can go up there. Everything is gonna be fine. I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t think it would be okay.” He brought your knuckles up to his lips, pressing kisses along each of them before lowering them back down to the table. 

“Felix is gonna find out…” You muttered, drumming your fingers on the table nervously. “I’m trying to protect your friendship. If he knew…” You trailed off. He didn’t care, he didn’t care about anything other than you and the kids. It was exactly what you wanted in a partner, and it was still shocking sometimes to see just how much he stepped up to fill that spot. “What if they get mad?” 

He shook his head, getting out of his chair to stand beside you, slipping his finger under your chin and tilting your head up to look at him. “They won’t… And even if they do, you and the kids are worth more than being a star. This…” He looked around the house, the floor littered with toys, stains on the carpet from spilled bottles, scribbled out drawings that hung on the fridge like the most priceless paintings… “This is what matters, this is what I want.” 

You blinked a few times, your vision blurring with unshed tears as you looked up at the man that you absolutely loved with your entire heart. “You’re amazing… you know that right? God, I love you.” He chuckled softly, leaning forward to press his lips to yours, his thumb gripping your chin lightly to keep you from pulling away too soon. 

By the time your lips disconnected, you were breathless and slightly dizzy, not even wanting to open your eyes, but his voice brought you back down from cloud nine. “Go get ready, baby. I’ll watch the kids while you do.” 

//

There was something big going on in the industry, so big in fact, that the heads of the companies themselves were said to have been talking about it. It was nothing solid though, at least, not that Felix or the rest of the guys have heard. In the grand scheme of things, when it comes to big news, groundbreaking information… the idols don’t hear much until it’s either about to come out, or when it’s already been released. 

This case was no different, other than the fact that the people who did know were much more tight lipped about whatever it was that they knew. That didn’t stop tiny bits of information from coming through the cracks, making their way into Felixs ears in passing. A company war, was all Felix had heard though, and sadly, those words gave him more questions than answers. 

At first, Felix thought it would be another Kingdom situation, but that didn’t make any sense to him after giving it a bit more thought. They hadn’t been told about something like that, and usually all the companies involved would be promoting it. None of that was going on, and whenever he caught wind of this apparent war between the companies, it seemed more serious than a tv show. 

“BigHit Ent. Yeonjun finally reveals secret life… And it is Adorable!” It hadn’t been top news, but it was close enough that Felix didn’t have to scroll too far down his home page to see the headline. The picture that went along with the story was just a promotional photo of Yeonjun, so Felix was intrigued, wondering what it was that his friend was upto that he finally “revealed”. Felix could only assume that it was another pet, probably something like a Guinea pig or something, so he clicked the link, letting out a yawn as it loaded in. 

The internet seemed to be going brutally slow, almost like it was done on purpose, but once the page had loaded in, Felix cursed himself for not taking time to mentally prepare for what it was that he saw. A screenshot image of the blurred out man from your vlogs had an arrow pointing directly to a selfie of Yeonjun, as if saying that he was the guy in your vlogs that Felix had been working so hard to identify. 

That was impossible though… He and Yeonjun were close friends, and he was sure that Yeonjun would tell him something like that if it were the case, not exactly that he was dating you and parenting his children… But he would have at least heard something along the lines of him being in a relationship and being a father type figure… Right? It must have been clickbait, it had to be clickbait. 

So he scrolled down, his heart already frozen in his chest before seeing anything. He didn’t know what he’d do if it wasn’t clickbait… Was there even anything that he could do? Taking a deep breath, he pushed play on the video that seemed to take forever to buffer. Of course, an ad came first, giving him time to breathe a bit more before the video actually started. It also gave him time to think more, panic more. Would it be an actual statement or just some video that looks like a fan edit? 

When the ad ended, it was a black screen, and then it faded into Yeonjun, sitting in the room that he and the other guys usually did live streams in. Was he going to actually admit it? Was he going to say it himself? The managers actually agreed to this? “I’m sure everyone has seen the statement issued from the company, but I just wanted to come on here and say it myself.” He said, and Felix tried to remember if he had ever seen a statement at any point from BigHit. He was sure he hadn’t read anything, he would have texted him or called him if he had. 

Yeonjun talked for a good bit, and Felix was barely even listening, still trying to rake his brain for any memory of a statement or any paparazzi pictures of you and Yeonjun together. There had been nothing. The two of you were either really good at hiding it, or the image at the top pointing to the blurred man in your vlogs was in fact clickbait and Yeonjun was with someone completely different. Felix would feel a lot better if that were the case. But then his eyes focused back on his screen when he saw movement just above the desk, as if someone was walking over. 

“I guess he wanted to introduce himself first…” Yeonjun chuckled as he lifted the freckled tot onto his lap, gently grabbing his wrist and making him wave at the camera. There was no denying it, and even if he were to still attempt to say that wasn’t his son, you soon came into view as well, holding your daughter who looked identical to the boy, a spitting image of Felix himself, but the longer he looked, the more your features came into focus. The twins were a beautiful mixture of the both of you… breathing, living proof that at one point in time, the two of you loved each other. 

You looked happy, and while that should make Felix happy, it did quite the opposite. How could Yeonjun, how could you do something like this to him? You knew that he and Yeonjun were close, you had been backstage for many shows and seen the interactions between the two of them. How was he supposed to continue being friends with the guy when he knew that Yeonjun was not only with you, but being a father to Felixs kids that he hadn’t even been able to meet. 

“I’m so happy that the company allowed me to introduce them and show you this part of my life. These three are the most amazing people, and I’m honored that Y/N allowed me into her life. Now that everyone knows, it’ll make it so much easier for Y/N to post her vlogs, and you all can see what the four of us get up to in our daily lives.” Yeonjun explained, and Felix couldn’t handle it anymore. He couldn’t continue listening to his so-called friend talk about how he loved living out the life that should be Felixs. 

He swiped off of the tab, his teeth gritted together as he stared at the ceiling. It felt like an attack, one so vicious that he couldn’t fully stomach the fact that it was coming from you. It was the breaking point though. He had gone long enough sitting back and trying to live vicariously through your vlogs, trying to put himself in the place of the blurred man in your videos. He was going to see you… But he had one thing to handle first. 

///

“Tell the guys that me and the babies said hi.” You said from the couch, your head turned to look over your shoulder at Yeonjun as he stood behind you, his eyes bright and his smile wide as he looked between you and the children that he had come to call his own. 

The two of you felt much more at ease now considering the fact that an entire week had gone by and nothing had happened, at least nothing that Yeonjun and yourself had truly been worried about. The fans were far more supportive than you both, and the company, thought they would be, and while there were a handful of weirdos that were now photoshopping their faces onto yours in your new vlogs, there were no actual threats. The biggest worry had been Felix though, and there’s been no word from him at all, so the two of you were just hoping that he either didn’t see it, or that it had been long enough since he had walked out that he realized it would be ridiculous for him to pretend to give a damn about what was going on now. 

“I always do, babe.” Yeonjun murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips, the small peck gradually growing deeper and more passionate as his hands moved from gripping the back of the couch to cupping your face and keeping you close to him. “I’ll be home before dinner. Don’t miss me too much.” He winked at you, causing you to roll your eyes before he stepped around the couch to crouch down on the floor, pressing kisses to the top of the twins heads. “Be good for momma, I’ll bring you home candy if you are.” 

“Junie… No candy…” You whined, pushing yourself up off the couch to follow him to the door, grabbing his bag for practice and handing it to him with a pout. “They hate having their teeth brushed, and the more candy you give them, the higher their chances for cavities and I don’t want them to have to go through all that.” You explained, and Yeonjun sighed softly, leaning his forehead against yours, and through that you could feel him vibrating with silent laughter. 

“Fine… No candy…” He relented, his hands gripping your hips. “I’ll get ice cream on the way home and I’ll brush their teeth before bed.” He squeezed your hips, turning your protest into a quiet squeal and he took the opportunity to quickly back out the front door. 

As Yeonjun made his way down the hall to the practice room, he saw the other four guys standing awkwardly against the wall, their eyes trained on him as if they were expecting him, but there wasn’t a good feeling that came along with their looks, not at all. “What’s up?” Yeonjun asked, glancing around at all of them, their lips tightly drawn together as they all looked at the practice room door that was left cracked open, but not enough to see inside. “You’re not gonna tell me?” Yeonjun quizzed, and the guys all kept their mouths shut and their heads low as he finally walked by them with a shake of his head into the practice room. 

“You know, I’m not one to fight.” The voice that was so obviously familiar came from the far corner of the room and Yeonjun quickly turned in that direction to see Felix standing against the wall, his arms crossed but his eyes boring into Yeonjun like lasers. “And I don’t really want to fight now… I just want to know why. Why her? Why my family?” Yeonjun knew this conversation was coming, he knew that he’d have to have this talk with Felix at some point… He just didn’t think it would be happening now. 

“Felix…” Yeonjun whispered, trying to keep things calm, which was especially hard to do considering the daggers that Felix was giving him from across the room. “It’s not easy to explain… And I really don’t think either of us have the time for this kind of talk. Maybe we should wait a little bit to talk about this, when you’ve calmed down a bit.” 

Felixs eyes widened and he took a small step forward. “I’m calm… I’m super calm. And I’ve got all the time in the world right now to hear your explanation. So just humor me… Lie to me… Tell me something because I need to know why the hell you thought I’d be okay with this.” There was no security team around, there was no one but those two in the room right now. No one thought things would get violent, and Yeonjun was hoping for the same… But it seemed like Felix wasn’t going to let things go, not right now. 

“I never thought you’d be okay with it because honestly I didn’t think that you’d care.” Yeonjun spoke truthfully, running his hand through his hair. “I never intended on dating her out of respect for you… But when I heard about the way you left, the things that you said… I decided that I shouldn’t care about the emotions of someone who clearly never cared in the first place. I did what made me happy, and it makes her and the kids happy too.” 

“You don’t know my emotions… You don’t know how I felt… How I’m feeling now.” Felix stammered, and Yeonjun sighed loudly as he rolled his eyes. “You saw us at the shows, you saw how much I love her, you know I do. I was stressed from a tour when that happened, I was jet lagged and I was exhausted when she told me. I didn’t mean anything that I said that day, and I relive it constantly… So don’t tell me that I didn’t care… I don’t want to hear that shit.” Felixs voice gradually grew louder as he spoke, and Yeonjun was quickly realizing that this was a bad idea, that he should have gotten someone to come in here with him as soon as he saw that it was Felix standing in the room waiting for him. 

“You’ve been silent for two years. Don’t tell me that you regret saying those things now that you find out that someone else is in her life and fathering the children that you said you’d rather have had aborted.” Felix winced when his words were thrown back at him, but Yeonjun wouldn’t stop, not there. “You prioritized your career, and I’m not going to belittle you for that because that’s what most people in our position would do… But don’t come in here yelling at me and trying to pick a fight because I decided to prioritize the family that you kicked to the curb. I didn’t care about what could have happened when I came out about it because my family comes before this job.” 

Felixs head lowered, shame evident in his body language. “I’m sorry…” He muttered, his cheeks hollowed as he sucked them in, trying to hold in his sniffles. “You care a lot… And they deserve that… And I can see that you’re… happy… Being with them.” It was hard for him to say these things, to speak the truth that he didn’t even want to believe in himself. “I still want to meet them though… the kids… I want to see them… If that’s okay…” He couldn’t bring his voice above a whisper, and Yeonjun slowly walked over to Felix and wrapped an arm around his shoulder to try to comfort him, because even though the situation in itself was awkward… He still sympathized with his friend, he still wanted to be there for him. 

“And no one will stop you from seeing them. I know they’re yours, and Y/N knows that you have the right to see them as well. She just didn’t want to bother you while you were working, and she wasn’t going to take you to court. We talked about it a lot and we came to the conclusion that you’d either come around and ask to see them, or you’d just move on and pretend that it never happened. I’ll ask her which day is good and I’ll let you know, okay? She’s got a doctors appointment coming up though, so maybe next week would be better.” Yeonjun explained, trying to remember the schedule for this week off the top of his head, but Felix tilted his head to the side, concern filling his eyes as he looked up at Yeonjun, who simply laughed at his reaction. “She’s fine, don’t worry. I didn’t want to tell anyone… She didn’t want anyone to know yet… But we’re expecting…” 

“Expecting what?” Felix quizzed, backing out from under Yeonjuns arm, his eyes narrowed now and his eyebrows furrowing. “Is she sick or something?” He pressed, and Yeonjun was momentarily confused before shaking his head, the smile on his face sign enough that whatever was going on wasn’t awful, at least not in the morbid sense. 

“She’s pregnant…” Yeonjun stated, and he watched Felix go through many emotions in such a short amount of time, like rolling a dice, and instead of landing on the side where Felix would congratulate Yeonjun on the news, he was angry. “Felix!” Yeonjun called out the name when the boy stormed past him, throwing open the practice room door. 

“Screw this! You get my kids and a kid of your own! And you’re gonna stand here and act like you actually care about the way I’m feeling! You’ve taken everything away from me!” Felix shouted, and the guys in the hall all stood just outside the door to watch, their jaws slack and their eyes wide as they listened. 

“I didn’t take shit from you!” Yeonjun shouted back, throwing his hands in the air, in complete disbelief at the sudden turn. “You didn’t want this life, you turned your back on it, so don’t get pissed when someone else gladly steps in and lives it for you!” 

Felix scoffed, his hand balled into a fist against the door that he was holding open. “You’ll never have what we had… I’ll always be the father of her first children… And I’m back… And I’m not turning my back on it anymore. I’m ready to live that life… So you better be ready for me to be there all the time.” 

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@his-angell @if-spearb @yomomma104 @lanatheawesome @facelesswrittes @grannyindehouse @cutie-wooyo @felixmainacc @syuuji @sanriiolino @yukichan67

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[oh-holy-slut]

Bloodlust

Pairing: Damon Salvatore x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, explicit language, blood sharing, mentions of death, oral sex

Word Count: 2,6k

Summary: Stefan forced Damon to try his animal diet. Damon hated it, but didn't had a choice... until Reader makes a suggestion. Suddenly things get steamy.

Being with Damon was complicated. Him and Y/N have seen each other a lot in the past weeks. The two of them had a lot of fun; saw a lot of movies. Actually, Y/N was sure Damon secretly hated many of those. However, anytime Y/N suggested another dramatic, romantic cliché movie like "Last Song" - the vampire groaned, put his arm around her shoulder, let her head rest on his chest and endured every single second of the movie of her choice.

Damon even flirted and teased Y/N here and there, but didn't lead to anything more intimate so far.

Today was another of those days. Y/N stuck around at the Salvatore boarding house, brought a few of Damon's favorite groceries and a bunch of movies, of which she thought that they will suit his taste. Even if they were a little to bloody and brutal in her opinion.

"Pick one!", she demanded, holding all three Blu-ray sleeves in front of him. Damon just shrugged, not bothering to even look.

"Don't be a killjoy, Damon Salvatore!" Y/N sighed.

"Tell me what's wrong or pick a movie. You've got no choice. And besides that... Which number of drink is this?" Y/N frowned, pointing at the liquor in her friends hand. Damon usually consumed his beloved bourbon with pleasure.

But the man on the couch didn't seem pleasured at all. His facial features totally hardened and a look in his eyes like he was ready to rip someone's heart out.

You put the disc's back in your handbag, closing the zipper and put the bag on the floor.

"Fine. No movie night today. Who are we going to kill?"

A small smirk appeared on Damon's lips, finally looking towards Y/N.

"Stefan and his hero hair. He made me go vegetarian... well, for a vampire... and I can't get myself to eat one of those chipmunks, bunnies or bambis." He shook himself with disgust.

"And why did he count you in? You clearly aren't excited about the changing... So, why did you agree?"

"He said, he would kill me, which is kinda funny. But-" Damon made a wide gesture "he stole my daylight ring. And he wouldn't give it back until I stop feeding on innocent people - and kill them."

"So, you truly let your younger brother blackmail you like that?! Wow... I don't know how to feel about your dieting or your new path. Or whatever this is supposed to be."

"You don't like me killing people either", Damon maintained, while taking another sip of bourbon.

"Well, I don't", Y/N agreed, took a step forward, stole the glass from the vampires hand and put it on a small table nearby. "But I don't believe in forcing as a method to get people to change their minds. I believe that change for the better must be an intrinsic motivation," she added quickly, giving the vampire an innocent smile.

Damon's lineaments suddenly turned from annoyed to curious. "Any suggestions, little one?" The vampire raised an eyebrow and a little smirk showed up on his lips. On the one hand, Y/N blushed over the nickname, Damon called her.  On the other hand she felt skittish looking forward to making a deal with him. Not only a deal. It's far more than a simple agreement.

It's Y/N, actually giving Damon a part of her. The red elixir of life. She was about to give him total control of her body and she not even for a heartbeat doubt that Damon will use it against her.

"Actually... Yeah. There's something on my mind." Y/N said chewing on your lip. "I could open up a vein for you. I mean, you could feed on me. And since you have my permission, there's nothing for anybody to have objection about."

Damon frowned and gave her an incredulous look. "You would do that for me?" The vampire couldn't believe, he understood correctly. Why would Y/N want to get involved with him feeding on her? What's in it for her? Damon tried hard to connect the dots, but he wasn't able to. It all seemed to make no sense. Y/N wouldn't have an advantage of that. The vampire hesitated, pinning his dangerously blue eyes on the girl in front of him.

"Is it so suspicious of me, that I'm trying to help my closest friend?" It pierced Y/N's heart, realizing, Damon's trust in her was rather fragile. "Never mind", she waved the pain away and forced herself to keep her composure. "I only had a hasty idea; you really don't need to fee-"

Suddenly Damon appeared behind Y/N, using his vampirism. "Shhhh", he whispered softly. "I never said, that I don't want your blood. I'm thinking about if we are going to cross a line? Blood sharing can be very personal..."

"It can be? It is personal already. Believe it or not - I'm not gonna offer my veins to all the vampires of Mystic Falls." Y/N rolled her eyes, her arms folded on her chest to point out the indignation she felt right now.

"Kinda sensitive today, huh?" Damon gently stroke a strand of hair behind her ear, Y/N could hear this smug smirk through his words. It was a true 'Damon thing' to do. "I didn't mean it like that, princess." He sighed; unsure if he should agree or not. Damon didn't want to act selfish towards Y/N. He compelled a lot of girls for the purpose of drinking blood in the past. He literally used them as long as they weren't too annoying - and then he acted like they have never met. Damon Salvatore couldn't imagine this scenario with Y/N. They've been so close, the vampire couldn't stand loosing her. The offer was risky, but it also could bring each other even closer.

Damon tried hard to avoid any serious attraction between Y/N and him, afraid of messing up. Indeed, he found himself thinking, and even dreaming, about Y/N more than he wanted to admit. She was smart and had this special sense of humor, the vampire adored so much. She was the only one, who could make him feel good no matter what. Needless to say she had that glimmer in her eyes, when she did something she truly loved. In these moments she was even more pretty. Y/N was hard to resist.

And maybe now he could have her like nobody else. At least the vampire gave in. He wanted her blood. He wanted her.

Y/N flinched by the feeling of Damon brushing her neck with his lips.  "Oh, Damon", she gasped. "Bite me." Y/N almost begged for the vampire's teeth breaking through her skin. Damon loved the sound of her husky voice. In less than a heartbeat he turned into his vampire shape. "If you insist", he grinned devilishly, ready to place his teeth on to her skin.

Suddenly Y/N made a slight move forward with the intention to interrupt her friend. "Did you change your mind?" Damon was close to switching back to human, overwhelmed by a mix of emotions. Mostly a lack of understanding, but also a little of disappointment and even anger. Was Y/N playing games on him? While Damon Salvatore was sorting feelings, Y/N turned around, standing now in front of him.

She was so close, not even a piece of paper would fit between them.

Y/N slightly exhaled breath, her eyes darting between the vampires eyes and lips. It was the first time Y/N saw him like this. The icy blue of his eyes, she loved so much, has turned darker. Purple veins appeared under his eyes; Y/N couldn't help herself. Damon's appearance fully intoxicated every fibre of her being. Her fingertips found their way gently brushing over his dark purple veins. She felt heat and softness, while tracing one of them.  It took her a few seconds to get out of trance, realizing what she had done. "Sorry", she murmured with a voice barely audible. "Don't apologize, little one." Damon tilted his head, his lips curled up in a self-assured grin, exposing a perfectly white vampire fang. "I never saw you like this before, you loo-"

"... look like a monster?"

Y/N shook her head. It was nothing like that. Yes, he did look unfamiliar. And she should be scared under normal conditions. Instead, his look hit her in an unexpected way. He looked hotter as a vampire, if it was even possible. 

Y/N cleared her throat, looking up at Damon. "I feel... attracted to you."

"So nothing's changed", Damon teased, raising his eyebrows. The girl in front of him softly slapped him on his shoulder; which was only possible because the vampire permitted. "You are always so full of yourself." She smirked, feeling more confident being to something, they have had been so many times before. Granted, he was terrifying accurate, but she wouldn't serve her feelings on a silver platter.

"I'm still into it. You can bite me; feed on me. I only needed to see you before..." 

A shockwave of electricity flowed through her body the second Damon took her hand and pulled her close.

"I'll be careful", he promised, nuzzling his head into the nap of her neck. Damon once again placed his lips on her soft skin. 

Suddenly a harsh pain made Y/N feel like in a kind of haze. She flinched and let out a groan at the same time, unintentionally biting her lower lip. 

During Damon embedded his fang deeper and deeper, she started feeling dizzy. Her hands searched for the vampires upper body, finally wrapped around his neck. She needed him to lean on. A narrow trickle of blood flowed down her neck. Let Damon feed on her felt like flames licking up every fiber of her body. 

With every passing second Y/N could feel her control slip away. Her body was now firmly pressed against Damon's, like she would want to merge them into one.

Damon noticed her staggering, wrapped his arms around her waist, supporting her.

Bloodlust already messed up the vampires mind, so he continued feeding on Y/N.

A tempting moan escaped her lips, but she didn't care to cover up. Y/N's heart was racing, her eyes flattering. It was almost as if he was about to push her over the edge, but in a different way. "Mmm, this...this… feels soo weird... and so good...", she whispered under a shallow breath.

As soon as Damon heard her fading voice, he abruptly

quitted drinking from her.

