#but the iron grip this show has regained on me all of a sudden is insane idk where it came from

[hinamie]

back on my free! brainrot

[endataraxia]

sage forest mental institution.

chapter 5. in which you discover...well, something. word count: 2.6k note: straight up this fic has stopped making sense. i am losing it cw: toby has mood swings. some crying too.

You make up for the lost dinner with a big breakfast, scarfing down your food as quickly as Jeff had grabbed the soul out of you the previous day. You almost worry that you’re eating too noisily beside the artificially smiley faced-man, but he seems to be eating more noisily than you. Absolutely no manners.

“Morning!” Chirps Toby like a baby bird, except in a baritone as he enters the dining area, in the same clothes as yesterday. Jeff growls at him through a mouth full of food to shut up.

Whoosh.

Barely a second and a whirlwind of brown and orange later, Toby’s at his throat. You did not expect this to occur during your peaceful meal.

“What did you say.” Toby growls at him, gripping Jeff’s collar so tightly you think his shirt might just tear apart. But Jeff matches that iron grip with his own on Toby’s wrist. “I said,” Jeff snarls, “shut the fuck up.”

How do you de-escalate a situation between two angry, violent people?

You remember a really stupid viral video from years ago and stand between them, your cereal bar between your lips.

“Whatcha dooooin’,” you mimic Toby’s line yesterday, keeping the tremble in your voice to a minimum. You need them to regain a sense of normalcy, or at least confuse them enough that their anger will end.

“Uh.” Jeff stares blankly at you. “What the fuck are you doing?” His lip curls up in a sneer of disgust. You suppose they were actually stupid enough for it to work…?

“Oh!” Snaps Toby back to attention. “Can I join you for—woo—can I join you for breakfast, Y/N?” He grins down at you like a ray of sunshine, like nothing ever happened.

Extreme mood swings.

“Sure,” you reply, and in no time Toby is shoving Jeff to one side so he can sit with you.

“There’s a left side and right side on her, lover boy,” complains Jeff, but he leaves all the same when he’s done with breakfast as Toby yaps into your ear about random topics. One sentence it’s the weather, and the next it’s torture methods. The range on this boy is a bit too concerning for your liking.

“Oh-oh, Y/N, Y/N, did you know that if you shoot a person in the head, they’ll…”, he giggles childishly here, “pee their pants?” It’s amusing how he giggles, a literal “heeheehaha” kind of sound, amongst small vocal tics. Smiling at him both out of amusement and out of politeness, you say, “Do you wanna know something?” His eyes light up even further, and you wonder if there’s a limit to how bright one’s eyes can be. “Wh-what?” His legs shake up and down and he clenches his fists, almost vibrating in his seat. Wow, that’s a lot of energy. But given his mood swings, it’s likely this won’t last too long.

“Sometimes,” you begin, “sometimes they live. It’s not a guaranteed death.”

“I know!” Toby exclaims, slapping the tabletop with both hands. You try not to give away your startle with any sudden movements, for fear that his current state is truly volatile and may be overtaken by negative emotion if you show any sign of hurt or fear. “Brian has sh-sh-shot many people, and, sometimes they—fuck, crack!—don’t die!” His grin is brighter than the sun, the corners of his eyes crinkled with joy, and you could almost mistake him for a young child if not for his sunken eyes and dark eye circles.

“But,” he begins thoughtfully. “Sometimes I throw my hatchet at their heads, uh, and, they die! Instant K.O!” He makes a bzzzzhhhh sound, like a buzzer. His attitude towards death is…concerning. You wonder if you could observe him in action as he kills his targets.

Your mind seems to have entirely shifted to an “I’m a therapist and nothing fazes me” mode, but you know that if he were to actually let you follow him on a murder spree or whatever it is he does, you might piss your pants and have a panic attack at the sight of the death of another human being. Did he ever have to get used to murder? Or was he always so cheerful about it?

“I see you’re getting along well,” comes a male voice, a slight grouch to it, a couple feet behind the both of you. Toby’s neck cracks as he whips his head around to face the person, and so do you turn to face them, though not at the same literal breakneck speed.

“Timmy!” Exclaims Toby.

What a strange nickname for such a stand-offish man.

One second he’s seated beside you, and the next, in a blur of brown and blue, something that you can only presume to be Toby clings itself onto Tim-not-Masky, and the two men go tumbling onto the ground, yelps of pain coming from Tim and more “heeheehaha”s coming from Toby.

“You fucking bastard,” spits Tim(my), but with little venom in his voice. Their relationship is almost that of brothers.

“You love me anyways!” Toby teases, nuzzling the man, who protests by saying something along the lines of “Toby I’m not gay,” and “Toby you’re not gay”.

“How would you know?” Says Toby lowly, grinning in a mockingly malicious manner like a fifth grader trying to mock-flirt with his friend. Tim shoves him off with a disgusted look and an ugh, then hurries to the kitchen to get away from the boy, who looks prouder of himself than he should be.

“So…” You tread carefully. “Are you gay?” Then, almost stumbling over your words, you blubber, “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with it.”

Toby goes quiet for the first time today, deep in thought. Just as you worry that you might’ve said something wrong, he speaks up. “Nope! I’m straight as a stick! I…I think.” He frowns a bit at that. “I dunno.”

“That’s okay, Toby,” you reply, taking another bite out of your toast. “I don’t know either.”

“But…you seem like you…—wa-woo!” He swallows, putting his thoughts together in his head. “You seem like you know everything!” He seems to be idolizing you already, which is not good. This is not good. You’re not qualified to be regarded as an actual therapist; you can only be an equal to whom they spill their worries. You conjure the brilliant idea of straight-up telling him you’re not to be put on a pedestal.

“I’m a normal person just like you and Tim, Toby,” you say. But this does nothing to put out the flame of wonder in his eyes. Did he even process what you just said at all?

You’re alerted of Tim’s presence as he sets a bowl of cereal and milk down on the tabletop, right opposite Toby. “He thinks normal people are the best,” he states flatly. “Because Brian and I are normal to him and he thinks we’re his whole world.”

You don’t know whether to laugh or dig a hole, cry, and wait for The Operator to come after your ass.

—

After your little…learning experience with Toby, you get to setting up your office. The proxies were surprisingly resourceful, having transported entire bean bags, a big-ass carpet and a table from wherever they raided straight into your little extra room, along with a thoughtful little box of snacks and the stationery you requested. Just as you wonder if you actually did write your request for snacks down onto the paper yesterday, you find a little note in the snack box. It’s surprisingly cute, and could be mistaken for a kindergartener’s work. On it says, “With love, Toby,” in very shaky handwriting, along with a cute little heart next to it, equally shaky.

Chuckling to yourself, you set the note aside and get to work. To your relief, you do not overestimate your strength and actually manage to shift everything in place. The carpet doesn’t cover the entirety of the ugly blue tiles, but it’ll have to do. You’ll also have to do something about the cold lighting in the room, flickering every so often. What if you just place a piece of yellow paper on it? Easy fix, you laugh to yourself. But for now, you don’t have a ladder nor a means of getting up there, so you can’t even slap Toby’s cute note onto the light bulb.

Speaking of Toby, you think about the “patients” under your care. The most prominent profile in your mind right now is the youngest boy. If you had any access to the internet right now, you’d be able to do more research on his symptoms and conditions. Alas, you’re literally off the grid right now, and have to settle for descending into a half-sleep half-daydream sort of trance when bored.

And so it is that trance you descend into as you shuffle boxes here, boxes there, furniture back and forth, playing idly with placements, rolling pens across the desk—

“Hey Y/N! —woo!— I like what you’ve done with the place!” Comes Toby’s cheerful exclamation from the doorway.

The place is desolate. It’s absolutely dismal for a therapist’s safe space, one that they offer to turmoiled patients.

“Uh…thanks, Toby!” You try as hard as possible to not sound sarcastic, but it seems you don’t have to worry about it—the boy’s already flopping himself onto the beanbags, rolling around and frolicking. Damn, proxies don’t get many good things, do they?

Nonetheless, you take the chance to get some work done and pick up a pen and foolscap. “Toby?”

“Yeah?” Comes his reply, his head immediately turning to you from his ridiculous position. It looks like he’s trying to do a backward roll on the beanbag, with his ass in the air, knees beside his head.

“Wanna talk about life?”

—

And so the both of you talk. And you talk, and talk.

Toby had sat up normally—well, as normally as he possibly could, with his fidgety mannerisms and all—and he’d spilled. It’s how you come to learn of his past, or to be precise, the fact that he has no memories of it.

But as much as the empty cup can, it spills, even just a few drops. He can’t get into cars without severely panicking, so when sent out on missions, they use vans instead.

“I pretty much only remember my name,” he informs you. “Other than that, I don’t know much. I mean, I’m pretty sure I had both parents…and sometimes, I think I remember having a sister,” he says wistfully. “I think I loved her.”

You jot the information down as furiously as you can, letting the boy run his full train of thought.

“Sometimes…sometimes I wake up in the—mm!—middle of the night, and I feel like I remember everything…and then I can’t help it. I start crying.” He twiddles his thumbs even more furiously in an attempt to negate the negative energy he’s radiating. “Sometimes,” he continues quietly, “I think I remember her name.”

You allow the boy a moment to catch up to his feelings and thoughts. Then, you ask gently, “What do you think her name is, Toby?”

“Um…” He scratches his head, his messy brown hair curling every which way. “Lyra. I think.”

You smile. “Lyra must have been beautiful.”

“She was, I think.” A sniffle. A tear runs down his cheek, and you begin to panic, before reaching over for a box of tissues—you’d forgotten to write this down, but the proxies were thoughtful enough to bring you a few—and passing it to him.

“It’s okay to cry, Toby,” you murmur what little comfort you can. “I doubt you’ve talked to many people about this, in such a vulnerable manner.”

He sniffs. “Thank you,” he says, barely above a whisper. “I think I’m grateful the—sniff—that The Operator had us bring you back alive,” he says. “He ss-sent us to the asylum, and told us—sniff—to wait for someone to come, and when that ss-someone came, he’d let us know.”

“Many people came and went, and Jeff kinda…” He gestures vaguely, but you chuckle. You know exactly what he means. “He—ah!— killed ‘em all, except for you.” He forces a dry chuckle. “You’re lucky. B-but, I still can’t believe he sent us to look for a therapist, of all things. Probably just wants to prolong our shelf life o-or—mm!—something,” he mutters the last part.

Wow, the Operator’s kind of turning out to be a bit of an asshole, huh? You think to yourself, but pay it no mind. It’s something to ponder later, no matter how important it might be. The patient’s health comes first.

You nearly fail to catch the fact that Toby just stated that they did not kidnap you at random. He said, he sent us to look for a therapist. You don’t know what to do with this information. Laugh? “Haha, tall-ass eldritch monster sends his tiny humans to look for a shrink!” Cry? “Fuck, tall-ass eldritch monster knows what a therapist is. Who knows what else he knows?” That doesn’t make too much sense.

But the Operator’s powers still remain a mystery to you. Though, you suppose he was being literal after all. How else did he perceive your presence and make the (fortunate? unfortunate?) decision to bring you back alive? Hell, does this even concern you when your life is at stake? Is your life even at stake? Well, it is, but it also isn’t if you can treat his proxies.

It’s all a little too complicated.

“Y/N?”

You shake out of your stupor. You’ve been absently gazing at Toby staring back at you for the longest time, but it’s only now that you actually see him. Your vision is blurred and you dismiss it as a product of not blinking for a while.

“Are you ok-k-kay? You’re crying,” worries Toby.

Oh, so that’s why your vision is blurry. What kind of therapist cries in the middle of the session?

Before you can get the words “I’m fine” out of your mouth, Toby’s body language shifts to that of an obviously anxious one. Too quickly for you to even try to convince yourself he’s fine, he shoots up and shakily pulls out a few tissues from the tissue box, but he shakes so much that the box falls to the ground, and he follows, crouching over the fallen object.

“No, no no, no no no,” he mutters shakily, voice thick. A sniffle.

You act before you think. “Hey, hey,” you soothe him, hand reaching out for his shoulder. “What’s going on, Toby?”

He looks back at you, eyes and nose red, lips curled downwards, stifling sobs. “I-I’m so—sss-sorry, Y/N,” he mumbles. “I can’t do this to you. I love you too much.”

And all of a sudden, he shoots back up to full standing height, and before you can even blink he’s reaching for the handle of the door, slipping through faster than light and slamming the door back closed.

You’re left there to stare blankly.

chapter 6 is out.

[notnctu]

through the lens ❀ l.jn

❀ lee jeno x fem!reader ❀ genre - slow burn, smut/mature content, fluff (romance?), slight angst ❀ details - photographer!jeno, model!reader, college!au, shy!jeno but he aint shy in bed, strangers to fuckers!au ❀ word count - 8k (this is the longest thing ive ever written) ❀ warnings - nude modeling, swearing, oral (f/receiving), some sweet love makin’ ❀ brief synopsis - jeno asks you to model for his internship project, but little did you know, it was going to be a nude photo shoot.  

❝ jeno was too shy to hold eye contact, but he stared at you endlessly through the lens. ❞

❀ a/n - hihihi this is author doie❀ ! im bad at writing smut so pls dont hate me ah ha lol i tried my best i also dont model/do professional photography so really apologize if i butcher any terms lmaoo the only thing i am is that im in college and im shy

Jeno had applied to almost a hundred internships and almost close to none returned with an offer, even after a whole month of waiting. He absolutely needed to start building his portfolio before the beginning of his senior year of college. The embarrassment of possibly graduating without any experience loomed over the desperate boy. 

Photography had been more than a hobby to him, to the point where he wanted to take it seriously. His parents weren’t the most supportive of an Arts major, but that couldn’t stop him. Jeno saw the best through a camera lens. He had a special eye for beautiful moments and the impressing urge to capture it forever. 

It was too late to change his major, if he wanted to graduate with all of his friends. If he wanted to be successful, he had to act on it now. 

The swoosh! of a new email startled the sleeping boy. He stared at the brightly lit screen, reading the words over and over again to make sure it was real. Jeno was so enthralled with excitement that he scrambled out of bed to wake up his roommate, Jaemin.

He shook him so violently that the sheets fell from Jaemin’s warm body. “Dude! I got an internship!” He spoke with incredible glee, a wide smile couldn’t leave his face.

Jaemin groaned and had to hold Jeno by the shoulders to halt the boy from causing the room to spin. “Why--What is going on?” He dazely rubbed his tired eyes to blink at his giddy roommate.

The screen blinded Jaemin as it was shoved too closely to adjust. “Whoa--,” he pushed it away and shut his eyes, “--repeat what you just said one more time.” Jaemin held a finger up and Jeno grabbed it, jumping onto his best friend’s bed.

“I got an internship. Someone got back to me.” Jaemin returned the same excitement the moment he processed his words. He shot up in bed and hugged his friend tightly. 

“Wo-w, dude! Congratulations!” The two boys hurried on their feet to cheer together. There was no concern for the rest of their housemates, only celebration that roared throughout the entire night.

+

Truthfully, Jeno had no recollection of applying to this studio. It could have been a random link on a job scouting website, but he couldn’t be more grateful. An internship was long overdue and Jeno had been itching to get some recognition for his craft. 

“Hello, I’m Lee Jeno.” He bowed slightly at the receptionist, who had a stern stare that made him feel vulnerable. The first thing he noted about the office: white and minimalistic. 

Jeno’s specialty was landscape photography. His aesthetics consisted of black and white filters, city lights, dark mood lighting, and background commotion. He enjoyed capturing chaos the most, a scene where more than one thing was happening. The only reason being that there was more to look at. 

“Nice to meet you. The name is Lee Taemin, but you can call me what you please.” A young, lean man strolled his way towards Jeno with a wide grin and his hand for him to shake. Taemin was slightly shorter than him, but his stylish, expensive boots made up for his height. He had to be only a maximum of five years older than Jeno as Taemin appeared relatively youthful. 

Taemin’s firm grip pulled Jeno along inside the studio. A small gasp escaped from Jeno which earned robust laughter from the older man. “I hope you can break out of your shell soon. There is no room for timidness around here, Mister Lee.”

“Please, you can call me Jeno.” He smiled, quite awkwardly at the beautiful man. 

The tall glass windows, the concrete, gray floor, the white doors that lined the hallway, had to be all too predictable. Jeno envisioned this is what high class must look like. It was the pristine, bright feeling and the smell of vanilla that lingered distastefully. There was chatter behind the closed doors --- mainly directing, and high praises. 

The only off-put was that photographers worked behind closed doors. From the few studios he has visited previously, photographers often worked in open spaces due to lighting fractures or the ability to roam more freely. 

“I’m actually very ecstatic you signed up for the internship, since you do seem a bit on the younger side.” Taemin gestured toward the sofa in the middle of his massive office. Jeno sat across from him. Water was already placed on the glass coffee table that separated the two. A laptop was opened to face Taemin.

Jeno slyly rubbed the condensation from his palms on his jeans. Taemin’s stare bore deep into the shy boy, who had to break eye contact from time to time. “I know.” Jeno chuckled nervously, “thank you for getting back to me. I was really hoping to gain work experience through mentorship.” 

Taemin nodded at everything Jeno was saying. His face being completely expressionless. Jeno sipped his water to regain moisture in his dry throat. Taemin was more intimidating than he was anticipating. “Sounds great. Happy to have you here. It might be a small business, but the experience is worth investing in. Every photographer who has come in and out of my building has found their forte. Let’s say, it’s eye opening.” 

“That’s exactly what I was looking for actually.” As scared as he was of this mysterious man, he really enjoyed the comfort the environment radiated. 

Taemin leaned forward and squinted at the screen. “I noticed in the portfolio you sent that you don’t have any portraits or any people, in general, in your photos. Do you have any works with people? Since this is a studio of fine art nude photography.”

Nude. Jeno practically choked on the last remaining spit he gathered. Taemin acknowledged the boy’s shocked reaction and tilted his head curiously, “you did know that I specialize in contemporary fine art nude photography, right?” Unfortunately, Jeno did not. 

Jeno cleared his throat, “yes, of course. I wanted to challenge myself.” He had to lie, there was no other way to cover up his disbelief. This internship was the only hope left for him to gain something. Though, even the thought of shooting a naked body made him anxious.

He hated how timid he was. His friends and family say otherwise, mainly for the reason that Jeno automatically lit up behind a camera. In all honesty, he hid behind it. It was the only safe place that Jeno knew what he was doing. However when it came to real life situations without it, he lacked the confidence to be himself.

As ironic as it was, he hated being seen. He liked to be the background character in his own life, because the main character took too much of a toll. It could also be his deafening insecurities and lack of self esteem, but Jeno didn’t mind not being the center of attention.

“You like a challenge?” It was more of a statement rather than a question. Jeno caught a glimpse of the twinkle in Taemin’s dark eyes. “Then for your first task, I want you to show me that you can take on this role.”

Jeno scrambled for his phone to jot down notes. “Send me an emotional portfolio, model of your choice. They could be a friend of yours that you feel comfortable seeing naked. It must include a variation of headshots, full body, and body details. It must also be raw and unedited photos. I want to see if you have the eye for the art to capture these types of images.”

“When would you like it by?” He stammered, completely winded at the sudden project that unloaded on top of him. 

“Next Friday, and you’ll present it to me here in person. Feel free to use this studio if you don’t have a place of your own with equipment. All you need to do is book a room with the front desk. Any other questions?” The sound of the laptop shutting caused Jeno to look up at the brilliance in front of him. He needed Taemin to help him succeed. 

“Why do you take nude photography?” 

Taemin was unable to stop the laughter that erupted into the room. “I don’t run a pimp business or sell soft core porn, if that’s why you’re staring at me so funnily. What I make is an art masterpiece, it has nothing to do with physical features or desires. It’s the pure emotion that clothing distracts from. Clothing conforms the model into an aesthetic, and while that works for editorials, it won’t be a consistent thing here.” 

Jeno nodded understandingly. Overwhelmed and lost at words. He was unsure what he had gotten himself into. Where was he going to find a model on such short notice on such lewd conditions? He was really going to need to step out of his comfortable zone, in his photography and social skills. 

Taemin stood up and extended his hand once more. “I take pride in my art, so I hope you, too, start finding that in your own.” 

+

Jaemin held his stomach from the endless laughter, tears welling up in his eyes. “Nud-Nude photography? And you didn’t know?”

“Jaemin, keep it down.” Jeno whispered and cautiously peered around at the few people flooding into the small lecture hall. “I don’t want everyone in our club to misunderstand and think I’m some creep.”

His best friend straightened up in his seat and placed his hand on Jeno's slumped shoulder, “first of all, you’re a complete idiot for not researching. Secondly, it’s an art form. If you really got yourself a shady, rated R internship, I would’ve told you to drop it instantly.” 

His spirits were slightly lifted, but he was still struggling with who he should ask to model for him. As much as he’s already seen of Jaemin, being his roommate, he honestly would rather leave the rest to imagination. Jeno wasn’t purposefully searching the room for a candidate, but he could not stop his eyes from drifting.

He spotted the most attractive side profile that sat two rows below him. He shook his head to make sure he was seeing her correctly. Peering around, he looked for another possible face to shoot. But oh god, how she caught his eye every time she even slightly moved.

You smiled happily with your friends by your side as your club’s executive board members introduced this year’s goals and events to attend. It had to be the smallest amount of alcohol still running in your system that caused you to giggle every time guys tried to turn around and hit on you.

“Why don’t you focus on our club members instead?” You smirked at the smug older boy, who had poorly attempted to grab your attention. “I think this information is important to you. These events could help you develop your social skills to be much better.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but your girl friends scoffed by your side.

He got up in disbelief and quickly walked out of the room. There was a brief pause at the sudden movement, but the announcement carried on per usual.

Jeno impatiently waited for the club meeting to finally be over, so he could talk to you. The longer it dragged, the more his confidence was subsiding. “I’m heading to study, wanna come with?” Jaemin poked at Jeno’s knee.

“Yeah, but you can go ahead first. I need to talk to someone.” His voice was shaky and his throat went so dry. Jeno’s shifty eyes scanned the room, hoping no one saw how nervous he was acting.

Jaemin’s eyebrows lifted suspiciously, “who? I didn’t even know you talked to anyone who came today. Donghyuck and Renjun aren’t here---”

“--her, Jaemin... her. I’m going to ask her to model for me.” Jeno motioned his head. His heart beating faster at seeing a small grin appear on your face from a comment someone made.

Jaemin hummed, “good luck with that, bud. I’ve got two shoulders for you to cry on after.” The extra hint of sarcasm only made Jeno sweat nervously. He was seriously doubting his decision, but it wouldn’t be a challenge if he didn’t do it. He knew he’d regret it more if he didn’t just ask you. 

Once the meeting was dismissed, you wanted to get out of the room before the heavy rush into the hallways. Unfortunately, a few frat guys pulled you into their conversation and chatted up a storm. Your friends played into their foolery, but you stopped paying attention when they asked for your numbers.

There was a faint tap on your shoulder and you turned to see who the culprit was. You didn’t seem to know him, because you would’ve remembered such a demeanor. His eyes were glued to the floor behind you and his shaky hands ran through his brown locks. His shyness was quite endearing, yet alarming since you weren’t sure why exactly he had approached you.

“Yes?” You asked curiously.

The moment Jeno heard your delicate cadence, he melted like a popsicle left out in the sun. He peered up, but quickly reverted his eyes to the white tiles when he noticed how beautifully you stared at him.

He counted his breathing to calm his rapid heart beat. He cleared his throat to introduce himself, “I’m Jeno. I’m a third year Arts major, um-- I was just--- I know we don’t know each other. I wanted to ask, uh-” Jeno was horrified at how he stammered over his own words. His cheeks burned with a red glow, and if he couldn’t look you in the eye before, he definitely couldn’t now.

“Hey, see you later.” One of the bulky frat guys called and you waved back weakly. 

A guy who had been chasing you endlessly scoffed at the pitiful sight and smirked at you, “see you at my house tonight? Been missing you in my bed lately.”

“Thought you would’ve guessed the reason why I stopped coming around.” Jeno heard the sting in your remarks and the disbelief in the male. 

You honestly could have left, Jeno knew that. But you stayed and waited patiently for him to finish. Jeno could tell how strong you were just by your intimidating aura that practically suffocated him by standing in close proximity to you.

You sighed and reached to grab your jacket on the folded seat, “look, Jeno. It’s nice to meet you and all, but I gotta get going.” 

Shockingly, the shy boy reached out to stop you by your fingertips. His touch lingered before he dropped your hand quickly. “I’m sorry. Are you free this Monday?”

“Uh, that depends. If you’re asking me on a date, then I’m busy.” Rolling your eyes, you weren’t sure why you still stayed to listen to what this random stranger had to say. If it were anyone else, you would’ve walked away the moment he asked if you were free. However, you acknowledged his timidness and the courage he must have mustered up to approach you.