"Fuck!" He rapidly laid her on his lap and checked Y/N's vital signs, to make sure she was okay. Instinctively he bit his wrist, pressed it against Y/N's mouth. He knew his blood would heal her, but it wasn't going fast enough. A few seconds passed through, to him they felt like centuries. Y/N finally blinked and Damon was relieved. He cupped her cheeks, his gaze never leaving hers. "I thought, I'd gone-" Damon cleaned his throat. "I'm so glad, you are doing well", he whispered, while trailing her lips with his fingertips. "So, fuckin' glad..." The vampire exhaled a deep breath. 

"It... You made me feel good. Strange, but good", Y/N appeased and flushed over the memory. "Maybe you got a little carried away, but I don't mind. I wouldn't trade the feeling for anything."

Y/N quickly interrupted herself, before she could reveal too much.

However, Damon used his vampire skills, noticing that Y/N was hiding something from him. "Isn't there anything else you want me to know?", Damon asked without taking his eyes off her. Y/N shifted and flushed even more. "It's unfair. You use your vampirism to get everything out of me."

"Well, if that were the case, I could easily compel you." Damon shrugged and found back to his smugly self. "Tell me, what you are hiding". He said in a seductive voice.

"I wanted to get lost in you."

Her confession sent shivers all over the vampires body. At first he could not decide, how to handle this. "Are you sure that's what you want? I could really hurt you..." Y/N hummed.

In the next split second, Damon pinned Y/N against a wall, smashing his lips on hers, kissing her with all the passion he had to give. The vampire devoured Y/N with a new kind of hunger. He didn't know he could crave someone so much.

"Fuck me, Damon..."

The vampire felt him getting hard, only by hearing those little three words out of her mouth.

"Say it louder. Tell me, what you want me to do."

Y/N pulled him closer, gently biting his earlobe.

"Fuck... me, Damon." It took her a second to focus and forming the words again. After she was near to climax earlier, it wasn't a long way getting to the edge once more. "Make me cum... You almost had me there..."

A deep moan got over the vampires lips, once he understood, what Y/N was trying to tell him.

With the next blink Y/N found herself in Damon's bedroom, lying on his bed.

From now on there weren't many words needed. Damon's hand's found their way under her shirt, cupping her breasts and make her moan over and over again.

He closely listened to the rhythm of her heart, making sure he would be able to delay her climax to the point he needed her to.

"Don't cum yet... I want to taste your little pussy first."

Y/N grabbed the vampires head, running her fingers through his dark hair - pushing him down, since she was unable to form a single word.

As Damon got down, he didn't take his eyes off Y/N.

He used a hand pushing up her skirt and lightly stroking over her panties with his fingertips.

"My girl is so wet", he praised in a low husky voice."-and I barely touched you."

His dirty words in combination with his touch lead to another moan, almost turned into a scream.

Damon pushed the fabric aside, leaving sloppy kisses on the inside of her thighs.

Y/N's eyes fluttered, when his soft lips reached her middle.

Damon's tongue licking around her entrance was driving her nuts.

"...so delicious..." were the only words she was able to catch up. Damon knew, he couldn't thrill her forever, so he got back to her. He spit on his palms, stroking his hand over his crotch. In under a second Y/N finally felt this releasing pressure of his cock. It was like a switch went off in her brain and she braced herself for the hard thrusts that would follow.

Damon dimmed the whining noises Y/N made with a passionate, hungry kiss.

He cheated with his vampirism to give it to her deeper and faster, knocking out all the air of her lungs while Y/N screamed out Damon's name. Her walls clenched around him and made him twitch. It was like her pussy massaged his dick the best way possible.

Every time he hit her harder and rougher he was making sure he hit her spot with every thrust.

Damon gathered speed one last time and pushed her over the edge until she was a moaning whimpering mess.

With her last contraction around his shaft, Damon was cumming inside her.

"You are so tight, little one", he whispered under his breath. "We should make arrangements more often."

Please like or/and reblog if you enjoyed reading or/and want me to write more stories about Damon.

Thanks guys ❤️

[opbackgrounds]

I've been letting this thought stew all day and maybe I should let it stew into a fully formed meta, but I kinda have an issue with people saying Usopp acted 'terribly' this arc. And yeah, he did - but so did Robin. And while one of the differences is that Robin was much more forcefully manipulated by external pressures, another is that the crew recognizes her actions as a cry for help.

So, while Usopp is primarily responsible for his actions in the way everyone is, he's also suffering a serious mental health crisis that's been germinating unchecked since childhood. One Piece doesn't really address mental health in explicit terms, but the difference between Usopp (allowed to run away, then left out in the cold) vs Robin (chased down, affirmed, and told she'll always have a place in the crew, no matter how much she [in appearance] betrays them) is staggering.

And I think the reason, really, is the chauvinism of One Piece. It's a "man's romance." And that means women get saved and men save themselves. (Obviously there are huge exceptions to this rule. Partially, at least.) But in this case, it means that the solution for Robin's mental health troubles is someone else following, absolving, and supporting her, and the solution to Usopp's is him getting over it and proving that he is a cool fighter guy. Even though the story sort of indicates Usopp would have done way, way better if someone actually talked to him and helped him unpack all that shit.

Only no one does, and eventually when Nami and Chopper want to try, they're told (by the Real Men of the crew) that it would only hurt Usopp more. In the short term, maybe. In the long term? That'd be a different series.

While I agree that Robin made some pretty terrible mistakes during this arc, she thought she was saving the lives of the only people to show her any kindness and was actively suicidal. I don't think it can really be compared to Usopp's situation.

And you're forgetting that after the big argument Chopper tried to go after Usopp to at the very least treat his wounds, only for Usopp tell Chopper to go away. Luffy was perfectly okay with Robin quitting the crew if that's what she wanted--he's not going to hold anyone hostage--but he's not going to accept a resignation given under duress. He says as much during the tower scene on Enies Lobby, if she wants to die she can do it with them. There was no one pointing a gun to Usopp's head when he decided to quit. He was the one who brought the subject up, and he's the one who walked away.

I've mentioned a couple of different times where Usopp has tried to be emotionally vulnerable with the crew only for it to not really go anywhere, but Usopp does not get a free pass in the communication department.

I was going to bring it up later anyway, but in our very first scene with Usopp we learn that he's a very proud person. He uses bluff and bluster to cover up his feelings of insecurity to the point where the crew doesn't necessarily realize the turmoil within. He wants so badly to be the main character, a warrior in the same way he sees his father, but he's just not. He's not like Luffy, he's not fearless and monstrously strong. He knows this deep down, and is ashamed of it, and compensates for his shame by lying to everyone. Including himself.

Luffy tried to apologize during the argument, and Usopp didn't let him. Usopp had every opportunity to tell the crew that he met the spirit of the Going Merry but he didn't. HIs shame doesn't let him go after Robin without wearing a mask, and his pride almost keeps him from rejoining the crew. There are many, many times that people offer to help Usopp or get him to listen to common sense, only to refuse. In the end, it was Usopp who demanded to duel with Luffy, not the other way around.

There's only so much help you can offer someone who's refusing to be helped. There was no CP9 holding Usopp hostage. He made his choice entirely of his own free will.

Now, One Piece does have a view of masculinity that I don't necessarily always agree with, but this sort of pride that refuses to ask for help has absolutely no place in it. That's seen as early as Arlong Park when Luffy says that he's nothing without his crew. And it's this sort of pride that Enies Lobby (and a little into Thriller Bark) that Usopp breaks, and it's that breakthrough that lets him to become the brave warrior of the sea he always pretended to be.

[ridiculously-over-obsessed]

@mamapitch​ of course lovely, you’re so kind 🥺🥺 here’s some funny and fluffy bechloe content for you (and hopefully it makes up for that last one kflgjdfg 😅) 🥰💖

(35) “We really shouldn’t be doing this…”

“Okay...” Beca mumbled, “There it is... you guys remember the plan?”

“Steal hottie’s pitch pipe so that we’re in charge of the Bellas.” Stacie nodded, grinning as Beca rolled her eyes at her, “What?! She may be a pain in the ass, but she’s hot, I’m only human!”

“Yeah sure.” Beca shook her head, “Just keep the Hunter in your pants until this is done okay?”

“Fine.” Stacie sighed dramatically, “But it’s harder once I’ve had beer y’know?”

“Lightweight.” Beca smirked, “Now c’mon. If I get that pitch pipe then that uptight bitch will have to listen to my ideas.”

“We really shouldn’t be doing this…” Stacie mumbled, Beca turning to look at her with a frown and noticing that her friend had gone a little green, “I think... I think...”

“Dude, do not barf on me.” Beca arched her eyebrow, backing away from Stacie a little, “Seriously, how much beer did you have?!”

“Like ten?” Stacie mumbled, gripping the edge of Aubrey’s desk, “And something pink that Amy gave me...”

“Fuck dude...” Beca groaned, “You never drink anything that Amy makes, you know that!”

“But it looked good!” Stacie was getting greener by the second, “Oh god... this was a bad idea. Come on, Short Round... we should go before I hurl and completely ruin any chance I have with Aubrey.”

“Once I have the pitch pipe Indy.” Beca snickered, wobbling a little as she staggered to the little lock box on Aubrey’s bedside table, “Just aim out of the window if you gotta puke.”

“Uh... what’re you guys doing?” 

Beca spun on her heel and immediately fell on her ass, Stacie attempting to (poorly) hide behind a lamp. Chloe stood in the doorway, an eyebrow arched and a bemused expression on her face.

“Nothin’.” Beca mumbled, trying to look nonchalant as she laid on the floor of Aubrey’s room, “Just... hangin’.”

“Are you drunk?” Chloe giggled, Beca trying to subtly (although it was entirely the opposite) cram Aubrey’s lock box into the pocket of her jeans.

“No!” Beca pouted a little, “I’m not... not drunk. Maybe you’re drunk.”

“No, I’m not.” Chloe shook her head a little, “But you guys definitely are.”

“Um... hypothetical question...” Stacie emerged from her ‘hiding’ place, “How far away is your bathroom, and would you mind if I threw up in there a little?”

“Across the hall.” Chloe quickly moved out of Stacie’s way as she careened towards the bathroom, heading for Beca who was still trying to complete her mission.

“Becs? Are you trying to steal the pitch pipe?” Chloe raised her eyebrow as Beca averted her gaze.

“What? No... this um, this is mine, I brought it from home.”

“Sure you did.” Chloe laughed softly as she gently pried it from Beca’s fingers, “That’s why it has ‘A.G.P.’ engraved in the top of it right? They’re you initials not Aubrey’s?”

Beca whined as Chloe took it from her, pouting heavily as she crossed her arms over her chest, “But I want it... maybe she’ll listen to me if I’m in charge for a change. The Bellas would be sooo much cooler if I was the boss y’know.” 

“I’m sure.” Chloe chuckled, “But stealing from Aubrey is not the way to make her listen y’know?”

“Psh.” Beca grunted, leaning against Chloe who had sat on the floor next to her, the two of them resting against Aubrey’s bed, “Well what would because I have great ideas... and like... I kinda like you guys, I want us to win dammit and we can’t with this snooze fest going on.”

“I’ll talk to her.” Chloe promised her, “You should go home Becs, sleep off all the... beer? Judging by the smell of you...”

“You smell great.” Beca smirked a little as she moved closer to Chloe, sighing happily, “You always smell great. And look great. And are great.”

“Thanks Beca.” Chloe giggled, wrapping her arm around Beca’s shoulders to give her an awkward side hug, “You’re great too.”

“Hm, not really.” Beca frowned, “I broke into Aubrey’s room whilst drunk, I’m not that great...”

“Nah, you’re still great.” Chloe grinned, “How did you even get in here?”

“Drainpipe.” Beca shrugged, “I used to shimmy up and down the one outside my window all the time when I was a teenager, was a piece of cake.”

“Such a rebel...” Chloe cooed, Beca blushing a little as she shrugged again.

“You’re pretty...” Beca mumbled, her head resting on Chloe’s shoulder, “You make me feel things... soft things, emotional things.”

Chloe could feel her heart pounding in her chest a little as she turned her head to look at Beca. She may be drunk, but Chloe couldn’t deny that hearing Beca say that made her insides flutter. It was all she wanted to hear.

“C’mon drunky.” Chloe gently helped Beca to her feet, Beca stumbling a little, “You can sleep it off in my bed, I’ll take the couch.”

“No...” Beca groaned, clinging to Chloe’s t-shirt, “Snuggle with meeee, I wanna- I wanna snuggle...”

Chloe giggled softly, helping Beca onto the end of her bed and gently easing off Beca’s boots.

“You’re drunk Becs. I’m gonna find you something comfy to wear, check on Stacie, and then I’ll come tuck you in so you can sleep. Alone.”

“Finnnne.” Beca groaned, flopping dramatically back on the bed, “But one of these days you and I are gonna snuggle Chlo. You will succumb to my charms!”

“Sure Becs.” Chloe laughed, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, “Sure I will.”

When she returned to her bedroom after having found Beca a clean pair of pyjamas and helping a bewildered Aubrey (who had been studying late at the library only to come home to this madness) get Stacie into the Aubrey’s bed and out of her tight embrace and the lewd things she had whispered into a fuchsia coloured Aubrey’s ear, Chloe found Beca splayed out on her stomach, snoring heavily, a mess of tangled limbs. Chloe grinned to herself and grabbed the blanket from the end of her bed, draping it over Beca. Once she had sent a bucket next to the bed just in case she needed it, Chloe brushed Beca’s hair from her eyes and softly kissed her forehead again.

“You don’t need your charms to win me over.” Chloe whispered, smiling softly, “You already have me you drunk idiot.”

“Kay...” Beca mumbled, causing Chloe to jump back, blushing furiously, “Snuggle now?”

“I-” Chloe started, not wanting to take advantage of a drunk Beca, but she was just so damn cute like this... and besides, it was only a hug after all, “Alright Becs. You win.”

Chloe lay next to Beca, watching with baited breath as Beca turned over with a huge grin and burrowed into her side, arms tight around her waist. Chloe cautiously wrapped her arms around Beca, unable to stop herself from smiling as Beca drifted off to sleep again, practically lay on top of her.

“This is better than that stupid pitch pipe.” Beca grumbled sleepily, “I like you more than the pitch pipe.”

“Good.” Chloe giggled, “Now get some rest Beca.”

“M’kay.”

-----

Chloe woke that morning to the feeling of Beca stirring on top of her. Beca had been like a warm, albeit drunk, weighted blanket, sending her into perhaps the best sleep she’d had in years.

“Um...” The note of panic in Beca’s tone forced Chloe’s eyes open, watching the blush that spread across her face, “Sorry...”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” Chloe shook her head, smiling softly at her. She caught Beca’s wrist gently as Beca went to roll away, “Hey, listen to me... it’s okay. So you got a little drunk, did a bit of breaking and entering, called me pretty and then demanded we snuggled, it happens.”

“You’re an ass.” Beca blushed deeper as Chloe laughed at her, but she couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at her lips as she ducked her head, “God, my head is killing me...”

“I’m not surprised, you were pretty damn drunk...” Chloe raised her eyebrow again as Beca groaned softly.

“I can’t believe I made you snuggle with me...” Beca mumbled, hiding her face in Chloe’s shoulder, “Or that I said... those things...”

“Did you mean them?” Chloe asked, feeling Beca stiffen a little and then nod against her.

“Yeah. I did.”

Chloe beamed broadly as she lifted Beca’s head to look at her, “Good. I was really hoping that you did.”

“You did?” Beca squeaked, her lips less than an inch from Chloe’s in this position.

“Uh huh.” Chloe nodded, “I want to take you to dinner tonight. Is that okay?”

“I’d like that.” Beca bit her lip a little, “Um... I wanna kiss you but... my breath kinda reeks of beer...”

“Do it anyway.” Chloe grinned, brushing her lips over Beca’s, “I don’t think I can wait until dinner.”

Beca gently pressed her lips into Chloe’s, a soft, fleeting kiss because she was self-conscious about her breath, but one that made sure that Chloe knew that she didn’t have to be drunk to be infatuated with her.

“You wanna snuggle a little longer?” Chloe beamed at her as Beca chuckled softly.

“I’ll deny it if you tell anyone, you know that right?”“ Beca grumbled, moving closer to Chloe again, “I have a rep to protect...”

“It’ll be out little secret.” Chloe giggled, kissing the top of her head.

[captains-simp]

(Not me accidentally posting this when it was half done)

I knew I could count on you @wndrcarol for a jock!Carol request🥳 also....👀I heard you like Sharon

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

1.9k words

Warnings: harassment, degrading, face slapping, strap on sex, spitting, choking and hints of overstimulation

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You groaned in frustration when you finished checking the kitchen for your girlfriend. Everytime you went to a party with her the same thing happened.

You'd arrive, take a while to get comfortable and as soon as you did Carol would be whisked away by her friends leaving you to stand awkwardly in the corner. You really needed to get more friends. The ones you had never seemed to come to those parties.

You wandered outside onto the wooden decking area to get some fresh air and leant against the fence as you lazily scanned the area for Carol. You knew she wasn't out there, you had already checked.

Your eyes landed on a brunet who had been watching you carefully but the moment you locked eyes he scurried away back inside, not wanting to be seen near you. You smiled at the memory of the last time you had met at a party.

"There was only 10 seconds of the game left but I kicked the ball as hard as I could and it was on the last second of the game that it scored and we won!" Tyler exclaimed before taking another sip of his bear and gleamed at the memory.

"That's great." You said as you continued to scan the room for Carol.

"It was, you should'a been there." Tyler said as he looked back at you, or more he looked above the line of your low hanging top. You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"I was at Carol's game." Tyler didn't react to the mention of your girlfriend. It wasn't like he didn't know you were dating, everyone knew. Carol made sure of that.

"Unlucky, mine was a lot more interesting." He declared with a smug grin. A brief memory of Carol fucking you in the showers after that game flashed through your mind and you couldn't contain your smile at knowing how wrong the guy infront of you was.

Unfortunately, he thought that smile was at him.

"I had a pretty great game before that too. But it's getting kinda loud in here, wanna go somewhere more private?" He smirked in an extremely unattractive way.

"I'm good, I need to go find Carol." You said quickly, wanting to get the hell away from Tyler.

You hadn't seen Carol in a while. It was her idea to go to the party, it was an environment she thrived in. You, however, did not. It wasn't your scene and you didn't know anyone there, not well at least.

At some point through the mass of bodies, loud music and numerous people trying to get Carol to do shots with them or be on their beer pong team, you had been seperated from the Captain and you hadn't seen her since.

"Come on, I'm sure there's some spare rooms upstairs." There was a slight slur to his voice that made it even worse when he approached you and put a heavy hand on your waist.

"Get off me, Tyler!" You snapped and pushed his hand away but he continued with a frown.

"What? Don't you want this-" He was cut off when a fist shot out beside you and punched him across the face. Tyler staggered back, gripping his bleeding nose, as the people around you cheered loudly, oblivious to what had happened prior.

"Get your fucking hands off my girlfriend." Carol demanded as she continued to advance towards a cowarding Tyler who could only hold his hands out in defence. You pulled Carol away with to turn her towards you and Tyler scrambled to his feet to flee.

"Are you okay?" Concerned and familiar eyes met yours that instantly eased your worry. Carol brought her hands gently up to your face as she scanned you closely and you were surprised to see that she looked completely sober.

You nodded your head and breathed out a yes before you took her right hand away from your face to examine it carefully. The dull lighting in the room made it hard to make out but you could feel that there was nothing out of place.

"Come on." Carol said as she took your hand. "Let's get out of here."

Tyler had a bandage across his nose for a while. He had avoided you like the plague ever since, clearly have some sense in him.

"Want some company?" Came a voice from beside you. You glanced sideways and saw Sharon fall easily into place next to you. She mirrored your position of leaning against the barrier and gave you a knowing smile.

"Thanks." You breathed out, feeling kind of embarrassed someone had noticed Carol always seemed to ditch you at parties.

"No luck finding the girlfriend?" Sharon teased.

"Is it that obvious?" You asked but weren't sure you really wanted to know.

"You look like a lost puppy without her." Sharon chuckled making you flush. Maybe you were too clingy.

"She's the golden retriever lesbian." You corrected making Sharon laugh more.

"That seems about right." She went to move closer to you but a group of jocks spilled out onto the decking, without Carol among them.

"Fuck this." She huffed and took your hand to lead you over to the garden swing bench. Your hand felt like it was burning when she held it to pull you along. Although her hands were physically soft, they weren't the kind of softness you felt with Carol. It didn't make you feel warm inside, it made you feel uneasy. But it was a party, you had to hold onto people to move about.

Part of your brain pointed out that there was only a few people in the garden so there was really no need for Sharon to navigate you through it, while the rest of you really did just want some company.

Sharon sat down on the bench and you followed, feeling as though you could relax a bit more on the edge of the garden.

"You know, I think Carol's a very lucky gal to have you." Sharon said as she watched you closely. You laughed nervously as you noticed how close she was. You found yourself searching the garden for Carol again but Sharon lighting held your jaw and turned it back towards her.

"Pretty thing like you must surely be a lot of fun to play with." She smirked as her other hand crept onto your thigh.

"Um I d-don't-"

"Shh, you don't need to talk." Sharon cooed as she tilted your chin up more when you struggled to keep eye contact. The blonde glanced at your lips and licked her own before leaning forward slowly.

Until a strong hand wrapped itself around your bicep and yanked you from the bench.

You stumbled into a fuming blonde who was glaring at Sharon. You blushed deeply as you realised how it looked at what Sharon was most likely trying to do.

"You keep your fucking hands off of my girlfriend, Carter." Carol spat as her fists clenched.

"You really shouldn't leave her unattended?" Sharon said, amused by Carol's anger. "Who knows what could have happened." She winked at you and looked away instantly.

Carol scoffed simply as she continued to glare daggers at the woman infront of you.

"In your fucking dreams, she's mine." She all but growled as she pulled you away. You yelped as you felt her nails dig into your skin but didn't have the nerve to ask her to loosen her grip.

Carol pulled you through the crowded house and up to an empty bedroom that she shoved you inside.

"Did you enjoy that? Whoring yourself out to Sharon?" Carol asked as she threw you to the bed and started undoing her belt.

"No I-" You started as you went to sit up but Carol put a firm hand to your chest and pushed you back flat against the bed.

"Shut up, slut. I don't want to hear another sound out of you unless you're saying my name." She warned as she pulled her strap out and pulled your panties down.

You looked at her wide eyed, never seeing her so worked up before sex. Sure, you'd have a lot of needy, desperate sex and the occasional quickly, but she never showed so little regard to you before.

"What? Think I'm going to be nice to you and take my time? Want me to touch you gently? Whores don't deserve to be treated nicely. You don't get to prep my cock either." Carol taunted as she pushed the tip of the head in and kept it there as she stared down at you. "You'll have to just take it how it is, not that you'll have much of an issue. You've always got such a sloppy cunt."

"Please, Captain." You found yourself whining earning you a harsh slap to your left cheek. Your head whipped to the side and your cheek burned but Carol didn't seem to care.

"Who are you begging to fuck you?" Carol asked as she rocked her hips slowly as a reminder that you only had the very tip inside you.

"You Carol, I want my Captain's cock!" You cried out desperately.

"Only mine?" The blonde mused as she inched a bit more of the strap in.

"Yes Carol, only your cock. I only want you." You whined truthfully. Carol knew that of course, she knew you were incredibly loyal. That's what made the game so fun.

"Please! Please Carol I need you so bad. I want my Captain deep inside me, please please." You begged and felt as though you could cry in frustration.

"You really know how to plead like a whore, don't you. Did you learn that somewhere? Or are you just a natural cock slut?" She asked as she slammed her hips forward and filed you up with the strap at every angle.

You moaned loudly and threw your head back against the pillows as Carol set about her harsh and unrelenting pace. The thick strap filled you up entirely with every thrust. It didn't take long for your eyed to water from the sheer amount of pleasure she was giving to you so roughly.

Carol grunted as she pounded the strap into you and her grip on your wrists tightened, letting you know she wouldn't let go anytime soon.

"See? You've got such a sloppy pussy. And it's all mine." Carol spoke as she glanced down to look at your pussy taking her strap so well.

"You're gonna cum for me now. You're going to cum all over my cock." Carol demanded as she noticed your signs of approaching orgasm.

You cried out at the force of each of Carol's thrusts until it became too much to bear and you crashed over the edge without much to hold on to. As you did so, Carol brought her hand up and wrapped it tightly around your throat before giving it a quick squeeze.

"You belong to me, slut." Carol said as she continued thrusting mercilessly. She noted your blissed expression and open mouth and gripped your jaw tightly, much rougher than Sharon had. She pulled your face down with your mouth still open and spat. You moaned as you tasted her saliva on your tongue and around your lips. You swallowed it eagerly making Carol beam internally, not that she could let you know that.

"Cum again for me whore. I get to do what I want with you. So you're going to keep cuming until I get bored. I don't give a fuck if you get tired." She spoke next to your ear, poison dripping from her words.

"So fucking cum."

[crazywritingbug]

Lessons

A/N: Thanks to @thebiggestnaturaldisaster for suggesting this! I love the concept and did my best, though I'm not sure about the ending. Let me know what you think!

Jack Frost x Fem! Reader

If there was anything Y/N had learned in her nineteen years of life it was this; even the best people will make stupid decisions, all the while believing they were right. She’d done it more than once, was it so hard to think that Jack would do the same? But then again, this was extreme.

“Okay North,” Y/N sighed, rubbing at her temples. “Go over this one more time. What happened?”

North shook his head, leaning back in his chair across the table from her. “You don’t believe me, little one?”

“Pitch attacking the pole, getting Jack alone in a sphere of black sand for three minutes then Jack helping Pitch after they came out of it, is kinda hard to believe.” Y/N claimed, waving away the elf that offered her a cookie. “I’m just trying to figure out what’s missing here. What was said or done in those three minutes?”

“I do not know what was said.” North shook his head before pointing to his bandaged feet. “I know I have frostbite.”

What was there to say to that? It just seemed so impossible that Jack Frost, guardian of fun, the cheerful winter spirit and her best friend of three years would turn on the guardians like that. How could three years be undone in three minutes? What could Pitch have possibly said or done to get Jack to join forces with him? Threaten him? No, they’d beat Pitch before, threats would be useless. Bribe him? With what? Jack had his memories and believers. Mind control? That was outlandish and way beyond Pitch’s skill set? So what had happened? Some combination of the three? And what were they going to do about it?

A chill slipped down her spine. Jack had switched sides. He was one of the bad guys now if the worst really had happened. The Guardians would fight against him and she had no control over that. She was just a girl, they wouldn’t listen to her. And how far would they go? How far would Jack go? Or Pitch? How far? Death? No...she needed to stop this before it started.

“What can I do to get Jack back?” Y/N asked, and North cracked half a smile.

“Talk to him, Little One.” He sighed, picking up a snow globe that had been resting on the desk. “Bring back Jack Frost. You might be the only one who can.”

The world she stepped into was one of snow and wind that knocked her off her feet into a snowbank. A blizzard? Jack had created a blizzard? She’d known he could do it, but she’d never thought it would be this powerful, with snow flying so fast it bit into her skin and created a whiteness so thick she couldn’t see her hands as she staggered to her feet. Why would he make it this strong? Why would he create it in the first place? Unless he really had turned to the dark side?

“Jack!” She screamed it into the fury of the storm, getting only a mouthful of icy snow in return. Where was he in this mess? How was she supposed to find him when she couldn’t even see anything but white?

Y/N jumped as a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind, capturing her in a familiar embrace. Jack. He was the only one who ever hugged her like this, from behind, arms crossing over her so that one hand rested on her shoulder and the other on her waist. She sighed, leaning back into him as the wind slowed and the snow subsided into a few fluttering flakes, bringing the bare forest into view. Nothing but snow, trees, and sky for miles.

“What are you doing here?” Jack’s voice was soft with worry, his breath a chill on her ear.

“I’m here because you are, Jack.” She tried to look over her shoulder at him, to see more than the frost blue sleeves of his hoodie. Wait...that was wrong, his hood wasn’t blue, it was black, a deep black in a violent contrast to the frost that fringed it. This really wasn’t right, just how far was he going with this? He loved the blue, it was his favorite color. Would he really change it? Why was he changing allies and clothes? What had Pitch said or done?

“What happened at the Pole?” Y/N kept her voice soft, but it was like she’d shouted with how he pulled away. The snow crunched under her sneakers as she turned to look at him. It wasn’t just the hoodie that changed color, there was black sand caught up in his hair, turning it a pale gray, almost the same grey as a corpse’s skin. He wasn’t smiling, and his eyes were...guarded, untrusting, hard. He was so many things at once, standing there in the aftermath of the snow storm; powerful, dark, and...afraid. She could see it in the way he gripped his staff until the tendons in his hands showed, the way he shifted on his feet, and the way his gaze flickered from one spot to another. It almost broke her. How could she help him? How was she supposed to fix this? What had happened to him? This wasn’t the Jack Frost she knew, the one she -secretly- loved. That Jack Frost was open, happy, and brave, and lost somewhere inside of whoever this was standing before her.

“Jack, you’re my best friend,” Y/N tried to keep her words from sounding like the plea they were. “What happened? Why are you working with Pitch Black?”

He wouldn’t look at her, glancing down at his feet instead. “He showed me some things.”

“What things?” She shook her head slightly, trying to clear the disbelief. “What could he possibly show you that would make you turn on everything you believe and stand for?”

He didn’t answer, the silence filling the space between them, the tension almost screaming at them in those moments.

“I showed him you.” Pitch materialized, stepping out of the shadows behind Jack, a smile on his face that had a chill slipping down her back. “I showed him all the terrible things that could happen to you, things he’d be powerless to stop unless the world believes in, and fears him.”

Oh. Wait, Jack was so concerned about her that he turned on the Guardians? Did he really care about her that much? Was it possible he loved her as she loved him? Was there really a chance of that? No, this wasn’t the time to think about that, to face that the love she had for him from the very moment they met could be returned. From the very moment they met...

“Jack,” His eyes met hers, rich with so many emotions it was heartbreaking. “Do you remember how we met?”

A smile flickered on his face. “Yeah, you were watching Jamie and Sophie, you took them to the pond to go ice skating.”

Y/N nodded. “I slipped on the ice, but you caught me. You’ve always caught me, Jack. Nothing can hurt me when you’re around.” For a moment, the really Jack shone through, a flicker of happiness in the storm.

Then Pitch spoke. “But he can’t be everywhere at once can he? Can’t be at your side every moment of every day.” The happiness vanished as more words poured out of Pitch’s mouth. “But if the world feared him, the storms and cold he could bring, nobody would dare to touch you, nobody would ever hurt you. You’d both be untouchable, and I can make that happen. Can the Guardians?”

“I’m…” Jack paused, seeming to search for words even as Pitch laid a hand on his shoulder in a grip that even she could see was tight. “I’m just trying to protect you.”

Tears pricked at her eyes, blurring her vision. That was so incredibly sweet, and so wrapped up in delusion. How was she supposed to counter that? How was she supposed to explain to him that enveloping the world in darkness and ice wouldn’t keep her safe? He’d gone this far to do it, what would it take to make him see this wasn’t going to work?

“This isn’t the way to do that.” She shook her head and swiped at an escaped tear. “You’re going up against the Guardians, and even if you win, you know you’d never forgive yourself.” She wiped away another tear, they were coming faster now. “I don’t know if I would. I would try, but I don’t know if I’d be able to.” She sucked in a shake breath and held his gaze. “Please Jack, I love you, don’t do this.”

Jack didn’t move, didn’t say a word, as if he’d been -ironically- frozen. Not even Pitch moved, just the soft fluttering snowflakes that drifted down from the sky and caught in their hair. The whole world was holding its breath, waiting for Jack to decide. How would he choose? A week ago, she’d thought she’d known, but now, after this, what would his answer be?

Finally, after an infinite moment, he smiled and held out his arms, shaking off Pitch’s hand. Oh thank the moon. It was as if every weight had lifted off her shoulders as she ran the short distance to him, right into his embrace as his staff fell to the wayside. A relieved laugh escaped her lips as she clung to him, burying her face in his hoodie, feeling his heart beating rapidly in time with hers, his arms around her, and his fingers tangling in her hair. He was back, Jack Frost was back.

“I am so sorry Y/N,” His words were a soft murmur in her ear, but he could have yelled it for all she cared. He was back. “I just want to keep you safe.”

“Then you shouldn’t have chosen as you did.” Pitch’s voice answered before she could. Before they could even respond pain exploded in her side. Sharp piercing pain mixing with a deep screaming agony that turned her legs to jelly beneath her. It was only Jack’s arms that kept her from collapsing as the world came into a strange sort of focus, like a camera bringing one thing at a time into a sharp contrast and blurring the rest. The warmth of the blood seeping from around the knife blade. The panic in Jack’s voice as he said her name. The coldness of the snow and his hands pushing her hair back out of her face as he looked down at her. The rolling clouds above.

“Y/N, stay with me.” Jack’s voice again, quick and fear filled. “Please, stay awake, stay with me.” The focus adjusted again, this time on the tears that were filling his gemstone blue eyes and rolling down his cheeks. He was crying, it wasn’t that bad was it? The pain was already numbing...or maybe that was just her body shutting down. Was this what it was like to die? What would come after? Would it be like sleeping? Would she see Heaven? Would her family know what happened? Would they be okay? What about Jamie and Sophie? They were such sweet kids, would their new babysitter know that they loved to go to the pond or that Sophie liked to have her hair braided and shouldn’t be trusted with scissors? Would Jack be okay? He looked so scared, his hands pressing against her side, covered in blood. Would he know just how much she really loved him? How much she wish she had the chance to do more than say it? That she wanted the chance to live it? To show him that she loved him with more than she could even put into words? That all of it, his laugh, his jokes, his voice, bravery, creativity, and even just the way he moved, was her favorite thing about him.

She tried to form the words, to tell him it was okay, to say that she loved him one more time as she reached up and wiped away the tears, but her mouth wouldn’t form the words as her eyes slipped shut.

“Y/N! No! Stay awake! Please!” Jack’s voice echoed in her ears as the darkness swallowed her, so still and quiet. Silent like she’d never imagined, but this wasn’t it, she was moving. Up, she was moving up towards a light. Huh, apparently the cliches were right. But nobody had ever mentioned the voice that whispered out of the darkness.

“You’re not done yet. Somebody would miss you.”

It all came back at once. The cold, the sobs, and the faint light from the sky above. The shock left her breathless for a moment, and then gasping for air. What had just happened? Had she really died only to get sent back? That was not what she expected. But Jack...he was the one sobbing, the most broken and shattered sound she could imagine. It crushed her heart, shattering it into broken, grating pieces.

“Jack?” Her voice came out softer than she expected, as if her body wasn’t used to having her in it again, letting alone speaking. Maybe that was why it was so hard to get her eyes open before Jack was gathering her up into a hug so tight it bordered on painful. It was if that was what it took to wake her limbs up to return the hug, for her to hide her face in his shoulder. Holy cow, she was alive! Pitch Black had stabbed her and she died but she was alive! Wait he’d stabbed her...she wasn’t bleeding! There was no pain! It was like nothing had happened.

“I’m okay Jack!” She wasn’t sure if she was laughing or crying, the relief was overwhelming. “I’m okay!” Jack pulled back slightly, his eyes wide, looking her over before he laughed.

“You’re okay!” He exclaimed, the biggest smile she’d ever seen on his face. Then his hands were on her face and his lips on hers. Y/N melted into the kiss, into the sweet moment. It was so gentle, so tender, and so much better than she would have dreamed. She never wanted it to end, never wanted him to pull away, even if he did rest his forehead against hers, noses bumping, as he let out a breathy laugh.

“I shouldn’t have waited so long to do that.” His gaze held hers, so overwhelmingly loving. “I love you, Y/N. I am way too lucky to get a chance to say that.”

“We both are,” Y/N said, “Just please, don’t ever do something like that again.”

“I won’t, I promise. It was stupid of me…” Jack pulled back, shaking his head. “I don’t know why helping Pitch Black would ever work…” He paused and his smile vanished. “Pitch! We need to stop him!” He scrambled to his feet, pulling her up with him. “He’s going to go after the Guardians again, after what I did at the Pole, I don’t know how long they’ll be able to hold out.” He snatched up his staff, looking up at the sky, then back to her. “Did North give you a way to get home?” She nodded, “You go save the world, I’ll be fine.” He grinned at her as he caught her around the waist, pulling her close into another kiss. It was almost better than the first. But this time, as she pulled away, she reached up and ruffled his hair, shaking out the black sand. “There, that’s better.”

“I’ll see you soon.” Jack smiled at her one last time and then he was gone. Y/N lingered though, not touching the snow globe that was in her pocket. How had so much happened in so little time? Talking Jack down, dying and then coming back, and finally knowing that Jack loved her? Had it really all happened in less than a day?

Sighing she looked up to the sky feeling the snowflakes fall on her face and melt. Yeah, a lot had happened, meaning she had a lot to be grateful for, she had a chance to be grateful for. She got to tell Jack she loved him, got to see him make the right choice, and find out that he loved her right back. She might not have gotten the chance to say or do any of that. It could have all been opportunities lost with her life. She should have done and said it sooner. Huh, there was another lesson: don’t hesitate because it could all end in a second and the chance to do or say that thing would be gone.

As usual, if you would like to be added to my tag list, please message me.

Tags: @missbeautyandherbeast @akari180 @bluesakurablossom @raphlife @marimo-punk @msmcsmutt @gruffle1 @sweetkitty @dolphincommander @trtlpwr @ilikestuffproductions @jessicarosequinzelfleck @missdawnandherdusk @thebiggestnaturaldisaster @gladiosamicitias @professor-hibiscus @jessicarosequinzelfleck

[cloudy-minded-idiot]

closing time

pairing: Natasha Romanoff x female reader (kinda?)

warning: mentions of blood, a probably very inaccurate description of a wound being treated (lemme know if I should add anything else)

word count: around 3,000

a/n: wrote this before bed last night and edited it this morning. feedback would be appreciated, just pls don’t be too hard on me, since it’s the first fic i’m posting on here. i have a vague idea for a second part if anyone’s interested.

summary: a wounded stranger stumbles into your life one night, and you find yourself helping her out despite your better instincts.

next part

It was a slow night for a change. The last customer had left half an hour ago. An elderly man who had only bought two packs of cigarettes and some strawberry mint gum to go along with it. He was a regular, came in at least once a week, always bought the same thing. The kind of customer you enjoyed after a long day: quiet and quick to leave.  

You were all set to lock up for the day. All you could do now was wait for your shift to actually be over. A difficult thing for someone who was inherently impatient and had nothing to distract herself with. Your phone had died halfway through the day, and you had finished your book sometime around lunch. Any other night, you would at least have your co-worker or your boss to chat with, but Mr. Douglas had left early today. Something about his in-laws coming to visit. You hadn't question it.

A glance at the clock. Ten more minutes. With a sigh, you closed your eyes, just listening to the ticking sound. For a while, you counted along. It was calming. Almost enough to lull you to sleep. Not that that took a lot, you were pretty tired after all. You had long lost track of the seconds gone by when, in between the rhythmical tik-tok, a  shrill bell chimed. The one above the entrance you knew all too well.  

You had to suppress an annoyed sigh. Last-minute customers.

Whatever complaint you had on your mind was quickly replaced by utter shock when you opened your eyes. In, through the drugstore-door, staggered a woman with fiery red hair, covered head to toe in dirt. Bruises lined her face, and she kept one hand pressed to her abdomen in a futile attempt to stop blood from seeping out of a wound. Little droplets fell to the floor despite her efforts, marking her path to the counter.  

"Holy shit!" you breathed out, eyes probably wide as saucers. You continued dumbly, "I think you need to see a doctor."

An understatement, to be sure. If her sickly pale complexion was anything to go by, she was sure to keel over sooner rather than later.

The redhead shook her head determinedly, a pain-stricken look on her face.  

"No doctor. No hospital. Just need some medical supplies," her remark was accompanied by her slamming crumpled dollar bills on the counter.

"O-kay," you said slowly, leaving the counter and taking her by the elbow, "I'll get you your supplies, but you seriously need to sit down."  

You opened the door to the break room, guiding her to a chair that she more or less collapsed onto. She winced in pain, and you stayed a moment to make sure she was all set before hurrying back out. In a frenzy, you jogged along the shelves, mentally trying to create a list of supplies she could need. Rubbing alcohol, a first aid kit, scissors, tweezers. You also grabbed some painkillers and a bottle of water on your way back.  

Dumping all the supplies on the round wooden lunch table, you watched her nervously as she started to cut off parts of her shirt to get better access to the wound. Almost instinctively, you grabbed the trash can holding it out for her to dump the blood-soaked fabric into.  

"Water," she croaked out in between painful gasps, "Need to…rinse the wound." 

Mutely, you nodded. Rummaging through the cabinet of the small old-fashioned kitchen counter until you found a big bowl and filled it up. Dipping a towel into the lukewarm water, you knelt in front of the woman.  

"Let me do it. You need to save your strength."

She looked like she wanted to object, but, in the end, she gave you a curt nod. There was a lot of blood. You did your best not to irritate the wound too much. By the time you were finished, the water itself was a deep crimson. She had closed her eyes, sweat covering her brow. She grabbed you by the sleeve of your shirt when you tried to stand up, holding you in place.  

"Now with alcohol," she told you. Your eyes flickered to the bottle on the table.

You hesitate. Swallowing the lump in your throat.

"Are you sure?"

"Do it," the redhead commanded, eyes still closed. She let go of your arm then, returning hers to the armrest of the chair. Her fingers left behind bloody prints.  

You obeyed her order, wincing along with her in sympathy as you pressed the alcohol-drenched cloth to her wound. You could only imagine how much it must sting. Her grip on the armrests tightened until her knuckles turned white. When you were done, she inspected the wound, eyes narrowed to see in the dim light of the fluorescent lamps. A long silence stretched between you two. She looked up, meeting your gaze for the first time. Her eyes were a mix of greens with little specks of grey thrown in. Under different circumstances, you might have admired them a little longer. They were quite beautiful.

"Can you sew?"  

You nod slowly, sensing where she was going with this and not liking it one bit.  

It took a while to find sewing supplies. Taking deep breaths, you willed your hands to stop shaking and followed her murmured instructions. Put on latex gloves, sterilize the needle and thread. She sounded very calm as she explained how to make the first stitch, didn't even flinch when the needle pricked her skin. It helped calm you down a little.  

By the time you cut off the excess thread, you found yourself unable to recall doing any of the other stitches. The rush of the moment made the procedure seem to pass faster than it probably did in reality. She eyed your handiwork for a moment before giving a small nod of approval, a faint, exhausted smile tugging at her lips.  

“Not bad for a rookie.”  

“Thanks,” you breathed out, already preoccupied with sifting through the first aid kit.

Wrapping the wound was much more your forte. The redhead leaned back in the chair once you finished, washing some painkillers down with a big gulp from the water bottle. With the adrenaline wearing down, you felt as exhausted as she looked. Leaning back against the table leg, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your body relaxing as your apprehension lessened little by little.

You took a couple of moments to mentally catch up to what just happened, processing the sheer craziness of it all. Your brain was brimming with questions. Who was she?  Who hurt her? Why didn’t she get professional help? They were on the tip of your tongue. But the woman passed out before you had the chance to ask her anything.  

With tremulous hands, you cleaned the store for the second time that evening, wiping up blood from the floor, the chair, and the table. You discarded the rags with the rest of the used supplies. All the while, you checked on her multiple times, unable to shake the fear she might die right then and there. She looked unnaturally pale, but her pulse continued to drum rhythmically, her chest kept rising and falling with every breath she took.  

What now? Should you call the cops? The hospital? She seemed pretty set on not getting any authorities involved. Perhaps with good reason?  

You resolved to find out tomorrow, hoping you would not grow to regret it. Slinging one of her arms over your shoulder, you lifted her up and carried her bridal style, mindful of her injury. She wasn't too heavy, but you still were glad you had had the foresight to park your car nearby. After making sure she was safely strapped into the passenger seat, you went back and finally closed up the shop.

________________________________________________________________

The next morning, you were woken up by some clattering sounds coming from your living room. With a groan, you forced yourself out of your bed and stumbled through the door into the next room. The redhead was walking around in the dim light, rummaging through your drawers and dropping things left and right. You watched, for a moment, too perplexed to say anything as you rubbed your eyes tiredly.

“Shouldn’t you be resting or something?” you ask, voice rough from sleep. It was still way too early to be awake. You had thought the pain killers would help her sleep for a couple of hours more. Looks like you were wrong.