Jeno shook his head violently, completely in shambles from that type of misunderstanding. “Not a date. I need someone to model for my portfolio photos that my internship assigned. It’s actually very important to me because it’s the first internship that responded back to me when I had applied to so many a whole month ago. Basically, I really need this and you because I think you’d be perfect to take pictures of. Oh-- wow! That sounded very bad --- uh --- what I meant is that your facial proportions are perfect and---”

“I’m free Monday.” You cut off his endless ramble and gestured toward his phone. He handed it to you without any hesitation and you typed in your number. “Text me the time, place and what I should wear.” 

“Oh actually, it’s a nude photoshoot.” Your eyes doubled in size, completely offended by that statement.

Jeno felt the sudden shift in the air and brought his hands up to block himself, “to be more clear, it’s a contemporary fine art nude photography studio. The pictures are pieces of art and to be seen as that only. I have no intentions or ulterior motive to sleep with you, see you naked or sell, leak your nudes for the profit of your body. But, I understand if you no longer want to do it because it sounds super strange now that I am explaining it.” 

Your shoulders relaxed and the fist that formed unraveled. You exhaled deeply, “I’ll do it. We can talk more about it on Monday and I get to leave on my own accord if I don’t feel comfortable. We work on my conditions.” Picking up Jeno’s chin, he was absolutely petrified at the forced eye contact and your incredible, powerful gaze. He was mesmerized by the fire in your eyes, and if he stared any longer, he could’ve lost himself in them. 

“Of course.” With that, you dropped his face and left without another look back. Jeno looked down at his phone and the new contact name, (Y/N). It had slipped his mind to even ask what your name was and he slapped his face in utter stupidity. “Do better, Lee Jeno.” It was a remainder to himself to, hopefully, be better the next time you two speak.

+

Monday, 3:03 PM. 

Jeno paced back and forth in the brightly, lit white room. He was trying to find any blinds or curtains to cover the tall windows of the high rise building. It should not be too much of a problem, the extra lighting was a positive. Jeno was only worried for your comfort of the openness. 

There was a soft knock before Jeno practically tripped to open the door. His breath hitched at the sight of your bare face. This time, you were the vulnerable one. Jeno only saw purity, yet impressed at how your tired eyes still managed to bid him a soft smile. He admired your uneven complexion, and the sparse moles that dotted your skin. 

“Okay, so you want to see me naked now or later?” Filled with jokes, your voice was light and airy this afternoon. There was a bit of a contrast from the first time you two met. Softer, enchanting, almost ghostly. 

Everything in the room was white. The mattress on the floor had a white comforter and white sheets. The backdrop. The walls. The hardwood floor. The only color was the blue sky that the tall windows let in.

“Here’s a robe. You can change in the bathroom.” Jeno scratched the back of his neck and his eyes wandered everywhere, but your’s. 

“Would you be okay with me just taking off my clothes in here?” You saw the light tint of pink cover his face, and spread to his ears. You examined more of the shy boy’s embarrassed face, finally getting a really good look at him. Jeno was very attractive, and you could only imagine how beautiful he must look if he fully faced you.

Jeno fiddled with his camera strap, “only if you are okay with that.” Clearing his throat, he stood next to the window to give you some privacy. “I’ll go over what I plan on doing. I’m going to take photos of your face details, parts of your body, full body, and portraits. You can lay down on the bed and I’ll direct you in poses. Have you modeled before?”

He was scanning the bustling city below his feet. Cars zoomed quickly and crowds of tiny people flooded the streets. He brought his camera up to his face, not being able to resist the urge to capture such a thrilling sight. 

“If Instagram counts, then yeah. Professional model gig would be a no. Nude photography is a definite no, unless we are talking about being filmed during sex.” Jeno chuckled, while also holding the camera steady and stealing a few moments to keep for himself.

For a strange reason, being naked for a non-sensual reason felt even more vulnerable. Laying on the soft fabric, you felt oddly exposed and slightly more reserved. You’ve had countless strangers see you naked. Men were sexually desiring to see a sexy picture. You were always lusted after, but this feeling of nakedness was special.

“Are you ready?” Jeno gulped, finally setting the camera down. 

You hummed cheerfully. Your heart was leaping out of your chest as the boy shifted slowly to face you. As he turned, you noticed he had his eyes sealed shut, which caused a small laugh to erupt. “Jeno, you have my permission to open your eyes and to look at me.”

Holy shit, he was trembling with an inexplicable fear. The camera was slipping from his sweaty hands. His mouth was as dry as the desert. Jeno’s pounding heart was loud in his ears. 

Jeno has seen his past girlfriends laying naked in bed, but this situation was too different. When he saw you laying there in absolutely nothing, he was overwhelmed, yet astounded at how graceful you appeared.

There was no exchange of words and no exchange of eye contact. He towered over your lying figure and shakily brought the camera to his eyes. He selfishly wanted to capture your elegance. Through the lens, he saw all of you: the curve in your eyelid, your curled eyelashes, the small mole next to your soft lips, the sharp color of your eyes, the way your hair frames your face.

This was the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. You were comparable to the arts found in popular museums. Your body lines were enticing and an impressive shape. Your breasts pooled on your chest, the round nude nipple in the centers. Your details had to be sculpted by gods, who took their sweet time making you. You were a true masterpiece. 

Confused, Jeno felt a huge mixture of emotions. Was he aroused? Was he infatuated? Did he just fall in love with a complete stranger? He recognized the same thrilled feelings he felt taking landscape photos. With each click, he grew more excited with how beautiful the photos were turning out.

“Sit up and rest your chin on your left hand. Lean your weight on your right leg.” Jeno’s direction was clear and firm. There was no evidence of a smaller tone he usually spoke in. Sitting up, you placed your elbow on your upper thigh to steady your chin. Jeno had already gotten down to floor level to you. 

Without the camera that separated you two, it had to be the first time he faced you completely in such close proximity. There was so much to admire about Jeno. He remained concentrated on his craft, but it was actually very sexy to see his dedication. It was almost like he was a whole new person, like all the shyness drifted away. 

Jeno couldn’t take his eyes off of you. It wasn’t simply your beauty that amazed him. Your confidence made everything easy. There was something about your blank stares, when he asked for an emotion, you portrayed it perfectly.

“Can we talk while you shoot?” Your sudden voice startled the photographer. He lowered his camera and his gaze automatically wandered off behind you, which didn’t go unnoticed. He nodded after a short pause and the shutter noises continued.

“Why did you choose me as your model?” 

Jeno peeled away from the device, “because you’re you.” He didn’t even know what that statement meant. It wasn’t like he knew you before the first time he asked you to model for him.

The corners of your lips dipped down, drawing an evident frown. Click. Jeno loved that image especially. It was a simple way to get real, authentic facial expressions. He marveled at the photo, but registered the reason behind it. “I wanted to ask you the second I saw you. I just knew that I wanted you.” 

“But you don’t know me.” 

Jeno looked through the lens once again, welcoming a full view of your stunning attributes. He spoke in a low voice, “then, let me know you.” Click. 

It would be the biggest lie to say that you weren’t aroused by Jeno at the moment. He was cool, without trying to be. He really did shine when he had a camera to work with, like a star to a dark night. While he had a distinct demeanor off the bat, you enjoyed unraveling the rest of him. He was, also, the first man you met that didn’t seem sexually driven by a naked woman in his presence. 

You had to resist every urge to push the camera away and share the few seconds of his entire gaze before it wandered away. You wanted to rock his world, he was so innocent and beautiful. You wished to wreak havoc on him, have him show you how much he wanted you. 

+

You anticipated an awkward photoshoot, but Jeno made you feel safe and comfortable. He made sure to adjust the temperature when goosebumps rose on your arms and when your nipples became painfully hard. He never touched you or came too much into your personal space. He always asked for your permission. 

Nude modeling was a new experience for you, but you were surprised at how much you liked it. or how much you liked Jeno taking your photos. He sat next to you on the bed when you put on your articles of clothing and panned through several shots to satisfy your curiosity.

Leaning close, your head ducked to see the photos. A gasp escaped your lips when you saw just the first few. “Is that really me?” The pictures made you feel an abundance of emotions, you felt what they reflected. Sadness, melancholy, happiness, confidence. You didn’t know images had that much power to make you feel that, especially photos of you.

Jeno nodded, smiling so wide that his eyes turned to moon crescents. He was so in love with the results. He found respect for Taemin’s craft and he was right, he might’ve found a new forte to experiment with. “I can send you the photos digitally too, if you want them.”

“Maybe I’ll print them out, frame them, and gift it to every horrid man who has tried to flirt their way to my body since they want to see it so fucking bad.” 

Jeno peered over and saw the tiny glimpse of pain in your orbs, “why would you give horrible people what they want?”

“So they can finally shut up and leave me alone. Plus, this is art and if I tell them it’s actually me, maybe it’ll change their minds to start treating me like it.” 

He held his palm up and almost immediately, your fingers filled the spaces between his. “I’m going to need you to start treating yourself as fine art.”

“Keep taking more photos of me and I just might start thinking I’m Mona Lisa.” Your laughters blended nicely into each other. There was mutual mental acknowledgement of the happiness you were both feeling.

Jeno never let go of your hand, and there was a short moment of comforting silence where you two sat in each other’s existence. You were the one to break it, “are you doing anything after this?” 

He shook his head. “Well then, you’re mine for the rest of the night. We’re going to pretend we’ve been close friends since first year and eat take-out on my bed because that’s what I need at the moment.” 

+

“I know you respect my body and see this as an art form, but I’m genuinely surprised that you didn’t feel aroused at the slightest.”

Jeno didn’t even realize how much time had already passed being you. You two ate and chatted as if you’ve known each other forever, as if the friendship wasn’t established several hours ago. It felt safe and right, like you two belonged in each other’s existence and nowhere else mattered.

He felt warm inside from your hearty laughter and courage, like he was watching a painting come to life or a photo in movement. You were smitten over how endearing and complex he was. He was more than what meets the eye and that alone drew you towards him.

“Okay, I’ll admit,” Jeno paused to watch your reaction, “in the most respectable way, I was somewhat turned on. But! Before you trail blaze me for being just like every disgusting male in your life, I genuinely didn’t have any sexual thoughts during the photoshoot. That was all professional and it will continue to be like that.” 

Getting up from your bed, your mind was working at lightspeed to process his confession. Jeno was fast to pick up someone’s personality, what stood out and what was kept hidden. He knew quicker than anyone else that you were not someone to offend because you were a strong, straight forward woman.

His personality breakdown went like this: you knew what you like, you knew you were going to get what you want, you enjoyed flirty banter (with people of your choice), you weren’t afraid to be blunt, or kick someone’s ass. You carried yourself with confidence that graced your every step, which makes anyone attracted to you instantly. Bold, confident, sexy had to be what came to mind whenever he thought about you. 

Nonetheless, he really liked you as a person. He could pat himself on the back all day long for just approaching you, but he knew the real reason as to how this all happened. It was you saying yes to a stranger’s odd photoshoot. You made him the luckiest man in the world. 

“Continue? Are you looking for excuses to keep seeing me?” You smirked and Jeno’s voice grew small. 

“I--- uh, well,” there goes the nervous stammering, “I know the conditions were a one time thing, so I understand if you don’t want to do it again.” As the night had progressed, Jeno gradually began to hold eye contact and actually looked at you directly without the help of seeing you through a lens. This was the first time he broke it. 

“Hey now, I’m messing with you, Jeno.” He had been sitting on your floor, at the end of your bed. You crawled on your elbows to reach him, and to hold his chin to face you again. Deja vu. “I’d love to get naked for you again, and again, and.. as many times as you want me to.” 

He stared at you with his mouth hung open in disbelief. His eyes scanned your beautiful face to see your lips pull back into a mischievous smile. Gulping, he swallowed every ounce of courage he had left. “You don’t have to say it like that.” He tried to remove your grip, but it latched onto his hand. 

“You’re finally looking me in the eye, sweet thing. I don’t think you realize how much I had been wanting that from you.” You caressed his cheek, rubbing small circles on his texture. 

“What else do you want from me?” His implication sounded suggestive, even if his curiosity was innocent. 

Your hot breath brushed against Jeno’s lips. “I can show you.”

Jeno, the one and only college guy who has seen your naked body in a non-sexual context. Jeno, the shy, sweet boy who appreciated and recognized you as a form of art. Jeno, the talented and skillful photographer, who consistently made sure you felt comfortable. Jeno, the only person in the world who you’d model nude for. Jeno, the dazzling character behind the camera who you wanted more than anyone else you’ve ever met. Lee Jeno.

He seemed like he was inching closer, already tilting his head to fit your’s. You smiled to yourself, seeing that your words were received well. Diving in, your lips swam together fervently. 

The poor boy found himself lost in your enchanting, alluring gaze. He let the trance consume him, selfishly kissing the art he admired so dearly. A small part of him felt the guilt and confusion that began to rise. He wasn’t sure why he suddenly wished to feel your lips on his neck, or run his hands across your hot skin. He swore these thoughts were not present earlier. 

A small pop! and Jeno held your shoulder to pull away. “I’m sorry, did I do something?” You asked, honestly concerned that you were taking more than you deserved. The least you desired was to hurt Jeno, who had been nothing but nice and sweet.

“(Y/N),” you could listen to your name roll off his tongue all day, “I feel somewhat guilty. I don’t want things to be misunderstood.”

“Which would be?”

“I don’t want you to think I coerced you into being my model just because I had intentions to sleep with you.” Jeno was already gathering his things, but you hopped off your bed and placed a hand on his chest. “Because that’s what it’s starting to look like at the moment.”

“Was that something you did though? Did you have those intentions?” Your stare bore right through him. The warmth of your hand relaxed his racing heart.

“Never, (Y/N), I would never do that to someone.” Your hand traveled down to grab his belongings and tossed it back onto the ground. 

He silently watched as you took off your pants, and stood in front of him in your underwear. “Then, we’re fine. I know your intentions have always been pure. But truthfully, Jeno, seeing you focused while you worked sparked something in me. You don’t understand how aroused I got and how badly I wanted you to fuck me on that bed.” His hand trailed up your exposed thighs, finally touching your softness. “You’re the one guy I wanted first, and it’s been a long time since I’ve felt that.” 

“I-- I don’t know what to say.” His cheeks revealed how embarrassed he was, but his dark, lustful eyes were telling a different story.

A smirk fell upon your face, “then don’t say anything.” 

Jeno devoured you, inhaling the light hint of vanilla that still lingered. He hoisted you onto your mattress and kissed you like his life depended on it. His antsy hands roamed your free range, exploring, holding, gripping the parts he marveled over. Small moans from the back of your throat encouraged him to continue.

No one has ever kissed you with the amount of passion Jeno did. It was gentle, with enough vigor to cause your panties to dampen. It wasn’t sloppy, where previous guys had a problem of missing your mouth entirely and slobbered your chin. 

His lips worshiped you, highlighting your good sides. Flashes of the photoshoot popped into Jeno’s head as he left purple marks on the places he loved capturing the most. He pushed up your shirt, exposing your chest to him again. His tongue circled around your hard nipple as he made sure to give the same amount of attention to each one. 

Jeno knew he was too shy to hold your intense stare, but getting to know you during and after the photoshoot, he could see the softness in your gaze. He was, now, able to see all of you. The sight of you through the camera was addicting enough, so finally taking you all in was more than satisfying. 

Your hands ran through his hair as he kissed down your torso. His thumbs hooked the waistband of your underwear, and peeled it off your body. You gasped as the cold air from your apartment grazed against your exposed figure.

Jeno paused to admire your glistening pussy, “would it be okay if you let me make love to you?”

Your heart burned, not out of embarrassment, but at how he still managed to ask you for your permission in the sweetest way. You rested your weight on your elbows, “no one has done that before, would it actually make me want to fall in love with you?”

“It wouldn’t be too bad. I have a lot of love to give and you look like a person who deserves all of it anyways.” Jeno’s finger ran over your wet slit and rubbed your clit slowly.

Your moans filled the room as the electric jolted throughout your veins. The wetness grew, seeping out of you like a waterfall. Jeno dropped down to his knees, and lifted your legs on his broad shoulders.

“Are you usually this wet, baby?”

Chuckling, you smiled at his bold choice in using pet names, “Just for you.”

He hummed, chiming at how he liked your answer. Spreading you open, his tongue met with your swollen bud that begged for his licks.

His tongue darted side to side, up and down and in result, your back arched in pleasure and a darkness clouded your mind. His name and mindless profanities streamlined their way out of you as Jeno ate you out in such a precisely delicious way.

Grabbing a fist full of hair, you pulled him closer, even if there was no more space to fill. Looking down, you two exchanged glances before he thrusted a finger into you. Your hips bucked harder as he eased in another one.

Jeno curled his fingers in search of your sweet spot and found it when a deep moan escaped your throat. His fingertips rubbed and pressed into your plush flesh, causing you to practically scream and squirm in his mouth. 

He suckled your clit and fingered you simultaneously and quickly. The pleasure was overflowing and you released his hair to grip your sheets below you. Your legs shook and trembled as he had no caution to stop.

“Please, I’m going to--” you could barely talk due to your face contouring to the splurge of pleasure every single time Jeno rubbed your spot. “--to explode.” 

He had to take back what he thought earlier in the day. This was the most beautiful sight he’s ever laid eyes on. The whole scene played like from one of his favorite films. It felt like he was giving his photos life. Your body twisted and turned, accentuating the curves of your lines. 

Jeno had become painfully hard against the fabric of his jeans, but seeing you fall apart because of his minimal movements exhilarated him. “P-Please, don’t stop.” A breathy moan followed suit and your thighs tried to press themselves together. Jeno didn’t allow it, his free hand hooked underneath your left thigh to pull one side away from his cheeks.

Your high gradually grew so tall that it all eventually came cascading down. Your legs shook violently and sat up from the euphoria that took over you. Jeno prolonged your buzz and you screamed loudly, having to bite down on your fingers to stop yourself from angering your neighbors.

Jeno drank you up, letting your wetness cover his chin and drip down his knuckles. He pulled away, at last, and you took deep breaths to control your heavy breathing. It was like Jeno knocked the wind completely out of you. 

He stood up and you saw the outline of his hard bulge straining itself through his jeans. The next scene was quite animalistic. You, still embodying your high, sat on your knees and unzipped his pants with your needy hands.

“Now, it’s your turn to get nude for me.” You whispered, tauntingly. Jeno groaned when you reached down and gently pulled him out. He stepped out of his clothing, all of it. His shirt was lost in the corner and his bottoms were scattered over your floor. Mirroring his actions, you took off your last piece of cloth.

Jeno was built. Though his biceps did not go unnoticed during the photoshoot, you were surprised at the lines of muscle that sketched his body. It made your mouth water, seeing his extremely hard dick stand against his toned abs. His red tip fell just below his navel. Jeno only kept getting better as the night continued on.

Pulling him closer, his hand found their way to the back of your head as you aligned your mouth to the wetness that spilled from his tip. “I want to make you feel good.” Jeno’s hoarse voice made your knees weak.

Peering up, you batted your eyelashes at him fondly. “Just a little taste?” You begged, having to hold his shaft with both of your hands because of his thickness. Your tongue was already stuck out, your hot breath causing the tiniest bit of sensation for him.

He nodded and his eyes were trained on you. He didn’t want to miss any second of your kitty licks. You flattened your tongue against his warmth, dragging it up to the top. The saltiness hit your palette as you swirled around his redness. “Oh--” Jeno threw his head back and bit his lip, “--lay on the bed now.” 

You smiled sweetly and gave his member a quick kiss before reaching for a condom in your drawer. Jeno climbed onto your bed and situated the rubber comfortably. You laid on your back and he was fast to pull your legs around his waist. 

He lined himself at your entrance and eased his tip in slowly. Squirming, you craved him to fill you up to the brim. He leaned down to kiss you, letting your tongue lap with his. It’s your hands with the mind of their own when they flew automatically to hold his face whenever you wanted to deepen the kiss. Then, Jeno stretched himself all the way in and he caught your gasp with his lips. He groaned, feeling the mess he created merely minutes ago. 

His hips moved so easily with your wetness, but he went slow. Dragging out each pull and then, pushing himself back in roughly. “Jeno!” Your body jolted up the bed each time. His body fell over yours to hold you intimately, letting you bury your face into his neck. Your lips latched themselves onto his sensitive skin, painting a purple sunset. 

Jeno’s arms snaked underneath your thighs as he pressed them to your chest, folding you almost into a ball. Your mouth hung open as he fucked you harder, rougher, deeper yet keeping the tempo rhythmically slow. At this point, you could feel his hits in your gut. Your weak hands gripped loosely around his strong wrists that held your legs down. “You’re pussy is so tight and holy shit---, you keep getting more beautiful.”

A familiar burning sensation set in your chest as you saw how concentrated his face had become. You were so fucked out that you could barely speak, “you—” his hips mercilessly slammed into you powerfully, enacting a low moan every time he reached your sweet spot. “—keep surprising me.” His actions came to a halt and he stared deeply into your soul. 

You whined, wiggling your hips for any friction. He held them down into the mattress, knowing his grip was strong enough to leave a mark. “I told you, I was going to make love to you tonight.”

“I’ve already fallen for you.” You said breathlessly, tracing the side of his face and pecking his lips softly. 

“You don’t understand what you’re doing to me by saying those things.” He whispered and pushed his entire shaft to fill you to your brim. 

You yelped his name and gripped his shoulders, but he wasn’t done yet. “Show me how badly you wanted me the first time you saw me.” Jeno blinked at you in slight shock. 

As he continued to hold the deep gaze, he kept pushing his dick further and further into you. He was balls deep, almost impossible to keep going. He fucked you without the need to pull out, just burying his cock deeper into your wet pussy. You exclaimed, moaned, cussed at every push. Holding the stare was more than enough to lose yourself all over him again. 

Jeno was drunk with the image of your fucked out expression and every time the mixture of pleasure and pressure caused your eyebrows to crease and mouth to open release sensual sound. He had been trying his best not to come undone, to fixate another climax for you.

The feeling of you wrapping tighter and tighter around him drove him insane. “Give it to me, please.” Your muffled plead called for his release, but he could feel that you were close to your second.

Jeno sat up on his knees and pulled you into his arms where your thighs fell over his. You groaned at the empty feeling, though it was quickly replaced with a gratifying moan when he inserted himself again. Your arms dangled around his neck, foreheads touching intimately. 

The fucking eye contact again, how could you get enough of it? You giggled, amused at how different Jeno was when he eventually opened up. He wrapped his strong arms around your back and thrusted his hips up into you. The way this man made you squirm, scream, and shake were nothing you’ve experienced before. 

He smirked, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek when he went rampage on your pussy. “Not laughing now, are you?”

You whined in pleasure, brushing your fallen strands of hair out of his face. “Shut up before I make you.” 

“Then I’d rather keep going.” Kissing up his jawline, you lead your way to his pout. His kisses intoxicated you with his passion and madness, like the most intense part of a symphony, or when the bass drops after a long build up in a song. 

Jeno sped up, ramming up into your slick pussy over and over again. He even brought your hips down to match him, guiding you down as he went up. The headboard was knocked against the wall, your windows steamed up, cries of pleasure from the both of you created the ambiance, the smell of sex filled your lungs. Jeno reached between your bodies to furiously rub your clit to where it felt almost raw. It all sent you into the clouds, the familiar queasiness settled in your lower half.

Your eyes rolled back and your back arched, having to pull away from the desirous kiss with Jeno. “I’m cumming!” You announced before the tension unraveled, causing you to see absolute white. The second wave was much more uncontrollable, Jeno felt you squeezing radically around his dick as he tried to fuck you faster to prolong the feeling.

Your legs shook around his and your upper body went limp with pleasure. You reached the peak of the mountain and it came crumbling down underneath your toes. It was catastrophically enthralling, to the point where you physically felt something leave your body.

“Oh shit..” Jeno stopped his motions at the sight of you squirting over his lap. He pampered your torso with fluttering kisses, hoping to calm your spastic body. “...baby, are you okay?” He asked with a bit of concern of how lack of life you seemed. 

This man just gave you the best climax in your whole life and he asked if you were okay? Regaining your senses, you sighed a small yes to reassure him that he didn’t actually murder you. Hopping off, you pulled the condom that restricted him.

He hissed when you cupped his balls in your palm. “Cum, my sweet thing.” You purred and Jeno’s hand pumped his member aggressively. You leaned in to help, sucking the tip and flicking your tongue over his slit. 

His other hand gripped your neck, causing you to drip on your sheets. Jeno was panting and with every tug, it became louder. He seemed so desperate to release that it made you smile to be the reason behind it. “Can you lay down,” A grunt followed his question, “please.” He huffed.

“Because you asked nicely.” Smirking, your back hit the sheets and you opened your legs to give Jeno a view. He situated himself above your stomach, as he fucked his tight grip.

“I’m cumming---” He couldn’t look any more amazing. With a final moan, the white streaks streamed out in short sequences. It landed across your abdomen, over your nipple, and pooled around your belly button. 