“Later,” she muttered just loud enough for you to hear. Crouching down, she opened the bottom drawer of the tv cabinet and pulled out some DVDs you had stored there, only pausing to look at the title of one of them with a smirk.

“Is this not a kids' movie?”

You had no idea what she was looking at, but you crossed your arms, feeling a bit offended anyway. Blame your lack of sleep for making you a little sensitive.

“Do you make it a habit to judge the movie taste of people who were gracious enough to let you stay in their home overnight?”

The woman didn’t answer verbally, just put the movie back and closed the drawer again. She turned to face you, her expression turning serious all of a sudden as if only now remembering where she was and how she got here in the first place. She looked apprehensive, taking a couple of steps in your direction.

“Does anyone else know I’m here?” her voice conveyed a sense of urgency, eyes staring into yours imploringly. Confused, you just shook your head. 

Her shoulders relaxed a little.

“Good,” she nodded, her attention already returning to her little scavenger hunt.

The redhead walked across the room, sifting through your kitchen cabinet next.

You sighed, picking up a couple of things she had knocked over in the living room and putting them back in their proper place. Every few seconds, you would glance at her from afar. She was still wearing the outfit she had on when she came into the drugstore. With her unconscious, you hadn’t seen any way of getting her into some new clothes, at least not without possibly irritating her wound or waking her up. She could surely use something clean to wear. Her current attire was dirtied and bloody, not to mention that her shirt now looked like a makeshift crop top since she had cut off parts of it last night.

“You know, if you just told me what you’re looking for you wouldn’t have to make such a mess of my apartment,” you winced as one of your spice shakers fell out of the cupboard and landed on the stove just as you finished speaking. Luckily, nothing broke.

The woman paused mid-motion, still on her tiptoes, body halfway turned towards you.  

“A radio. An old one preferably.”

Frowning, you picked up and folded the blanket she had discarded on the floor in front of your couch.  

“What for?”

The redhead eyed you for a moment, hesitant and unsure whether you could be trusted. In the end, she kept quiet, ruling against explaining herself. You reluctantly accepted her decision, tossing the folded blanket back on the couch cushion in resignation.

“I should have an old radio alarm clock somewhere in my wardrobe. Will that do?”  

It took you a couple of minutes to find the old thing, hidden away in the very back of your closet, underneath some clothes you hadn’t worn in forever. When you returned to the living room, your visitor was leaning against the kitchen isle, nibbling on one of your pop tarts which she abandoned as soon as she saw you. Eagerly she took the alarm clock off your hands, acknowledging you with a grateful nod. The redhead sat down on the couch, plugging the device into the closest outlet. 

You more or less kept an eye on her while you made yourself some coffee, but you had no idea what she was doing. To you, it looked like she was just fiddling with the controls, only static and a couple of high-pitched sounds filling the living room. It was grating on your nerves, but you made no comment. By the time she finished and turned the radio off again, you were already on your second cup.  

“Are you expecting any visitors in the next couple of days?” she asked casually, sidling up next to you in the kitchen.

 You raised an eyebrow, placing your empty cup in the sink.

“No. Why?”

“I need a place to lay low until Tuesday.”  

“Lay low?” you parroted, “What for? Who are you hiding from?”

Subconsciously, she glanced down at her bandaged wound, and you followed her gaze, slow realization coming over you.  

“Did they do that to you? Did they hurt you?” you asked more softly. She only shook her head in confirmation, “Then why not just go to the police? I’m sure they can help you better than I c-"  

“No,” she cut you off immediately, gripping your wrists tightly in both her hands as if to physically keep you from taking your phone and calling the cops. This only made you grow more concerned.

“No. We can’t go to the police. It’s not safe,” she loosened her grip on you a little.

 Your eyebrows were drawn together as you thought about what she said.

“Why would it not be safe? Unless...,” you swallowed as a possibility crossed your mind, “Are you in trouble? Did you do something illegal?”  

When she didn’t immediatley deny your statement, you started to jump to conclusions, your voice rising with panic.

“Oh, shit! You did. What was it? Were you in a fight? Did you kill someone? Holy shi- Does helping you make me an accomplice? Am I harboring a criminal in my ho-”

She cut off your rant by slapping a hand over your mouth, thus muffling your words.

“Be quiet, your neighbors might hear,” she hissed, gaze darting to the door, almost like she expected someone to burst through it. 

Your eyes were wide in fear, but you listened to her, your heart racing. She slowly removed her hand, giving you a warning look as though she feared you would start talking again. You didn’t.

“I’m not a criminal,” she told you earnestly, “I am, however, on the run, so I would appreciate your discretion.”

“On the run from whom?”

The question was no more than a whisper, too scared to raise the volume of your voice. She held your gaze for a moment before shaking her head.

“I’m afraid that’s classified.”

“Classified,” you repeated, incredulous, “So let me get this straight. You show up at my job, bleeding all over the place and telling me not to call the authorities. I help you out, let you crash at my place and you, in return, wake me up at an ungodly hour, make a big mess of my living room, imply that you might have done something illegal, and expect me to let you stay here until Tuesday without getting any information whatsoever?”  

“I know this isn’t fair...,” she admitted, and you laugh humorlessly.

“Not fair? I would be crazy to agree without at least having an idea what I’m getting myself into.”

The redhead nodded in agreement, looking away guiltily, teeth biting down on her lips. She seemed genuinely beat down, something even you, as a stranger, could tell was foreign to her. Oddly enough, you felt bad, although you knew, realistically, that you had done nothing wrong.

You let out a weary sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Curse your empathetic heart.

“Three conditions,” you conceded, making her look at you in surprise. Holding up a finger, you started your list.  

“One. No more throwing my stuff around. If you need something, ask. I don’t want to have to clean up after you.”  

She nods, having the decency to actually look sorry this time. You put up a second finger.

“Two. You tell me your name. Doesn’t have to be your full name or even your real name if that’s a secret or whatever," you added with an indifferent shrug, "I just want something other to call you than ‘hey you’.”

“What’s the third condition?” she prompted, not commenting on the second one.

“You promise me that you’re not the bad guy in this situation and that helping you won’t land me in trouble somehow.”  

The redhead cocked her head to the side, an almost fascinated expression on her face.

“How would you know I’m telling the truth?”

“I don’t,” you countered without hesitation, “I’m just gonna have to trust your word here. Just as you will have to trust mine that I’ll keep your presence here a secret.”  

For a moment, she regarded you with some indescribable emotion on her face before nodding in concession. Letting go of the one wrist she was still holding, she took a step back. Caught up in the moment, you hadn’t even realized how close you were standing. Thinking about it now made your face heat up for some reason. The redhead raised one hand as though she was about to take an official oath. She held your gaze unwaveringly as she spoke.

“I promise you, that I will not make a mess in your home anymore. And I solemnly swear that you won’t get in trouble for helping me in any way whatsoever.”

Something about her demeanor told you she wasn’t lying. You shake your head satisfied, a small but relieved smile taking over, some of the tension and apprehension leaving your body. She smiled tentatively in return, extending her hand to you in greeting.

“The name’s Natasha.”

Glancing at her proffered hand, you took it and gave it a small shake.

“Nice to officially meet you, Natasha.”

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Prey for You | Part 5

Genre: Smut, angst.

Word Count: 5.8k

Summary: After finding out what Chan really thinks of you, you’re determined to never let him in again. But he finds a way to sneak back into your bed. 

Warnings: super unhealthy relationship, dom!reader, sub!chan, milking but not the prostate way, use of a fleshlight, cumplay?, degradation, enemies to lovers,  wolf!hybrid chan, fox!hybrid reader

A/N: this is a major risk cuz i don’t even know if I’m done editing this lol so if its a mess let me know and I might fix it lmao. the gif is for the bath scene btw uwu

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 Part 5, Part 6

You wish you could immediately move out and go someplace else, away from Chan and the constant reminder that you’re not good enough for him. But if it was that easy, you wouldn’t have had to move in with him in the first place. Now you were forced to live with the man who everyday reminded you of what you could’ve had if only you weren’t what you were.

For his part, Chan tries to apologize to you, but what use is his apology now that you have confirmation of what he really thinks of you? That doesn’t mean he has let up, though.

“Hey, baby.” The man in question greets you as soon as you come back from a lecture. “I wanna talk to you.”

You can’t keep going through this. Every time he tries to justify himself--to explain why it’s a good idea that people don’t know about you-- it just cements in your mind that he’ll never see you as someone worthy of him, of anyone. So you silently move past him, walking towards your room and hoping that the severe look you have on your face will discourage him this time. But it doesn’t, and he follows you into your room.

“I have something to tell you.” He announces and you turn to face him with an agitated sigh. “Then say it and go.”

You hope this will be quick, at least, but your hope is dashed when he crosses the distance between you and wraps his arms around you, pulling you towards his body. You open your mouth to curse him out, but the smell of him floods your nose with a spicier tinge to it than usual.  

“Oh.” Your mouth gapes in realization. “You’re going into heat.”

He nods, leaning down to nuzzle your nose with his before going further, trying to catch your lips in a kiss, but his lips barely brush yours before you lean back, your hands pushing your body as far away from his as the embrace can allow. “So? That doesn’t change anything.”

“The hell it does.” He grimaces, not pleased with your reaction. “I need you.” 

“No, you need to get laid. You could get that from any of your groupies.” 

He scoffs in disbelief, “So you want me to go fuck other women?” 

You realize how far you’ve let things go when just hearing him say it out loud makes you want to fold in on yourself to protect your heart from getting torn to pieces. You shouldn’t have let things get this far. There is a reason you were so cautious before and you’ve gone and fucked yourself over at the first sign of someone being nice to you, of someone showing you the slightest hint of trust and affection. And you thought you were strong.

“I don’t care what you do.” You lie through your teeth, wishing to at least keep the knowledge of your shameful demise from him. “We’re not together.”

That angers him the most. “Yes, we are!” 

“Really? Because no one else seems to know.” You seethe, and he finally pulls away from you, infuriated at you as if you’re the one being ridiculous. “You’ve seen how my friends reacted. How do you think everyone else is gonna react?”

“That shouldn’t matter!”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t have anything to lose.”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe how full of yourself you are! You think I would be so damn honored if people knew I am with the pride of predators that you are?”

“Stop fucking saying that! Do I need to be a mindless brute to earn your respect as a predator?”

“No, but this--” You gesture vaguely towards him with distaste, “certainly isn’t earning my respect.” 

He takes a deep breath, face red and aggression rolling off of him in waves. You wonder if he’ll attack you like last time. But he just grits through his teeth, looking away, “What am supposed to do with my heat?”

“I don’t care.” You mutter, and his eyes snap to you, a little wild with fury. 

You hold your breath as he starts walking towards you, a muscle ticking in his jaw, and you imagine what it would be like if he were to snap it around your neck. Would it hurt more or less than you’re hurting right now? But instead of tearing your throat out, he walks past you and out of the room.

_____________________________

Chan has been gone for an hour now. And your mind was running wild with images of him fucking someone else. You feel stupid. You’re the one who sent him away, but what were you supposed to do? Give yourself completely to him until he has exhausted his need of you and throws you away? He’s made his stance pretty clear, and you’d be pathetic to let him use you like that. 

You're busy beating yourself when you hear the front door open, and you almost jump out of your skin. You whip around towards it, your treacherous affection hoping to see that Chan has changed his mind and came back to you, but instead your all too familiar bitterness takes hold of you as you see him stumbling into the apartment with a girl, their lips locked and their hands all over each other. 

You suppose there must be some truth to the phrase “if looks could kill” because the girl--a bunny hybrid--pulls away from Chan and her big eyes flit around the living room anxiously until they land on you. She squeaks when your eyes meek and she fearfully latches onto Chan’s arm. “You d-didn’t tell me you had a-a roommate.” 

Chan on the other hand is straight up grinning as he sees the murderous look on your face. He bends down to whisper something in the girl's ear that you can’t hear, but judging by the motion of his head and the direction she looks, you know he’s telling her where his bedroom is and to go wait for him there. She gives you one last nervous look before she scurries down the hall and disappears. When she’s gone, he struts over to you like a peacock showing off his feathers. 

“You look upset, baby girl.” 

“You’re a fucking bastard.” You spit out. He smiles wider and leans over you, pushing his hands against the back of the couch and caging you between them. "Last chance, fox. You gonna be a good girl for me or would you rather I go in there and fuck that pretty thing? I know she’ll be more than happy to do anything to please me."

You push him away roughly. He staggers for a second but quickly holds himself upright, grabbing your hands in a painful grip. “That wasn’t so nice, fox.” He grunts, pulling one of your hands towards his crotch and making you feel how hard he is. “But I’ll give you one more chance.” 

“You’re such a fucking slut.” You scowl, roughly palming his dick through his pants. He seems to love it though, biting his lip as a groan slips out of him. Vexed, you pull your hand back and get up, leaning up to hiss at him, "Get her the fuck out and come to my room."

His triumphant smile is met with a disgusted sneer from you. "You think you've won?"

“Kinda, yeah.” He laughs cockily. 

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” 

_______________________

He quickly loses his smile when he steps into your room and sees the items you have on the bed--a fleshlight and a bottle of lube. He gives you a disheartened look. “No, no, this isn’t what we agreed on.”

“We didn’t agree on anything.” 

"I'm going into heat. I need to fuck you not some toy!"

“You can leave if you want. See if the little bunny isn’t too hurt to let you fuck her.” You challenge, confident that he will take anything you give him at this point.  

Groaning in defeat, he slumps down on the bed, and you smile knowingly, ordering him to undress for you. He obliges, although not without a sour pout. When he's naked, you gesture for him to come sit with you on the bed, back pressed against your chest as he settles between your legs. 

He is hard despite his protests, and you open the bottle of lube and squirt some of it on his cock, putting it down then wrapping your hand around him and pumping his cock slowly, just spreading the lube all over it. 

Grabbing the fleshlight with your other hand, you bring it to his lips. "Use your mouth, puppy." 

He groans, reluctantly peeking his tongue out to lap at the toy. You tsk in disapproval. “You’ll never get it wet this way. You’re really big, puppy.” You drawl, dragging your fist tightly up his long member and extracting a deep groan out of him. “Wouldn’t want your cock to get hurt when I fuck you with it dry now, would you?” 

He gives you a dissatisfied grunt but he pushes his tongue out more, starting to lick the opening of the fleshlight more deliberately now. “Good boy. Get it all wet so I can use it to milk every last drop of cum from your balls. Maybe then you’ll behave.” 

His hips buck up into your hands and he starts pushing his tongue in and out of the toy, the wet sounds of his tongue working the fleshlight filling up the room. 

"You're so pathetic. Eating out this silicone pussy so I can fuck you with it instead of sticking your dick in some bitch's warm pussy. All because I want you to, right?" You whisper in his ear before pressing soft kisses down his neck. His breath hitches and he pushes his hips up into your hands again, needing more than the gentle touches you were giving him. 

"You'll do anything if I ask you to." You state, pulling the toy away from his mouth, breaking off the tiny translucent strings of saliva that connect them. Letting go of his dick, you grab the lube again and order him to put two fingers out for you. You squeeze some of the lube onto them then bring the fleshlight to his hand. “Finger your pussy open, baby.” 

“You’re driving me crazy.” He groans as pushes his fingers into the toy, and you laugh. “Aw, is this frustrating for you, puppy?” 

“Yes.” He hisses, his fingers fucking in and out of the toy aggressively. 

“Good.” 

When you’re satisfied with how slick the toy has gotten, and how needy he’s become, you order him to stop and line it over his cock. “Ready, puppy?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be for a fucking toy.” He swears and you smile, plunging the fleshlight over his cock. You don’t need his enthusiasm to do what you want as with a few jerks of the toy, he’s already melting back onto you and moaning out his pleasure, his impending heat already working him to the edge of insanity. 

“See? You’re nothing but a horny dog trying to get off.” You use your free hand to massage his lower belly just above the base of his member, stoking the fire building there. “I should lock your dirty cock in a cage during this heat so you won’t go around humping and fucking whoever you can get your hands on. Only let you out when I want to use you.”

“Then use me, please. Take what you need from me.” He moans even louder, his back arching and his hips fucking up into the toy. “Sit on my face and make me eat you out until I can't breathe or sit on my cock and ride me until you've had your fill.” "And give you the satisfaction of giving me pleasure? No, you don't even deserve that. You'll just sit here and take everything like the selfish dog you are." You slide your hand up his body, brushing your fingers over his nipple. He instantly jerks and tries to close his legs but a harsh growl in his ear is all that's needed for him to swing his legs back open. 

“See? You’re already gonna cum, aren’t you?” You mock, reaching your hand out to grab the small glass cup you left at the bedside table and placing it under his cock.

“What are you doing?” Chan sputters, confused and embarrassed. 

“Wanna see how much cum you have for me, puppy. Show me how bad you need me.” You coax, taking the fleshlight off and using your hand instead, stroking his cock from bottom to top and pointing the leaking tip of it inside the cup. 

“Ahh---that’s filthy.” Chan protests but his eyes are glued to the scene and his moans get higher in pitch as you both prepare for him to orgasm. Your hands continue their rhythmic pumping as spurts of white cum start shooting into the glass, almost as if you’re manually squeezing them out of his dick. 

“That’s a lot of cum. Such a horny dog.” You murmur, taking in the amount of cum collecting in the glass, and he shudders, transfixed by the way your hand is milking every last drop from him. “And you’re wasting all of it. What a useless pup. Should’ve never been a wolf.” 

He growls and lays his head back on your shoulder to look up at you.You think he’s going to argue with you about what you just said but instead he stares at you with his puppy eyes and breathlessly asks for a kiss. 

You could refuse him, of course. He doesn’t deserve it. But you want it too, his plump, red lips too enticing to pass up, and so you close the distance between you and capture them in a lazy kiss. But you barely start before he’s squirming and whining against you. 

“I suppose you still have more to give me.” You murmur against his lips and start moving your hand over his dick again--the wet sounds from your lips against his and your hands over his dick soon filling up the room.

“Such a big boy.” You marvel as you pull away from his slick lips to gaze at his dick, his breath stuttering when you swipe your palm over the leaking head. “But you won’t even get to use it because you’re a dumb, selfish pup.” 

He blinks tiredly at you, apologetically, but you’ll have none of it. 

“Ready to fuck your toy again?” You ask haughtily, and he sighs, nodding defeatedly. 

“There you go.” You put the toy back on him. 

You’re surprised by how vocal he’s being. He’s the loudest you’ve ever heard him. You guess the heat was getting to him as he doesn’t even try to hold back, his moans lusty and shameless. He’s so consumed by the pleasure taking over his body like he’d die without it, and honestly it’s affecting you more than you’d like to admit, your panties sticking to your heat uncomfortably.

"You sound like a whore getting fucked.” You scoff, pumping his dick faster with the fleshlight. "Are you that desperate?" 

“Hmm--yes! Please...fuck me--” He cries, easily giving in as his hips jolt up. “Need your hot---ahh--wet pussy around my cock. You can milk me all you want then. I’ll be all yours. My cum is all yours.” 

“But I don't need to do that when you’re already being such an easy slut for me.” You move your hand up to his chest again, rubbing and teasing his nipples.

"But you want me--" He gasps as you pinch his nipple in retaliation. "Fuck me, please. Need your pussy--oh god.”

“You don’t need it, dumb puppy. You’re cumming fine enough in this toy.” You put your lips to his neck, sucking on the sensitive spot under his ear then laving over it with your tongue. 

“But I want more.. And I know you want---ahhh, fuck--fuck!" He cries out, looking down in time to watch himself empty into the cup again. And like last time, you make sure to catch every last drop. 

“Hah--please.” He pants, leaning back to look up at you, his eyes focusing on your lips. “Kiss...” 

You sigh, kissing him. He doesn’t have to be instructed in this, his lips opening automatically and his tongue pushing needily into your mouth. As his panting moans pick up again, you pull away. 

“Please fuck me.” He draws the request out, pleading. 

“No.”

He whimpers at your definite tone and huffs. “Then let me see you at least.”

“See me?” You quirk an eyebrow at him and he nods earnestly. "Wanna see you."

You move out from behind him and settle between his open legs. “Here I am.” 

But his gaze isn’t on your face, it’s glued to your hard nipples poking through your tank top in arousal. 

“Ah, you wanna see my tits, puppy? Will that help you cum more for me?” You pull your tank top over your breasts, exposing them. He whines at once, struggling to stay in his spot, his tongue swiping over his lips hungrily. 

"What is it? Wanna put suck on them, puppy?" You tease, sitting up and leaning your chest over his face, your breasts just out of reach of his mouth. 

“Yes! Please, can I?” He begs, and just his breath brushing against your nipples is enough to have you rubbing your legs together. You don’t even want to imagine how fast you’d cum if he put his hands on you.

Tangling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, you push his face into your chest. “Go ahead. You better make it worth my while.”

His mouth immediately latches onto one of your nipples, lathering it with saliva and sucking on it eagerly.

"Fuck, that's a good boy." You hiss, grabbing the fleshlight and pulling it over his cock, not wanting to get distracted. But the faster you work him, the more eagerly he kisses and sucks at your tits, his tongue hungrily licking all over your chest and his teeth insistently nibbling at the skin. 

It's so good the friction you’re getting from rubbing your legs together is enough to make your orgasm build up. You're both impressed and mortified that you can feel yourself getting close just from jerking him off and having him suck on your tits. But you can't dwell on it too much, too busy trying to get him and yourself off. 

You get what you want when he flicks your nipple with his tongue then wraps his lips around your entire areola and sucks harshly, ripping the orgasm from your body. Gasping loudly, your movement over his cock stops and your head drops down. But Chan quickly reaches out and grabs your jaw, pulling your head against his so he can see your face as you cum, the both of you wide-eyed and breathing heavily as the orgasm shakes your body. 

"Fuck." Chan grunt, his hips bucking up into the stationary fleshlight as moans flow through his spit-slick lips. You can tell he’s almost there and you pull the fleshlight away and reach for the cup but it's too late, his seed shooting out and landing on your belly, marking you with it and trailing down slowly towards your pussy.

"Shit, sorry." He groans apologetically but he’s too weak to do anything about it. Exhausted from the three back to back orgasms, he falls back to the bed, boneless. 

You sigh, setting the cup down and getting up to grab some tissues to clean yourself up. When you walk back to the bed, you find Chan struggling to keep his eyes open. 

“No, no, get up. Come on, you need to wash off.” You tug on his arm, but his body is too heavy to budge. 

“I’m too tired.” He whines like a puppy trying to get out of a bath.

“You won't have to do anything. You just sit in the tub and I’ll clean you up.” You try to pull at his arm again but he just buries his face in the pillows and ignores you. You sigh, running your hand over his skin patiently. “Come one, don’t you want a nice, warm bath? Wouldn’t it feel good after all this effort? It’ll loosen your muscles right up.”

He lifts his head up, regarding you, and you brush the hair out of his face softly. “Come on, puppy. I’m tired too.” 

He finally complies, getting up and letting you tug him towards the bathroom. You don’t give him a real bath, you just make him sit in the tub while you scrub and clean his body, letting the warm water stream over him and wash the soap and tension away. 

By the time you’re done, he was starting to doze off again. He looked really cute like that, his eyes almost all the way closed and his lips in a slight pout as he tries to keep his head up. 

You pat his cheek gently, drawing his attention towards you. “Get up, pup. We’re done.” 

He nods groggily and slowly stands up. You dry him off with a towel then lead him to your bed, telling him to wait a minute while you go grab something for him to wear. You know he likes sleeping in only his boxers so you just grab that and come back, handing it to him to put on while you go grab a towel for yourself. 

“I’m gonna go take a shower. I want you back in your room when I’m back.” 

Your words jolt him awake, his eyes wide and alert suddenly. “What? But I thought...” He trails off, looking at you as if asking for you to help finish his sentence. Which is just ridiculous, you don’t, of course. You stare at him with a blank face until he continues in a small voice, "I was hoping I could stay."

“What gave you that impression? You thought you could manipulate me into fucking you and then everything will be fine and dandy?”

“No. I just really miss you.” He states helplessly, and tears spring up into your eyes at that. 

I miss you. You’re special. These are all meaningless words that just serve to put another stab in your heart and remind you of what you’ll never actually have from him. 

“I don’t have the energy for this right now.” You say weakly, turning your back around and heading for the door quickly. “Just leave.”

As soon as you get into the shower, you start to sob. You feel like shit. You've gone through so much abuse and ridicule before but this has to be the worst you’ve ever felt about yourself, for yourself. You have so easily given into him. He’s got you where he wants you again, and he didn't even have to compromise anything to get it. You just walked right into it like an idiot, and now you fear that you feel too much for him to get out of this intact. 

You stay a long time in the shower, waiting for your tears to dry up, but they never do. All you can manage is to get them to stop streaming down your face like the water does, holding them in your eyes and hoping the long shower allowed enough time for Chan’s scent to disperse from your room. 

But when you walk back into your room, towel wrapped snugly around your body, you find Chan himself still in there, sitting on top of your newly made bed. And just like that, the tears fight to be shed again.  

“I changed the sheets.” He pipes up, looking at you for approval. 

“Oh, you changed the sheets? I guess I have to let you stay now.” Your retort is weak and hoarse.  “Baby…” He stands up and walks over to you, reaching a hand out to tug at your own gently, but you quickly snatch it back and take a step away from him, 

”Don’t.”  Your voice cracks and you turn away in a panic, not wanting him to see you shed any tears for him. But it's useless as he easily turns you back towards him and wraps you in his strong arms. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He asks like he genuinely cares.

"You're what's wrong!" You sob, trying and failing to to get out of his embrace.

“Don’t say that.” He pleads, wiping your tears and kissing each of your cheeks despite your struggles. “Please, don’t cry.” 

“How can I not when I’ve fallen in love with you.” You scream the words at him, hoping that the sheer heartache your voice contains will cast him away from you. And for a moment it seems to work as he staggers at your confession, his face a look of pure shock. This is it. He'll finally take pity on you and stop messing with you. Or at the very least he'll realize that this game isn't fun anymore and he'll back off.

“Just leave me be, please.” You plead, trying once again to pull away from his now loose embrace, but as soon as you move, he snaps out of it, his grip tightening around you even more. Pushing his forehead against yours, he breathes out, “I love you too.” 

Before you can think about it, you raise your hands to scratch at him, anything to defend yourself from the continuous torment he’s subjecting you to. You only manage a weak swipe at his cheek before he has both your wrists in his grip and pinned to your back. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” He curses, the tiniest bit of blood seeping out of the fresh wound in the middle of his cheek.

“Stop playing with me!”

"I'm not playing! I love you." He shouts back at you, and his words hurt like a dozen pellets piercing your skin. Because either he’s sick enough to lie about this, to continue playing with you despite how precarious your position has become, or he really does love you but his disgust at you is so great that it doesn’t matter.

"How can you say that when you’re ashamed of being with me? How can that be love?" 

"You're one to talk! I'm always the one trying not to lose you and you're always the one pushing me away. What does it matter whether people know about us or not when you’re fucking crying at the mere fact that you fell in love with me?"

“I'm crying because the man I fell in love with is so ashamed of loving me that he won't even defend me in front of his friends!"

"And if I do? If I tell everyone that I love you and take all the damage and then you inevitably leave me?" He accuses, so sure of his words like he knows it will happen. All the fight leaves your body at that. He’ll never trust you, will he? 

"Why are you assuming the worst of me?" You snivel weakly.

"No, you can’t pull that shit!” He rages, “You don’t have the right to treat me like shit and then cry about the fact that I don’t trust you! I have every right to be scared that in a couple of months you'll look at me and remember how much of an impotent predator you think I am and drop me."

“Then why do you keep me around?” You ask in a small voice, scared of the answer. 

“I… I don’t know.” 

You laugh bitterly, but Chan stays silent, rooted to his spot and waiting for you to do or say something. You can’t handle this anymore, not now at least. Every time the two of you talk, you hate yourself more. You need to get away from him or you’re afraid you’ll collapse into a void of self-loathing you’ll never be able to pull yourself out from. 

Sighing wearily, you slowly shuffle to your closet. You drop your towel and put on some underwear before you start pulling on a pair of pants and a shirt. 

“What are you doing?” Chan fumes as he realises what you’re doing. “Are you going out?!”  

You stay silent as you pick out some shoes and put them on.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You can’t go out right now. We’re talking!” 

You ignore him once again, walking towards the door. He tries to intercept you, face red, “You’re not leaving!”

“Watch me.” You say coldly, going around him and walking out the door. 

___________

You didn’t have a place in mind when you went out. You just needed to breathe, to get some fresh air. But you soon find that too sobering, the fresh wounds hurting too much for you to feel them right now. So you decided you’ll do the opposite, stop feeling. And how do you do that? Everyone’s favorite poison. And so you head to the nearest bar you can find.

You’re barely finished with your first glass when you hear a deep voice digging its way through your fuzzy hearing. “Hey! You’re that fox from Chan’s place, right?” 

Your heart stops at the sound of his name, and you stare at the empty glass in your hand, determined to ignore the intruder until he goes away. But he just plops down into the seat across from you, exclaiming ever louder. “It is you!”

You stay silent, and he carries on, thinking you don’t recognize him. “I’m Felix by the way if you don’t remember.”

You still don’t give him any response, but he doesn’t give up. "I'm sorry, I didn't really get your name last time..." He trails off, looking at you expectantly. Your gaze shifts to him and he falters when he sees the dead look in your eyes.

After some pause, he drops the cheery look from his face, and says somberly, "Look, I know you probably hate us all because of what happened, and you have every right to, but I just want to apologize for what my friends said. They're really good people but they can be a lot misguided."

You snort mockingly at that, but he seems encouraged that he managed to get any form of response from you, and he continues on. “But you probably don’t want to hear that right now. Anyway, I just really wanted to apologize. I know how it feels to be distrusted because of what you are.” 

That gets your attention, and you look at him closely, realizing he is a cat hybrid. They get the same lot as fox hybrids, albeit less severe if the fact that he’s friends with Chan and his pack is anything to go by. 

“But you’re friends with them.” You comment suspiciously. 

“Well, it’s because Chan took me under his wing. When he trusted me, the others did too. I kind of owe him a lot.” 

“Ah, yes, the Perfect Chan agenda.”

“He’s definitely not perfect." He clarifies quickly, and you quirk an eyebrow at that. "Don't get me wrong, I love him like a brother but he can be really stubborn sometimes. He can never let himself be wrong about anything ever or else he'll start spiraling."

“No offense--umm, Felix, was it?” You ask and he nods eagerly, happy that you're talking. “If I wanted to chat about Chan I would've talked to one of his groupies.” 

His face blooms red and he sputters sheepishly, “You're right! I just wanted to apologize.”

“Apology accepted.” You say dismissively, waving him away, but he stays, and you give him an exasperated look.

He breaks eye contact, his gaze dropping to his hands.Fiddling with the cup in his hands, he mumbles quietly, “Can I hang out with you for a bit?”

“Now why would I say yes to that?”

He thinks for a while, a pout on his face as he concentrates on finding an answer that will satisfy you. You can see the exact moment an idea pops into his head as his face lights up with a mischievous smile. “Because it will piss off Chan?”

“A kitty after my own heart.” You reach out to pet his head, chuckling at the blush on his pretty face intensifies at that

 ____________________________________

Felix is something else, you’ll give him that. He’s sweet and cute and he radiates so much warmth and happiness. He’s different from the usual cat hybrids who are cold and aloof even if secretly affectionate. You had wondered at the beginning how a cat hybrid can be so close to Chan and his pack, but it took a whole five minutes of being in his company for you to see it. Simply, Felix exuded a pure, happy energy that was infectious to everyone around him. Even you, down in the dumps and heartbroken, were starting to feel a little better in his presence. 

Or maybe that was the inordinate amount of alcohol you have managed to consume throughout the time you spent together. And you guess it was quite some time because as soon as you stumble through the door to Chan’s apartment, the wolf is on you like a dog with a bone. 

“Where were you? I was worried sick!”

“Now that’s a funny joke.” You slur, laughing stupidly.

“Are you drunk?” He bellows, sniffing you out. Then he suddenly freezes, a low growl rumbling out of him as he grabs you roughly, glaring at you with wild eyes. "Why do you smell like Felix?"

"I met up with him." You shrug, maddeningly jubilant to the livid wolf. 

“What?” 

“I. met. up. with. him” You repeat slowly.

"You went out drinking with Felix?" You grits carefully, and you swear you can almost see his eyes grow dark and menacing. But you’re too blissfully drunk to heed the warning storming inside their depths. 

"Sure did." You reply nonchalantly. 

"I told you…” He says slowly, lips curling around the words and infusing them with a cold fury.  “to stay away from my friends."

"We were just talking." You insist stubbornly, needing him to see for once that you’re not the twisted monster he thinks you are. “He said he’d like to be friends.” 

Chan’s grip tightens even more around your arms, so much so that it pierces through the foggy numbness of your intoxication. The pain brings about a sense of sobriety, and your breath stills as you become aware of much danger you were in right now. 

But Chan wasn’t going to hurt you. Not physically at least. 

You feel the blood return to your arms as he lets you go, a look of revulsion and contempt vilifying his face more than anger or violence ever could. 

“Stay away from him.” He commands roughly, “I actually care about him.”

Any numbness you had gotten from the alcohol suddenly leaves your body and you crash, feeling all the pain all at once. 

I actually care about him. Unlike you. And you’ll sully him if you get close. 

“This--” You gesture between the both of you, face completely devoid of emotion. "is over."

________________________

A/N: you guys still want them together? because I think the next chapter will be the last. i mean it won’t matter anyway cuz I’m pretty settled on the ending lol but I’d still like to know

[liyuesbian]

✧ pygmalion!au [ningguang]

notes: btw idk how commissions from museums work i just made the process up LMAO and this one's kinda angsty? i mean, it is the pygmalion greek myth so iykyk. also, i describe this figurine of ningguang here but w/o the colour... i've linked it in case any1 needs the reference. (btw, this is not set in ancient greece specifically)

only yesterday had you been commissioned by an art gallery in the capital to create a piece for their up-and-coming collection titled desire, love and identity. yet here you are, slaving away to make the perfect image you had in your head come into fruition. your vision is exquisite once sketched on paper—you can't find any faults in it so you take the risk.

as soon as your chisel meets the marble, a feeling so invigorating dominates your body. no further references are necessary as you place your trust entirely on your hands, coarse from the labour. you find such mindless toil addicting and you work day and night, only stopping for a half-baked meal and the odd collapse into bed.

for months, love streams out of the tips of your fingers and through your sculpting tools to arrive at the stone figure. you sincerely hope the intimate emotion has been reached.

when you finish, you wipe the bead of sweat running down your forehead, rest the other palm on your hip and take slow steps backwards all while maintaining eye contact with the statue. a wave of sweet relief hits you and you fall to the floor, uncontrollably sobbing into tired hands that still grip the hammer and chisel.

it's beautiful.

you stagger, struggling to get up with your bruised knees while clumsily wiping the tears off your stained cheeks. setting the instruments aside, you lift your head to admire your handiwork up close. a woman made of stone sits elegantly atop an oriental chair, crossing her smooth, white legs over each other. her left elbow is propped on the arm of the chair while on the other side, a long smoking pipe is balanced between gloved fingers. around her lies an assortment of objects: a vase containing scrolls, a floor lamp, and a charmingly decorated folding screen.

you see, you had already thought it all out. you'd imagined ningguang's preferences for a life of luxury, her affinity for constructing and sprucing up interiors. she would be a master of the trades and a woman who likes to keep an air of mystery around her. and like how you increasingly project her to be more of a person than she ever will be, there is a creeping concern in the corner of your mind that you will lose your rationality just as quickly.

the sculpture's body is clad in a qipao with a slit that reveals alabaster skin below the waist. the dress—embellished with patterns and neat linings—hugs her figure and shows off a lean build. the extensive train and sleeves of the fabric are shaped curvaceously to mirror the flow of a waterfall. and her face. the section you strived so hard to refine. she stares at you with an imperious expression and a hint of a smirk. her gaze, so piercing, makes you avert your eyes in shyness but you find yourself gravitating back to her profile.

you muster up the courage to draw closer to your creation and unconsciously stroke her cheek with your thumb, captivated. if she were an empress, you'd be a common peasant—undeserving of setting your sights on such a goddess. you can feel your soul being sucked into eyes devoid of emotion—of anything, actually. after all, the woman sitting before you is not a person but an inanimate object.

the weeks following the completion of ningguang—which is the name you've picked up the habit of calling her—are spent in said lady's company. every minute of every day, you surround yourself with her presence as if she is your closest friend. you eat with her, tell her your troubles, even going so far as to decorate her with various types of jewellery and bringing her gifts you think she'd like.

"thank you," you whisper. "for always listening to me." in truth, you're always so immersed in your work that you forgot what conversations could feel like. though, you fear your art would never be on par with something so transcendent ever again.

you become curious, wondering what she would be like if the nymph in front of you were not just a figment of your imagination.

you perch yourself on top of ningguang's stone-cold lap and trace the contours of her visage. you inspect each crease on her lips and the minuscule crinkles in her eyes, applauding yourself for the well-crafted details. you don't know what possesses you but you close your eyes and press your lips against hers, hoping that once you open them, a living being would erupt from underneath the marble. but, of course, as soon as the light hits your retinas, ningguang is as unmoving as ever.

realising what you've just done, you drop off of her thighs and laugh anxiously. however, you could've sworn that you had felt warmth in the lips of your beloved muse.

"i've finally gone mad!" you cry aloud.

hell, you say to yourself, is it even possible to fall in love with such an... an artefact? you dismiss your glaringly obvious infatuation.

"nonsense," you mutter under your breath, sensing your heart breaking slightly. how can something so painfully humanlike also not be human at the same time? you must've caused a tremendous atrocity in your past life to have made the gods harbour a grudge against you. of all things, you'd never have guessed that a lifeless piece of art would be the object of your desire.

you can't bear to look at the handcrafted lady any longer and with an anguished face, cover her with a large cotton cloth. the plan was to wait until you could hand the statue over to the curators and try to ignore its existence until then.

for a few days, you act according to the plan, going about your daily routine but eventually, your stoic demeanour crumbles. you lock yourself in your room refusing to eat or believe that your affection would never be returned.

during the hours of sunlight, you weep under your sheets, drowning in self-inflicted sorrow. and at night, you do the same, lamenting over the loss of what could've been your true love. she would've been so perfect in your eyes, your other half, and the only one who could calm this growing turmoil!

the reality pains you. hence, you do the only thing you can do: you pray. you pray to the gods for a miracle, that the light of your life would stride into your room and pull you from the depths of despair... but she never does.

your last day "cohabitating" with the sculpture has arrived and for the first time in—what felt like—an eternity, you open the doors to your workshop. taking a deep breath, you unveil the stationary maiden.

it's still as beautiful as you remember.

you give it a sad smile, wanting to get its departure over and done with. you manoeuvre about the room to prepare the things for the movers who're due to come in a couple of hours. while you go down your little list of errands to be done, you cough and bat away the smoke—wait, the smoke? frantic, you spin around, eyes darting everywhere in search of its origin until they land on the smoking pipe you so intricately moulded for the commissioned piece.

it's strange, you don't recall colouring the statue. and how on earth is smoke coming out of the pipe? suspicious, you approach the motionless entity and almost stumble when you spot its chest rising.

oh lord! — i really must be descending into madness! you clutch your head, clawing at your hair in hysteria.

"stop, please don't hurt yourself." the sound of a low, worried voice penetrates your ears. you shut your eyes tight.

"no, the gods have cursed me! i mustn't listen to your poisonous words!" you exclaim. your state of agitation is alleviated when the woman caresses your tensed arm.

"what has happened to you? i haven't seen you lately either." the tone is more soft and more tender than you had imagined. you release your grip.

"is it really you, ningguang?" your voice cracks at the end, and the woman you sought after witnesses your features twist into an expression of longing and hope.

"yes, my darling. i dare not go anywhere else."

helplessly, you rush to cup her face to check for heat, for the blood traversing under her skin—anything that would prove that your sweetheart is truly alive and breathing. and when you do get the confirmation, you beam, trying to withhold tears born from elation.

you bend down to kiss ningguang, who is still seated on the chair, once, twice, and three times to rid your scepticism. oh, deities! she's real.

"i love you," you declare.

"i know." you watch as the same creases you'd etched on the corners of her eyes spread into a loving half-moon shape and you kiss her again.

you reach a conclusion: you couldn't give away your lover—let alone a live person—to be displayed as part of a museum exhibition so when the workers arrive, you hide your muse away in another room. you apologise profusely and spin a lie, rambling on about how you had nothing to relinquish for the piece you had prepared had been oh-so-viciously stolen by a mob of trespassers!

the movers share with you their sympathies and ask what the work of art looks like and maybe they could sort something out with the authorities. nodding, you recount—so ardently—the details of your divine maiden. you feel heat rush to your face, chuckling when you realise that you'd run your mouth for too long.

in response to this, the two labourers exchange dubious looks as they peer at the static sculpture standing in the middle of the studio—its appearance unmistakably matching your elaborate description.

[platypanthewriter]

Third Time's The Charm (Mindflayer: Take three)

Day Two of Harringrove AUgust, prompt:  Darkside AU

Billy’s eyelids felt as dry and crisp as potato chips as he tried to force them open. He could hear the shuffle of shoes against the linoleum, and the beeps and whirs of the hospital equipment, and then something brushed his face. Cool fingers.

“Open your eyes, William,” said Steve Harrington’s calm voice, and Billy jerked back in the bed, blinking at the dark shape hovering over him. His bandages tugged, and he flinched at the deep ache in his chest.

“Harrington,” he tried to say, but it came out more of a hoarse wheeze.

“I pushed you too hard before,” Harrington said, “—with no reward, but I think I know how you work, now. You want this boy, don’t you?”

“What,” Billy breathed, staring.

“You want him to pat you with his fleshy paws,” said the thing that was not Harrington, and Billy laughed sharply as Harrington’s hand stroked up his bare arm, and ran a thumb up his jaw. The thing smiled. “You want to taste his saliva.”

“Gross,” Billy choked out, shaking, but the thing leaned in, and Harrington’s lips were warm on his own.

“You will help me,” said the Mindflayer, pulling back, “—and you will have what you want.”

“Let him go,” Billy whispered, with no actual hope that it would. “What—what do you want?”

“You know what I want,” it said, and Billy’s stomach churned, remembering. “And if I don’t have it, I will—”

“Wait, I—I’ll do it,” Billy breathed.

It wasn’t hard to pick a victim—Billy’s dad may have been completely reasonable in hating his faggot son, but he was shitty to Max too, and Susan, and Billy’s mom—and there weren’t a lot of people he figured would listen to Billy Hargrove.

Problem was, Billy’s dad didn’t want to be lured out. Billy stared at the phone in the phone booth, thinking, and then tried saying he was injured at the abandoned drive-in theater on the edge of town—his car had broken down—and his dad just suggested he learn to not drink and drive.

As Billy tried to think of something more convincing to say, the Mindflayer grabbed the phone, and said “This is Steve Harrington, sir. We could really use your help. Bring the sheriff.”

There was a pause, and Billy knew his dad was repeating the name Harrington, like he always did talking about the richest family in town, the ones with the life he wanted, the people he wanted his family to match up to.

“See you soon,” said the Mindflayer, but it was frowning with Steve Harrington’s face, and Billy wondered whether Steve was the one who’d grabbed the phone.

 Billy’s dad didn’t take long, pulling up to the phone booth in the parking lot of the abandoned drive-through theater, and slamming the door of his car. He hadn’t brought the sheriff. Harrington grabbed his arm as he reached for Billy—and Billy didn’t have to watch, now, what the Mindflayer did with its victims.

He sat gripping one of the dilapidated benches, curled over to puke at the sounds, until he heard shoes scuff towards him again, and looked up to see a smile on Steve Harrington’s face. The Mindflayer knew which muscles to contract for a smile, Billy reflected distantly, but it didn’t look quite like a person, more like a doll, a ventriloquist’s dummy’s wide-stretched grin.

“Get up,” the thing said, and Billy staggered to his feet as his father—not his father, anymore, he reminded himself, another thing—drove away. The Mindflayer yanked him up when he didn’t move fast enough, nearly yanking his arm out of its socket as it slammed him against the bottom edge of the old projection screen. “Time for your reward. Take what you want,” it said. “Do you want to put things in his holes?”

“No!” Billy wheezed, wincing as it clenched Steve’s hand on his shoulder to hold him in place. He screamed as his collarbone broke under the force of its grip. It fixed Harrington’s mouth over his, hot and clumsy, and Billy tried to just let it happen, his brain a jumble of pain, lust, and terror as Harrington’s grip closed around his neck, and teeth clonked into his—until Harrington’s voice sounded different, suddenly, low and urgent.