Bringing himself back to reality, Jeno stepped back to marvel you, his masterpiece. The white streaks coated your purple skin and your chest rose fast to catch your reality. Gazing upon your naked body, he was utterly infatuated with all of you. He was so in love with the sight of you that not a single photo could capture the beauty that you were. 

Jeno pondered the thought of how merely a day changed a small part of him. You were life changing, addicting, an incomparable character that he felt like he’s known forever, and now, couldn’t live without. It was the taste of your juices on his lips, your sweet melodic music that was your voice, your daring smile that enticed him to never peel away from you. It was simply you. 

He leaned down to rub his knuckles against your cheek, planting a lovingly peck on your forehead. “I’ll go start the water for you.” 

+

Jeno anticipated the reaction of his mentor. He found himself at the same scene he was when he was first given the task. Taemin sat across from him, hunched forward to analyze his new set of photos on his laptop. Raw, unedited photos of you, your body, your details. 

The hum of the air conditioning droned on, driving him mad. Jeno needed one reaction, but Taemin had been silent and expressionless for the past ten minutes. Whenever he did move, it was to click through to the next picture. 

Suddenly, he shut it closed and stood right up. Jeno, panicked, did the same. Taemin stuck his hand out and Jeno hesitantly grabbed it, incredibly unsettled and unable to read the older man.

Taemin received it firmly, giving Jeno a good handshake. “Welcome abroad, Lee Jeno. I expect even more great things from you.” 

Jeno registered his delightful mood switch and he was fast to follow up, “my photos, --- you --- like them?” 

Taemin nodded generously, patting Jeno on his shoulder. Taemin reached up to tap his own eyelids. “What you can see, is very special, kid. You’re an artist and I’m here to recognize that for you. It seems to me, you can do more than take pictures of sidewalks.” 

Jeno smiled happily, his eyes disappearing from joy. He couldn’t wait to tell you about it. 

The rest of the week, leading up to Jeno’s appointment, had felt nothing short of blissful moments together. You and Jeno spent almost every waking minute together without the cost of your friends’ time. He walked you to your classes, some even being across the campus from his own. You accompanied him for meals, even sitting in his lectures to just be with him.

There were no words that established what you two had become to each other. Jeno wasn’t looking for that anyways, in fact, he somewhat liked the ambiguity. If only he could tell you how making love to you made him begin to actually fall for you.

You were never one to hold a serious relationship, but you found a small want for that festering in Jeno. It was hard to admit to yourself, but Jeno saw you for all that you were. He truly saw you, whether it had been through a lens or through his own eyes. He captured your rawness and you were able to find vulnerability around him. 

He ran to you, where you sat in the lobby waiting for him to finish his meeting. Peering up from your phone, you noticed the beaming smile on the boy’s face. You couldn’t hold back your own grin, seeing him apparent with so much joy. “I’m guessing good things?”

“I got it, (Y/N)!” He jumped into your arms and you laughed at the sudden affection. “He loved my photos.” 

“I didn’t doubt it for one second. You’re an artist, Jeno. You create masterpieces that make even someone like me, feel like art.” 

Jeno hugged you closer to his chest, giving you a tiny squeeze. Pulling away to face you, his eyes examined your outstanding grace. You knew what he was already going to say, but simply wanted to hear him say it. “That’s because you are art.”

[ichor-and-symbiosis]

Breakfast Blues. (Shigaraki x f!Reader, NSFWish)

Tomura could tell something was off as soon as he entered the kitchen. Your smile felt a little too forced, your eyes a little too hopeful as you plated a bowl of rice and eggs for him, hesitating for a moment to speak. It put him in a sour mood. He didn't like having to pry answers from you.

He usually managed to swipe his breakfast away and go back to his room for privacy, but you were making this increasingly difficult for him lately. It started with inane attempts to get him into conversations with you, which really was a stupid idea, given the fact that he never mustered more than a few grunts in the morning. His growling stomach initially helped fighting you off, but you seemed to have a backbone today.

Gripping the dishes in hand, you offered him a meek smile and asked, "Would you like to eat together?"

His eyes narrowed as he frowned. "Why?" his voice croaked out, scratchy and unpleasant from disuse.

"I just thought it would be nice. You're busy a lot, so ... "

"So?" Your confidence faltered under his scrutinizing stare. Something about your dying smile made him even more irritated, or perhaps confused. And he did not like feeling confused. "I'm hungry, woman."

Sensing his displeasure, you wordlessly handed over the breakfast and looked away. Under different circumstances, Tomura liked teasing you in this state. So secretive and cute, your lips set in a stubborn pout and your chin cast downwards for him to inevitably grip and force your attention back to him.

But he was so damn hungry and he had a game loaded on his computer for his return.

Tomura turned to leave, having decided he waited enough for your comeback. It was only the glaring absence of your shuffling feet and the tinkering of cookware that made him pause for a split second at the threshold. Just a quick glance to satiate his curiosity.

You stood exactly where he left you, still looking away, hands wringing together without anything else to hold. Defeated and hurt. The sting of negative emotions welled up inside him so suddenly that he immediately took off, wishing he had a free hand to scratch his neck.

-

No amount of homecooked breakfast or countless wins could erase his lingering discontent. Tomura tried to ignore that strange encounter with you, burying his thoughts in strategies and shit-talking as he let the time slip away. But try as he might, he just couldn't shake it off. Throwing aside his game console, Tomura leered at the clock and slumped in his chair, annoyed at the realization that you hadn't visited him this whole time.

You were nowhere to be found in the apartment. A cursory glance at his phone showed him a single text from you. I'm going out with Toga. Be back later.

You didn't even send him a heart emoji.

It was a stupid thing to set him off. Everything about today was stupid. You were stupid, he was stupid, his damn neediness was stupid, even the breakfast bowls he brought to the sink were stupid. What kind of world was this, where he, Shigaraki Tomura, successor of Japan's most dangerous criminal, brought his dishes to the kitchen and moped about a goddamn heart emoji.

He needed a drink.

-

It was a testament to his bad mood that Tomura chose to walk all the way to the bar instead of asking Kurogiri to warp him there. His eyes scanned the streets in a vain attempt to track you down among the crowd, but you were nowhere to be found and he was growing anxious by the minute.

Tomura kicked the door open and hopped the counter to pilfer the expensive liquor stash. His taste gravitated towards the most expensive rum in the collection. He could certainly chase his sorrows away with cheap swill or rubbing alcohol, but if he was going to torture his body tonight, then he would do so with style. It was all worthless in the end, anyway.

He sat by himself for who knows how long. It was utterly pathetic and he knew he had better things to do, yet every time he tried to pull himself away from the counter, his head spun uncomfortably and the amber liquid beckoned him towards a numbing buzz. His phone lay abandoned on the counter, having been checked several times for a text or a phone call from you.

You hadn't even called to find out where he was. He had half a mind to wonder if you would walk through the door to surprise him, but there were only so many times he could glance at the door before the urge to disintegrate it took hold. He grabbed the rum bottle instead, messily pouring more liquor into his glass as he ignored the distortion of the air in front of him. He was in no state of mind to stare straight into Kurogiri's spinning portal. The very thought of it made him slam the bottle down and hold onto it for dear life to compose himself.

Kurogiri appeared behind the bar, quietly assessing the state of his charge. He pulled out a rag to mop up spilled liquor and eyed Tomura's heavy movements as he let go of the rum and took the glass in a white-knuckled grip.

"You are alone."

Tomura grunted, taking a swig to avoid conversation. His guardian was smart enough to immediately pick up his mood. It was both annoying and reassuring to see those golden eyes narrow in astute observation.

"It is rare for your lover to be absent."

"..."

A moment of silence. "Forgive me for being presumptuous, but you seem to be more upset than usual."

Tomura snorted. "Yeah, no shit." He stared at the rum glass in frustration, glaring at the alcohol as though it had personally offended him. His fingertips curled around the rim as he lifted the glass and swirled the liquid around, irate at the stretching silence. It was bad enough he had to deal with your petulant absence. Now he had to endure Kurogiri's calm patience, too.

His fingers gripped the glass tighter as he contemplated satisfying his urge to decay, to give him some form of release from the frustration currently plaguing him. The blaring noise of his video games would be a welcome respite from this silence. Instead, he was forced to nurse a headache while Kurogiri made him feel like a child.

All because of you. You had a hold on him even when you were gone. Perhaps even more poignant because you were gone.

"It's fucking dumb," Tomura grumbled. And it was. The situation was so unbelievably ridiculous that he clammed up again, unable to voice his problems lest he fly into a rage over the mental image of your sorrowful eyes and quivering bottom lip.

"What happened?"

"I don't even know. She's been acting weird the past week and it all blew over this morning." His leg jittered restlessly against the footrest. He crossed his leg over his thigh to regain some semblance of control, letting out a sharp sigh as he scratched his neck. "I just wanted some damn breakfast. That's all. And that woman stood there looking like I broke up with her just because I didn't want to eat with her."

"Were you doing something important?"

Oh, he did not like that question. He did not like it one bit.

"I was in the middle of gaming," Tomura growled through clenched teeth. "Don't even try to bitch at me about it."

"That was not my intention. I know how important your lifestyle is to you." Tomura stared at him, feeling his anger somehow slip through the cracks and fizzle away. Kurogiri took the whiskey bottle beside him and poured more into the emptying glass. "Has this happened before?"

"No. Sometimes she tried to keep me there longer with dumb small-talk, but she's never flat out asked. And the damn look on her face when I - " Tomura cut himself off with a frustrated growl. Your defeated expression haunted him once more. He downed the liquor in one go and reveled in the horrible burn tearing his throat apart. "What the hell does she want from me?" he forced out, staring hard into the distance as a sudden sense of shame stabbed him like a knife.

"If I may speculate ... " Kurogiri paused, waiting for his rebuke. When none came, an answer followed. "You are often preoccupied throughout the day. Perhaps she simply misses you and craves your attention."

Tomura opened his mouth and promptly closed it. A bout of dizziness hit him. Was it the alcohol or the crashing realization of how obvious the answer had been?

The logic of Kurogiri's statement was so absurdly simple that it had to be true. Because you really were just so simple. Uncomplicated in your motives, always wearing your heart on your sleeve, and always so flagrantly loving and patient with him. Tomura looked away from Kurogiri, hating how well his guardian knew not only him, but you, too.

A little flame of happiness kindled deep inside him, threatening to chase away the darkness of his bitter emotions. You hadn't been difficult on purpose this morning. You just wanted to spend time with him.

His bleary gaze settled on the monitor resting at the other end of the bar. How would his mentor react to this situation?

The silence coming from the monitor felt altogether different from what he experienced so far. It was uncomfortable and imposing, filling his ears with white noise and clouding his thoughts. Tomura stared at his reflection in the black screen and frowned, hyper-aware of the way his eyes had softened while he thought about you, the way he looked so boyish and tired.

Look at what she is turning you into, the screen seemed to say.

"Shigaraki Tomura." He tore his gaze away from his reflection and met Kurogiri's expressionless face. "Is it a weakness to enjoy feeling wanted?"

His brows furrowed in thought.

-

Tomura made up with you in the most typical fashion. That is to say, he cornered you at home and snuffed out any further talk by devouring your lips with incessant kisses, taking you right on the living room couch and stalking after you to your bedroom for more. It was a love language he knew best, letting you feel his feverish desire with every deep thrust, the firm iron grip of his hands on your soft hips and thighs, his groans and whispered demands for more of you, more of your tight heat and your gentle fingers outlining his scars, touching his rough lips, nails digging into his back as you mewl for more of him.

You were hellfire. There was no liquor strong enough in the world to burn him half as much as his need to tell you he loved you. The words clawed and tore at his chest, inflamed his throat until he choked on them, forcing him to spit out twisted versions of the truth. Cowardly, pathetic half-truths about how you belonged to him, how you were his and his alone.

And you still smiled at him for it. You took all that he gave you and asked for so little in return.

Is it a weakness to enjoy feeling wanted?

The question plagued him throughout the night as your arms held him close, his head pillowed on your chest while he listened to your soft breathing and felt the beat of your heart whispering an answer he could not decipher.

-

Tomura awoke to your absence. It was not a rare occurrence. The split-second paranoia washing over him was not rare, either. He ran from that feeling many times before, immediately sick at the thought of how lonely he felt without you. It was pathetic. He should not feel this way about anyone. He should feel empty, as though you were just a moment of entertainment, an experience to be had and a level to beat in the game of life.

But you were well past that point now. Whether or not he could say it aloud, Tomura was in love. So if you wanted to have breakfast together, then you had better prepare yourself for his morning attitude.

He caught you a little early this time. You were in the middle of stirring an omelette when he crept up behind you, jolting in surprise as he pressed himself to your back and wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Good morning," you greeted him, giving him a peck on the cheek. A light smile played on your lips. "I'm almost done."

Tomura purred a noncommittal response and curled his fingers around your jaw, angling your head back to capture your mouth in a lazy kiss. Your pleased sigh broke off into a stilted noise as he dipped his tongue inside and made sure you felt every slow lick and suck to your lips. His arm tightened in response to you melting against him, mentally debating whether he should let you finish cooking or to find the nearest surface to defile.

A sizzling pop from the frying pan caught your attention. You kissed him hard and returned to your duty, using your spatula to roll the omelette into shape. Your tongue peaked out from your reddened lips as you made a face of mild disgust. "You didn't brush, nasty."

"Didn't stop you though," Tomura countered, grinning at your wry expression.

You spooned the cooked food onto a nearby plate and cracked another egg into the pan. He waited for your invitation, good mood dampening by the second as you settled into your routine without another word. It was an expected reaction, to be fair. He hurt you yesterday and now he was paying for it.

Your questioning glance put him on alert. "Do you need something else?"

He wracked his brain for a response. Something that could keep him here longer without raising further suspicion. "Orange juice."

"It's in the fridge. Can you pour me some, too?"

Tomura forced himself to detach from you, taking his time to complete the task as he watched your progress from the corner of his eye. Cups placed on the table. Orange juice poured at a strategically slow rate. By the time he finished, your breakfast had been plated and you left it unattended to hurriedly put the forgotten box of eggs back into the fridge. Tomura used this distraction to take both plates to the table, setting yours across from him as he plopped down onto the chair and began to eat.

You caught on as soon as the fridge door closed. Tomura could feel your stare on him while he downed the orange juice. He glanced at you nonchalantly, eyebrow raised as though you were the one behaving abnormally.

"You're joining me?" you asked, a hint of hope coloring your voice as you sat down.

"Clearly."

You smiled so sweetly that he felt his heart stammer and restart. "Wow. Can I get you to eat some fruits while we're at it?"

"Don't push your luck," he grumbled, and that was the end of that.

Tomura silently listened to your happy chatter and the clanging of silverware on plates, wondering how the hell he found himself in domestic bliss. Sunlight streamed through the nearby window and illuminated your entire being, heightening your inner glow. You looked beautiful and peaceful. It calmed him far more than you could ever know.

Did he feel weak as he basked in your attention? Did he feel weak, knowing that you wanted him beside you even for the most mundane things?

The answer was undeniable.

He felt strong.

Different from the power trip he thrived on when he succeeded in yet another level.

Different from the sadistic glee he felt when the nomu followed his command.

Different from the sense of duty plaguing his mind when his teammates looked to him for direction.

This inner sense of peace steadied his mind and cleared his thoughts. How could it be weakness when he would tear the world apart for you?

The soft tap of your foot on his knee drew his attention to you. "This was nice," you softly said. "Next time I'll leave a trail of takoyaki outside your room so you can join me for lunch."

He huffed a dry laugh. "Make me botamochis and you got yourself a deal."

"You'll eat sweets made from red beans but not a single fruit ... " You innocently popped another strawberry into your mouth. "Not even these strawberries ... "

"Get over here and give me a taste then," he growled, settling back in his chair with a clear invitation of his own.

You accepted without delay.

[seiyasabi]

きつね (Fox)

(I wanted to try something different and write a few Romaji (ローマ字) words in Hiragana (ひらがな)! I promise it won’t be throughout the fic, but I thought it would be fun for those learning Japanese to practice :)) 

Here’s a !DARK! Kitsune (きつね) Kakyoin (かきょいん) x Female Reader story! Please proceed with extreme caution! 

TW: !NONCON!, !Foul Dirty talk!, !breeding kink!, !knotting!, !Size kink!, use of pepper spray!, you’re in the forest!,!no prep!, !gagging!,  !predator/prey elements!, violence!, mentions of blood and small wounds!, !mentions of drug use and alcohol! (Not you or in detail),  etc.. 

I’m sorry if this is too OOC!) 

“Go to the forest, they said, it’ll be fun, they said,” You grumble to yourself, nearly tripping over a stray tree root. All you want to do is get out of this damn forest and pass out in your dormitory bed, but it seems like Mother Nature has another plan for you. 

Currently, you’re regretting going into the creepy woods near your college. You’d only gotten to this college a few months prior, having transferred from your college in (prefecture/country) to one in rural Japan, and you thought this would be a fun experience. Your new friends claimed that the parties at a certain campground were wild and entertaining, but so far, you’d only seen a few drunken fights, you watched a girl snort a line off of another girls’ chest, and were almost shoved into the bonfire. After all of this, and the fact that your friends left you alone, you decided it was time to head home. 

But, as it turns out, you walked in the opposite direction of the parking lot, getting yourself absolutely lost in the hauntingly beautiful forest. Cursing yourself for your stupidity, you tried to bring up google maps, only to be stopped by that godforsaken icon of ‘no service.’ 

So, you opted for your phone’s flashlight, trying in vain to figure out where was North and where was South. 

“Fucking hell, I know I didn’t walk too far from the campsite, how did I get so lost?” Stumbling once again, you almost fall flat on your face, only to be stopped by a pale hand. The slender, long fingered hand grips the fat of your forearm in a firm grasp, holding you up. Seeing this, a horrified scream leaves your lips before you can stop it, thinking that the thing in front of you was an Onryō. 

Looking up, you’re suddenly face to face with a large, breathtaking man in a red and white kimono. His long, red hair is twisted into an intricate updo, highlighting his sharp jawline. That, in turn, shows off his dangling earrings, which just barely brush his cheek. His purple eyes twinkle in your phone’s flashlight, a small smirk quirking his full lips. 

“Hello there,” The redhead's voice is smooth, sounding like whipped butter personified, “Are you lost?” 

Knowing better than to expose your vulnerability, you shake your head no, “O-oh, no, sir. I’m just heading back to the party. I’m sorry if I bothered you,” You try to wrench your arm from his grip, but he seemingly grabs on harder. 

“There’s no need to lie, I heard your grumblings a few moments ago. I’ve also watched your sorry attempts of hiking through the foliage, and I’d be happy to help,” You eye him suspiciously, not trusting him for a second. 

“No thank you. I’m not so sure I trust a weird man alone in the forest. I hope you understand,” He laughs at your words, sounding like wind chimes. You shift your feet in discomfort, wondering what is so funny about your cautious words. 

“Don’t be silly. There’s a temple near here that I upkeep, and I was walking to the parking lot to head to a 7/11 near here. I’m heading in the same direction as you, so-“ He continues to speak, but you don’t hear a word. You never mentioned the parking lot, and if he was heading there, you’re pretty sure he would’ve just used a path that you carelessly disregarded. Noticing your sudden change of discomfort to extreme fear, he tries to comfort you, “Why that look? I promise I won’t hurt you. Here, why don’t you come to the temple and-“ 

You don’t give him time to manipulate you, suddenly whipping out your gel pepper spray. Chucking the cap in a random direction, you check that the nozzle is facing him, before spraying at full blast. A loud bark-like scream echoes through the air, as you’re suddenly released by his iron grip. Shoving him over, you start to sprint in the direction you just came from.  

“Come back here!” The red haired man yells, a deep growl reverberating through his chest. That urges you to run faster. Flashlight aimed at the ground, you leap and hop over foliage and debris, trying your hardest to evade the freak of a man currently after you. You can hear his footsteps behind you, the forest suddenly silent. 

Your body runs cold at the realisation; just what is this man, and why are the critters so afraid of him? 

Not deciding to find out, you then run in a zigzag fashion, trying to get him off of your tail. The crunch of sticks and leaves are constant, the loudest ones being the hulking man behind you. 

“You can’t outrun me, Pretty Girl!” 

Your chase goes on for a while longer, until you see the unmistakable light of a fire. This causes you to go faster, the idea of safety appealing. 

But, unfortunately for you, you didn’t notice the undeniable silence ahead of you. When you left, the music was practically earth shattering, along with the chatter of inebriated college kids and the loud noise of their cars and motorcycles. 

When you reach the fire, you’re greeted with the sight of a dark wooden structure. It’s a temple, but it looks a lot bigger than a normal Shintō one. In fact, it looks straight out of the fantasy anime your roommate made you watch with her. 

Taking your chances with the forest, you turn to run back into the dark green foliage, only to be tackled back first onto the stick covered dirt below. The twigs stab into your uncovered covered skin, drawing blood, as the kimono clad man above you pants in both pain and anger. 

He brings his face close to yours, making you turn yours away from his with a whimper. His warm breath fans across your uncovered neck, his purple eyes practically glowing down at you. The white around his irises are bright red and teary, showing the effect your weapon has against him. In the lightly you notice two flattened ears on the top of his head, making you gasp in surprise and confusion. Was this a guardian of the Forest? Or was this a demon here to steal your soul? 

“Why must you hurt me? I haven’t done anything to you,” He sounds somewhat hurt that you maced him, but who could blame you? If some creep approaches you in the forest, you fight first, ask questions later. 

“Why are you coming after me? There’s no reason for you to chase after me,” One of his rough hands grips your chin, forcing you to look up at him. His mouth is parted slightly, his sharp teeth glinting in the fire light as his face twists into a smirk. 

“It’s always fun chasing after prey,” He leans in closer, lips just barely touching yours, “Especially when the prey is as adorable as you. Now, we can do this the hard way, or the easy way; if you let me have you, we can go at your pace. If you don’t, I’ll take you however I want.” 

To say you’re shocked is an understatement, “Wha-what do you mean, ‘take me’? Didn’t you just say that you’re going to eat me?” 

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. I’m still quite full from the meal I had earlier. I should thank those villagers; without them, I wouldn’t have been able to eat those delicious friends of yours,” All blood leaves your face, did he just say that he ate-

Looking at his kimono, you realise that the red isn’t a pattern at all; it’s blood splatter! 

“Oh my god,” You place a shaking hand on his chest, trying to push him away, “What the fuck? Holy shit- is that why the forest is so quiet? They know it’s your feeding time? Holy fuck-“ He silences you with a heated kiss, practically forcing his tongue down your throat. Lithe hands grope at your cropped tank top covered breasts, trying to squeeze the fat underneath, only to be blocked by your push up bra. Shoving with your entire weight, you’re still unable to force him off of you. Without thinking, you bite down on his tongue, drawing out another bark of pain from the ginger. 

That gives you enough time to breathe and regain your composure. Trying to wiggle out from underneath the muscular male, you’re quickly lifted and flipped onto your front, face pressed against the dirty ground. 

“My mother always told me that females are hard to get, but I never knew it would be this painful,” He spits a mouthful of blood out onto the ground near your head, making you cringe away from that spot, scraping your chest against a particularly sharp twig. A small yelp escapes your throat at the pain, trying in vain to use your arms as a barrier against the sticks and stones below you, “Awe, did my pretty girl hurt herself? That’s okay, I’ll still think that you’re pretty.” 

“Get off of me! What are you trying to do? If you’re going to eat me, get over with it already!” Finally being able to push yourself up onto your forearms, you try to buck him off of you, only to hear a high pitched whine echo out from behind you. Freezing in surprise, you peek at him from, only to be met with a ruby red face. 

“Did you know that foxes go through a mating season?” 

“What the hell does that have to do with any-?” You’re suddenly shoved back onto the floor, tits practically spilling out of your top. 

“I’m going to breed your empty womb, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You’re going to bear me many cute pups, and you’re going to stay here with me until the end of your days.” 

“Go find some female kitsune! I don’t want to have your babies!” Your stomach scrapes painfully against stones below you, dripping more blood onto the dirt. 

“But that’s the thing- you don’t get a choice, Pretty Pretty. You clearly can’t care for yourself! You got lost in the woods, for Gods’ sake! Now, obey your mate, and let me in,” He looks down at your cute mini-skirt, and flips it over your ass, exposing your emerald green thong. His cool fingers ghost over your unblemished ass cheeks, a hitched breath echoing through the Kitsune’s chest, “Oh, pretty girl, did you wear this for me? How did you know my favourite colour?” 

“Get off of me! I didn’t do any-“ He suddenly rips your panties from your cute cunt, before shoving them into your open mouth. You try to spit it out, but are unable to. Tears gather in your eyes, as you start to cry. This strange man is about to do the worst thing a person can do, and he doesn’t seem to care about your feelings. 