“Let me,” he said. “Let me, let me, you’re killing him—you can’t—if you kill him, he can’t help you—”

“Harrington,” Billy gasped, choking for air, and then Harrington was really kissing him, one hand steadying Billy’s jaw, the other against Billy’s side, holding him steady as he staggered.

It was so good, Billy thought, his stomach twisting with revulsion, the pain of his broken collarbone making him pant as his eyes filled with tears.

“You taste like puke,” Harrington said, making a face, but he leaned in again, his brown eyes open as his lips met Billy’s and opened against them.

Billy moaned, a little—he couldn’t help it, not with Steve Harrington’s actual hands on him, and Steve’s tongue against his. Even possessed by a monster, Harrington looked kinda smug, and Billy hated him still, a little, for barely knowing Billy existed, and all the things Billy’d done by himself to survive, because he didn’t have anyone he could call.

Harrington had friends, Billy reminded himself. Billy didn’t need to think too hard about kissing Harrington, because Harrington’s friends would come, and they’d stop the Mindflayer, and help him, and Harrington wouldn’t come to himself a bloody mess at the mall, barely able to keep from murdering a child.

Somebody’d probably put a bullet in Billy’s brain, he thought, hissing in pain as Harrington shifted closer, and the broken edges of Billy’s collarbone scraped together. His brain filled with the white noise of pain, and he shuddered as he felt the new scraping agony of his collarbone, and the old, dull ache of his wound at the mall.

Harrington’s hands were careful, tipping Billy’s head to kiss him deeper.

His friends would kill the Mindflayer for good, Billy thought, humming a little hysterically against Harrington’s lips. They’d make sure Billy’s body didn’t get used again, either to transport a monster, or as leverage. All Billy had to do was keep the Mindflayer distracted, until then. Until they saved Harrington, and put Billy down.

“Enough,” came the still, calm voice from Harrington’s mouth, and the smile, as he stepped back.

“Who else do you want me to lure out here,” Billy asked, his hands flat against the wall of screen behind him to keep himself upright. The Mindflayer’s face twitched, and Billy wondered, his whole left shoulder and side pounding with pain, whether Harrington wished Billy’d let him die.

 The Mindflayer suggested Steve’s girlfriend, Wheeler. “We need him to stop fighting,” it said, smiling as it staggered and nearly fell. Billy walked away, breathing through the pain as he tried to get far enough away to call without the Mindflayer hearing.

He stepped into the phone booth and ruffled through the pages until he found Henderson—the kid he’d seen Steve with, the one whose name he was fairly sure of, because he hung around Max. “The Mindflayer has Harrington,” he said, flatly. “You gotta...trap him, or something. Better than you did me.”

“What in the hell,” the kid started, and Billy sighed.

“We’re at the drive-through theater,” he said. “He’s gonna be suspicious if I try to lure him anywhere.”

“Max has been looking for you,” Henderson said, and Billy bet she had.

“Hurry up and do something,” he said, watching the Mindflayer, in Steve Harrington’s body. It waved. “It’s gonna kill me,” he said, feeling a weird calm distance at the words, “—and I’m pretty sure he’s not gonna stop it, this time.”

“Shit,” Henderson said.  "We'll need some time to get ready."

“Oh, also,” Billy said, nearly high with pain, adrenaline, despair, and the taste of Harrington’s kisses. “I gave it my dad. That’s important, right?” he asked. “You probably need to know that too.”

“Holy shit, you fed it a person?! Your dad?!” Henderson yelled, and Billy nodded, running his tongue over his teeth as he sighed.

“Yeah, I’m a monster.” He snorted a laugh and hung up, wandered out to sit on the bench next to the Mindflayer, and watch the sunset. After a couple of hours of staring at the sky, he reached over and squeezed the Mindflayer’s wrist.

“You’ll let him go if I do everything you want?” he asked, and the Mindflayer smiled again.

Billy’d thought he’d be reassuring Harrington by asking—even if he didn’t believe for a second that the Mindflayer would just politely leave—but then he remembered that Harrington could probably tell the same thing, and that he, Billy, was a moron.

 When the sirens started, Billy winced. “I called the sheriff,” he said. “Told him I wanted to turn myself in. Told him I...took you.”

“The sheriff,” repeated the Mindflayer, focusing its unblinking stare down the road.

When the sheriff arrived, it wasn’t in his usual vehicle—it was a huge old Jeep, and he scrambled down with a groan, stretching until his back popped, and wiping sweat from his face. “Get in, boys,” he said, sighing, and jerking his thumb at the Jeep. When Billy was slow getting up—any motion of his arms flexed his collarbone, and his legs felt shaky on their own—the sheriff grabbed him by the shoulder.

Billy swallowed back a high noise in the back of his throat, realizing wildly that there was no reason to believe the Mindflayer had Harrington, no reason to believe him, only a waste of space they’d all seen possessed before, now making threatening phone calls. He closed his eyes, grimacing, and waited for the gasoline to soak him, or the muzzle of the gun to be pressed to his head, but the sheriff just watched Harrington walk towards the Jeep.

Harrington—the Mindflayer, Billy reminded himself—yelled, and he opened his eyes to see him lying on the ground, while the deputies, Hopper, and some other people held him down with their feet. Billy stared, watching the thing try and pretend they were wrong, laughing and pointing at Billy. They were wrapping his whole body in what looked like duct tape, wrapping his arms to his body and his legs together as he thrashed and swore.

It was probably assuming it would kill them while they drove, he realized, and opened his mouth, but they just tossed it into the Jeep and closed the doors, just watching it, like the Jeep was gonna take the Mindflayer back to the future, or start driving itself, or something.

Harrington started screaming. His feet banged against the inside of the tailgate, and the sheriff wandered back over to Billy.

“They trained us in those Jeeps for the National Guard, and for ‘Nam,” he said, with satisfaction. “The heaters can melt the snow two meters around, in January.”

“What,” Billy asked, completely lost. The sheriff put his hands on his belt, and Billy held his arms out, wrists together, expecting the cuffs, this time, but the man just shook his head, his lips thin.

“Go siddown, kid,” he said. “We’ll get you back to the hospital.”

 Billy awoke again to the beeping of hospital machines. His arm was in a sling, and he remembered his broken collarbone, wresting his eyes open on the ceiling, and a dark shape. He flinched, hissing with pain, and Harrington’s voice came again.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I just—I feel like—”

“Fuck,” Billy breathed, shutting his eyes again.

“It seems wrong to thank you for...that,” Harrington muttered. “But you—your dad—you’re why I’m alive, so. Uh. Thanks.”

“Whatever,” Billy sighed, wondering if he sold everything—his car, his records—if he could afford a plane flight back to California, and out of this conversation where the straight boy he’d masturbated over—who’d gotten possessed, who Billy’d groped and kissed while he was possessed—thanked Billy for helping him murder Billy’s dad.

“...so. Yeah,” Harrington said awkwardly, and Billy snorted a laugh.

“Fuck off, Harrington,” he whispered, his throat raw.

“You did all that to save me,” Harrington said, blankly. “All it had to do was take me, and you helped.”

“I got a history with that thing,” Billy reminded him, rolling his eyes.

“You’re a really horny bastard,” Steve said, still vaguely, like he was figuring it out, and Billy started laughing so hard he hurt. “Y’know who else pulls pigtails,” Harrington said, darkly. “Kids, that’s who. Children. Fucking...kindergartners.”

It wasn’t even that funny, but knowing Harrington knew, and wasn’t pissed off, was such a relief Billy couldn’t stop giggling. His eyes blurred with tears.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Harrington said, belatedly, and Billy breathed out a sigh he didn’t even know he’d been holding.

“...d’you know what they’re gonna do with me?” he asked, hoarsely.

“What?” Harrington asked.

“I wasn’t possessed,” Billy whispered, laughing, a sharp painful bark. “Why am I—am I going to jail, or—?”

“No,” Steve said, blinking at him. “No, you saved me. We’ll figure it out.”

“Can’t believe you wanna be in the same room as me,” Billy laughed again, shutting his eyes and cringing through the pain.

“...oh,” Harrington said, and Billy winced. “I don’t...I don’t mind if you’re in love with me,” he said, and in the cold blue light from the hallway, Billy could see a smirk on Harrington’s stupid face. “I know you’d do anything for me now, right,” he said, grinning.

I don’t love you, I just wanna fuck you, Billy thought of saying, or I’m a fucking faggot, I’d do anyone, or I thought I was gonna die anyway, moron, something to shock Harrington out of looking illogically happy to find out Billy was willing to commit murder if Steve Harrington was a hostage. “...fuck,” Billy whispered.

“Oh! I know...your um, your...dad,” Harrington said incomprehensibly, grimacing. “But uh, Max and Susan are okay,” he said, squeezing Billy’s hand, like that was a thing now, and Billy stared at him, remembering squeezing Harrington’s wrist, when he thought they’d both die. “Thanks for saving me, Hargrove,” he said again, his hand tight over Billy’s, and Billy swallowed, watching his face. “Now go the fuck to sleep.”

Harrington sat beside him the whole night, his warm thumb stroking Billy’s wrist after Billy’s eyes drifted closed.

[lloydskywalkers]

Heyo! Hope your doing exceptionally well, wonderful and ur staying safe! I was reading ur little oneshots for the movie! Verse and instantly fell in love! Think u have anymore for Kai and Lloyd? (But u don’t need to listen to this, obviously hehe) Have a splendid day!

ahhH thank you, I hope you’re doing well too!! :D oh man it’s been so long since i’ve written something for movie-verse, but I’ve had this little snippet in my head for a while so I guess it’s as good a time as any (and it is, of course, about kai and lloyd bc when is it noT)

it’s a little different than what i usually write, for movie-verse? but i hope it fits the bill! (takes place pre-movie, btw)

Of all his friends, Lloyd thinks Kai is most like the sun. Not just for his codename, and the enthusiasm with which he brings fire to the team, metaphorically and far too often literally, but for how bright he is. Kai reminds Lloyd of the sun at full force, strong and blazing and staunchly refusing to let anyone hide from his warmth. An endlessly combusting ball of stubbornness and passion.

Kai also reminds Lloyd of the sun in the way that he possesses about the same amount of brain cells the sun does, which is zero, because the sun has no brain — much like Kai.

“Hey, ru—de, ow, stop—”

Kai’s petulant response strangles off in cracked pain as Lloyd hushes him, simultaneously pulling the alcohol-soaked cloth from his arm with a sympathetic wince.

“Sorry, sorry,” Lloyd murmurs, wringing the edge of the cloth. “But I’ve gotta — it’ll get infected, if you don’t—”

“Nah, s’okay,” Kai says, breath hissing out through clenched teeth. He gives Lloyd a wavering smile that could almost be encouraging, were he not bleeding over Lloyd’s faded bedspread. “Just caught me off guard, I’m good now. ‘Sides, the — the stitches are gonna be worse, so—”

“It won’t be that bad,” Lloyd promises him, cleaning the rest of the deep slashes that run across Kai’s arm as quickly as he can. The lower ones aren’t so bad — he could get away without stitches, maybe. It’s the uppermost one that scares Lloyd, cutting deep enough into Kai’s skin to pose a threat. And Lloyd has no intention of leaving Kai anywhere near in danger, especially with the reason he’s hurt in the first place.

Lloyd swallows against the thick lump that suddenly forms in his throat, trying to banish the flood of emotions that have been rising since the battle against his father’s forces earlier. Surprise, shock, gratitude—? A swirling maelstrom of a deep-seated kind of aching warmth Lloyd is utterly unfamiliar with. It leaves him off-kilter, and words don’t come easily as they usually do.

Not that words ever come easily to Lloyd, but normally he isn’t quite this stuttering. Maybe. He hopes not. Maybe he’s just hyperaware right now, after everything, and he always sounds this embarrassing.

“I promise,” Lloyd continues, yanking himself from his thoughts as he busies with the needle. “I’ve got a lot of experience, and I’ll be gentle.”

Kai watches Lloyd threading the needle with a thinly-veiled fear, but he nods, the bravado Lloyd’s more familiar with making its way across his face. “Nice,” he says. “I trust you, Dr. Lloyd.”

Lloyd’s hands falter with the needle for a moment, before he resumes sterilizing it, ducking his head. Kai sounds like he means it — Kai sounds like he means everything he says, but the way he says trust hits differently, for Lloyd.

They’ve only been a team for few months, now. Not very long at all, to form any kind of trust in the son of your greatest enemy. Lloyd’s been going to school with some of the same people since kindergarten, and they’ve never looked at him with anything kinder than hatred, much less trust. And yet Kai is here, offering him his bleeding arm in Lloyd’s tiny room, trusting him to repair the damage he only took because he was protecting Lloyd.

Lloyd doesn’t understand. He doesn’t — people don’t — but his team—

They listened to him. Actually listened to him, to Lloyd. They actually listen to him in general, have since they were all thrown together in this odd little grouping, but it hasn’t quite hit home in the way it did tonight, when he’d snapped orders at them in barely-restrained panic, Kai’s blood staining his fingers as he’d staunched the knife wounds meant for him.

They hadn’t flinched back at his raised voice. Lloyd never raises his voice — he’s learned to keep it quiet, soft, unassuming. Even the slightest slip of frustration is enough to send anyone around him murmuring in suspicion, eyes narrowing and hissed whispers of just like his father filling the air.

Lloyd’s voice had been sharp and strained, barking across the rooftop, and they’d listened. No one flinched back, no eyes widened in fear — they’d just listened. They’re still listening, carrying out Lloyd’s orders without question, and it’s — it’s dizzying, if Lloyd had to put a word to it.

Cole and Zane are taking care of clean-up — something Lloyd will have to thank them for later, profusely. Neither were particularly happy about letting Kai out of their sights, but Cole and Zane are better at keeping each other steady than anyone else. It was the right call, Lloyd knows it was. Hopes it was.

But Lloyd hasn’t been having much faith in his calls, tonight. Not after Kai went down.

He swallows, focusing on the sounds reverberating from behind his closed door. Nya and Jay are talking with his mother, Nya’s louder tones easier to hear as she laughs. Lloyd knows her well enough to catch the strain in it, but he knows it’ll fool his mother. They’re distraction — Lloyd’s house was closest, and he’s got the best supplies stashed there. No one questions why he’s the one with the fully stocked medical kit, but Lloyd suspects they’ve all drawn their own conclusions.

He wishes they’d believe him, when he says it’s because he’s worried for them. He grew up with Wu as his uncle, who picks fights on a daily basis — with Morro as his cousin, who picks fights on an hourly basis. Lloyd knows the importance of having the good kind of medical supplies.

He finishes prepping the needle, squeezing Kai’s wrist briefly in warning. Lloyd’s not usually a tactile person — not that anyone would let him be — but he knows Kai soaks up touch like a starved sponge, and Lloyd’s desperate to give any kind of comfort he can before he starts with the needle.

Kai swallows, fixing his eyes firmly on the faded glow-in-the-dark stars plastered across Lloyd’s ceiling.

“Okay,” he says, his voice tight. “Bring it on.”

Lloyd swallows, steels himself, and sets the needle against his skin. Kai flinches at the first prick, eyes squeezing shut briefly, but otherwise he doesn’t move, jaw set stubbornly as Lloyd moves quickly. For his part, Lloyd keeps his eyes locked on the stitches, his hands steady. For all that Lloyd’s made up of bouncing nerves half the time, his hands rarely shake. Never when patching wounds up. He’s always been proud of how steady he can hold a needle, and tonight is no exception.

It’s the least he can do.

Kai suddenly tenses up, a broken-off noise strangling in his throat. Lloyd’s heart twists, but he stays steady, rallying himself. Conversation — Kai likes talking, right? Distraction, he can do that.

“So, um,” Lloyd stutters. On second thought, he’s awful at small talk. But — for Kai. “The way you took down that last guy was, it was really cool. Where’d you learn that?”

Kai bites his lip, exhaling shakily before he answers. “I train too, you know.”

Lloyd’s mouth quirks, despite himself. “Not like that.”

“What, a ninja can’t — can’t get creative,” Kai replies, through half-gritted teeth. Lloyd doesn’t say anything, but Kai rolls his eyes, continuing. “Fine. When I was younger, I ah…might’ve taken a few dance classes. For Nya! ‘Cause I couldn’t let her go alone, y’know, but they were — they were kinda fun, I guess, and maybe they slip into fighting, sometimes.” His cheeks darken, and Lloyd bites back a quiet laugh.

“Nothing like Cole, obviously, ‘cause he’s an actual dancer, but — that’s where I got it from.” He pins Lloyd with a glare, that’s somewhat dimmed by the scrunched expression of pain on his face. “Tell anyone and you’re dead though, okay?”

Lloyd hums his agreement, too focused on the stitches to reply immediately. After a moment, though, he speaks up again. “I did some ballet, when I was little.”

“No way,” Kai says, sounding delighted.

“Yeah, way,” Lloyd says. “I’ve heard from a very reliable source that dancing backgrounds are useful, with ninja stuff.”

“Very reliable meaning your uncle,” Kai grins.

Lloyd shrugs. “Maybe,” he half-smiles. Kai suddenly sucks in another pained breath, but to Lloyd’s relief, it’s likely the last one. He finishes off the stitches with a well-practiced hand, snapping the end of the thread and exhaling in relief.

“There. All done.”

Kai’s eyes widen. “Seriously, already?” He glances down at his arm, his other hand moving up to touch the stitches. Lloyd smacks it away, glaring at him.

“Don’t touch. You still have to watch out for infection. I’ll text you instructions for taking care of it, and everything. Just don’t do anything, ah…”

“No ninja-ing?” Kai finishes for him, crestfallen.

“Probably a good idea,” Lloyd says, apologetic. “But it’s not too bad. Shouldn’t take long, and you can be out, uh, ninja-ing again."

Kai is quiet for a moment, regarding his stitches. Then he turns to Lloyd, who is immediately staggered at the bright smile that stretches across his face.

“Cool. Thanks, Lloyd. You’re good at this.”

Lloyd can’t answer, his throat burning. He forces the welling moisture back, looking away. Kai’s only hurt for him, and that is layered with so much more meaning than Lloyd can comprehend right now.

“No problem,” Lloyd mutters, focusing instead on the voices outside his door in an attempt to find footing again. He can hear his mom laughing at something Nya’s said, open and relaxed in a way his mom rarely is. Lloyd’s heart twists into knots.

He doesn’t deserve them, any of them. Not really.

If Kai reminds Lloyd of the sun, then the rest of the team reminds him of stars. All bright and shining, bursting with warmth in their own way. Maybe not quite at the blazing heat that Kai does, but Nya is a north star if Lloyd’s ever needed one. Jay’s a blinking constellation, scattered stars that form a complex whole much larger than you’d thought. Cole’s the kind of star you see first pop up over the horizon, blending with the oranges and purples of the sunset, like a painting you’d see in soft watercolors. Zane’s the early-morning kind of star, the ones that stay stubbornly after the night’s left, dotting the pale morning with a calm steadiness.

Lloyd would be a planet, he supposes, caught in faithful orbit around the five people who have somehow, for some reason, given him a chance. It’d be generous, though. No, Lloyd is content just to be a moon — with no light of his own, reflecting only the brilliance others give him the best he can.

Kai’s finger taps the edge of his forehead, snapping Lloyd from his thoughts, and he blinks in confusion.

“Lost you there, again,” Kai asks, words mangled through a yawn. “Where’d you go?”

Lloyd shakes his head, turning his attention back to the bloodied thread leftover in his hands. His stomach turns, and he quickly sets it aside. “Just thinking.” He pauses, momentarily lost for words. He settles for jerking his head toward the window, where the smoke trailing from their hard-won battle is still visible against the dark sky, and gives Kai a wry smile. “How much do you wanna bet the cheerleading team comes up with a new song tomorrow?”

It’s been an inside joke for them, the ridiculous songs Chen and his gang keep coming up with to throw at Lloyd, and normally it gets a laugh from Kai. This time, though, Kai is silent, his eyes searching as he stares at Lloyd. Lloyd shifts under the attention, caught off-guard again. He doesn’t know what kind of look this is, that Kai’s giving him.

“They shouldn’t talk about you like that,” Kai finally says. His voice is quiet, but Lloyd can spot the brewing anger in it. Kai’s always got anger to spare.

“Sticks and stones, remember?” Lloyd shakes his head. He’s learned, after a while, that anger changes nothing. “Words will never hurt me.”

“Words hurt when people are throwing sticks and stones at you while they yell about your dad,” Kai grumbles.

“No one’s thrown rocks since second grade, actually.”

“Hm.” Kai’s tone is a mix of thinly withheld anger and mild amusement. Lloyd tilts his head, confused, and Kai gives a huff, anger tugging loose.

“Y’know, people say that if kids throw rocks at you in second grade, it means they’ve got a crush on you.”

Lloyd knows well enough it’s a joke, but he flushes red anyways, heat spreading across his cheeks. “Yeah, sure,” he stammers. Kai laughs at his reaction, though, the odd kind of anger departing, and Lloyd feels he’s found his footing again.

They’re quiet as Lloyd finishes cleaning up the medical supplies, Kai nodding sleepily on his bed while Lloyd carefully washes the needle in the bathroom sink. Maybe he can convince his mom to let Kai spend the night, he thinks. Jay and Nya , too — their apartment isn’t very big, but it’s awfully late to make them walk home, and Lloyd is fine with taking the floor, if he needs to.

Lloyd nods to himself, resolving to ask her once he’s finished hiding the evidence. His mom’s been so thrilled about him having people over at all, he can’t see her saying no. A smile pulls at his lips as he listens to the conversation outside his door again. Jay’s rambling on now, bright and excited without any of his usual reservation. He feels a pang, wondering if Jay’s the same as him — wondering if they’re all the same, playing at muted caricatures of themselves, too fearful to let whatever lies beneath shine through.

He wonders what it means, that they’re the ones with the city in their hands, that weight on their shoulders. Wonders what it means, that Lloyd feels safer with bullets strafing the air around him and his mask on, than he ever has with it off. That Green Ninja will always, always sound better than Lloyd in his ears.

“Hey, uh.”

Lloyd starts at Kai’s voice, twisting the sink off as he turns to face him. Kai looks half asleep, but the smile he gives him is bright as ever.

“Thanks, seriously. Not just for this, but for looking out for us. You’re a good friend.”