“Don’t cry, I’ll take care of you and our pups,” He spreads your legs open, giving him easier access to your soft pussy, “Ah, there’s your pretty cunt. Everything about you is so pretty, aren’t you lucky? If it weren’t for that and your perfect fertile womb, I would’ve eaten you.” 

He kneels on your shins, shoving down your front, arching your ass up into the air. 

“You smell amazing. It’s like your body is just calling for my thick seed. Don’t worry, Pretty Girl,

I’ll give it to you.” 

You hear his kimono shift, most likely pulling out his cock. This makes you choke on your sobs, as you try to pretend that this moment isn’t happening. That some monster of the forest isn’t about to breed you full of his-

A scream escapes your throat the moment you feel his wet cock head against your unprepared pussy. You thought he’d at least prepare your cunt, but it seems that he’s trying to go in dry. He grunts when he feels you starting to thrash, using the hand that once held his cock to smack your ass harshly. 

“Stop it. You can’t change my mind! Jotaro will be so jealous when he finds out I got the most beautiful, fertile, and resourceful mate. Now, hold still,” You don’t understand what he’s talking about, but you can’t help but feel shame. You know his friend’s name, but not his own! The least your rapist could do is tell you his name! As if sending this, he rubs one of your ass cheeks reassuringly, “I suppose you’d like to know your mate’s name, huh? I’m Noriaki Kakyoin. There’s no need for you to say your name, I heard you introduce yourself to those… disgusting humans earlier. But don’t worry, you won’t have to deal with them ever again.” 

He releases your ass in favour of gripping his cock once more, pushing its tip into you with some trouble. You scream through your makeshift gag, the pain of him pushing in feeling like he’s tearing your pussy apart. 

“Awe, are you a virgin? My mom always said a female’s first time is painful,” You want to shove a stick up his ass unlubed! Let’s see how he likes getting something forced inside of him without preparation! “But don’t worry, you should feel good once I’m fully inside.” 

With that, he forces himself in until he’s fully seated inside of you. Another scream escapes your throat, as you feel a small rivulet of blood dribble from your now torn cunt. By this point, you’re hyperventilating in pain, anxiety, and fear. This man is so thick, that you’re pretty sure your pussy will never go back to its original size ever again. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight. I knew you were the right one for me,” When he starts to move, that’s when one of your hands claws at one of his that’s resting on your hip. You feel his skin break under your nails, as you try in vain to make him stop. It feels like he’s splitting you in two! “Does my pretty girl feel good?” You shake your head rapidly, drowning in your pained sobs, “Don’t lie, I feel you getting wet.” 

Can’t he smell that that’s blood? 

You hiccup and wheeze, tears and snot dripping down your pretty face into the dirt. When he starts to buck his hips, you feel like you’re going to throw up. His cock is so heavy inside you, that you feel like he’s rearranging your guts. 

“I feel the opening of your womb on my tip, it’s almost like you’re trying to suck my cock into it!” Kakyoin starts to move his hips faster, making your body go limp. It’s almost like your body is going into shock at the severe pain you’re in, “You sure want my pups, even if you claim you don’t. I’m so close to filling you with my seed, so you won’t have to wait any longer to be filled!” 

He bucks into you at top speed, his own hips crashing into yours harshly. His heavy sack smacks against your ignored clit, sending small jolts of pleasure through your body. But, it’s not enough to make this easier for you. Your pussy is barely producing any slick, making this a lot harder for you to handle. The next time this happens, you know there’s going to be a next time, you should probably explain to him how to prepare you for his horse cock. 

“Shit, shit, I’m gonna fill you up, Pretty Girl. I’m going to make you heavy with five pups, hell, maybe even fifteen! Then once you have them, I’ll fill you up with even more! Doesn’t that sound nice? Your womb will never be lonely again!” 

He thrusts into you with three more powerful thrusts, before slamming his entire length inside of you at once. The head of his cock is right up against your womb, so when his entire length starts to swell, you can practically feel it prying at your cervix. More fat tears rain down your face in this rivulets, your fingers digging into the dirt, cutting up your nimble hands. Kakyoin grunts and growls in a deep voice, savouring the way your walls throw around him in pain. 

Whilst his cock is fully swollen, he releases all the cum he has into you. The large amount of seed isn’t all able to force its way into your cervix, causing it to pool in the canal of your cunt, bloating your stomach out slightly. 

“I can practically smell my seed taking. Your perfect body is accepting me very well, Pretty Pretty. I told you that we’re mates, and this just proves it,” he strokes your head softly, trying to console you as you continue to cry. At this point, he starts to become concerned, why haven’t you stopped crying? “What’s wrong? Didn’t you cum?” 

When you don’t shake or nod your head, he releases one of your hips, in favour of yanking your panties out of your mouth, allowing you to breathe with ease and finally speak. 

“You’re such a Monster,” You sob, face pressed against the cool packed dirt below you, “I-I can’t believe you-if you were going to rape me why didn’t you prepare me?” He makes a small whimpering noise, not quite understanding your gripe. 

“What do you mean?” You start to cry even harder, almost making yourself sick. 

“My pussy is torn open! I’m bleeding! The only one who felt nice is you!” You start to gag, unable to catch your breath properly without somewhat choking on your spit and snot, “Now I’m pregnant with your rape babies, and-and it hurts so bad! Get out of me!” 

You try to yank yourself off of his inflated cock, but he quickly stops you, trying not to hurt you even more. Looking down, he sees a large pool of blood below the place the both of you are connected. He gasps in shock. Sure, he knew that some girls bleed their first time, but this doesn’t look right! 

“What-why are you bleeding so much?” 

“Because you tore me open! I hate you! I hate you! I wish you just killed me!” 

Whilst he’s still stuck inside you, you continue to cry, which makes him feel even worse. He can’t believe that he hurt you so severely. This was never his intention, after all, both parties are supposed to feel good, are they not? 

But now, he’ll never be able to make you love him. 

How could you love someone as monstrous as him? 

[serosinkyslut]

“I need you”

Sero x fem!Black reader

Warnings: mentions of drugs, smut, p r a i s e, slight bruising, some overstim w/ nipple play, panic attack, angst, choking, and squirting

Summary: You’re about to tell Sero a thing or two after getting a call from him at 3am. But his response leads to a different discussion…

Word count: about 2.7k

Author’s note: Quick question/// how did we all come to an agreement that Sero smokes?? Is this canon? Could it be canon?

Authors note pt. 2: I didn’t think the angst would be so long, so just skip to the {***}asterisks if you just wanna read the smut

The Sero you know has always been calm, cool, and collected. When you receive a phone call at 3am, you assume it’s one of his usual antics; him asking you if you’ve heard Megan’s new song, explaining why Denki is such a dumbass, or his take on the Netflix show you told him to watch. The bright light of your phone stings your eyes before you hear the ringtone. Taki Taki by Selena Gomez blasts from your nightstand- a song Sero knew annoyed the crap out of you, and hence forced you to set it as his ringtone after a bet you lost months ago. Hearing it so many times now, after all, Sero was your best friend and boyfriend, the tune wasn’t as bad. As you reach over to answer it, silencing the dumb song, you’re semi-pissed off and ready to tell Sero that whatever he has to say can definitely wait til morning. You were exhausted and had just seen Sero only a few hours ago. However, when you answer the phone, the soft but audible sniffle instantly shuts you up.

There’s a shaky breath before “y/n...I....” he pauses, trying to regain control of his broken voice. Your heart squeezes terribly as he tried to force himself to talk. What had happened? You were just laughing together not too long ago.

“Sero? What’s wrong? Are you okay??”

You hear him struggling to tell you what’s going on with him, but only a strangled cry comes out as he bursts into tears. You’ve never heard Sero this broken, this distraught. Hell, you’ve hardly ever seen him have a semi bad day. Tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. It hurts you to know that your bestfriend is in so much pain.

“I need you,” he manages to get out through gasps.

“I’m on my way right now,” you tell him in a smooth, stable voice. You’re scared that it’ll only freak him out even more if he knew how panicked you were. In a total frenzy, you throw on a big shirt and grab your car keys on the way out, not even thinking about your bonnet still on your head, your raggedy house slippers on your feet, or even the fact that you're dashing out your apartment at 3am with no pants on. You can only think about Sero, and how bad he must be feeling to call you in absolute tears. You don’t bother with a seatbelt, and hardly look out for other cars as you zoom to his apartment. A trip that should have taken 20 minutes didn’t even take 10 as you park in the spot Sero was convinced was just for you. A space directly in front of his apartment that was always vacant, and also so happened to be right next to his car. Your feet fly you to the second floor and you fumble searching for the red cheetah printed key to his apartment that he copied for you. He thought it was hilarious how tacky it was, and even customized his own key so that you guys could match. That was Sero for you- always thinking of you. Always going the extra mile to see you happy. And now that precious boy was suffering, crying alone in his apartment. “Wait...is he even in his apartment?” You slam your palm to your forehead. You didn’t even bother asking where he was before rushing over. Fuck. Sending a silent prayer, you flip out the red key and open the door.

As soon as you do, a gush of smoke exits, flooding your nostrils with the smell of weed. You can hardly see into the space, trying to make it safely to Sero’s room where you figure he must be, smoking in his little alcove by the window with the air diffuser on. Instead, you hear his sniffling from the living room, almost blocked out by the tv which, ironically, is in fact playing the Netflix show that you recommended to him last week. Dragging your eyes from the flashing tv, you focus your attention to the shaking lump of covers on the sofa. Taking deep breaths, you walk towards him.

“Sero?” you whisper quietly and he freezes. He doesn’t respond, but you know he heard you. “Sero... I’m here”. You take a few more wary steps before you place your hand on the blanket he’s hiding under and peel it always carefully, revealing the top of his head. You bend down to get a look at his face, but when you try, he only lowers his head even more. You smooth his hair down with one hand, and place the other ever so gently under his chin, trying to get him to look at you. “Look at me, Sero. Please? Tell me what’s wrong”. Sero, being one to never deny you anything you ask for, tilts his head up gingerly. His eyes are totally bloodshot, and you can’t tell if it’s from the weed, the crying, or both. But either way, it breaks you I’m so many different ways. Sero opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. You slip into the thick covers with him and press him to your chest, wrapping your arms around his head. Almost instinctively, he wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face into you while gripping you tightly like his life depends on it. You keep smoothing down his hair, whispering a mix of “everything’s okay. I’m here. It’s okay. You’re safe,” while peckering kisses on his head. It takes a few minutes to calm down from his.. panic attack? Jesus, you want to know what’s wrong so you can fix it. Once he’s stable, he finally looks up at you with those big beautiful eyes and kisses your chin. Then your jaw, neck, collar bones, and finally stopping at the gap between your breasts. He sighs in to you, face between your breasts, and reluctantly releases his grip around your waist. All of a sudden, everything spills out at once. He rambles on about how 5 civilians had died right in front of him two months ago. 3 of them being children. How he could’ve saved them if he had been a better hero. How he was having nightmares about them, and about you. It could have been you that day. Would he be able to save you then? Would you resent him for being so weak? He’d been getting high almost every night to ease his anxiety, but he finally cracked when the Netflix show you gave him had a child die in the last scene of the 2nd season. That was the trigger for his first panic attack. When he called you, he was right in the middle of it, and couldn’t think of someone better to contact. And his gut was right. Just you holding him in your arms made the bad thoughts go away. You were better than the weed, better than all the numerous distractions he had to make him think about everything but the accident. He felt safe. He felt loved. He never knew that was what he needed most. Now that he was calm in your arms, he wanted to reciprocate all the love you always showered him.

*** [here’s the smut you whores]

He began pressing sloppy, wet kisses against the base of your neck, sucking so hard on the skin that you knew for a fact it would leave a bruise or two. “I love you y/n. You’re so good to me,” he breathes before licking long stripes along your collarbone. “I love you so much”. Dammit this man was high as hell. You felt some guilt bubbling in the pit of your stomach at Sero’s advances. Should you be enjoying this as much as you are right now? Your best friend just had a panic attack. Yet, the feeling was quickly replaced by a pleasurable heat as he firmly grabbed your ass with one hand and pressed his boner against your cunt, pushing almost painfully hard through your thin T-shirt. It wasn’t until that moment you remembered all you had on was this shirt and underwear.

With his other hand, he removes your bonnet and threads his hands in your curls, getting tangled easily while he lightly scraped your scalp, right at the crown. Right where you liked it. You let out a soft moan that was met with a slight throb of Sero’s cock. “You’re fucking perfect, Princesa. Your hair and skin feel so perfect. So perfect for Papi”. He bites down on your collar bone, receiving a sharp yelp in surprise and a tug at his hair. “ohhh hermosa you feel so good,” he groans, his Spanish beginning to flow as you both get even more turned on. “All I need is you, y/n,” he says. Carefully, he takes his hand out of your kinks and places one on your hip, rubbing small circles with his nails. He stops for a moment in this position. He murmurs, almost to himself, “You’re all I need, mi cielito. After all the bullshit I put you through, I don’t deserve you,” he starts to choke a bit on his words at the end, and you sense the tears coming. You love Sero, and in no way did he not deserve you. He needed to know that. Pulling his lips away from you, which are now swollen, you stare into his eyes and tell him “I love you, and only you Sero. I don’t want or need anyone else”. A quick tear escapes from his eye and it slides right into the crook of your arm. You wipe it away with the palm of your hand, keeping it pressed on his cheek. “I mean it, Sero”. A slow, lopsided smile presents itself on his face. “That was pretty cheesy y/n. I never pegged you for the sentimental type”. You mirror his smile, your heart soars at the inkling of normalcy between you two. “Oh fuck off,” you say playfully pushing his head away. “We both know that I’m a huge romantic. Besides,” dropping your voice and gently pressing your lips against his ear, “no one else could get me this wet in a few minutes. Sero giggled at you, yes giggled, and shook his head.

“Horny ass. Let me have this damn opportunity to be lovey-dovey” Sero’s fake agitation is so forced you couldn’t help but outrightly laugh. After the moment passes though, you suddenly become serious. “Are you sure about this Sero?”

“I’m always sure when it comes to you hermosa”

This time, he places a slow, deep kiss to your mouth, swiping a hot tongue along your bottom lip, asking for permission to enter. As usual, you give it to him without a second thought.

Sex with Sero is always passionate, but today felt extremely intense. You’d be lying to yourself if you said it didn’t turn you on. Plus, there was so much smoke in the apartment that you had to be getting a second hand high right now.

Sitting up and dragging you with him, covers sliding to the floor, he positions you two at the edge of the couch, your back facing a blaring tv that neither of you bother to turn off as you straddle him. One swift tug has your shirt off, revealing your pebbled nipples and a lacey red underwear you don’t even remember putting on.

A low whistle leaves Sero’s lips. “You couldn’t possibly have mistaken my phone call for a booty call, could you? ‘Cause this is sexy as fuck mami”

Wasting no more time, he wraps his mouth around one nipple, flicking the dexterous muscle back and forth. The other nipple pinched between his fingers while he pulls and squeezes harshly, the pain meshing deliciously with the pleasure. With his free hand, he wraps his lanky fingers around the back of your neck, encircling almost completely around your throat. Yanking your head back with just the right amount of force, you can’t help the loud, high pitched moan that leaves you. Your hips spasm along his thigh, leaving a visible line of slit on his pants. Sero hums against your skin, tightening his grip on you, “you like that, don’t you? Grinding your cunt on my thigh while my hands choke your pretty little neck”

You were going to respond, but his teeth bite down on your breast, the other one met by a thumb flicking across the bud quickly. Your hips buck against his leg, the pressure causing a flood of incoherent sounds. You’re a mess of moans, white pulsing at the edges of your vision, heat rocking through your entire body. And just when you think the pain starts to be too much, he presses his knee right against your clit, making you see stars. “Sero!!” Your screams and gasps are so noisy that you know the neighbors are sure of who’s making you feel this good. His mouth rips from your nipple with a pop, but instantly latches onto your lips.

He uses both of his hands to palm your ass, grinding your hips faster and harder, your clit exploding with pleasure. Eyes squeezed shut, you slam your arms down on him, clawing at his shoulders. The feeling was so fast, so intense, too good, you were being sent over the edge. Your words were incomprehensible, you could hardly even speak to tell him you were close, so so close.

“Fuck! Sero I-”

“Shit y/n you look so fucking hot,” he grunts against your lips, “Please cum, cum for papi. You’re so pretty on top of me y/n. Cum all over my pants with that pretty pussy of yours baby”. One hand smacks down across your tits, making you jump so hard you almost fall off his leg. He never stops gripping and kneading at them, rougher than ever, before twisting your nipples again. You claw at his shoulders, practically sobbing from the pleasure, screaming “yes yes yes! So good! So...!”

Another slap makes your eyes roll to the back of your head, your orgasm building in your core. He squishes your tits together, and plunges both nipples in his mouth, biting and sucking fervently. At the same time he bounces his knee, you feel the burning knot coming undone. “Papi, I’m gonna cum, I’m coming, I’m-”

You couldn’t say anymore, as a gush of hot liquid squirted all over his leg. Sero hums with your tits still in his mouth, the tiny vibrations sending bolts of electricity down your spine. You gradually came back down from your high (and not the weed high), Sero still rocking you slowly against his pant leg. When you come back to reality, your head falls forward, instantly tired and tense from that world-changing orgasm. After opening your eyes, you spot a wet circle right at the center of Sero’s legs. “Sero, did you just cum?”

He glances down, and his eyes widened when he also sees the sticky wetness seeping through. He looks back up at you, blessing you with his wide, toothy smile. “I guess I did, huh?”

Bitch is high as hell. You chuckle slightly before you hear a nearly inaudible squelch under you. Now you look between your own legs, and freeze at what you see.

Shit

“Did I… did I just?”

“Yeah,” Sero snorted, “You squirted on my thigh. I think it got on the couch too.”

Oh my god. You press your palms to your eyes immediately, totally embarrassed by what you did. Not to mention the fact that you were basically naked, while Sero was still fully clothed. How did this even happen? You’ve never squirted before. Did you have some sort of torture kink? Your tits hurt like hell right now. Turning your head away, you say “that’s so embarrassing”

“Embarrassing? Look at me” Sero takes you by the wrists and removes your hands from your face, but your eyes still look away. “Look at me baby,” he persists, squeezing your cheeks between his thumb and index with his lanky fingers, forcing your eyes on his. His blissed out eyes are still glossed over with an incredible lustful stare. “That was fucking hot, y/n. Can you do it again? Please?”

[honeyheartsandkisses]

Best friend’s brother

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Gryffindor reader

One shot, 3k word count.

Summary: You have been best friends with Ron, Harry and Hermione ever since your first year in Hogwarts. But lately you’ve been feeling a little different about Ron’s older brother. You, Hermione and Harry have been invited to spend the last week of the school holidays at the Burrow. Could anything possibly happen between you and Fred?

“Oh welcome dear!” Mrs Weasley chirps, rushing out the door to greet you as you heave your heavy luggage out the trunk of the cab. “Leave your luggage dear, I’ll get the twins to bring them in for you.”

“Thank you for having me Mrs Weasley! I can’t wait to finally have your signature pumpkin juice again.” You give her a big hug before pulling away. Mrs Weasley erupts into a fit of giggles. “Oh you’re too kind dear. Come on in, Harry and Hermione arrived over an hour ago and Rons been wondering when you’d arrive.” 

As if on cue, your three best friends burst out of the front door, sprinting in your direction. Before you knew it, you crash down to the ground by the impact, the wind knocked out of you. The four of you burst out laughing, laying on the ground out on the lawn.

“You’re finally here!” Hermione says, before getting up to dust the dirt off her jeans. You follow suit, looking over at the boys still wrestling on the ground. 

“Did you guys miss me?” You tease, playfully kicking Harry’s leg.

Ron was the next to stand up. “I think ‘miss’ is a strong word. We simply wanted you to reach earlier because Hermione wouldn’t stop talking about the latest book she read.” He says with a goofy smile on his face.

Despite all the playful banter, you couldn’t be happier seeing your closest friends again. Your parents are muggles and you didn’t have anyone to talk to about the wizarding world. “Well, you can tell me all about your book Hermione. Its not your fault the boys are uncultured barbarians.” You say, rolling your eyes at Ron.

“Hey!” Harry protested, but only earned himself a playful slap on the shoulder from you. 

Just as the 4 of you were about to head back into the house, you see Mrs Weasley dragging Fred and George out into the lawn by their ears. The twins groan and protest, but fail to struggle out of their mother’s iron-like grip. “The two of you better help y/n with her luggage. After causing all that mess in the kitchen with your pranks, it’s the least you can do!” With that, she throws them out the front door, slamming it shut behind them.

For the first time of the day, your heart does a little backflip the moment your eyes fall on Fred Weasley. He's wearing a maroon sweater and black jeans, his hair in its usual messy state. Nothing has changed since the last time you saw him other than his left ear which was a little redder than the right from where Mrs Weasley pinched it. “Merlins beard that hurt...” He groaned, rubbing his ear. 

Your crush on Ron’s older brother was no secret to your three best friends. Your feelings for him surfaced just over a year ago when you were doing your final exams in the great hall and the twins flew in on their broomsticks, setting off fireworks in the great hall. Ever since that faithful day you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Be it bumping into the twins in the Gryffindor common room, or sitting near them during mealtimes in the great hall, all these small encounters made your heart skip a beat.

“Hey y/n! Great seeing you again.” George greets you with a big smile and the two of you exchange a friendly hug. “Ill grab the small trunk. Fred will handle the heavier one.” He smirks mischievously while his other twin lets out a loud sigh in defeat. You laugh at this, “I’ve missed you George.” You watch as he grabs the smaller trunk and hurries back into the house.

Fred, who is now standing in front of you, clears his throat loudly. “Ahem”

“Well, we’ll be inside waiting for you y/n! See you back inside!” Hermione chirps, steering a very confused Ron and Harry towards the house. You sent her a thank you message mentally. Right now, only you and Fred were left standing on the driveway, out in the cool evening air. 

You subconsciously run your hands through your hair, attempting to comb out any tangles from the earlier tussle with your best friends. “Hey Fred. Its great seeing you again.” You smile up at him.

“Not going to say you miss me too?” he bends forward, bringing his face closer to yours. This makes your breath catch in your throat. You lean backwards a little, feeling nervous and confused all at the same time. But this only makes him lean forward even more. Before you could catch yourself, you feel your weight shift and you lose your balance, falling backwards. In that split second, Fred grabs you around your waist and pulls you forward into him, allowing you to regain your balance. Your face now inches away from his, you freeze completely.

“Breathe y/n. You’re turning blue.” He laughs. Only then do you realize you had been holding your breath for the past few seconds. You quickly took a deep breath, before slapping his arm. “That was completely unnecessary!” Fred flashes an innocent smile, nearly making you hold your breath yet again. 

“What was?” 

“Oh you know exactly what i mean Fred Weasley. You complete arse!”

Fred continues to laugh, the most adorable sound you’ve ever heard. “Alright alright come on, lets get you out of the cold.” He says, swiftly lifting your massive luggage off the ground before leading you towards the house with one hand on the small of your back.

When you step into the house, you’re greeted with the glorious smell of Mrs Weasley’s cooking. She’d already started preparing dinner. You see your three best friends sitting on the couch, Ron and Harry at a game of chess while Hermione had her head buried in a thick book. You could hear the sound of laughter coming from the back yard and you assume George is out there playing with his two older brothers Charlie and Bill. 

“This way y/n. You’ll be sharing a room with Ginny and Hermione.” Fred says as he lugs your trunk up the stairs. 

“Right...” you reply, following him up the stairs.

Fred stops climbing the stairs and turns around to face you. “You sound rather disappointed y/n.”

“No not at all. I just—“ 

“Would you rather stay in my room?”

You stare at him for a few seconds, expecting him to burst out laughing or show any sign that this was a joke. But it never came. “Oh um... well it’s really kind of you offer but—”

“Ah bummer.” He says, before turning around to resume climbing up the stairs. Did Fred Weasley just flirt with you?

You reach the third floor and walk past a few other rooms as Fred leads you to the one at the end of the corridor. In one of it you see Percy hunched over a messy desk, scribbling away on a sheet of parchment. “Hey Percy! How’s work at the ministry—“ before you could finish, Fred pulls you away from the room. “Trust me, you wouldn’t want to get him started. We won’t hear the end of it.” He says, drawing circles with his index finger in the air next to his ear. This makes you laugh.

Soon you two reach the last room at the end of the corridor. Fred places your trunk in the corner of the room, right next to Hermione’s. “Well this is where you’ll sleep for the next few nights.” He says, taking a look around the room. “Trust me when i say it’s much cleaner than mine. George always leaves our room messy.”

“So George is the ONLY one messing things up in this house. You’re the obedient one.” You say sarcastically, knowing full well the two of them were always up to no good.

“I am, and always have been.” He winks at you, dropping down onto the mattress on the floor. The one you assumed was going to be your bed for the next one week. “Actually y/n there’s something i need to tell you—“ before he could go on, George pokes his head through the door, smiling mischievously. “Dinner is ready lovebirds!” He immediately disappears, laughing gleefully running back down the stairs.

You looked at Fred, raising an eyebrow as if to ask ‘What was that all about?’ He simply sighs, running his hands through his fiery red hair. “Um... we should probably go downstairs.”

Sitting at the overcrowded dinner table with Harry on your right and Ron on your left, a little part of you was dying to tell Hermione about what George said a little earlier. All this time you thought Fred only saw you as his little brother’s best friend but so many things have happened today, making you think otherwise. The dinner table is flooded with a feast whipped up by Mrs Weasley. Roast chicken, mashed potatoes, green peas, and of course, pumpkin juice. 

You take a long swig of pumpkin juice. “Thank you for the feast Mrs Weasley!”

She waves it off. “Oh don’t mention it dearie! Help yourself to the food everyone.” With that, everyone starts digging in. Mr Weasley passing the potatoes over to Percy, George using his wand to summon a plate of yams from across the table, everything was loud and messy. But this was what you loved about the Weasleys. 

Amid the chaos, you catch a glimpse of Fred, sitting right across the table from you, and your eyes meet. You feel your heart do yet another backflip, and you quickly direct your attention into scooping a lump of mashed potatoes onto your plate. 

“You feeling alright y/n?” Ron asked, giving you a weird look. “You've gone all red.”

“Yeah I’m fine.” You quickly say, hoping no one else noticed it.

Ron ignores you, pressing his palm on your forehead to feel your temperature. When this doesn’t work, he cups your cheeks. And when this doesn’t work, he feels your neck. “Seems fine to me.” He finally says.

“Look if you really need to check her temperature use one of these. Do you really have to put your hands all over her like that!” Fred explodes, magicking a thermometer from a cabinet across the kitchen. The whole kitchen goes silent, staring at Fred. His sudden outburst shocked everyone, even you. The playful, carefree boy had never exploded like his before. Fred looks around the table at all the eyes staring at him, turning a little red.

George is the first one to break the silence. “Well brother dear, it looks like you’ve finally let the cat out of the bag.”

Mr Weasley diverts his gaze from Fred to George. “What do you mean son?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Fred has a crush on y/n!” Bill says, laughing hysterically. 

“Good for you brother!” Charlie stands, shaking Fred’s hand. “Who would’ve thought our little Fred was capable of love!” This makes George howl with laughter, causing Fred to chase him around the kitchen trying to get him to shut up.

For the first time ever, Fred looked embarrassed. He’d played so many pranks in Hogwarts and received all sorts of punishments, but never once did he look embarrassed. This was a first. 

You couldn’t  help but laugh too. The entire situation was so embarrassing for Fred but it was so adorable at the same time. Harry leaned over and whispered in your ear “Should we tell him?” 

You shake your head. “I want to be the one to do it.” To this he nods, smiling gleefully. Hermione overhears this and gives you two thumbs up. You couldn’t possibly feel any happier than you do in this very moment. A million thoughts race through your mind. Fred likes me back? When did it begin? I can’t believe this!

“Now settle down boys! Leave him alone!” Mrs Weasley says, shushing them. The twins return to their seats, Fred as red as a tomato. He looks across the table at you, clearly searching for a reaction. Anything at all to signify you liked him back. You feel his gaze see right through you and your silly smile. Theres no way that boy doesn’t know you like him back.

After dinner Mr Weasley and Mrs Weasley do the dishes with a few swishes of their wand while all the children spread out across the house once again. Percy was back in his room busy at work. Bill, Charlie and Ginny watching a movie on the couch, though Bill was already half asleep. Fred and George were hiding away in their room doing God knows what. The mischievous twins were always busy planning their next prank. You, Harry, Hermione and Ron decide to sit on the benches out in the backyard, enjoying the cool night breeze. There under the blanket of stars, the best friends talk about the dinner scene. 

“Oh you have to tell him y/n!” Hermione jumps up and down, buzzing with excitement. “Its not everyday you find your crush likes you back!”

Ron folds his arms defiantly. “I still think y/n has bad taste when it comes to guys. I mean, of all people it just had to be Fred. The boys a fool!”

“Well why are you going to do y/n?” Harry asks, looking over at you. 

You keep your eyes fixed on the mesmerizing night sky, as though searching for an answer. “I really don’t know. I thought we’d talk about this after dinner but he’s hidden away in his room.” You let out a huge sigh before turning to look at Harry. “Maybe it was just a joke?” This made your heart sink. Your friends stay silent, all deep in thought. 

Hermione finally breaks the silence. “Well theres only one way to find out. You have to ask him.”

“I’d rather not find out.” You quickly stand up trying to shake the dreadful feeling threatening to consume you. “It’ll kill me to find out it was all just a joke.”

Just like that, sleep fell over the Burrow. Everyone tucked away under their blankets in their overcrowded rooms. After everything that happened you found it hard to fall asleep. Tossing and turning on your surprisingly soft mattress didn't seem to help and so you pull on your robe and decide to head on downstairs for a warm glass of milk. You quietly close the door behind you, careful not to wake Hermione and Ginny. When you turn to head on down the stairs you see Fred sneaking out of his room, gingerly closing the door behind him. He completely freezes when his eyes fall on you. Feeling slightly self conscious, you pull your robe tighter around yourself before quickly making your way down the stairs and into the kitchen. 

Pacing back and forth, you try to utilize the last 5 seconds you had before Fred joined you in the kitchen to brainstorm something to say. Anything at all. You turn around to pace the other way only to come face to face with Fred’s chest. “Hey there.” He says.

You tilt your head up to meet his eyes. “Oh hey. What are you doing out here?”

He grabs a pitcher of milk from inside the refrigerator, pouring it into two tall glasses. “I could ask you the same thing.” He slides one glass across the kitchen island to you. 

“Thanks.” You take it and swallow quickly, allowing the cool liquid to sooth your throat that felt like it was closing up.

“Truth is I couldn’t sleep.” He says, looking straight into your eyes.

“May i just ask you one thing?” You blurt out before you could stop yourself.

He nods, walking around the kitchen island towards you. “Ask away.”

“That thing that happened earlier... was it a joke?” 

He take a long sip and sets the cup down on the table before answering. “That depends.”

You frown. “What do you mean by that?”

“Did you want it to be a joke or did you want it to be real?” He looks down at you, taking one step closer. Your heart pounded in your chest.

“Why should that matter?” You say, taking a step back.

“If you wish it was a joke, its a joke. If you wish it was real, then its real.” He says, once again taking a step closer to you.

“You’re such a pain Fred Weasley. If you didn’t like me you should’ve said so. This is a pure act of cowardice.” You say, turning around to leave. But before you could make it two steps away from him, he grabs your arm, pulling you back with force. This makes you lose your balance and stumble backwards straight into him. His arms wrap around you from behind, leaving no escape. 

“Um... Fred?” You manage to say, your voice barely a squeak. Your heart raced. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. You guys were close but you’ve never been held like this before. 

He kisses your cheek, before slowly loosening his grasp allowing you to turn around to face him.

You touch your cheek where he kissed you. “Wha... what was that for?”

“I like you y/n.” You stare at him, in a complete state of shock. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you ever since we first met at platform 9 3/4. I’m sorry about dinner. That wasn’t the way i hoped you’d find out but it’s true. Everything you do drives me crazy. When you went to the Yule Ball with Ron it wrecked me.”

“You know we’re just friends Fred. There’s nothing going on between Ron and I.” You take his hands in yours and bring them around your waist. “I’m already yours.” 

His face twists into a smile, pulling you closer burying his face in the crook of your neck. He kisses your shoulder, then neck, and finally crashes his lips with yours. Your lips move in sync, and you feel yourself go lightheaded. The most wonderful feeling in the world. He lifts you up, placing you on the kitchen island and you wrap your legs around his torso.

“Wait!” You say, pulling away just before things could get too heated. “Can we take it slow? I just don’t want to mess this up.” Still sort of breath from the lack of oxygen, you place a hand on your chest to regain composure. 

He brushes away a lock of hair that fell over your eyes before cupping your face with his large hands.  “Anything for you darling.” 

“Darling?” You couldn’t help but let out a giggle. “I didn't think you had it in you.” You always imagined Fred wasn’t the romantic kind but it appears you were wrong.

He lifts you off the kitchen island, carrying you bridal style. “Oh you have no idea.” He walks all the way to the couch, setting you down. The two of you spend the next few hours talking and laughing by the warm fire, only falling asleep an hour before daybreak.

[honorbound-to-the-pen]

Fictober Day 3

Prompt number: 3

Fandom: AFK Arena (mobile game)

Rating: Teen and up

Warnings/Tags: Major character death, major character undeath, angst, hurt not comfort

Prompt: “I’ve waited for this.”

 The words echoed around the large stone chamber, deep beneath a long-forgotten, forsaken necropolis: “I’ve waited for this”. Baden sat firmly on Thane’s chest, straddling his torso and pinning his sword and arm to the frigid floor with his knee. Thane’s face was white, his teeth clenched and his jaw taut, vaguely shaking, though from anger or cold he was unsure. 

 Grinding his knee down onto Thane’s wrist and huffing at the grimace of pain that flashed across his face, Baden gazed down at his jagged spear, his head cocked slightly to the side. After several seconds of apparent deliberation, he tossed the spear into the dark of the cave, into the darkness. Both men heard it clink against a shadowed wall and roll to a stop; though, Thane couldn’t see it, pinned as he was, and Baden kept his dead-eyed green gaze fixed on Thane’s face.

 With one hand now free, Baden reached up and behind his head, his fingers briefly fiddling with a clasp, before removing his hand, his mask-muzzle coming away in his hand. Baden stared at it for a second, before meeting Thane’s eyes again, his expression making Thane’s blood run cold.

Using Baden’s face, the lich forced Baden’s lips into a cruel smirk. It looked unnatural and demented, coupled with Baden’s still emotionless eyes. If Thane concentrated on the air just behind Baden’s head out of the corner of his eye, Thane could almost make out the lich’s outline, sickly green and grey, looming behind Baden with the same awful smile affixed to his face. 

Focusing back on Baden’s face, Thane’s heart picked up; a sudden change from the slow, icy throbbing that had been present moments before. Baden’s face was filled with anguish, his brow furrowed and his mouth open, as if ready to speak. 

As if on cue, Baden’s mouth slammed shut, making Thane wince instinctively in sympathy. Baden’s face regained it’s horrible smile, this time spread even wider.

“He really likes you, this one. Yes, he spends all of his days pacing inside his head, trying to find his way out,” the lich ground out. Baden’s voice sounded strange, his tongue unused to such mockery and cruelty— especially at Thane’s expense. “Your poor boyfriend, still believing he will get back to you, someday, somehow. It’s sweet, really, how devoted he is to you. Did he ever tell you? How much he loves you, how he had planned to propose after you were both discharged? How, at night, in his tent, he would imagine you there, laid out next to him, just close enough to-”

“Shut up. Get out of him, leave him out of this. This has nothing to do with him.” Thane’s voice shook with anger, the life he and Baden could have had— still could have— flashing in front of his eyes. His heart ached in his chest, the weight of hope and pain and love so heavy a burden it hurt like something physical. 

“Oh, but it does, little soldier. Our lovely Baden tried to escape me, desperately tried to escape my hold on him, to find you and warn you of what I had planned.” The disgust was evident in the lich’s/Baden’s voice, his lip curling in distaste at the sentiment. “While this may not be how I had planned to get rid of you, the little thorn in my side that you are,” the lich said, accenting his words by pressing Baden’s hooked dagger, which had served as his hand since his death, into Thane’s neck. The lich/Baden applied just enough pressure to release a dribble of blood from just under Thane’s chin, but Thane met the lich’s/Baden’s eyes and held his gaze, refusing to tip his head back to escape from the point of the blade. 

“Oh yes, I’ve waited for this. With you gone, his spirit will finally be broken, and he will be mine to control, body and mind. He is remarkably resilient; no matter how many times I tortured him and flayed his skin from his bones until his eyes went dark, he still refused to submit. So committed to his mate. Endearing, really.” The lich used Baden’s hand to run his fingers across Thane’s cheek. This time, Thane did move away; Baden’s skin was cold and dry, and Thane’s skin tingled in mixed disgust and desire where Baden/the lich had touched him.

“I will give you a moment to say goodbye. Use it wisely, it will be the last you spend together while both of your minds are your own.” With that, Baden’s face became lax, the lich seemingly having withdrawn into a recess of Baden’s mind. 

Baden blinked his eyes several times, his mouth twitching minutely as he came back to himself. Shaking his head like a dog, he looked down at himself. At the sight of Thane, still pinned by Baden’s bodyweight, his eyes widened and he gasped. 

For a moment, the pair looked at each other, breathing heavily. Thane closed his eyes, breathing deeply, before opening them again and meeting Baden’s. Though they were still the same sickly green they had been minutes before, they now held such an air of kindness and sorrow, so much so that Thane felt tears prickling behind his eyes.

Baden shifted his leg to free Thane’s hand before reaching down with his own and grabbing Thane’s, interlocking their fingers and squeezing gently. Bringing their fingers to his lips, Baden pressed a cold kiss to Thane’s knuckles, gazing down at him in open adoration. Despite himself, Thane’s face began to color; Baden had died while they were still in the army, still in the service of the Rayne family. Such casual affection and intimacy had never been allowed between the two of them, both too dedicated to their duties.

“Hello, Thane. It’s been...so long. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to bring him here, with us, I was trying to-”

“Don’t worry, I know what you meant to do. I’ve missed you, more than anything. But right now, we’ve got to think about how we’re going to get out of here; I haven’t the faintest idea how I got here, I wasn’t in my right mind while I was finding my way.”

“We’ll get out, don’t worry. I know the way, I’ll show you. Just give me a moment, it’s been so long since I’ve seen your face without...it’s been so long.” Baden’s smile faltered for a moment, his words becoming clipped and rough, before leaning down to rest his forehead against Thane’s, both of their eyes shining with unshed tears and their mouths forming into trembling, tentative smiles.

Leaning down, Baden came closer to Thane’s face, his lips pressed together and his hand gently squeezing Thane’s three times. Thane sighed softly, closing his eyes as Baden moved to kiss him. When the kiss didn’t come, Thane opened his eyes, brow creased in confusion and concern. 

Smiling back down at Thane was the lich, once again wearing Baden’s face. The smile was too wide and too cruel, eyes once again a dull olive color when, moments before, they had been wonderfully alive. The lich chuckled, raising their still interlocked hands off the ground and tilting his head.

“Such sentiment. So sweet. You didn’t really think I would let you both go, did you; I did tell you to say goodbye, after all,” the lich chuckled, face unchanged as Thane tried in vain to wrench his hand from the iron grip the lich/Baden had on his hand. “Ah ah ah, little swordsman, there is no getting away.”

“He really thought he was going to kiss you, didn’t he? I assure you, he had every intent of doing it, I just couldn’t let him be so tainted like that. The emotions he had as he leaned down, though...delicious.” The lich closed his eyes and hummed with satisfaction. “Though equally as delightful is his despair. I wish you could hear him, you know; he’s screaming your name, trying to break away from me and make his way back to you. The poor dear, he thinks he can do it. Ah well, no matter. Time to finish what I—we— came for.” 

The blade resting against Thane’s neck, warmed to the temperature of his skin and slightly sticky with his blood, rose several inches. Baden/the lich repositioned himself so his knees caged Thane’s stomach and ribs. Thane had given up trying to extricate his hand from Baden’s, though his arm was still tense, his muscles taut and ready to strike. 

“Goodbye, Thane Rayne. Perhaps I shall raise you, much the same as I did Baden; then you two can be together in undeath. Such a fitting end for the two lovebirds. Now, this will only-” In a flash, Baden’s spear arm came down and stabbed into Thane’s chest. Thane gasped, pain overwhelming all of his senses in the brief seconds before his eyes lost their light.     “NO,” screamed Baden, seeming to wrest control away from the lich for a moment. Tears sprang to his eyes, falling onto Thane’s chest and mingling with the blood already soaking through Thane’s jacket and armor. 

“Oh yes, little soldier, the little swordsman has breathed his last.” Wrenching his arm back, Baden/the lich withdrew his spear arm from Thane’s chest. The jagged edges of the spear hooked into Thane’s chest, lifting his body off the ground several inches before tearing and thumping back to the floor. Blood poured out of the wound, flowing over Baden’s knees and soaking his greaves and the cloth underneath them.

In Baden’s head, he was screaming, beating the walls of the cell he occupied in the times when the lich fully occupied his body and mind. His spear arm clashed and clanged off the stone walls, chipping and overshadowing his echoing crys. 

Outside of Baden’s mind, the lich used Baden’s mouth to smile down at Thane’s corpse. Getting to his feet, Baden/the lich brushed dust from his pauldrons, covering them in Thane’s blood. 

Stepping over Thane’s body until he stood at his head, Baden/the lich reached down and grabbed Thane’s cape, gathering the fabric in his fist. Straightening up, the lich took one last look around the chamber before turning and striding towards the darkened entrance of the room— where Baden’s spear lay, dragging Thane’s body behind him, the cape still clutched in his fist, heedless of the trail of blood that they left.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34271986

[jstlikemagic]

Not Until I Say So. - David Dobrik Smut

Title: Not Until I Say So.

Pairing: David Dobrik/Reader

Rating: R (NSFW/Swearing) | Bondage, cowgirl, Sub!David

Summary: Y/N and David decide to change things up in the bedroom. Maybe a Sub!David approach? :)

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for a bit so why not post it lol! If you enjoyed this, please reblog/like it :)

- My Masterlist -

Throwing you onto the bed, he crawled up to you so you two were face to face. With a widespread grin on his face, he caressed your hair. “Y/N, I’m gonna fucking wreck that pussy of yours. You have no idea,” David trailed off while inserting a finger into your pussy. Rolling your eyes at him, you let out a light laugh that sends him into curiosity. “What’s so funny, baby?” he questioned while removing his finger out of you.

It was the same old same old. He says he’s gonna fuck you into oblivion, he says that he owns your pussy, he dominates you, he finishes and you do about ¾ of the time. That’s it.

“Nothing’s funny. It’s just ironic how we kinda just do the same thing almost every time. Like we’re not spontaneous or anything. I get it we’re young adults and kinda vanilla  but we should try switching it up. Like I could maybe be the dominant one and you lay back and take it,” you responded with caution. You didn’t want to diminish his self esteem but this whole Dom!David thing just wasn’t working anymore. It just wasn’t exciting enough and was quite frankly, worth the eye roll.

“Well, if you think you can do better,” he said scoffing. He was really doubting you right now. His cockiness only made you want to try harder. Although it was insanely annoying, it was also a turn on how arrogant he was in bed.

“After we’re done, you’ll believe god is a woman. Believe that.” Pushing him off of you, you quickly got off from the bed and went into your closet. Scurrying through your closet, you were looking for a certain item that you were sure was hidden in the back of the closet. Catching your eye was the two black bandanas you had kept in there from last year’s Halloween costume. Smirking to yourself, you soon imagined what was to come next. Taking the bandanas out of the closet, you stood in front of the bed. “On your back and I want your arms spread out to the posts,” you demanded.

“Ever heard of please, baby?” David scoffed while hesitantly putting his arms towards the bed posts. Trailing to the left side of the bed, you picked up his wrist and held it up against the bedpost. Securely fastening the bandanna, you moved to the right side of the bed and repeated the same steps. Moving to your desk, you found a feather pen that was given to you for whatever reason. Picking it up, you slowly moved the feather up and down your arm which gave you goosebumps right from the moment of contact.

“So to settle the safe word, it’s red, just in case you need it,” you reassured him.

“Baby, I’m not gonna need it. I can take it,” he said confidently while licking his lips and taking in your naked frame.

Strolling over to the bed, you soon found yourself straddling David, right below his waist and directly on top of his cock. Taking the feather, you dragged it tauntingly slow from his neck, to his arms, and down the middle of his chest. “Hey, this shit ain’t funny, Y/N. Can you please untie me so I can at least touch you?” he begged. Laughing at his request, you reminded him of his challenge he made you a few minutes prior. Accepting this was the direction you were going in, he settled back down and relaxed. You had to admit, seeing him under your control was insanely hot and you wondered why you’d never done it before.

Holding onto his shoulders, you gently ground yourself onto his cock. Feeling his hard cock beneath you was enough to get you off but it couldn’t happen that way. If you were going to cum, it had to be from his cock inside you. Throwing his head back, he tugged at the bandanas. You could tell that from the looks of his face, he was enjoying the pleasure but was needy to touch you. To stop yourself from orgasming too soon, you stopped grinding and edged yourself off a bit.

“Now, I don’t want you to get cocky on me. Here are the rules. You do not get to cum until I say so. You also don’t get to touch me unless you can show me how good you are. Got it?” you asked for reassurance. Scoffing at your rules, David rolled his eyes at you, clearly not taking you seriously. Noticing his cockiness, you crawled up to meet his face while straddling his thighs. Placing your head in the crook of his neck, you placed hot wet kisses on his neck. Slowly sucking the spot right below his ear, he sunk deeper into the pillows. Grabbing his dick in your hand, you slowly rubbed your thumb over the tip and felt him shudder below you at the sudden pleasure. “Remember what I said. Only good boys get to cum. Show me how good you can be.”

Earning a whine from David, you scooted down the edge of the bed. Pulling back his boxers, you took sight of what was in front of you. Here he was: tied up, cock hard, and under your control. Just how you wanted it. Leaning towards his cock, you pressed a sweet kiss onto the tip. Sinking deep into the pillows, he groaned at the contact. Wrapping your hand around the lower part of the base, you put him in your mouth. Bobbing up and down slowly, you could feel his tension. All he wanted to do was grip you hair and fuck your mouth but he couldn’t, not right now anyways.

Alternating from a handjob to a blowjob repeatedly, David was in pure fucking ecstasy. You were a woman of many skills of giving head was collectively one of them. “Y/N, I swear to god, if you continue, I will cum in your mouth like deadass,” he moaned out. Taking that as a sign to stop what you were doing, you took him out of your mouth with a pop.

“Baby, since you were so good, I’m considering untying you. But, you can’t touch me. If you try, I’ll pin you down even harder,” you growled at him. Hopping off the bed, you untied him from both of the bedposts. Straddling yourself over him, you lifted your ass up off of his cock. Reaching underneath yourself, you grabbed his cock and sunk down painfully slow on it. Adjusting to the feeling, you felt yourself feel more comfortable with his cock inside you.

Starting to roll yourself on him, you placed your arms behind you while gripping onto his knees. Throwing your head back, you let out a loud pitched moan that sent David into a craze. Suddenly, you felt the presence of his hands on your thighs. Although you wanted the contact as well, this wasn’t how tonight was going to go down. Swatting his hands away, you learned down while taking his hands in yours. Pinning them above his head, you placed your lips dangerously close to his ear. “What did I say about touching?” you retorted. Sending goosebumps down his spine, he sighed.

“You said ‘no touching.’ I’m sorry, baby. I’ll be good and keep my hands to myself, I promise,” he apologized immediately, in fear of what could be a potential punishment. Not like you’d hurt him but he was afraid of what else would be up your sleeve.

“Good. Now be shut up and let me ride your cock. Don’t cum until I tell you to,” you reminded him. With your chest up against his, you could feel your chests heaving together. As you lifted your head up to be face-to-face with him, you started riding him again. Rocking back and forth on his cock, your mouth was left agape. Dipping your head into David’s shoulder, you started leaving hot and wet kisses onto his neck. His thrusts started to meet yours which made it easier for you to continue so you weren’t doing all the work.

Soon the kisses became short moans and panty breathes that traveled through his body. Feeling him get slower with his thrusts, you peered down at him and noticed his facial expression. His face was scrunched up and his mouth was open. “Baby, I think I need to cum. Like now-” he shuttered.

“Not until I do,” you rudely pestered. Letting go of his hands, you lifted yourself back up. Taking one hand, you started to feverishly rub at your clit while David was still inside of you. Taking your other hand, you grabbed your tit and tweaked your nipple in hopes to edge yourself even further and closer to your orgasm. Clenching yourself onto his cock, the pressure was immense and released. With mumbles of ‘Oh my god’ and ‘Oh fuck’ filled the air, you rode out the orgasm.

Seeing that David was clearly struggling and needed his release as well, you granted him the permission to cum. Within a few seconds of doing so, with no questions asked, he filled your tight pussy with his cum. The sweet familiar feeling filled inside of you.

Trying to catch your breath, you fell back onto the bed and lied right next to David. Lying next to each other and staring at the ceiling, you both regained your normal heart rates. Turning over to him, you swung your leg across his hip and your arm over his waist. “You’re a fucking goddess. You know that right?” he admitted while looking down and admiring the beauty right next to him.