Lloyd’s heart skips a beat, his brain latching onto the word friend and holding on tightly, tucking it somewhere safe inside his chest.

“So thanks, Lloyd,” Kai yawns, barely awake at all now, but still stubbornly clinging to the threads of awareness.

Lloyd’s got his own thank you to give back, twisted and strangled behind whatever lump’s formed in his throat, but Kai’s snoring before he gets the chance to say it. So Lloyd tugs the edge of his comforter over his friend — his friend — instead, and runs the words over in his mind again and again, like a treasured line from a book.

On second thought. Maybe Lloyd isn’t so bad. He’s only ever liked his name the way his mom says it, without any of the snapping, harsh emphasis others give it. In others’ mouths, Lloyd’s name is a curse. In his mom’s, Lloyd’s name belongs to a person.

But he thinks, maybe, he likes the way it sounds when his teammates use it, too.

[night-fallz]

XY’s Muse

Based on this prompt

This is a repost of the previous chapter because it wasn’t showing up.

reposted on 02/04/21

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Ao3 // Wattpad

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Chapter 4

XY doesn't know how long he's been holding Marinette. He's never seen anyone break down like this before. Especially not in front of him.

He didn't know what to do.

XY was not the best at interacting with people. But this was Marinette. So he had to try.

He held her a bit tighter.

If the moment wasn't so serious, he would've teased her about the height difference.

XY was a whole head taller than Marinette. Her face was buried at his chest. His shirt was probably damp due to all the tears she’s spilled.

XY led Marinette to her bed and made her sit down.

Her eyes were red, tears were still falling down her face. She wasn’t moving.

Just looking at her made his heart break.

XY squeezed her hand in reassurance, hoping that it’ll remind Marinette that he’s there for her. "Mari," the nickname just slipped. "Do you wanna tell me what's wrong?"

There was a brief silence. All XY could hear was sniffling.

XY saw another tear roll down her cheek. "Okay," she whispered. "Just give me a minute."

Marinette took a deep breath. XY assumed that it was because she wanted to get herself together before saying anything.

"I just feel like everyone expects me to be this perfect person and I just-." Marinette’s voice cracked, "I just can't."

XY looked at Marinette, his hand not leaving hers as he tried to figure out what to say. "No one's perfect. And the people who expect you to be perfect are just being unreasonable." XY felt her eyes on him. "It's forcing you to have all this unnecessary stress." XY knew he was being hypocritical. Telling her not to feel pressured just because people expect her to be this perfect person. Not to mention that it was easier said than done. "You know, it'll help if you talk to someone."

"Take your own advice." Marinette glanced at their intertwined hands, "Plus, I'm talking to you, aren't I?"

XY was relieved that she seemed a bit better now. Her teasing remarks were back, "So, what else has been bothering you?"

Marinette raised an eyebrow, her eyes were still red. "What makes you think that there's more?"

"Do I need to remind you about the fact that you told me that you were going to use a blowtorch to burn Adrien Agreste?"

Marinette's eyes grew wide. "I did not say that I was going to burn him! I said that I was going to burn his posters with my friend."

XY waved her off, glad that his remark made her forget that she was crying a few minutes ago. "Same thing."

"Not really."

"Just tell me what he did that hurt you so much." XY paused before adding a "Please?"

"Fine." Marinette stood up. "But it's a long story. So I'll get us some snacks." XY opened his mouth, "You are not going to pay."

"But I-"

Marinette glared at him. "You are a guest. And as a host thingy, I have to provide you with free food."

"Fine," XY muttered. "I guess this is one argument I can't win."

As XY waited for Marinette to come back up, he got struck with a sudden realization. He was there for her. He helped her feel better.

See that dad, I'm not useless after all.

XY didn't know what Adrien Agreste did to Marinette. But he knew that Adrien had something to do with the breakdown she had a few minutes ago.

Just the thought of Adrien pressuring Marinette to feel like she had to be this perfect person made XY clench his fists.

Shouldn't Adrien know better than to ask someone that?

Adrien grew up in the spotlight. He should know better than to pressure someone to feel like they have to be perfect all the time.

So why?

XY clenched his jaw. He had hoped that going to public school would make Adrien a better person. He should’ve known better.

Adrien Agreste was the exact same person he was years ago.

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Marinette didn't know what to expect when she opened the trapdoor to her room.

She didn't expect Xavier to be going through her designs.

She completely forgot that she left them out in the open like that. Ever since Lila made her threat towards her. Marinette made sure to never leave her designs out in the open like that.

That meant that Marinette never brought them to school with her.

Instead, Marinette brought something different with her. A sketchbook that looked exactly like the one that contained her designs. Lila wouldn't even notice the difference.

As Marinette stared at the scene in front of her, she couldn't help but feel a little scared.

What if he hated her designs?

What if he hated her?

If he hated her, then she wouldn't have someone to talk to anymore. She would be all alone again.

"Marinette!" Xavier noticed her just standing near the trapdoor and furrowed his brows. "Do you need help?"

Marinette let out a squeak. "You're fine! I mean, I'm fine." Marinette let out a weak laugh. "Don't worry. I got this."

Xavier turned back to her designs.

Marinette was ready for him to tell her that he hated them and that she had no talent. She was prepared for him to yell at her. Prepared to hear about how he wasted his time. Marinette was ready for all the hurtful things that he might say to her.

When Xavier opened his mouth, Marinette let her guard up. "These are really good."

Marinette blinked. She thought that she heard him wrong. "What?" she asked.

"I said that your designs are really good," he repeated.

"Really?" Marinette questioned. "You don't hate them?"

Xavier gave her a surprised look. "Why would I hate your designs? You are one of the most talented designers right now." XY grabbed a croissant from Marinette. "Your designs are amazing. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

Marinette didn't trust herself to talk. So she nodded. Thinking that he thought that highly of her made her smile.

Without even thinking, she gave him a hug.

Xavier staggered back a few steps. His eyes widened in surprise when he found out what was happening.

Marinette felt her cheeks go red as she let go of the hug. "I'm sorry." she stammered. "I was just so happy and giving you a hug ju-"

Xavier cut her off. "It's fine Mari," He used the nickname he gave her! Marinette felt her cheeks heat up even more. She probably looked like a tomato right now. "Just don't be surprised when I hug you out of nowhere next time."

The thought of Xavier hugging her out of nowhere made Marinette feel giddy. Hoping her face wasn't as red, she looked up at him. "Are you ready to hear about why I want to burn Adrien Agreste?"

Xavier smirked at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Thought you’d never ask"

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He was ready to kill everyone at that stupid school.

Starting with a model and a liar.

Then, he'll murder the principal.

He would start a résumé after that. Maybe people will even pay him to kill their enemy or something like that.

XY couldn't believe that a principal would expel someone without having a proper investigation. Not to mention that finding a knock-off necklace at a locker isn't even a good enough reason. Hell, the lockers didn't even have locks.

Now that XY thought about it, Marinette went to the same school as the mayor's daughter. From what he heard about her, she was a brat. So he guessed it would make sense that the principal would be a doormat.

"You should report this to the school board."

Marinette looked at him as if a Pikachu used a thunderbolt on her. "What?"

"You were bullied for four years at that school. You got wrongfully expelled. Then you get threatened?" XY was furiously pacing back and forth around her room. "You need to report this."

"Chloe's been acting better though." Marinette tried to protest.

XY stopped and lowered his voice, giving it a dangerous tone. "Who cares if she's changed. She still hurt you. And you're still hurting." He pointed out.

"My friend-"

"Your friends believe that liar." XY pointed out. "They might not physically hurt you, but they will mentally." He took a deep breath. "Marinette, I think you need to talk to your two friends," He stopped trying to remember their names.

"Alya and Nino," Marinette supplied.

"I think you need to talk to your friends, Alya and Nino, about this." He stopped pacing around the room. "From what you told me, they believe you." Marinette nodded. "About everything? Even the situation with Adrien?"

"About everything," Marinette confirmed. "Even with the situation about Adrien."

XY let out a sigh. "At least you're not alone in this." He sat down next to her. "I'm surprised they believe you with the Adrien thing though. From what I heard, you guys and Adrien were close."

XY had seen the articles about Adrien's group of friends. Marinette probably noticed all the articles talking about her and Adrien's relationship. The media has been watching the blue-nette for a while now.

Maybe that's why that liar felt threatened by Marinette. He couldn’t help but smirk. Lila Rossi was jealous.

Marinette got the attention of Gabriel Agreste without him knowing that she was even friends with his son. She turned down an internship with the Style Queen. Someone who is even harder to impress, for the sake of letting her daughter have a good relationship with her mom.

It also didn't help that Marinette was absolutely gorgeous.

No one should be able to look that good in pigtails.

"Xavier?" XY turned his attention back to Marinette. "Okay, good. You're paying attention again. I kinda lost you for a minute."

XY widened his eyes and scratched the back of his neck, "Yeah," he said sheepishly. "I was thinking about something."

He was thinking about her, but she didn't need to know that.

"As I was saying," Marinette continued before grabbing a macaroon. "I was surprised that Alya and Nino believed me too with the Adrien situation." Marinette swallowed the macaroon. "But she actually overheard one of the conversations Adrien and I had."

"Oh," XY began. "How did she react?"

"She was ready to kill him," Marinette admitted. "She also caught everything on her phone."

XY had a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Please tell me she still has it."

"Uhm, yeah. I think she does."

"Good," XY knew that if that recording somehow got leaked to the press, then Adrien could kiss the so-called-sunshine facade of his goodbye.

"And that's the story," Marinette muttered.

"Okay, just so I know everything, I'm doing a quick recap. Is that alright?"

Marinette nodded. "Go ahead."

"So, before Adrien and Alya came to your school, Chloe bullied you for four years and no one did anything."

Marinette interrupted him. "Nino tried to defend me."

"Except Nino," XY added. "But other than him, the teachers, the principal, and your classmates didn't do anything?"

Marinette nodded. "No. They didn't help me."

"I'm gonna go and assume that the principal of that dumb school was scared of the fact that Chloe's father was the mayor." When XY saw that Marinette wasn't going to reply, he knew he was right. If Marinette let him, he would destroy everyone that ever hurt her. "Okay, then fast forward to earlier this year. Alya stood up against Chloe and she helped you gain confidence."

"Keep going," Marinette mumbled when XY was waiting for her to reply.

"Then, you got a crush on Adrien," He paused, then teasingly said. "Because he let you borrow his umbrella in the rain?"

"A hot guy was letting me borrow his umbrella because he didn't want to see me soaked. That's a good reason to develop a crush towards someone." Marinette retorted.

"Fair enough." XY teased. "So let's say I give you an umbrella-"

Marinette's eyes grew wide and XY could see her starting to blush. "We're doing a recap." Marinette managed to say. "Keep going."

"Fine. So you start to like him, then boom. The Lila girl comes in. You try to convince everyone that she's lying and no one believes you at first. Then she comes back and threatens you in the bathroom. This is around the time Alya and Nino realize that nothing adds up."

"Then, Adrien confronts me about taking the high road. I agreed with him for a little bit, then she got me expelled. I didn't know why Lila decided to make up a lying disease, but I had a feeling that Adrien had something to do with it." Marinette added. "I asked him about it and he admitted that he had something to do with it."

XY could see that Marinette didn't wanna talk about the next part so he continued. "When you told him that you guys should reveal her lies now, he screamed and told you no. Then he went on a rant about taking the high road and how he didn't want her to get akumatized."

Marinette let out a bitter laugh. "And that was the conversation that Alya overheard and how I slowly stopped liking him." Marinette continued to rant to him. "I just can't believe I didn't see this coming. You know? I knew I never had a chance with him, I mean, I'm just me." Before XY could argue against that, Marinette continued. "But I should've known that he was manipulating all of us. When you really think about it, nothing adds up."

"I know," XY mumbled the next part. "He fooled everyone."

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Marinette had no idea how their conversation went from planning a photoshoot to spilling their guts out with each other.

"When we were younger, he used to be my best friend," Xavier admitted.

Marinette was shocked. She knew that Xavier didn't like Adrien, but she assumed that it was just a celebrity thing. "Keep going," she whispered.

Marinette noticed that his smile was a bit tight, "You know how his mom's an actor?" Marinette nodded. "Well, she taught him a  bit. And he was good at it. Crazy good."

Marinette knew where Xavier was going with this, but she needed to hear it.

If he admitted it, then the theories going around Marinette’s head would make sense. "Keep going," Marinette repeated, "Please."

"He started to use it to manipulate people." XY continued. "In public, he would pretend to be this innocent kid who could do no wrong. And of course, the press ate it all up." Xavier clenched his fists, "But whenever no one was around. He was the exact opposite. And the worst part is that his parents would encourage his behavior." He met Marinette's eyes before glaring at a poster of Adrien. "There's something wrong with that family."

Marinette nodded. She couldn't help but agree. She checked her phone. "You have about 30 minutes before you have to go home."

"Wait, already?" Xavier checked his phone to make sure, "How long have we been talking?"

Marinette shrugged, "Like four hours?"

"Oh!" His voice was a bit disappointed. "Before I forget though, thanks again for agreeing to design the outfits for me."

"It's no problem." Marinette stated, "Consider it payback for helping me with everything."

"But still, thank you."

Marinette remembered that she needed to hear the demo so that she has an idea of what the outfits are supposed to look like. "Did you bring a demo with you, by any chance?" Marinette asked.

Xavier wouldn’t meet her gaze. Marinette noticed that his cheeks were a bit red though. "Yeah." he mumbled.

He handed her a small clear, rectangular box. "Thank you!" Marinette gushed. "We still have time, so we can listen to it together if you want."

"I... -Uhm."

Marinette looked at him with her big blue eyes. "Please?" she begged.

Xavier sighed, "Fine."

Marinette set it up so that they can both hear it. When the music began to play, Marinette sat down and closed her eyes.

She surprisingly liked it.

It was good. Really good.

She opened one eye and asked him, "What was your inspiration? This-" she gestured to the song, "This is really good."

"Oh, um. Thank you."

Marinette raised her eyebrow. "So what's your inspiration?"

Xavier couldn't look at her. "Oh, it was uhm-" He glanced around the room trying to find an answer. But when his eyes met hers, he couldn't bring himself to lie. "You," he murmured. "You were my inspiration."

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Note: Please tell me that this chapter is showing up on the tags that I have used.

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2,766 words

[malfoys-demigod]

You, Me, and Salsa Nights

Leo Valdez x Reader

A/N: It was brought to my attention that @kwilliamoon thinks my Leo fics are bomb and I love them so much for that. Enjoy, all! 

Request from them: PLS PLS UHHHH CAN I REQUEST LIKE A LEO FIC WHERE HIM AND HIS GF ARE IN THR MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT AND THEY CANT SLEEP SO THEY GO INTO THEIR BIG LIVING ROOM AND HE KINDA TEACH HER SALSA OR SMTH AND THEY DANCE LIKE THAT IN A CUTE WAY??

Word Count: 1.6k 

After another long-lasting and draining day at Camp Half-Blood, Leo Valdez was finally done with the day. It was Friday, which meant he went through the last of many things for the weekday. He was finished with the last cabin inspection first thing in the morning, greek classes, battle training, various activities and chores, competition, and campfire sing-along, which he was glad to avoid during the weekends, now that he could have the option to dodge the favorite hobbies of the children of Apollo. 

With it being eleven o’clock in the evening, it was curfew time, and Leo felt a wave of relief the moment he crashed into his comfy single-bed. ‘Happy Friday indeed,’ he thought to himself as his eyes closed, breathing in slowly as he tried falling asleep. 

It was only a few minutes past eleven o’clock when Leo’s face wrinkled in disappointment as he frustratingly sat back up, opening his irritated eyes. What was wrong with him? Why did he feel the need not to sleep at the moment? He shook his head and laid his back against the bed again, trying to knock himself asleep once again. He closed his eyes harder, trying to tell his body that it was time to doze off. 

Not even one minute had passed when Leo’s head felt like an erupting volcano. He started grumbling curse words in Spanish as he sat back up again, placing his hand on his forehead. He looked around the room, examining all his half-siblings, who have succeeded in falling asleep unlike him, which made him envious of what they were doing at the moment. Since his body was not up for sleeping, he had no problem getting out of his steel bunk bed, actively, but slowly, to make sure he wouldn’t wake up anybody. 

Luckily for him, he was nearby the iconic fire pole of his cabin, which comes down from the second floor, the floor he was currently at, all the way to the ground floor. He grabbed onto the pole and made his way down to the ground floor, which was always unclean and messy, filled with junk most of the time. 

Leo looked around the room, checking out the workbench with overflew with scrap metal, screws, bolts, washers, nails, rivets, and a million other machine parts. He may have had the energy to get out of bed, but did not have the enthusiasm to do any work, plus, there was another chance of waking anyone up. 

He made his way to the exit of the cabin, which had a lot of gears around, as he slowly opened the door and stood by the entrance of his cabin. He wasn’t scared of getting caught by authorities such as Mr. D or Chiron, because he was a counselor! He could have made a small, white lie and defended himself by saying he thought he heard someone try to sneak out. Besides, he knew a couple of people, cabin-mate or not, who would also be seen, awake at this ungodly hour. 

Leo was leaning by the brick wall of the entrance, looking all the way at Cabin Four, the cabin covered in beautiful flowers and tomato plants, which would grow on the walls and doorway. It wasn’t hard for Leo to find his girlfriend, Y/N, who would be often seen at night, randomly watering the wildflowers and roses, which grow on the porch, as a way to serve her boredom at night. She too was someone who had trouble sleeping like Leo. 

It didn’t take long for Y/N to discover that her boyfriend was up at night as well on that day. As she was watering the flowers, she noticed a small spot of fire from the corner of her eyesight, waving in mad directions. She looked up and turned to see a figure by Cabin Nine, waving around the small spot of fire she could feel from the corner of her eyesight. 

There was a smile on her face the moment she realized that it was her boyfriend Leo, who was the one by the entrance of Cabin Nine. Y/N quickly finished watering the plants and discretely jogged from her cabin to Leo’s. Leo was opening his arms wide, as Y/N’s body crashed with his, hugging him as tight as she could. 

Leo could hear small giggles from her girlfriend, as he pulled away to see that she was smiling happily from her giggles. “Couldn’t sleep again, mi amor?” he obviously asked her, placing a strand of her hair in the back of her ear. 

Y/N nodded, “Guilty as charged.” Leo nodded as well, understanding her. “Me neither. And I even thought today was one of the most tiring days we’ve had,” he complained playfully. 

Y/N laughed at his complaint, “You probably are starting to lack cardio, Valdez,” she sarcastically suggested, “I can’t sleep because I fear I might have nightmares,” she embarrassingly said, “like last night.” She looked down to the ground, contemplating on the nightmare she experienced recently. 

Leo placed a finger on her chin, causing her to look back up at him. “Hey,” he quietly said, “Nightmares aren’t something to be ashamed of. We all get ‘em too, Y/N. Like literally, last week, I didn’t want to tell you this but I dreamt that Festus ate all my scrap metal, which caused me to wake up screaming and waking up my other cabin-mates.”

Y/N’s embarrassed smile turned into laughter as she giggled again, “And is that why I overheard Jake Mason and Nyssa Barrera complain about you last week?” Leo shrugged sarcastically, without an answer, meaning that it was definitely about that. Y/N nodded in understanding, which caused Leo to shake his head, “Anyways,” he said, “I have a proposition for you, mi amor.”

“I’m listening,” Y/N said. 

Leo turned around to open the door to his cabin. He took a hold of Y/N’s hand as he brought her inside his cabin. Y/N hesitantly pulled his hand, which made him turn around to her attention. “Leo, are you sure this is a good idea for me to be in your cabin? At this hour? I think I should get going-”

“Relaaaax, mamacita,” Leo comforted her, placing his hands on her shoulders, “I’m a counselor of this cabin. I’ve got power here.” he confidently assured her. Y/N took a deep breath and gave in, nodding at Leo, who smiled in relief. 

“Okay,” he said, “I need cardio, and you need something to help distract you from thinking about another round of nightmares, right?” 

“Mhm,” Y/N verified, “And what about them?”

Leo grinned with something on his mind as he turned around to switch on the radio he built, turning on an energetic song, but at a low volume, which was perfect for the two of them to hear. Y/N tilted her head, wondering why he did that. “What’s happening, Leo?”

A smirk grew on Leo’s face as he walked closer to Y/N, placing one hand on her waist, and another on her shoulder. “Cuera Maraca y Bongo is happening and I’m going to teach you how to dance the salsa.”

Y/N’s eyes grew wide, but she followed Leo and placed her hands on him as well. “Are you sure this is a good proposition, Leo?” she hesitantly asked him. 

“Again, relax, Y/N/N,” he reminded her, “You’re going to be a natural in this. If my mother taught a hard-headed person like me, then I can teach someone who’s unsure of whether she has the moves in her or not.”

-- 

Y/N, as instructed by Leo, rocked back on her right foot to the beat of the song. She smoothly shifted her weight from the front to back to shift her body position. Leo smiled as she cooperated and executed it well. He swung his hips slightly to accentuate the movement, which she willingly followed. 

She didn’t question how smooth of a dancer her boyfriend was, but instead, she focused on becoming somehow smooth of a beginner dancer that night. 

Once the song was finished, Leo and Y/N were still in each other’s arms, looking at each other with admiration. Leo was astonished at how quickly his girlfriend could learn the salsa, as he took weeks to months, learning from the footsteps of his own mother. There was more to learn about Y/N from his point of view. 

From Y/N’s point of view, she was staggered by how excellent of a dancer he was. She was always there when Leo would taunt others, teasing them that they were to be cautious of his ‘sick dance moves’ he kept in his sleeves. She never knew how much of a skilled dancer he actually was, and they were in fact, the sickest moves she ever witnessed. 

It was time to break the silence when Leo and Y/N coincidentally spoke at the same time, expressing, “You’re amazing.” There was awestruck in their reactions, for saying the same thing at the same time, and for bringing out the truth all of a sudden. 

Y/N chuckled, grinning at Leo, “Leo, I never knew how much of a dancer you were. This is definitely something you should show off to everyone here.”

Leo, flattered, shook his head and hands, “No, no, no, as much as I want to show this off, and believe me, I do, since I have the right to,” he teased, “YOU, my lovely girlfriend, should be the one showing off those moves- well, to the girls, definitely NOT the guys here- er- anyways, Y/N, you’re going to be natural in such a quick time, believe me. You have gifts.”