[fancysimpinghere]

Euphories( Sykkuno x reader) pt.2

summary:  Maybe the cuteness in stranger’s smile let you stay alive, but what happen next, may give you a heart attack. Again, you don’t know if you want to keep your heart for yourself and forget about your little journey, or share it with newly befriended boy, who definitely will be the reason of your raising heart rate

You were falling down but once you blinked, your position was entirely changed. There was a lot of white smoke everywhere and when it fell down, you took surroundings and you were truly terrified, although you recognized this place - and maybe it was the main reason that you were scared for your life. Suddenly you remembered that you were supposed to be holding hands with someone and you wanted to turn around, but you couldn’t. You looked down and saw that your body was tied down to the pillar.

-Awesome. - you wanted to groan ironically, but only muffled sounds escaped your mouth. It was caused by a gag made from fabric and when you realized that, you started to panic even more. Tears slowly filled your eyes, when you were struggling with the rope which was holding down your body. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a boy from a game shop showed up in front of you and grabbed the cloth that was covering your mouth.

-Oh my god. - he choked out, looking with disbelief mixed with fear at your poor body.You saw pure shock on his face. - I didn’t know we would end up here  exactly in this dramatic moment!

- What do you mean?! - you almost yelled at him, searching his eyes for an answer. - And why are we in Princess Aria palace?

You didn’t believe your eyes at first, but you had to admit that you were in a place you knew well from the computer screen. As if it was not enough, you remembered this scene from a game too. The space villain just tied up Princess Aria and went to look for Guardian, her good friend and secret crush, to blackmail her. You replayed this scene many times in your head in the past, because it was one of the most difficult levels in that game. But after that quick reminder, you were even more confused. How is it possible that you two are in the game's world?!

-Shhh, we have to be quiet if we want to make it alive… - he silenced you, looking around and observing the huge hall where you’ve been. You wondered for a while what happened with the cute and shy boy you acknowledged like 15 minutes ago. Now he seemed determined and sharp, but there was a glimpse of fear on his face.

 - I promise I will tell you everything, but now we have to free you and run away as fast as possible, okay? - he whispered right into your ear and looked around, very aware.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small knife. Then he started cutting down the rope and soon your hands and body were released. You rubbed your wrists to regain feeling, but he grabbed you by one of them and pulled you behind the pillar you were tied to. He motioned you to stay quiet and you obeyed. Your mind was full of doubts and you didn’t really know what’s going on, but he seemed oriented with the situation. It’s like it is not his first time here, you thought. You heard voices from the other side of the hall and carefully leaned out from behind the pillar, but didn’t see anything, because your companion pulled you behind again. You looked at him and he shook his head as a wordless sign. He was still holding your hand and suddenly you blushed at the realization.

-Let’s go. - his soft voice distracted you from your thoughts and you followed him without a word. He led you outside and you shivered when cold air touched your exposed skin. Wait, exposed skin? You looked down at yourself and gasped in surprise. Your outfit now was way more brave and feminine than your usual - you wore burgundy, tight, shimmering dress with turtleneck and white knee boots, also tight and well fitted. Of course, it was the outfit of Princess Aria. -What the hell? - you murmured to yourself, checking out the outfit of your new friend. He was dressed in some sort of uniform, all black, but with silver buttons and ornaments. 

-This cassette is a portal to the world of the game. - he explained shortly with a lowered voice, not slowing down your pace.- You’ve taken the role of Aria and I’m the Guardian.

His explanation was making sense, but at the same time it was not something you wanted to hear.

- But how… - you started, but didn’t have a chance to finish, when you bumped into his back. He was standing firmly and you saw the pistol in his other hand.

- We have to run now. - he instructed you, carefully observing a few men that were guarding machinery that was looking like a small space ship.- Get behind me.

You feel butterflies in your stomach again, when he securely shielded you with his own body. Then he started running and you followed him. When the men saw you, they started to shoot, but your companion was faster and he has got a better aim than guards. He shot them with a laser pistol and pulled you in the ship. You both were a panting mess, but when you collapsed on the cold metal floor just seconds after the door closed behind you, he rushed to the cockpit and started the engines, not sparing you a single look or even word.

-Are they...dead? - you asked with a bit of hesitation in your voice, because you weren’t sure if you wanted to know the truth.

- Of course no, only paralized. - boy answered  and you felt  the spaceship took off. It made you a little bit dizzy, but this feeling soon changed into helplessness. - Don’t you remember? In a game Guardian couldn’t kill anyone for good, if he shot anyone, they stayed on the ground for a while and then started to attack again.

He was right, you started to remember things from gameplay.

- I don’t even know your name. - you said quietly, looking down for a moment.

- Thomas, but my friends more often call me Sykkuno. - you could hear tiny smile in his voice and your mood lifted up a little.- It’s my game nick. - He explained, still busy with buttons on the cockpit. - And yours?

You told him your name.

-Okay, we are safe now. - he said with a sigh of relief after a short silence. He turned around to face you and gave up his sharply determined pose. His stiff shoulders loosened a little. He looked over your appearance and suddenly looked away with an embarrassed face.You could see shy blush on his face again and realized that you were sitting and that caused your dress to wander somewhere upper. Too upper for your taste. You quickly fixed that and felt your face reddened too.. 

- I’m very sorry, it is really not the best way to treat your clients, I don’t know it would end like that…- you heard his soft voice with a bit of guilt.

- Where are we going now? - you asked, interrupting him. You felt pitiful, sitting helplessly on the floor of a spaceship, thousands of emotions and thoughts washing over your mind. You didn’t even know if you should trust him or not, but you’ve guessed it’s too late for dilemmas like this.

- We are coming back to our world, I entered the special code and this ship is able to take us back. - he told you and looked at your confused expression. - It’s something like a time machine - you click on the date and the ship is taking you there.

You nodded with hesitation, and looked him into eyes. He blinked rapidly at sudden eye contact.

- So, could you explain this situation to me? - you asked, watching him expectantly. You stood up carefully, shaking small dusts off your dress and straightening it.

Sykkuno looked at the small screen in the cockpit and cleared his throat nervously.

-Um, you know (y/n), it’s not really good time for conversation like this...- he stuttered, taking a step back and catching onto one of metal handle poking out from the wall of the spaceship. - You should better catch on to something...

- Oh, really. - You said, shortening the distance between you two. - And when it will be a good time for… - you didn’t finish the sentence again, because of the sharp turbulence which shook the ship and sent you right into Thomas arms. He caught you and stabilized you both with his iron grip on a metal handle. The next second you opened your eyes, you were standing in the shop again, with your arms around Thomas rib cage and his arm around your waist, the other holding for dear life to one of the showcases.

-Maybe now? - he answered doubtfully your unfinished question, breathing heavily and looking everywhere but not into your eyes. You slowly moved away from him, little by little stabilizing yourself and observing surroundings to make sure you returned where you were at first. Everything was looking normal, the showcases were untouched, the old man behind the counter was still snoring loudly. The cassette with the game was lying on the floor, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to touch it again. When your awareness came back to it’s place, you turned away on your heels with a plan to storm out of the shop and just think what happened, but Thomas caught your wrist delicately.

-Please. - his soft voice full of guilt almost made you wince.- Please, let me explain this before you leave.

part 3

[thejudgingtrash]

hello mel i Love You

HELLO DIL I LOVE YOU EVEN MORE!!!

You had me SCREAMING! Criminal genius/Detective Annabeth is my new hyper fixation, I fucking swear T_T

My brain went OVERBOARD with this! It’s super long! Please enjoy!!

(I’ve withheld this story due to the current political climate and I still feel sorta a way. But if reading about the p*lice triggers you or makes you feel uncomfortable, I wholeheartedly understand if you want to skip this one. Also... the story has some... a little bit of heat in it. Not much, it’s SFW. But it’s there <.<)

And: law enforcement, medical and science side of the pjo fandom, I doubt that this will make any sense :D

Also thanks again Torie @percyheartsannabeth for being an amazing beta!!

The Golden Age (WC: 9,5k)

i.

“Absolutely not,” Detective Annabeth Chase crossed her arms and shook violently her head. The blonde curls nearly escaped her bun. Her partner Detective Luke Castellan was surprised. He had never seen Annabeth reject a direct command.

“We need his statement, Chase,” said Sergeant Charles Beckendorf. “It’s his M.O. The drugs, the paintings. Either he’s operating from prison again or someone’s copying him. We need to put a stop to this nonsense once and for all!”

“Even so, we’re busy with the robberies in Chelsea.” Annabeth didn’t want to pick this case up again. The case that made her famous, the case that changed her life forever. For the worse.

“Stoll will take over that with his younger brother. Chase, you don’t have a choice. You will talk to Perseus Jackson. That’s an order,” Captain Dougenis commanded. He had the final say. Luke nodded, Annabeth did nothing.

“Don’t you think we haven’t tried to get him to cooperate earlier? He said he only wants to talk to you. The person that put him behind bars,” Beckendorf explained.

Fuck Annabeth thought. She did not want to face Perseus Jackson again. She wanted to forget him and move on. The looks from her two superiors said that they would deny her wish. Jackson was a cunning manipulator. She knew how he worked and what he was. A criminal. A thief. A criminal.

“When will I speak with him?” she sighed. A battle that was lost quickly.

“In two days. Should give you enough time to study the case files,” Dougenis said.

Off to a great start. The sound of footsteps echoing in the hallway muffled as the prisoner was placed into the interview room two days later. He sat down and the cuffs fell from his hands. He rubbed his wrists. A little bit of freedom regained. Orange was a hideous color, but he actually managed to make it look good on him.

He and Annabeth were separated by the thin layer of the one-way-mirror. His sea green eyes scanned the plain fake wall in front of him. They tried to find her as he knew he was being watched. The piercing stare actually caught her eye directly. Annabeth sighed. He couldn’t hear her, but a smirk found its way onto his lips regardless. He knew her.

“You’ll be fine in there?” asked Luke who would stay outside of the interview room. He had been a part in arresting that monster. The condition that Jackson gave them was that he wanted to speak with Annabeth – alone. Annabeth nodded. Then she stepped into the small room. Tension laid in the air.

Four years had passed since he had been locked up. Perseus looked good. His hair was grayer, the beard had been trimmed recently. He looked like he exercised on a regular basis. Annabeth’s eyes spent two seconds engraving the picture of his brown biceps into her memory.

“Perseus Jackson, 38, born in New York City, arrested due to art theft and extortion. Twelve years. You’ve managed roughly a third so far.” Despite her marvelous work, they never were able to charge him for drug trafficking directly. The witnesses had remained silent. Annabeth took a seat in front of him.

“Annabeth, you know me,” Perseus pouted. A contrast to his deep voice. “Call me Percy,” he winked.

Her neck felt hot. “It’s Detective Chase for you!” she hissed. Amusement sparked through his eyes.

“Okay, Detective Chase.” How was he able to make her name sound so… dirty? So profligate?

“The woman that I have to thank for my new cozy home needs my help now all of a sudden. The tables have turned. I like that.” And Annabeth did not like one bit how his mocking tone sent shivers down her spine. The way his tongue flicked. The urge of standing up and fleeing the room was prominent, but she was a professional and had a job to do:

Make Perseus Jackson sing.

“I need information.” Annabeth’s mouth was pressed to a thin line.

“Straight to the point, Detective, huh?” The attractive man leaned forward. “And what information do I supposedly have?”

“Your family never stopped your business,” Annabeth spat. Perseus shrugged and his fingers tapped on the desk. An annoying habit.

“Someone is operating with the same methods as you. Art gets stolen and drugs follow the leads. Either you’re behind it or someone else has been recruited to fill your place. We need to find that someone.” She opened the case files and showed him pictures of missing paintings and locations as well as new collecting points for drugs on a map.

“Oh?” Jackson made and tilted his head. He faked interest and glanced lazily over the pictures.

“I’m pretty sure that I don’t have the time in my precious little cell to run all of the things that you’ve been accusing me of. Everything comes at a price, Detective,” he then smiled.

Sea green met light gray. Annabeth swallowed. Memories came back.

ii.

Two years. Annabeth had spent two years on that fucking case and barely made any progress. The smuggling of paintings to cover up or be used as payment for drug operations just didn’t make any sense. Her partner Luke got undercover into the business as a small middle man, but the rules were different for women. Sexism ruled yet once again. Detective work had narrowed the window down and came to one person: Perseus Jackson. He was invisible. He was a phantom. He had been swallowed by mother earth, never to be seen again.

He was part of the Greek syndicate that ruled with an iron fist over the East Coast. Not even the Italians, Chinese, Egyptians or Russians had that much power. Chrýseon Genos. The Golden Age. A fitting name for a bunch of pieces of shit that found joy in ruining people’s lives and making New York unsafe each and every single day. Everything was coded and followed the basic principles of Greek mythology. After Konstantinos Olympianidikis, otherwise known as Kronos, died in the 1970s due to a raging war with his own brothers, his three sons split the legacy and entire empire into three sections:

Adrian Olympianidikis. Hades. Racketeering and money laundering.

Petros Olympianidikis. Poseidon. Theft and drug trafficking.

Zacharias Olympianidikis. Zeus. Prostitution and human trafficking.

All these crimes were tied to the Golden Age and the police forces couldn’t do anything. Witnesses vanished or remained silent. The little evidence they had left was either compromised or disappeared. Everyone in the Golden Age had their little specialty. Everyone passed missions and power onto the next family member in the hierarchy. So did Petros aka Poseidon do the same thing with his sons. One of those sons was Paris. His youngest. The only pieces of information that Annabeth had of him were a 17-year-old picture that showed Paris shoplifting with some of his cousins and a diploma that showed that he had studied art history. A picture of him as a boy and proof that he had a college degree. Wow. Compelling evidence.

Annabeth took one final look of the teenage boy. The picture had been taken in the year 2000 hence the quality of the security camera of Macy’s being complete shit. Despite seeing a long mop on his head and awfully baggy clothes there was next to nothing that was useful for Annabeth in the year 2017. Hell. Who knew what Jackson looked like now as a grown man? The probability of him running around like in the early 2000s was next to none.

“And?” Annabeth asked Luke as he returned from a meeting in the syndicate.

“Poseidon is willing to speak to you,” her blond colleague nodded. The scar under his eye had proved his loyalty. A near fight for life and death. The other person had remained in the hospital for a while but was fine and dandy by now according to Luke.

“Okay.”

“Only you. Not anyone else. I’ll drive you.” Annabeth nodded.

The townhouse in the Meatpacking District did not look much like most of the houses in the area. The real luxury laid within. The house was filled with two kinds of people: security guards and young models. Annabeth felt uncomfortable and underdressed as she was following a young girl’s lead. Barely a woman. Not only did Poseidon enjoy his life at the fullest, no, he was also rich as fuck. Young women served drinks and cooked in the kitchen. Bikinis, shorts and cocktail dresses so short that they nearly gave Annabeth whiplash. A young thing named Lacy brought Annabeth to the garden where a mini pool party was going on at its fullest.

Despite being in his 80s, Poseidon looked good. He looked young and was full of life. He looked like he was in his solid early 50s. The hair and the bushy beard were so white that it seemed to have been dyed. The tanned skin was healthy. A friendly face. The only indication of his age were the neck and his hands. Had Annabeth been into older men, she had to admit that she wouldn’t have said no to Poseidon from the visuals alone.

Poseidon enjoyed his book and the giggling girls in the background as Lacy caught his attention with the new arrival. “Ah!” he said, and his eyes twinkled as he put the sunglasses away. Girls were swimming in the pool or playing volleyball, music was blasting, and food was served.

“Detective Chase!” Poseidon stood up and shook her hand. A firm grip. He spoke with a soft Greek accent.

“What can I do for you?” he asked friendly.

“More like how can you help me speak to one of your sons?” Annabeth smiled.

Poseidon laughed. “Which one? I have many.”

Yes, you do you horny bastard the blonde thought. Poseidon had twelve sons in total. Or twelve sons that he publicly claimed. All by different mothers of course. All of them had joined the family business and most have paid the price with their lives.

Proteus. Triton. Khrysomallos. Pegasus. Arion. Polyphemus. Bellerophon. Theseus. Orion. Sciron. Chrysaor. Paris. More than half of them were dead, less than half of them were alive. Tryfon aka Triton, the son Poseidon had when he was 19, had been killed by his cousin Iraklis also known as Hercules in 1974. Orion had been twelve when he had been shot in the street by Antonios and Phoebe aka the twins Apollon and Artemis in 1986. Assassinated by his own cousins. The trend of getting killed by your own family members was fairly present in the Golden Age.

“The youngest,” Annabeth answered which made Poseidon laugh.

“Ah, my boy Paris. What did he do?” Curiosity swung in the words of the old man that referred to his son in his codename.

“Sorry, confidential,” Annabeth deflected and pouted.

“Of course, of course. Ah the police. Friend and helper. As you can see-” Poseidon pointed to the precious gardens. “My son isn’t here.”

Annabeth nodded. “Well, if you happen to see him, tell him to give me a call.”

She gave him her card. Poseidon studied it. “Of course, I will Miss Chase.” Another friendly smile.

The blonde nodded and then left. The smile of the old man vanished for a split second only to appear as one of his young helpers gave him one of the many burner phones of the house.

“Thank you, Drew!” he said before pressing a number into the small device.

“Yes?” asked the tired voice of a man on the other side.

“Can you explain to me why a certain Detective Chase from the NYPD came to my home to talk about you?” The old man sounded cold and amused at the same time.

“What?” Now he was wide awake.

“I thought the woman would introduce herself as your fiancé! Something that would actually make me proud,” complained the old man and nodded to another young thing that handed him a drink.

“I will take care of it.”

“Yes, you will.”

The line was dead.

And Annabeth continued to work for another two weeks without any other results. Her shift came to an end but at least the desk was clean. She didn’t drown in mountains of paperwork like Castellan did.

“See you tomorrow!” said Connor Stoll as she crossed ways with him in the hallway.

“See you!” Her mood had reached its lowest so far. It was time to visit her best friend since childhood and his bar The Grove. As soon as Annabeth stepped out of the police department, it started to rain.

“Great.” Her steps got faster.

Fortunately for her, The Grove was within walking distance. The pouring sky distracted Annabeth so much that she didn’t realize neither a black Lexus parking around the corner nor the footsteps that had been following her. The leather jacket and the blonde curls were wet but nothing that would worry bartender and owner Grover Underwood all too much. He had seen her in fairly worse states.

“What can I do for you, Annabeth? An Old Fashioned like usual?” His friend nodded.

“Have you eaten something?” The dark-skinned man knew Annabeth and her habits. Overworking herself and forgetting to eat lunch were her favorite deadly combinations.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind something to snack on,” she confessed.

Grover only shook his head but gave her a glass full of pretzel sticks. A delicious Old Fashioned stood on the counter a few moments later. The door behind her opened and closed.

“What can I do for you, sir?” asked Grover and looked to the door.

“Whiskey. Double.” A rich baritone. Pleasant to the ears.

Annabeth heard the squeaking of the barstool next to her. She turned her head to the right and nearly fell to the ground. A man sat next to her that was a younger copy of Poseidon. Paris Olympianikidis also known as Perseus Jackson, son of Poseidon. The man she had been searching for since forever randomly decided to appear. Her talk with Poseidon must have sparked something and Annabeth hated the stupid rule about women not being in the family business unless they had been born into it even more. Precious time that could have been used for undercover operations had been wasted.

Perseus looked… good. Good didn’t even describe it. His salt and pepper hair had the same streaks in the beard. He had a chiseled face with a straight nose. Wrinkles around the eyes showed that he loved to laugh and smile. He seemed to enjoy his regular exercise; the way his shirt shifted whenever he moved a muscle made it seem like it was about to tear apart. His skin was of a rich brown, and his lips were curled into a devilish smirk. The sea green eyes were a direct copy of his father’s. He had won the genetic lottery. He had nothing in common with the shoplifting boy from the year 2000.

“A little bird told me you were looking for me,” he winked.

Why did her chest feel so heavy? Why weren’t her lungs functioning normally?

Percy had to admit. His father had been right. Annabeth Chase was his type. Her body had a beautiful shape from what he had observed in the past few days. A firm ass that did Pilates on a regular basis in a class not far from her shithole of an apartment. A heart shaped face and a slight tooth gap that made her look only more adorable. Blonde princess curls that seemed to be fairly taken care of with expensive products. But her eyes… an interesting gray that told him one thing: she had a flaming spirit that was blessed with intelligence. Or was it cursed by its burden?

“Your father,” she commented.

The whiskey was served, and Percy took a swig. He was pleased.

“Do you mind?” the handsome man asked as he grabbed a smoke. Annabeth turned to Grover who ignored the antics of the new customer. The bartender placed an ashtray in front of him instead. What in the fuck is going on?

“I usually don’t smoke,” he confessed and lit the cigarette regardless. Annabeth pulled a face. Where was the logic in that?

“And you do now because…?” The interest was honest.

“I only smoke when I’m having a good drink-” He raised the glass to Grover who nodded and appreciated the compliment. “And am sitting next to a beautiful woman,” Perseus winked.

Annabeth didn’t know whether she wanted to blush or strangle him. She was 29 and acted like an insecure school girl for fucks sake! She nearly laughed.

“So, I have the honor of finally meeting you, Annabeth.” The way he said her name. So smoky and dark. He belonged in prison for that.

“It’s Detective Chase for you!” she hissed. The criminal next to her only raised an eyebrow.

“Bossy. Kinky. I like it,” he smirked and enjoyed the redness of her face as he pulled from the cigarette and blew the smoke.

Grover in the corner tried to hide his laughter with a cough. Annabeth turned to her best friend with a murderous rage. “Annabeth and kinky. Yeah right.”

“Grover, shut up!” she commanded. Jackson next to her was more than just amused.

“Now I’m interested.” He tapped some of the ashes off.

“You really want to know the details of her love life?” Grover asked.

“Oh, I definitely bite,” Percy smiled. Yes please. Annabeth wanted to smack herself.

“Could we come to the more pressing matters?” the woman groaned.

“Sure,” Jackson shrugged.

He lifted his drink, she lifted hers. They met in the middle and both felt a spark immediately.

“I need information.” Chase cutting the chase.

Percy smiled. “Everything comes at a price.”

The fact that Annabeth had spent another hour next to him and had let him pay for all of her drinks made her stomach churn in hindsight. He even insisted on paying for the Uber that picked her up.

As Annabeth returned to her apartment, she started searching through it high and low in her semi drunken state. The stupid Greek syndicate had to have bugged her. Her already chaotic apartment was even more disheveled. At least she would be forced to properly clean up once the weekend hit. The worst part was that she found absolutely nothing.

What’s worse? Being wrong or being crazy?

iii.

“I’m pretty sure you got the wrong person,” Percy said and grabbed the glass of water in front of him. The interview room looked sad. “I know nothing.”

“I’m pretty sure we’ve got the right person,” Annabeth retorted and leaned forward. Her hand grabbed the edge table so tightly that the vessels nearly popped. He had to give her something.

“You’re the key. You were the blueprint and now someone’s running off with your legacy. And you’re more than okay with that?!”

“Mmhh,” Percy made. As if he had seen the most delicious thing in his life. The fact that he didn’t lick his lips was a wonder. Annabeth’s eyes followed his gaze right into her cleavage. Two buttons of her blouse that had been left open. Boys will be boys.

“Are you fucking serious, Jackson?” she spat.

The prisoner leaned backwards into his chair with a grin that quickly vanished. “It stinks in here,” he sighed.

Annabeth halted her movement. Her eyes widened in shock.

“No,” she whispered.

His beautiful sea green eyes told her one thing. Yes.

iv.

“Is this really necessary?” Annabeth questioned Beckendorf’s decision behind his back.

A visit to an art gallery. Perseus Jackson decided to become visible to the public eye all of a sudden and started to work as an art collector and conservator. He had meetings with clients, he had visitors in his studio and seemed to actually use his degree for something. Whether it was for the good or not was a matter of perspective. The criminal went to the gym daily; he even bought his own fucking groceries. Observing him had been nerve wrecking. Especially since probably he knew that he was being watched and therefore enjoyed every second of Annabeth’s annoyance. The detective felt like a true voyeur. He hadn’t done anything suspicious unless being a little piece of shit counted. Jackson didn’t separate his waste for an instance. Prick.

When Luke told her that Jackson had planned the opening of a gallery and proposed that they should go, the blonde almost laughed. A public event where no invitation was needed. A ballsy move. It seemed like Jackson really gave no fucks. Unfortunately, Beckendorf caught wind of it and now she was forced to go.

“I’m afraid so,” Luke said as he rubbed his temples. He really wasn’t in the mood for a fight with Annabeth. She was an opponent that just maimed you with arguments.

“What’s going on, Annabeth?” her colleague asked. “You wanted to find Jackson the entire time. You’ve worked for years on this and now you’re basically backpedaling. This is so not you.”

For better or for worse, Annabeth didn’t talk about Luke with her meeting with Jackson at The Grove. Something told her that she should hold onto the information.

“I don’t know. Just a bad feeling I guess,” she confessed. Annabeth didn’t know what would happen once Jackson was aware of her presence. And he would definitely see her.

“You’re not alone.” Luke patted her shoulder. “Grace, Beauregard and hell even that di Angelo informant guy said they would be present. Jackson must have pulled a big gig if even the Italians are interested in his shitty joint. Nothing will happen to you.”

I’m not so sure about that, Annabeth thought, but the only thing she did was nod.

A month had passed, and the day of the gallery opening was finally there. Annabeth stood in front of the building where soft string music could be heard from the outside and guests flooded in. Annabeth saw how undercover cop Jason Grace entered. He quickly glanced in her direction but turned around. Annabeth understood; he was a valuable asset who could not let his cover get blown over.

The blue dress that she wore hugged her curves tightly and the high heels that she chose made the detective regret every life decision that led up to that exact moment. Her soles would be burning the next day and it wasn’t like in the movies. An attempt to run in those things would be a one-way ticket to the ER. The wire in the dress didn’t make the discomfort any better.

“Chase, everything's fine?” asked Beckendorf in her ear. Of course, she had been bugged.

“Yes, everything is good. I’m moving,” she said.

Annabeth mingled with the crowd and entered. The blonde actually stood in awe and registered all the modern pieces. Pop art, minimal art, abstract expressionism, all sorts of different post-modern works that fought for space but harmonized wonderfully together in the rooms. How the fuck was that criminal scum be able to display works from Andy Warhol, Helen Frankenthaler or Jackson Pollock?

They had to be either stolen, bought for a large sum, rented, which was not the style of the Greek syndicate or, something that was Jackson’s supposed specialty, be forged. A waiter offered her champagne which she politely declined. As much as Annabeth would love to cloud her mind, she could not afford it on that evening. She had to look out for Jackson. The blonde made her first round at a slow speed.

“Can you see him yet?”

“No, not yet. Oh, there he is! With Chiara Benvenuti!” A known mafia bride. Chiara was surrounded by her bodyguards like always as she pointed towards a picture.

“Good,” Beckendorf breathed into her ear. “Perhaps we can finally raid this place.”

The painting was an abstract piece with lots of red elements. Blood that was spilled on the dance floor. Something fitting for a coldhearted villain.

“Of course, painting it was a task, but I thoroughly enjoyed it,” Annabeth heard Jackson say. The way Benvenuti laughed made her rage. Jackson joining her, didn’t make it any better. The fact that Benvenuti stared at his tanned chest as he had left some of the buttons of his shirt open, pissed the detective even more off.

Jackson’s sea green eyes shifted to the right and caught her staring at him. A pleased expression rested on his face and the smile could almost be considered to be honest. Embarrassed, Annabeth turned around and immediately left the corner. Fuck that mission. Fuck everything. Fuck that man in particular and the uneasy feeling that rested inside her heart. She saw Luke mingling with two people in black suits, they looked like they would fit the description of some of the Golden Age’s lackeys. Luke was irritated but there was no time for explanation. Annabeth needed alcohol, she needed it badly.

“Chase, what’s going on dammit?” hissed Beckendorf as he heard her frantic steps. She was glad he was unable to see her in that pathetic state.

“Nothing,” Annabeth lied. “Don’t want to blow cover.”

Fortunately, another waitress was making her rounds and Annabeth grabbed a glass which she nearly inhaled. She was wandering through the gallery and tried to figure out her next steps. Too little, too late.

“You left me waiting. Good evening, Detective.”

Annabeth almost let the glass fall as she heard his deep voice behind her and felt his large hand around her waist. A scent of musk and fresh sea breeze crawled into her nose. The grip wasn’t extremely tight, but it was clear that Perseus Jackson had no intention of letting her go.

“Fuck!” hissed Beckendorf into her ear. It was too early to storm the place. They had nothing in their hands against Jackson.

“You have quite the collection,” Annabeth complimented him.

“Thank you, love.” She punished him with a sour look that made his grin only widen.

“Interested in buying?”

“If it’s real perhaps.”

“Oh, my dear Annabeth, everything is real.” The warmth of his hand spread throughout her entire body. Her glass was empty, and he gave it to one of the lackeys.

“Mister Olympianidikis,” the boy nodded and ran off with it immediately. Oh, the power of someone in the higher hierarchical position of a crime syndicate.

Jackson accompanied her through the gallery and showed her his favorite pieces.

Annabeth could picture Beckendorf walking up and down in the small van, nearly losing his shit at the man babbling about oil colors or frameworks that he or other painters used. Jackson was hindering them on purpose. Something was going on.

“There’s something I want to show you. Follow me.” He took her hand and walked to a hidden niche. Jason Grace who stood in the corner and spoke to a woman eyed them with suspicion.

A white door was there with the words Emergency Exit engraved on it. A cold and naked hallway was in front of them. Lights were off and the moon was the only orb that illuminated the place. They were alone.

“And what are you supposed to show-” Jackson cut her off. With a brutal kiss.

A spark that set the entire place in flames. Annabeth did the one thing she was not supposed to: not use her intelligence. Her arms automatically wrapped themselves around his neck as she fiercely kissed him back. Their lips fought a battle against their lungs, and they dived into each other again and again. Taste. That was all they thought.

Percy pulled away from Annabeth. She was beautiful. Her citric smell was divine. The delicate updo was no more. The lipstick was smeared. Her lips trembled and there was something else written in her eyes. Lust. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. A wild look was on his face. He kissed her again. He held her close to his body and pressed her against the wall.

Annabeth felt how one of his hands slid underneath the dress. Did Annabeth exchange the boy shorts for a thong in the last minute? Yes, she did. Did she regret that decision? No, she did not. But his hands had a different goal in mind. The yanking made her shriek into his mouth. A solid welcome for his tongue. The wire underneath her dress was no more. Only then did he place his tight grip on her ass.

Oh, two can play this game Annabeth thought and grabbed the wire that stuck out of his collar.

“Guess that no one’s listening in on us anymore,” Percy commentated.

“It seems like it,” Annabeth agreed. A calm before the storm. A storm that broke loose as they kissed each other again. Percy’s lips wandered.

“Who told you to waltz in this place with this fucking dress?” He claimed her neck with kisses. His beard tickled her. “You look perfect!”

Annabeth wished she could retaliate the compliment. Percy looked fairly handsome in the beige suit, but her brain was short circuiting and only focused on not moaning too loudly and enjoying the feeling of being pressed against him. The probability of her colleagues rushing in that compromising situation was way too high.

Percy broke the kiss off for good. He made a move towards the staircase. A foot was set to the lower step. “Come with me!” His hands reached out for her.

Annabeth was panting. Heart or sanity who would win? Annabeth made one decision that would seal her fate forever. She took his hand and the unlikely pair fled out of the building.

As soon as they opened the backdoor, Annabeth heard a frantic scream for her name. There was no turning back now. A black car was waiting for them in the hidden alley. It looked like Castellan didn’t do his homework properly and had received the wrong plans of the building to study.

Percy held the door open for her and she slipped into the limousine. Percy followed. “Leo!” he barked. The vehicle moved with screeching tires and drove through a garage which led to a tunnel that Annabeth had never seen. She stopped paying attention to it as Percy claimed her lips yet again.

The car ride was a blurry memory. They entered another garage which was when the car stopped. “We’ve arrived,” announced the chauffeur.

Percy nodded to the front and then exited the car. He reached out for Annabeth and helped her out of the car. “Where are we?” she asked as they entered an elevator.

Percy pressed a key card against the board. “My home.”

There was no time left for sightseeing. They immediately entered the bedroom. His jacket was tossed aside, her dress slid to the floor. Both of them fell to the bed. Both of them never wanted to leave the bed.

Annabeth woke up to the wonderful smell of coffee. Her eyes fluttered and the memories hit her. The wonderful night she had shared with a wanted criminal. Her naked body was wrapped in satin sheets. The blonde sat up. Her pale body was sore and ached but in the best way. She didn’t remember the last time she had sex with anyone; work had been way too busy. She didn’t want to remember. What Perseus Jackson did to her would be fairly impossible to top.

Said Perseus Jackson entered the bedroom in nothing but sweatpants and two mugs. Oh yes, he did enjoy his daily workouts. “Morning,” he smiled.

“Morning,” she replied and thanked him for the cup. A delicious aroma took over the room. Annabeth took a sip.

“Mmhh,” she delightfully sighed. Two pumps of hazelnut and heavy cream, just the way she liked it.

“Yes, I did do my homework,” he laughed and drank his tea. “You aren’t the only people that study others. Was seeing me work out at least fun?”

“Shut up, Jackson,” Annabeth blushed. He laughed.

The cop finished her cup and Percy put it on a nightstand. “And what do you want to do now?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Something’s coming to my mind.” His light eyes darkened, and he cupped her face. Annabeth pushed the blanket aside, revealing her perfect self.

“That insatiable?” she laughed but didn’t receive an answer as she felt his lips on hers again. Her hand went on to grasp his black curls.

“Very,” he said as his hands roamed over her very naked body.

Putting the blue dress on again felt wrong. Percy wouldn’t have minded for Annabeth to stay the entire day at his apartment, but he knew she had a point when she said that her colleagues would searchthe entire city for her. Turning brick by brick if they must.

“I honestly can’t come up with a good excuse for my boss. You didn’t think this through.” Annabeth wandered through the modern apartment. It was bathed in light and had window fronts that showed her the entirety of Manhattan and the green of the Central Park. A dream apartment. The Golden Age had money, no doubt in that.

“Well… I actually have an idea,” Percy started. Annabeth turned to him with one cocked eyebrow and her hands on her hips.

“That sounds like I won’t like it,” she predicted.

He opened a cabinet and showed her the bottle.

“Are you fucking serious?!”

“Well as you’ve said. I didn’t think it through,” he shrugged with a goofy grin. It made him look adorable. Stop Annabeth. No time for that. Percy grabbed a cloth as well.

“Let’s just say that I never had the honor of being treated that way,” Annabeth muttered. But she agreed with him. It would make the lies that were about to come out of her mouth easier.

Percy kissed Annabeth one last time and brushed a lock out of her beautiful face. “Sweet dreams, Annabeth,” he wished her.

Then he pressed the drenched cloth over her nose and mouth. Her eyes rolled back, and she was embraced by darkness. Annabeth slumped down but Percy caught her.

Four hours later, Luke Castellan and Jason Grace made their way to Annabeth’s apartment, looking for possible clues. Both of them were fucking pissed. At Jackson, at Annabeth, at the entire fucking operation. The police force was frantically looking  for her. They got Paris Olympianidikis for kidnapping at least. If they would catch him.

Luke had a key to Annabeth’s apartment because they were  close friends. Annabeth had actually defied orders, nearly ruined a mission and drove him to the hospital as his wife gave birth three years ago. He had to find her. Not to make it even, but to know that his friend was safe.

“Look for anything useful,” Luke commanded. Jason nodded.

Luke entered the living room and Jason worked through the bathroom which was followed by the bedroom. He nearly slipped to the floor.

And there she was, sleeping like a princess.

“Annabeth?! Annabeth! Luke, she’s here!”

The next thing Annabeth remembered was waking up in the hospital. She knew that everyone was pissed at her. But Castellan had defended her for the stupid act of following a criminal to nowhere. Jason had seen where they left, and Annabeth thought the Sergeant could hear important information. Who would have guessed that the wiring would be cut off?

Examinations. DNA samples were taken to get a hold of Jackson. Questions. So many questions. A knock. Yet another person that wanted to annoy her. “Yes?” Annabeth sighed.

“Annabeth,” Beckendorf entered the hospital room. Annabeth felt patronized but of course her hands were tied. She refused to speak with her boss about a certain criminal. She covered up the truth and enjoyed living her life in lies. The young detective had no family who anyone could call. That made Beckendorf extremely worried about her.

The tall man took a seat next to her bed. “I’m not here to tear you apart, pretty sure Captain Dougenis had the pleasure.” Yes, he had. “I want to hear from you what happened.”

The blonde retold her vision of events. “I don’t know,” she sighed. “It was a trap. I can’t remember how I ended up in my apartment.” Annabeth spoke a little truth in her web of lies.

“The way our connection cut off as soon as you left the exhibition… I thought it was static. Then you were gone.” Oh no, he heard us making out Annabeth thought. She tried to suppress the panic that was bubbling up in her and was glad that Percy had discarded the wires. The technicians at the police department would have immediately figured out that there had been no static. She remembered almost everything. The staircases. The car. The apartment. The way he felt between her legs. The way she straddled him. The way he grabbed her throat. The pleasures and the cries.

Beckendorf looked deeply into her eyes. He knew that she had something to hide but was wise enough not to ask. The old man was one of the few people that blindly trusted her instincts in the department.

“Okay,” was all that he said. “I’m trusting your judgement.” She nodded. He was a kind soul.

“Take the next week off. You need the rest.” Beckendorf stood up.

v.

Percy saw how her delicate fingers grabbed the folder and closed it. The shiny object fell into his vision.

“I like your ring.” His sea green eyes shot up to her face. He saw a slight blush on her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she nearly whispered and played with the small white band.

“Someone very important gave it to me a long time ago. Someone dear to my heart.”

He blinked twice. She blinked twice.

A devilish smirk rested on his face.

vi.

Their affair lasted an entire year. The fact that it came to an end was saddening. But it was predictable. Star-crossed lovers from two entirely different universes that weren’t meant to be. Otherwise the balance of both of their worlds would crash, burn, and fall.

Annabeth had insight into the police work and Percy had insight into the Golden Age. That was the sole reason they barely saw each other in a work related context. They actually managed to live a fairly happy life outside of the working hours. They went on secret dates, they visited museums after they had been closed and reopened only for the powerful son of Poseidon, they watched movies together, they even flew out to visit his Hawaiian mother Sally who adored Annabeth. And the sex was amazing. A welcoming bonus. Both felt happiness for the very first time. Both felt love for the very first time.

The secret studio in his art gallery was one of the few places where they could be free.

“And here’s the Mona Lisa,” Percy grabbed the painting out of the box. He showed Annabeth some of his latest pieces that were part of his collection or creations. Real paintings and forged ones.

“Wow, that looks so real. An incredible copy.” Annabeth had visited France in her college days.

“The thing that’s hanging in the Louvre?” he winked.

“Tell me you’re joking.” The corners of his lips pointing up was all she got.

Annabeth laid next to him a week later. They were inside of her shitty apartment. Percy had surprised her because of course he could cook as well. To the question “Is there something you can’t do?” Percy only answered, “Change a tire and board planes because I hate heights.”

He might have been joking, he might have been serious. Annabeth did not care. She had returned from yet another demanding shift. This time her task force had hunted down one of Zeus’ kids. Aristidis also known as Ares. Despite being in his late 40s he was an annoying little piece of shit. The fat fuck tried to sell child slaves on the dark web and barely managed to escape them.

As Annabeth had entered her apartment, she was greeted by the delicious smell of parmesan that melted over fresh pasta. Seeing houseman Percy cook was not only a picture for the gods but something she could get used to. Annabeth placed her bag on the sofa and ran to the kitchen to greet Percy with a kiss. A passionate kiss.

“Aren’t-” kiss. “You-” kiss. “Hungry?” he asked between their kisses.

“Well, I think we can eat later.”

“Grover is right, you’re a terrible liar when it comes to food,” he joked. The Grove was another spot for them together. Once the customers left, the three would sit together and joke. Mostly at Annabeth’s expense.

Annabeth pouted and then kissed him again. The only thing that broke her silence was her stomach grumbling.

Percy broke off from her with a roaring laughter. “Eat first. Then we can come to the more fun activities.”

Annabeth pouted but Percy unfortunately had a point.

Now she was fighting against falling asleep as she laid on his chest and he played with her hair. He inhaled her smell. Raindrops were racing on the window as gravity pulled them down. The shower on the outside calmed them. “There’s a good reason why you never found me. Why no one found me,” Percy started.

Her tiredness was gone. Curiosity won. “The fact that my father uses me as his master forger is abundantly clear, right?”

Annabeth nodded. They didn’t talk much about his business ventures in the Golden Age, but she had pieced large chunks of the puzzle together.

“I want to leave my family,” he confessed.

“What?” That came as a surprise to Annabeth. Percy seemed fairly content with his life in the family business. He joked about it and enjoyed the high standards of life that came with the fruits. Then again, Annabeth had seen the dark shadows that followed the Golden Age everywhere they went. Blood, bodies, chaos, destruction.

“A rule that my father engraved into my brain was to be invisible. Live like there’s no tomorrow, but don’t forget to clean the remains of yesterday. The day me and my cousin Ethan were caught shoplifting seventeen years ago changed me. It changed us all. We were so naive, and felt so invincible. For normal parents that would have been a tirade and grounding. Our parents think differently. For Ethan, whose idea it was to begin with, it cost him his eye.”

Annabeth’s eyes widened. The cruelty of parents. The fact that the Golden Age had no problem with hunting their own down was still sickening to her.

“It didn’t matter. Four months in and he had been shot by the Russians, the Bratva. Nearly started an entire fucking war,” he sighed.

“Percy, that’s horrible.” Annabeth tried to see if there was any emotion left in his eyes. There was none. His eyes were dull from the wars he had seen. Percy was blind and used to the cruelty of the survival of the fittest.

“Annabeth, I’ve witnessed my first murder as a thirteen-year-old. At least I haven’t pulled the trigger myself yet. Not in a deadly way.” He stared at the white ceiling.

Her heart broke for the boy that lost his honest smile. “That doesn’t make it any better.”

“No, it doesn’t. It really doesn’t.” Percy hugged her tightly. “I want to be free. Die as a free man. Live in the sunlight and not in the shadows. Not in fear of getting gunned down by a crazy family member. My father spoke with my uncles. They gave me an impossible task. Once I solve it, I’m a free man.”

“Who are you? John Wick?” she joked. She wasn’t in the mood for cracking stupid jokes, but she had to uplift the situation or else the mental image of Percy losing his innocence as a child would forever haunt her.

“That guy is amazing; I’m not going to lie.” Percy managed to crack a crooked smile.

“And the task?”

Percy sighed. He wouldn’t have minded a smoke. “It stinks in here, the three of them had said. ”He turned to Annabeth. “There’s a rat.”

A rat? she thought. “Someone that betrays my family. They mix up our business and create chaos from within as if they want us to implode. I have to find and either obtain or eliminate them.”

Someone that betrayed the Golden Age? Whoever they were, they were crazy and suicidal.

“And what do you want to do once you’re free?”

“Move to Hawaii. Be reunited with my mother again. Find a woman,” he looked at her and grinned. “Marry her, pop out a kid or three. Be an artist.”

Silence. Annabeth was speechless. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that and being a part of that,” she whispered.

Percy only kissed her.

Another month later. The fact that Percy disappeared around her birthday upset her, but that was life. He had been in Los Angeles for a gig. Which gig exactly she did not ask. Was it a legal gig? Highly debatable. It had something to do with the rat. That was all that he told her.

A small package got sent to her and she was curious to see what it was. No sender. Carefully she opened it. A small ring box was in there. Tiffany’s & Co.

A card was attached to the box. Happy Birthday, Princess – P.

“Oh no…” Annabeth opened the little box. The ring had a small silver band that was covered in small diamonds. Her jaw dropped. The ring was beautiful. And it was meant to be for her?

Annabeth put it on. It sat perfectly on her ring finger. Annabeth looked at the box again. It had a code on it. The detective grabbed her phone and searched for the ring.

“WHAT THE-”

Perseus had spent fifteen thousand dollars for that little piece of jewelry.

“No…” she cried. How could he have spent so much money on her?

Annabeth ran into her bathroom and shoved a loose tile aside. She used that little space to hide something. That something was the burner phone that Percy had given her so that they could always stay in contact. Annabeth called him.

“And?” he asked.

“PERSEUS JACKSON!” she yelled.

“HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND?!”

“Why? Don’t you like the ring?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I love it. We have to talk about the price.” Her left hand already played with the beautiful ring.

“Why? Do you want a more expensive one? Let me know which one, I’ll buy it,” he stated.

“What?! No! You’ve spent way too much on that ring! I can’t accept this!”

Percy laughed. “You can and you will. It is my gift for you. Happy birthday, Annabeth.”

Annabeth wanted to scream. Denying his gift felt so wrong, but it was the right choice she made.

“Once you’re here we’re going to have a talk. We have to return this!”

Annabeth could practically hear how he shook his head. “You’re going to like the ring and you’re going to keep it.”

“Fine,” she huffed. Annabeth accepted her fate and waited until the days of solitude would be over. Until she was reunited with her Percy again.

The year had passed. Then it happened. The day Paris Olympianidikis would fall.

vii.

“Cooperate with me, Jackson,” Annabeth sounded soft. He merely raised an eyebrow.

“Cooperate and we can make a deal. Better conditions in prison, a reduced sentence perhaps and-”

“I want out,” he boldly stated.

Annabeth stared at him blankly. “Pardon me?”

“You said cooperate and we can make a deal. That’s my end of the line.” Jackson leaned back into his chair again.

Annabeth was speechless. He had beaten her with her own game. She closed her eyes for a second before focusing on him again. Don’t let him get the best out of you.

“I’ll see what I can do.” He smirked as he loved to hear that answer. Then she remembered what he had said.

“You said it stinks in here?” she repeated. Annabeth eyed him suspiciously.

“Yes, Detective,” he truthfully answered.

“What does it smell like?”

“Colors, Detective.”

“Why?”

“You should be able to see it for yourself.” He scratched his temples.

viii.

They got him. They didn’t get him with drugs or anything else that would give him a long sentence. But they got him with one of his forges. The good old Al Capone method. If you don’t get him with the big guns, try to stick to the petty crimes. Criminals get sloppy. Especially criminals that do way too much in too many places. The meeting was over, and everyone cheered. Everyone but Annabeth.

“Shouldn’t you be happy? Hell, Annabeth. You’ve spent more than three years on this case.” asked Travis Stoll.

“It’s just…unbelievable. The fact that everything comes to an end. Goal completed and all,” she smiled sadly.

Annabeth dreaded her seeing Percy again. He was waiting in her apartment and probably preparing food for them. The sight of her apartment complex made her heart sink. Where once was joy, ruled depression.

“Annabeth, what happened?” Percy ran to the door as he saw her in her desolate state. The door closed and she told him what would happen in the next sixteen hours.

“I’m so sorry,” she cried. Percy just held her and hugged her tightly as the tears blinded her. He fought his own tears that threatened to rise. Their future, destroyed.

“It was bound to end like this,” he said. Sadness rested in his voice. But also, tranquility.

“No.” Annabeth shook her head and buried her face into his strong chest.

“Whatever happens. I’ll be fine. Most of the prisons and the judges are smeared.” He kissed her head.

“Of course, they are,” she laughed darkly. Knowing that he wouldn’t be subjected to fights in prison didn’t do much to calm her down. She’d rather have him next to her.

“Annabeth. I want you to arrest me.”

“No. Never.” She violently shook her head again and slapped his shoulder.

“I mean I’m already used to your cuffs, now’s the chance to make it official,” he grinned.

“Percy! Now is not the time to joke about our sex life.” They shared a laugh anyway.

“I have another wish. Move on, Annabeth. Live life to the fullest,” he whispered.

“Everything but that.” She refused to move on. How could she?

“Find an idiot, marry him, have kids and live happily with him. Do that for me. Please,” he continued.

“I want you to be that idiot,” she pressed and looked deep into his eyes. “I don’t care how long it’ll take. I’ll wait for you.”

He kissed her. Don’t do this Annabeth. Don’t give me hope he thought.

The unlikely couple hugged each other tightly as they went to bed. One last time. It didn’t come to Annabeth as a surprise to find his side of the bed cold and empty. His side. His side was no more, it was only her side.

Perseus spent the night and morning hours in the art gallery. He had one final piece to finish. He drank and smoked and cursed. The bottle of cheap whiskey nearly fell to the ground, but he managed to catch it.

The oil painting was a self-portrait. An anchor to the last few moments of his life as a free man that hid in the shadows.

The task force broke into his gallery. He had a cigarette in his mouth and put the paintbrush down as his lover approached him. He had a sarcastic smile on his lips which vanished as he registered the pain in her eyes.

“Perseus Jackson, you are under arrest,” spoke Annabeth with a commanding tone.

She put him into cuffs and read him his rights. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court... A glance at the painting he had been working on ever since he left the apartment.

Annabeth knew immediately that it was them. Percy in the painting hugged her but their faces had been cut off. She saw the birthmarks on her back and the accuracy of how he portrayed his hands on her hip. Percy’s final act of love to her for all of them to see. Unfortunately, all of them were blind to it. All of them but Annabeth.

The moment she was at home she ran to the bathroom and emptied her stomach. Gush after gush came out of her. Her mouth felt sour and dry, the teeth hurt and had an ugly yellow color, the tears that blinded her ran towards her nose. “What have I done?” she cried and looked at her pathetic self in the bathroom mirror.

Judgement day came eight painful months later. The judge slammed the hammer and sealed his fate.

Twelve years. Twelve years was the sentence. Perseus lost his coolness for one second. Annabeth’s heart broke in two. Poseidon who sat on the other side of the room looked like he wanted to shoot the judge right then and here and Annabeth would have gladly joined him.