Y/N smiled, “Aw, thanks, Leo.” Then, all of a sudden, her smile turned into a surprised facial expression, as Y/N figured something out. “Leo! I think we just found a way to use up sleepless nights.”

Leo, happy as ever, leaned in and kissed Y/N’s forehead, and said, “You, me, and salsa nights.”

[pyrrhiccomedy]

the People have requested my book report on The Library at Mt. Char so this is now a Mt Char book club.

if you have not read The Library at Mt Char there is no reason to keep reading. I hope you're having a nice day, stay safe and don't do drugs.

So Mt Char has a couple of problems, but in my opinion only one grave problem.

Not a grave problem:

Erwin doesn't need to be in this book. An astonishing amount of ink is spilled on giving us Erwin's POV and I am at a loss in regards to what that's supposed to bring to the story. I mean, it's kind of neat to see Carolyn's "trick shot" from the POV of one of the people being manipulated, but that perspective could have just been provided by Steve. Everything Erwin does of any plot significance could have been done by Steve, a character who actually matters.

Please note that I don't hate Erwin, he's perfectly fine as characters go, he just contributes nothing, and it is baffling that he and Carolyn get the last scene in the book (instead of just ending on her reunion with Michael, a scene that was emotionally affecting and felt like a natural end point to her story). We are taking no questions, Erwin needed to be cut.

Also not a grave problem in my opinion, but I am sure others feel differently and I understand why they would:

Yo, the scope of what the catalogs cover is mad vague. I mean, I get that that's the point: when you have a character whose magic powers are "anything that has to do with death or murder," that's a broad license, and I'm fine with that. These are supposed to be demi-gods. I don't require a rigorously explicated magic system.

But then like...why can't Jennifer, the healer, also heal minds? That seems weird. Or like, it's implied that she kinda can, maybe, but none of the kids talk about their therapy sessions with Jennifer: they explicitly call out that she heals their bodies. But then she talks about how Margaret and David are sick (meaning mentally) in a way she can "no longer help?" Aren't you supposed to be the God Of Healing? Why can't you help anymore? And were you actually trying to help them before - or anyone else? That's never shown. You could have just said you only healed bodies, not minds, but then it's repeatedly implied that she CAN diagnose mental and emotional problems (and therefore should probably be able to do something about them).

So that's weird.

Or like, why is there Alicia, who "sees the future," and Rachel, who "sees possible futures?" That, uh, just sounds like the author was running out of ideas. Also, if Alicia could see the future, she probably shouldn't have been in that house when the SWAT team hit, yeah?

Stuff like that. The magic the kids can do is very "they have the powers the author needs them to have when the author needs them to have them, and they can't do anything the author would find inconvenient for them to do" but that's not a deal breaker for me because overall the vibe being put off by their various magical specialties works for me. Still, there were ways of getting us where we needed to go without begging quite so many questions.

Also not a grave problem, although more of a problem than the other stuff:

You know that anime trope where a super-genius character is having an entire conversation with another super-genius character through a screen, and it's revealed that the whole conversation was a distraction and pre-recorded so that Character 2 could Complete His Scheme against Character 1? And used his super-genius brain to predict every single thing Character 1 would say? And your suspension of disbelief staggers bloodied into the alleyway and collapses because you're really trying to hang in there, Code Geass, but that's fucking stupid, you're asking for me to believe that this character's intelligence is flat-out supernatural now and you've given me no reason why that should be?

That's how I feel about Carolyn, by the time she takes over the Library. Like, okay. The kids canonically have not even been at the Library long enough for any of them to master their catalogues except for Jennifer. None of them but Jennifer are masters of even their own subject.

Carolyn has been studying in secret from multiple catalogues - which is cool! I like how she slowly reveals over the course of the latter half of the book that she has powers from other people's specialties.

...But like...

She seems close to mastering her own catalogue. She is a competent healer and can raise the dead (Jennifer's catalogue). She can block attempts to read her mind, beats David in a fight, and understands how to kill Father (David's catalogue). She speaks lion and controls the dogs that surround the Library (Michael's catalogue). She could make the mathy "Denial That Rends" thing that kicks off the whole plot, and she can make a new sun and correct orbital rotations around it (Peter's catalogue). She can predict the future with such specificity that she knows how to cause Steve to drop a clip of bullets while he's being attacked by dogs exactly where Erwin will need to pick it up later (Rachel's catalogue, also this one is stupid, she could have just given Erwin an extra clip or something, but whatever).

That's half the catalogues. Carolyn doesn't seem prodigiously more intelligent than the other kids. She's smart, sure, but they're all weird demi-gods with a genius for their specialties. The rest of them haven't even mastered their own catalogue, and I'm supposed to swallow that Carolyn has attained 'competent or better' status in six? When she has to research five of them in secret? Without falling behind in her own studies?

It would be fine if they had all been masters of their own catalogues for years and years; that would mean they would begin to stagnate, while Carolyn kept learning. But that's not the case. By the end I wasn't impressed anymore at Carolyn's resourcefulness, it just felt like she could do anything and everything, shh, don't ask questions, she's the Chosen One so she just can.

The reason this isn't a grave problem to me is because Carolyn's journey isn't about becoming more powerful: it's about her emotional journey, which isn't affected by her being stupidly OP for no reason by the end of the book. She still sucked at the things that mattered, like "feelings" and "relationships" and "not being a shitty person." But I do think it hurt the story. I should be cheering on my protagonist when her wild schemes come together, not rolling my eyes.

Anyway. All that was the aperitif. Let's talk about

THE GRAVE AND GLARING PROBLEM AT THE CENTER OF MT CHAR.

So everything that happens in the book stems from Carolyn's thoroughly justified hatred of Father (and David, but David was made that way by Father). Father treated her, and all of the other kids, with extravagant cruelty. If you haven't read the book in a while, here's a sample of the kinds of things Father did to the kids, or, if David did them, that Father did nothing to prevent:

- Cooked David alive over 2 full days in a giant bronze bull (and made the rest of the kids bring the fuel)

- Put Michael's eyes out with a hot poker every night for 2 weeks (and made the rest of the kids watch)

- Murdered Margaret every few days, often in drawn-out and painful ways

- Made Rachel repeatedly give birth, raise the babies to about 9 months, then murder them with her own hands

- Allowed David to rape all 11 of the other kids (except Jennifer, probably because she was the healer and he wanted to stay on her good side)

- Allowed David to crucify, brutalize and rape Carolyn and Peter

- Gave Carolyn a loving new family for a year when she was nine years old (those two deer), then had David murder them in front of her and blame it on her for not remembering her homework well enough, then served the two deer at a feast to 'celebrate' her returning to the family

- Whippings, skinnings, and bone-breakings as standard disciplinary actions

Whoo-ee! Okay! We are talking about mythological cruelty. I am fine with this! The story takes place on a mythological scale. As outlandish as all of that is, the cruelty feels proportionate in a story about killing and replacing god. Father is cruel, indifferent, controlling, and alien. I have no questions, Carolyn please proceed with your revenge. We seemed on track for a tale in which Carolyn defeats Father, but in doing so she runs the risk of becoming him. Will she step back from the brink and retain her humanity after all of the trauma and brutality she's endured? Let's find out!

And then

and then.

Oh boy.

And then.

...It turns out, Father is a good guy after all.

And let me be clear: THIS IS NOT, IN AND OF ITSELF, A PROBLEM.

By the time you learn that Father is actually benevolent, and loved those kids, and cares about being a responsible steward to the world, and tried to leave the universe a better place than he found it, and genuinely regretted the suffering he inflicted on them when they were growing up, it feels kind of...natural? Like, I was surprised, but also not, because there were 90 pages of book left and Carolyn had already become god. This seemed like a thematically meaningful place to take the rest of the story.

It turns out Father was training Carolyn to replace him the entire time. He had to make her hate David because it was important that she "defeat a monster" on her path to becoming god. (It's not explained why she had to defeat a monster, but sure, okay; it's the kind of mythic feat that fits with the story we're in.)

Why did he choose Carolyn to be his successor? Well, originally he chose David, but David wasn't strong enough: every time Carolyn was the monster in David's story, she defeated him, and went on to rule the universe as an unspeakable tyrant. Since Carolyn always won, Father swapped their roles. He knew he had made the right choice when he put David into the bronze bull, and heard David begging for mercy: because when Carolyn had been the fated monster, she had never begged.

...Okay, so...hang on.

Hang on.

The only rule that we've established on "how to become god" is "you have to defeat a monster," right? I'll even grant you for free that it has to be a monster who is personally meaningful to you, although that part is never stated. Overcoming a great evil which has cast you down and abused you many times before, sure, okay.

...Why the FUCK did all that other awful shit have to happen??

I did not have this question when Father was just evil! That was a good enough explanation! But now that he's not evil, you HAVE TO EXPLAIN why he treated all of the kids so brutally!

Like dude you're GOD. If you need a monster for Carolyn, I'm sure you can make that happen without TORTURING CHILDREN FOR DECADES.

There didn't even need to be any other children! You could have two kids: the languages-kid, who is the chosen one (the chosen one has to be the languages-kid so they can read the Onyx Codex or whatever it was called at the end, the one written by Original God), and the war-and-murder kid, who is the monster. They could have just been forbidden to read the other codices, if it's important to you that your chosen one still prove her resourcefulness or whatever.

Why include all of the other kids??? It wasn't to give your chosen one a sense of family: Carolyn didn't feel close to any of them except for Michael (who I liked, but whose contribution to the plot was negligible).

Or keep the kids! But then why make them, and Carolyn, hate you?? You could just say, "Hey Carolyn, I am raising you to be my successor, you have to figure it out yourself because part of proving your worthiness is this kind of abstract, big-picture thinking, but I love you and whatever you end up deciding to do, just believe in yourself." And meanwhile you're off torturing the fated monster in order to get him piping hot and ready to be served.

Was the idea that Carolyn had to endure so much horror in order to prove she was 'tough enough' to be god?? Because that's not how trauma works! Kids who have been brutally traumatized are usually not made tougher by the experience! A fact that even the book understands, because 10 of the 12 kids are completely destroyed by their upbringing (I'm giving marginal exceptions to Michael and Carolyn herself).

And like

if Father doesn't have a good reason for having treated them so badly, the whole book falls apart!

Because getting revenge for that cruelty is Carolyn's whole motivation!

We are clearly supposed to feel okay about Father going to make a new universe at the end of the book: he's going with his cool tiger friend and that little girl with the connection to the elemental plane of joy who used to be the sun, he's happy to see Carolyn embracing compassion and kindness, which means he cares about compassion and kindness. He invented light and pleasure. Carolyn does nothing to try to stop him from going. He seems like a pretty good candidate for god. And I do feel okay with him leaving! I was convinced! Father is not evil after all!

But then you have! to explain! the abuse!!

It can be a throwaway line!! "Carolyn realized that everything she and her siblings went through had to happen the way it did, because [X]," embedded in the middle of a paragraph! That would have been enough! But I need an explanation!

"They were raised the way Father was raised himself" WHY? He was raised by the Emperor, an on-the-record awful fucking dude! Father proceeded to rule the universe in a far more benevolent way than the Emperor did, why would he feel like he had to raise his kids the way the Emperor raised him?

"Carolyn needed to overcome challenges on her path to godhood" how is TRAUMATIZING HER SO BADLY SHE ALMOST BECOMES INHUMAN - SOMETHING YOU WERE OSTENSIBLY TRYING TO PREVENT, see Steve being preserved as something that could give her hope, etc - A "CHALLENGE??"

Again, none of this is a problem if Father is just evil! YOU CHOSE to make him not evil! And that's fine!! I think it's a good choice for the story actually!! But then you have to, you have to, HAVE TO explain why all of that bad shit happened!

Because all of that bad shit is the reason Carolyn made there be a story.

And it turns out it doesn't make sense.

[its-a-humanriot]

Common Language, pt. I

(This is the beginning to a bunch of Fallout 3 works I have knocking around my brain. I’ll post bits and pieces here and then post the full work to ao3 once it’s done)

(pt. I) / (pt. II)

---

Charon realises very quickly that he does not understand his new employer very well.

In the first instance, this is very literal.

Not many words were exchanged during her introduction as his new employer and him subsequently blowing Ahzrukhal’s brains all over the walls of the Ninth Circle. It’s not until after they make a very rapid exit and they are out in the quiet of the museum atrium catching their breath that he really pays any attention to her. Not much about his employer’s appearance immediately seems wildly unusual – she looks pretty healthy for a wastelander, if somewhat pale, and probably one of the youngest people to come through Underworld in several years. Her face is grubby with the expected dust and dirt of travel under her mop of short curly brown hair, slightly pink from sunburn across her nose and a clean strip of pallid skin around her eyes from the goggles that now hang around her neck (the look of it reminds him briefly of some small animal from before the war, though he can no longer recall its name). Although they look relatively well maintained, her armour and rifle have clearly been scavenged at least third-hand, and a faded red bandanna is tucked around the collar.

Charon takes all this in with a practiced eye, trying to evaluate what kind of person he is now bound to – as satisfying as it is to know that Ahzrukhal’s head is now spread all over the Ninth Circle, it has come at the cost of knowing his opponent. The girl in front of him does not look wealthy to be spending the number of caps he knows Ahzrukhal would have asked for his contract, nor hardened enough to have carried out whatever unscrupulous task he would have accepted as alternative payment. He can’t quite pinpoint it, but something doesn’t seem right. When she opens her mouth, his instincts are proved right.

“Well, fuck. I came to Underworld to cop a flop and a sling and hang loose for a while, maybe zee out for the night, and buddy up with you. I was not expecting to have to beat feet with a dead body behind us.”

Her accent is like no wastelander he has ever heard, and he doesn’t understand half the things that come out of her mouth. Charon can’t claim to be up to date with young people (as so few of them come through Underworld and most of Ahzrukhal’s associates were people who should absolutely not be allowed anywhere near children) but even among the various communities in the Capitol Wasteland there is usually a fair amount of common ground. This – whatever this is – is something else entirely.

His well-practiced poker face seems to keep his confusion hidden at least up until she turns to him with an uncomfortable smile on her face – she certainly has cleaner teeth than a lot of wastelanders, and not even any missing that he can see – and sticks her hand out in his direction.

“This isn’t how I was expecting to have this go but, uh, I’m Billie. Nice to actually meet you properly, Charon.”

He stares at it. A lot of people would avoid unnecessary physical contact with ghouls, even if they weren’t outright ghoul haters, and certainly none of his previous employers have ever tried to engage in something as cordial as a handshake. When he doesn’t react, she leans in a little sheepishly. “…I think you’re supposed to shake hands when you meet someone new, right?”

His stare moves up to her face. She looks about as confused as he feels. What rock has this kid crawled out from?

“What?” It’s hardly the first thing that he means to say to his new employer now they have time to talk, but this whole interaction is leaving him feeling entirely unfooted. She tilts her head at him and looks even more awkward, her outstretched hand dipping slightly before she withdraws it entirely and starts to comb it through her hair instead.

“Uh…I’m not used to meeting new folks? A couple of people have told me what passes for manners above ground but honestly, I’ve not had so many chances to try it on people who weren’t trying to vent me first.” Her face twists in an embarrassed grimace. “Is it the accent? I’ve been told it’s a little hard to understand. I can try, uh something else,” She drops her hand, brushes some stray curls out of her eyes and clears her throat. She offers her hand again and manages to take him by surprise yet again: saying clearly in an almost perfectly pronounced pre-war Transatlantic accent “Hello Charon, my name is Billie Morgan. Pleased to meet you.”

The sound hits Charon like ice cold lead in his stomach, a noise he hasn’t heard in decades beyond the occasional old holotape. It rings in his ears as fresh as it was then with all of the other memories he’d tried to bury - the cloying surgical smell of the lab in his nose, the claustrophobia of the sim pod – Scanning vitals… Welcome subject: 2875, identifier Charon. Beginning training simulation in 3, 2…

A hand touches his arm and the tension in his body spikes – Charon finds himself staggering backwards into a defensive stance. His hand, still moving on instinct, gets as far as the handle of his combat knife before his conditioning kicks in with a short shock of pain – the subject cannot harm the employer – and the opposing reactions form a strained stalemate and force him to a standstill, buzzing with adrenaline, as his presence of mind returns. His employer is now a few feet away, her brown eyes wide as she raises her hands.

“Woah, okay. Won’t do that one again. Sorry.” The artificial enunciation is gone and her original accent has returned, but she is speaking more slowly and clearly than before. He can’t tell if she’s just doing it to try and pacify him or if she is consciously trying to make herself easier to understand. Now that he has the frame of reference for it her natural inflection definitely has something pre-war about it, but it’s hard to pinpoint. “Easy there, big guy. I’ve got no scrap with you and I’m not gonna hurt you. Okay?”

Charon has at least a full foot of height on this kid, and while she looks healthy she does not look strong – the idea that she would be able to hurt him in a close quarters fight is almost laughable. Slowly, he forces himself to let go of the knife handle. The tension in his shoulders stays where it is.

“I am unable to harm my employer. Physical violence on your part invalidates our contract.” The default line gives him something to fall back on for a moment while he straightens back up to his resting position.

“That’s…something.” She doesn’t look reassured, but she drops her hands. “So we’re shiny? Cause you looked real ready to stab me for a second there.”

“I am unable to harm my employer.”

“…Right.” She appears to wait a moment for clarification that does not come before continuing. “So about your contract – it’s kinda hard to read and I didn’t really get the full shakedown before you greased Ahzrukhal so I don’t know what your rates are. I’m a little low on caps at the moment but I can pay you some upfront and then I can earn a bunch back from whatever scavving we do in the next few days to get you the rest of your cut, then we can work out an arrangement. Sound okay to you?”

“I do not require payment.”

“So what, I keep you watered and fed and breathing and we’re square? Seems like a pretty cheap deal to me.”

“I do not require protection and you are not required to provide for me, though several previous employers have chosen to do so.”

“Wait.” Her brow creases. “What does the contract say?”

“The holder of my contract is my employer.” The words come readily to his tongue after many decades of repeating them. “My employer has my services in combat and in any other duties as they see fit and I am honour bound to do as they command for as long as they hold the contract. The contract prevents me from harming my employer while I am in their service. Physical violence by the employer against me invalidates the contract.”

She stares at him hard for a long moment before she speaks again with horror in her voice.

“You’re a slave?”

“I belong to no one.” The response is automatic, the only protest he is able to make. The words taste sour in his mouth.

“You’ve just told me that you don’t require payment of any kind and that you have to do what I say. If that’s not being a slave, I don’t know what is.” She turns away and pulls on her curls for a moment while she paces before turning back to him, her face stormy. “If I’d know that skeezer was a slave owner on top of everything, I might’ve taken a pop at him myself before you ventilated his face. Fuck.” Her eyes widen again. “I bought you from him.”

“If you find the terms of my contract objectionable, you may pass it on to another.”

“I object to you being bound to the contract. Passing it over to someone else doesn’t fix that.” Pulling a face, she pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs, then pulls his contract out of her pocket. She looks over the worn paper for a moment, then a takes a single step closer to him and thrusts it in his direction. “Here.”

The ebbing tide of the adrenaline rush in his veins suddenly leaves all at once, and he is left staring at his employer’s hand again. There must a misunderstanding here. Again.

“You wish me to…hold the contract for you?”

She rolls her lips together before making deliberate eye contact with him.

“I want you to have it. Permanently, free of charge. The contract belongs to you - no more employers to boss you around.” Turning her eyes skyward for a moment, she takes a deep breath. “I’m hoping that greasing former employers of yours isn’t like a tradition or something, cause I kinda like being alive out here in the fresh air despite everything. And I have someone I really, really need to find.”

He stares at her for a long moment, stupefied. She stares back, with an expression that is perhaps supposed to be comforting despite the fact that her hand is shaking slightly. After the events at the Ninth Circle, she doesn’t have much reason to suspect that anything else will happen apart from her apart from the inside of her skull being spread all over the atrium.

“I cannot accept.”

At the sound of his voice she seems a little calmer, and gives him a warmer smile.

“Sure you can. No charge, no nothing, just like I s-”

“You misunderstand. I am physically not able to accept.”

“What?” The look of confusion is back.

“I am not able to hold my own contract. It is stated clearly in the contract terms.”

“You didn’t say that thirty seconds ago!”

“The contract terms are long. I paraphrased.”

“You paraphrased.” With a furrowed brow she pinches the bridge of her nose again with the hand holding the contract dropping to her hip, though her mouth pulls up at the corner – whether it’s from amusement or concealed frustration, he’s not sure. She takes in a breath, then drops her hand. “Right. Okay. And if I destroy the contract?”

“I am compelled to stop you from doing so, through any means necessary.”

“Even if you harm me? I thought you said you couldn’t do that.”

“Preservation of the contract takes priority over the life of my employer, though I must also take all possible actions to preserve your life.” Comforting people is not a talent Charon considers to be in his skill set. From the look on his employer’s face, he evaluates that this is still true.

“There must be a section in the contract for how it ends though, right? Surely no contract is gonna be able to hold you forever.” The naivety of the comment grates on his nerves more than he expects. Maybe it’s the aftermath of the adrenaline rush and the bewilderingly abrupt turn that this already baffling interaction has taken, but Charon’s response come out with more of a bite than he means it to.

“It’s not that simple, smoothskin.”

“But you don’t want to be bound by it, right?” Seemingly undeterred by the epithet or the warning in his tone, she continues earnestly. “If we just-”

“I said -” His voice is sharper than he would ever dared let it be speaking back to Ahzrukhal, louder than he has spoken in so very long, and he wrests control of himself back too late – his voice echoes back to him from the polished granite walls so that it rebukes him as much as it does the kid in front of him. Her eyes are wide, shoulders bunched up to her chin level, and he realises that he has unconsciously drawn up to his full height. The echo hangs in the air for a moment, and when it dies his words are back to their normal volume, even if the tone is strained: “ – it is not that simple.”

The moment continues to stretch out thin and the young woman doesn’t move or answer – just keeps staring at him. The silence leaves him feeling as unbalanced as the conversation did - worse now that he feels exposed in the wake of his outburst. Charon takes a rattly breath and fills his ravaged lungs to their full extent as he winds himself back under control – shoulders down, arms by his sides, he reverts to his typical guarding stance. When he speaks again, it in the direction of the young woman’s clenched hand rather than to her face

“For good or ill,” Charon says towards the faded scrap of parchment “I am in your service.”