They were robbed of twelve years together. Percy was put into handcuffs. His sea green eyes searched through the ranks until they found her gray ones. He blinked twice. I love you. She blinked twice. I love you too. The police officers around her almost cheered.

They complimented her for the worst decision of her life. An act that had destroyed her life. Her lover was gone. And a free rat was still out there.

The trail of memories stopped. Annabeth knew that Luke was restless behind the one-way-mirror. The talk had stretched into eternity and gave little information to the hidden detective, but so much to Annabeth. Percy had been right. He was roaming freely in prison. He was able to talk with his family day in and day out. And most importantly. He knew of operations. And he knew of his own operations the best.

Finally. There was movement in the gallery. Whoever was decided to continue the work of Percy Jackson was stupid enough to revisit the place where it all began. The rat would be caught in a trap.

“NYPD PUT YOUR - no.” Annabeth had the gun pointed at him. But she couldn’t believe it. The rat. The rat that had cost her four years of their life.

“I’m sorry, Annabeth,” he sadly smiled. Then he pointed his gun at her.

A shot.

Annabeth had closed her eyes. The bullet didn’t hit her. It had hit him as Luke Castellan had fired a warning shot into the abdomen. The detectives moved to him.

“Call an ambulance!” yelled Annabeth to the cops that flooded the place. He laughed on the floor as he bled.

Jason Grace. Secret son of Zacharias Olympianidikis also known as Zeus. He not only wanted to act in revenge as Percy’s brother Sciron had killed his older sister Thalia. He wanted to spite him and take over his businesses as well. The money and the gold. The cars and fame. In his twisted mind he was able to run the syndicate and destroy it at the same time. It was over.

Annabeth saw as the ambulance drove off. Percy scratching his temples as an indication for the glasses and his talk about colors to point to the gallery would be his ticket to freedom. Hopefully.

ix.

It was the first time that Percy had seen the sun as a free man again. He left prison with the clothes he entered. The deal with the district attorney went smoothly although the old man would have rather wrung the half-Greek’s neck.

A black car drove up to the prison. Two people exited the car.

“Mom? Dad?”

Sally and Poseidon hugged their free son tightly.

“You are stupid!” cried Sally. “Both of you!”

Father and son winced. That was Sally Jackson for them.

x.

Quitting her job had been freeing. She had made the decision about half a year ago. Annabeth wanted to see something new. Experience something new. She was on the way to the small airport. The day was sunny and warm. A new day to start a new chapter in her life.

Annabeth arrived. “You can stop hiding, we aren’t being followed,” she laughed.

Percy yawned in the backseat. “I was sleeping,” he excused himself.

“Of course, you were.” She rolled her eyes and smiled into his reflection in the rearview mirror.

Her colleagues were upset, especially Luke, but it had to be. She had to quit for her own sanity. Beckendorf would check up on her and then see who she was with and connect the dots. But he would be wise enough not to contact her, not to rat her out. He would be happy about the fact that she had found love.

They would live with Sally and her little family for a while before they would buy their own house. The private jet that Zeus had given them would bring them to Hawaii undetected. A small sorry as the son of Zeus had caused a lot of trouble in the family. At least Jason was still alive.

Annabeth stopped the car and turned to Percy.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” she grinned. A delicate kiss was shared.

A golden age was truly upon them.

The End

Ummm... I... I think this might be a poppin feature fic? I have still many ideas and many things could be fleshed out...? Help?

BUT THANK YOU AGAIN FOR THE SUGGESTION DIL OMFG ILY!

All Cookout Fics

Cute/Cursed Cookout Writing Prompts

[dracosearlgreytea]

indelicate marks (10)

indelicate marks: chapter ten - the bargain

A/N: hey kids its me again. here is chapter ten of indelicate marks! i hope you are all enjoying so far and are doing well! - ivy

warnings: language, indications of torture (very slight)

lovely tags: @h-annahayy @okaydraco @fanficflaneuse @thatoneasrastan @biinspiration

indelicate marks index

You never thought you'd ever say it, but you had missed Draco Malfoy. The last two weeks before Christmas sped by uncomfortably quick. Your last two Occlumency lessons with Draco had gone by uneventful, but within them, you'd got along surprisingly well. The previous rounds of insults thrown back and forth had simmered into a good humoured teasing. In fact, you'd managed to have a few actual conversations with Draco with the hours you spent at the Classroom, between your attempts of Occlumency. It turned out that Draco was better at Astronomy than you - you made it clear that you were more than irritated about that. But, you'd also learnt, that unlike his father, Draco actually wanted to work after graduating. Behind the facade that was Malfoy, you were beginning to see a whole other person. By the time Christmas break had arrived, you were particularly worried about him returning home with the state he was already in. Whilst he didn't reveal much about what was actually happening within the walls of Malfoy Manor, you'd already guessed it was... Bad. If his worsening attitude was anything to go by, whatever happened there was not something you even wanted to imagine. The fear for yourself only occurred to you as you sat on the Hogwarts Express. Staring out the window, surrounded by elated students excited to see their family, you felt out of place. The atmosphere was such a juxtaposition to your mood it was almost ironic. It did, however, give you a sad sense of comfort that Draco must have felt much the same way. At least you were sat alone, and could wallow in your misery. The journey back did not offer you the relief you had sworn it would do. Anxiety itched underneath your skin as you finally arrived back at Hogwarts. Stepping out onto the platform, you instantly swept your surroundings for a tall, platinum blonde, dressed in all black. It was with a pang of nausea, that you realised he was nowhere to be found. Thankfully, you'd managed to spot him sitting further up the table with Parkinson and Zabini during the feast. From where you were sat, you couldn't make out any major injury, or harm. From then, you attempted to put your concern for Draco on the back burner. He was alive, and safe, back at Hogwarts. For now. Ignoring the worry, however, only caused you a great deal of reluctance to go to the usual classroom on the first Thursday back. Throat dry, you stared at the worn wood of the door for a second longer than normal before you finally pushed it open. It was familiar, the feeling of stepping into the room, and it eased you, even if it was the slightest. Yet, the sight of him already sat on his chosen desk by the window only filled you with a conflict of comfort and trepidation. "Y/N," Draco drawled, a crooked grin settled into his features. You turned from locking the door wordlessly, keeping your expression plain. "You survived Christmas, then?" Survived is one way to put it. You offered him a shrug. "You look better than I expected." Your mutter prompted his previous, somewhat easy expression, to falter. It didn't, however, fall. "I'll take it as a compliment." Your next words left you before you could even consider them. "Well, I didn't mean it as one." Being a bitch, much? What the fuck was that, Y/N? Because, there was no teasing edge. There was no hidden warmth. Your voice was cold, poised, a voice you hadn't used toward Draco in a long time. Draco's face fell, this time. Narrowing his eyes, he started to search your figure - but then he was jumping up and towards you with a very, very stern look. Your chest tightened, stumbling away instinctively. "What's wrong with you?" He demanded, grey eyes piercing as you forced a glare at him. Still tired, you noted. A lot more tired than before Christmas, from how sunken his features were, but not ill. "Nothing is wrong with me, Malfoy-" Your growl trailed into nothing. You hadn't seriously used his surname since the conversation you'd had at the Astronomy Tower. Draco's eyes flashed, but you just took a breath, attempting to soften your features. "Draco. I'm fine. You're overreacting." His jaw tightened, gaze still not shifting away from you. Scrutinising. "Don't lie to me." His tone was firm, but not hostile. "You look like you're about to drop dead, you have done all week. And now you're not acting like yourself."   You exhaled through your nose, eyes tired as they settled anywhere that wasn't him. "I'm tired. Long break." Burning, you could feel his glare still on you, but he remained silent. Until, you heard a faint mumble - then, a harsh pressure was grasping at your mind. Giving yourself no time to panic, you threw it back, turning your wide eyes on him. Draco only stared back, looking just as shocked - or offended - and then there was a second surge. You held it off with an ease that surprised both you and Draco, noting the annoyance that flitted over his features. His wand dropped from where it was once grasped and directed towards you, scowling. He had tried to use Legilimency. "Don't you fucking do that again!" You snapped, heart rate picking up now that the threat was gone, panicking. "How the fuck did you keep me out?" Draco ignored your outcry, staring at you with a hard expression. Frustration balled in your chest at his dismissal. "Does it matter? You growled. "You can't just look through my memories whenever you feel like it, Draco!" "I can when you're acting like a twat," He threw back, meeting your eyes, unwavering. "And won't tell me that something has happened when it obviously has." "Did it ever occur to you that I don't want you to know everything?" Your voice strained, you swallowed, throat raw. "Why?" Draco demanded, eyes stormy. "What happened?" You stared at him. Merlin, I forgot how much of dick he can be. "Because I'm a person, Draco, and I don't like everyone knowing my own business?" You raised an eyebrow incredulously, head throbbing. You were too tired, too tired for one of Draco's episodes. "How would you feel if I demanded to know everything you got up to?" Draco's face dropped into a sudden vacancy, the one he would so often wear. "That's different." "Different?" You scoffed, only to let out a sigh, placing a hand on your forehead as you attempted to swallow back the rising insults in your throat. "It's really not. You're just too stubborn to admit you're pissed off that I can keep you out now." Another second of awful, tense silence. You readied yourself for a second attack on your thoughts - but it never came. "Tell me what happened, or we're not meeting again." You would have preferred your expectations. Pulling your hand away from your face, you stared at him, hoping the horror creeping up on you didn't show on your expression. "That's - that's - what?" "You just proved to me you can perform Occlumency." Draco's face was as set as his tone, shrugging. "It's not necessary for us to meet anymore." Your body was a lot colder than before. It started in your chest, ice spreading jolting your heart to stop, then your stomach as it made a heavy drop. You thought things had changed, you thought that maybe, just maybe, Draco had changed. But his face was emotionless. "You-" You couldn't stop your voice from wobbling, and you had to swallow to regain any sense of control over it. "You don't mean that." "How do you know?" Draco only raised an eyebrow, and you dragged your eyes off of him. You couldn't look at that dead expression anymore. "Right. So everything that happened before Christmas was all just bullshit, then?" Tears had begun to gather in the back of your throat, voice breaking as you spoke. "Y/N-" "No, Draco, it's fine. It's all perfectly fucking fine." Your control over your emotions was failing. Merlin, you were just so tired, exhausted, and the one person that could offer you any sense of comfort was doing the complete opposite. "You can give up the act now, if you want." "Stop it." Draco's voice wasn't harsh despite his words, more of a sigh. He took a small step towards you, but you still couldn't look up at him, your mind buzzing. "Can you please just tell me what happened to you over Christmas?" You couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. The sudden soft edge to his tone, the threat of him leaving, your exhaustion. The crushing weight of your burden.   But the tears were coming steady, and you spoke with a broken voice. "I have to take the mark, Draco." He was silent, but you still didn't look up at him, gradually beginning to shake and cry heavier. "In exchange for my parents - being broken out -" Draco was crossing the room and pulling you into a hug before you could even register the fact he had moved. This time, you didn't even flinch, wrapping your arms around his torso and burying your head deep into his chest. Draco's hand rested over the back of your head, fingers pulling through your hair. Yet, whilst he wasn't speaking, or making any noise at all, it was better than any words of comfort anyone could have offered you. And, Merlin, had you missed him. What he had said didn't matter. Not now, with his arms so tight around you, letting you sob into a shirt you were pretty sure was worth more than your entire wardrobe. You remained there, for a while, standing in his embrace until the sobs died down - but even then, Draco didn't pull back. "I'm sorry." You mumbled, into the material covering his chest, and his grip tightened a little. "Don't."   You fell quiet again, for a moment. "Lestrange - came on Christmas Eve." You finally began, still muffled. "Made me bargain with her. I take the - the mark. My parents get freed." Draco shifted, pulling back a little to look down at you, hands remaining on your shoulders. You took a moment to stare up at him, only to note his jaw had clenched again. "They already had plans to break them out." He muttered, the grey of his eyes stormy. "Oh, I guessed." Your lips pulled into a bitter smile. "That was more of a... cover up. She had other means of - of - well, persuasion." You couldn't stop the shudder that ran through you, and you knew Draco felt it too. His fingers dug in more than before, prompting your heart to squeeze - with anxiety, or adoration, you weren't sure. It took you a second to look at him again, but you eventually found them searching you, frantic. Rage etched itself into his expression, and you found yourself bringing your hands up to rest them either side of his face. His gaze snapped back up, a lot more gentle as they met yours. "I'm okay." You murmured, but his eyes sunk shut, a deep sigh falling from his lips. "No, you're not." A sad smile pulled at your lips - only for the sudden realisation of how close you were to hit you square in the chest. You could trace every little dip and edge of his features, and a breath caught in your throat as your gaze slipped down to his lips. Still dragged down in the slightest, it took a moment for you to recognise the very overwhelming desire to kiss him. Terrified, you frantically pushed yourself away from him. Draco's eyes snapped back open at the sudden movement. However, he did not question it as you tugged at your sleeves, cursing yourself. Those feelings you'd shoved down in your chest. The ones you'd forbidden, the ones that you chose not to describe. They'd resurfaced so suddenly that it felt as though they were choking you, heart lodged in your throat. You couldn't deny it anymore - that you were very, and overwhelmingly, smitten. With Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy? Draco fucking Malfoy? You have got to be kidding me. "Why weren't you going to tell me?" The question managed to retrieve you from your thoughts, and you flicked a look back at him. He was staring at you, rather intently, hands balled in his pockets. "I-" A faint scowl painted your features, avoiding his eyes again. "Well, I didn't want to make you any more stressed. You're dealing with your own shit." "That's... oddly considerate." Tone teasing, you flashing him a quick look. "I do worry about you, Draco." You lingered your eyes on his for a moment, and they flickered at your admission. "Especially when you don't tell me anything." "Please, don't." His voice hardened, despite the tinge of warmth in the grey of his eyes. "I don't want you involved, and I don't want you to worry about me." "I know." You said, quickly, hoping the bitter pang of rejection in your chest didn't resonate within your expression. "Just - Please keep showing up to these meetings. Even if you don't teach me Occlumency anymore." "You know I didn't mean it." Draco's lips tugged down. Meeting your gaze, he swallowed, before speaking again, much more hesitant. "And I don't act. Around you." You were close to letting out a disbelieving laugh. With that constant deadpan expression, there was no way Draco didn't act around you. But, the way he had spoken, so hushed, but open - it struck a chord within you. You understood what he was trying to say, really. It wasn't bullshit. None of it was bullshit. "How did you manage to get so much better at Occlumency, anyway?" Draco asked, breaking the silence. You hesitated. "Lestrange - she was searching for people to blackmail me with." You mumbled, heart jumping as Draco stiffened. "She didn't find you. I managed to keep her away from finding anything with you in it." Features slipping into an eased position, he nodded, eyes falling away from you. There was a type of tension that continued to linger, after that. You spent the rest of the session, sat together quietly, avoiding any true deep conversation. Draco didn't bring up Christmas again, and you didn't try to encourage him to speak any further about his own trials. You found a type of quiet within Draco that you thought didn't exist. It wasn't deafening, and it wasn't overwhelming. Together, you could ignore what was really happening outside of those four walls. One day, you'd have to face it, you knew that. But, for now, you would enjoy the quiet.

[sunflowersseemhappy]

Not 100% sure if this is up your alley? My MC for Arcana *AHEM* KNEW Lucio prior to the events of the game and I have a head cannon of her LI feeling guilty of their ~history~ but she tries to reassure them saying "After all, I've been with Lucio!" How do you think the Main 6 would react?

For context: Each LI is talking about their respective regrets in the past to MC who in trying to comfort them accidentally reveals their former involvement and relationship with Lucio (something they remembered from their past).

I enjoyed the prompt so much I wrote them as short stories, ‘cause I had a lot of feelings...

The lengths are a bit inconsistent, so sorry for that! There are suggestive themes but nothing that goes into detail so like 12+ years old (if there are even -12 year olds in the fandom, which why?!)

Hope you enjoy! REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Next up is Main 6 react to an MC that is tall but really self conscious about it.

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Asra

Once the words are out of my mouth I halt abruptly, glancing unsure at Asra who has fallen quiet beside me. His lips are drawn in a thin line, his brow furrowed. I hadn’t meant to tell him, but he had been so caught up in his regret for the past that I had wanted to comfort him with my own. It had just fallen out of my mouth and now it hung in the air like a suffocating cloud. Shifting uncomfortably I fumble for words, but it’s him who speaks.

“I knew,” his amethyst eyes betray no emotion as he turns his head slightly to regard me with a level stare. I can’t quite tell what his exact emotions are, but I can hear the weight in his voice. “I didn’t like it, but I’ve known for years.” My stomach flips in anxious circles, he knew...

All this time he knew and didn’t tell me? Most likely it was because he had known me so well in the past, I wonder if I told him or if he had just simply seen the two of us together. It’s strange, he knows more about my past than I do. More than I’ll probably ever know.

Nevertheless it makes my memories of Lucio feel real with Asra’s confirmation and for once my head doesn’t hurt at the memory. If I hadn't told him today would I ever have told him? Probably not, I know how much he hates Lucio but it doesn’t matter now because he knew anyway. I start to wonder does he hate me for it? Does he hate knowing that Lucio held me like he now does? Does it- do I make him uncomfortable?

Sucking in a breath, I keep my eyes locked down. Faust has come to rest on my wrist and I can feel her uncertainty like my own as her tongue flicks out toward me. I don’t think she entirely understands why myself and Asra have turned from each other. Faust’s weight is the only thing keeping me from leaving, she knows it and bobs her head at Asra. Calling in her light voice.

“Asra sad? Friend sad too!” Faust’s scales rub my wrist as she moves uncertainly between us, in the end she lies between us but her tail is wrapped around my wrist and her head is laid on Asra’s lap. A droplet falls into my lap, and I pull my head up slightly whilst touching a hand to my cheek. I’m crying, I didn’t even realise.

I swipe away the hot tears threatening to spill over my cheeks, but as I do so more come and before I know it salty tears are trailing down my face and falling from my chin. I begin sobbing into my hands, drawing choked breaths. At first I think Faust is sliding over my shoulders but I see Asra leaning in and in seconds Asra’s arm wraps around my shoulders. He pulls me into his chest despite my resistance. My breath hiccups as his hand rakes my hair back from my face, pulling it back, his hand cups the nape of my neck, whilst the other hand snakes around my back.

“You must hate me, thinking about me being with him after all he did to you and the others.” My voice is shallow and quiet but I can tell Asra heard me from the shake of his head as lays his chin on top of my head, soothing me with shushing sounds that sound like waves breaking on the surf.

“No, I don’t,” Asra mumbles soothingly. “You can’t help who you fall in love with, I should know that better than anyone. I could never judge someone, most of all you, for the actions of whoever they are or were in love with. Besides, do you have feelings for him now?” I sniffle and peek up at his face, his gaze meeting mine lovingly and without judgement. He pulls back slightly and cups my face with a hand giving me that mysterious smile.

“Of course not,” I hastily choke taking a breath, my hands smooth out to rest on his shoulders. I grip his shirt in my fists, white-knuckled and desperate to hold him where he sits. Speaking firmly and meeting his eyes with steely resolve I continue. “I love you, and I want to be with you. Not Lucio.” Asra gives me a nod and presses his lips to my forehead.

Leaning into his touch I press close to his chest, heaving a sigh and looking up at him. I kiss the closest swath of bare skin I can find at his throat, he’s nothing like Lucio. He’s better, his strength and softness emboldening me. Asra follows my kiss with his own, planting one on lips and savouring it. He nuzzles my face with his own and then his mouth finds the area neck to my ear where he kisses me lightly and whispers in my ear.

“You’ll never know how happy I am to hear you say that,” Asra whispers against my skin squeezing me tight and holding me close. “I want to be with you always Y/N, I love you.”

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Nadia

The words just slip from my mouth, and already I’m slapping my hand to my mouth and cursing my lose lips. Before me on the bed Nadia blinks in surprise, her mouth slightly agape at my outburst, I hastily clear my throat the next words that come out from my mouth jumbled mess.

“Ididn’tmeantosaythat, I’msosorryNadia-” Before I can finish my sentence I hear a snort, I turn toward the sound and gape at Nadia as she breaks out into... laughter. I’m astonished, she’s never laughed like this in front of me. It’s so pure and unrestrained, like I’ve just told the funniest joke on Earth instead of just admitting I had a thing with her former husband.

“You’re not... mad?” I hesitantly ask, very aware of the hand that is lightly squeezing my knee as she laughs, as her giggles die down Nadia shakes her head with an airy sigh swiping a tear from the corner of her eye as she regains her composure.

“My darling, the fact that you comforted me with such brash honesty was just too ironic. Given your missing memories I assume you only learned of this fact recently?” She’s as intuitive as always and I nod slowly, embarrassed as she pats my knee and gives me a understanding look. “To be perfectly honest my own relationship with Lucio is something I always felt... repulsed by. Even though I don’t remember much, if any, of that time.”

My shock gives way to understanding, she’s sympathising with me rather than anything else and it truly is comforting. I had spent the last few weeks cringing at the sight of his portraits on the walls, fragments of memories with him burning into my mind. My memories, moments I had longed to regain became unwelcome intrusions in my mind. Until now I had kept them to myself, but I wasn’t surprised that Nadia had cottoned on to me. She was so observant I wonder why she didn’t bring it up before now.

Looking at her now I’m glad it’s all out there, I don’t like lying to her and its a relief to have her be so understanding. I let out a light chuckle and pinch my lip between my teeth, a smile graces my face as Nadia looks down at me.

“I’m really glad you’re not mad at me,” I admit with a relieved sigh, a sly grin crawls across my face. “Otherwise I couldn’t dish the dirt on his short-comings...”

“Oh, do tell!” Nadia chuckles again, settling back as I tell her about all the ridiculous and downright strange things Lucio did when he was younger. I’m not sure how much time passes but soon enough me and Nadia are snuggled up, our throats sore from all the laughing and our cheeks stiff from not being able to keep straight faces.

“Who knew we would end up talking about Lucio all night?” I sigh, winding a strand of her hair through my fingers. She hums under my touch, her hands absentmindedly tracing circles on my legs.

“Once upon a time I would have been less enthused talking to my husband’s former lover. But I realise that I have changed much over the years. I think it is important we love who we love for whom they are, and not for the people they themselves have formerly loved.” She turns her head upward from my shoulder to look into my eyes, giving me a smile as she shuffles slightly to kiss my chin and then pass her lips over mine. “Enough talk of my husband’s bedside manner Y/N, I think we should turn our attention to each other...”

My face reddens but I nod all the same as we kiss once more.

“That would be nice.”

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Julian

My words peter out as I say them, red faced I turn to Julian. The eye not covered by his eye-patch is wide and his own face has taken on the complexion of a tomato as he splutters awkwardly. He’s trying to find the words for whatever he’s thinking but they don’t come and all of a sudden I’m afraid of whatever he may say. It must show on my face as I turn away because his spluttering dies down and he lets out a strained sigh.

I feel tears prick the corners of my eyes, the heaviness in the air like a boulder on my back. I flinch slightly when Julian rests a hand to the small of my back and I know he can see the tension in my body and feel my unsteady breath as I try to hold back my tears and calm myself.

“Y/N, I didn’t mean to be so surprised.” Julian’s tone sounds apologetic and honest, I tilt my head to show him I’m listening even though I’m too afraid to look him in the eye. “But I was. Surprised, that is...”

“I know,” I admit turning sheepishly to face him, eyes darting to my hands resting in my lap. “I only found out a couple of day’s ago, I wasn’t sure how you would react so I didn’t want to tell you. Guess I can’t lie to you even if I try.” I laugh brokenly, and I hear Julian chuckle under his breath. He pulls my shoulder and I face him, that goofy grin...

“Here I thought you had better taste in men,” Julian jokes, I frown in mock anger and purse my lips. My eyes bore into his and I shove his chest playfully and snort indignantly.

“Says you!” I chuckle with a roll of my eyes, he seems to take my words as a challenge sidling up close to me, our chest’s almost touching. With his height he dwarfs me and there’s a devilish smirk on his lips as he looks down on me.

“Oh?” He asks lowly, his face lowers close to my ear and his breath tickles my cheek. His lips almost press against my skin but before they do I take on my own smirk and push him back with a finger. Forcing him back with a barely contained whine.

“After all, once upon a time you were the dangerous fugitive Doctor Julian Devorak, a supposed murder and tragic miscreant!” He blinks in surprise as I push him an inch farther and he’s on his back to the cushions on the bed.

“Playing dirty are we? Better be careful my dear. There’s only room for one reckless one in this relationship.” Julian gives me a crooked grin, leaning up on his elbows as I straddle his torso and lean over him, faces so close now.

“Reckless? Don’t even get me started-” I scoff, Julian cuts me off as he leans up and holds his face close to mine, inches from each other.

“Then I won’t...” His lips press against mine and we fall against each other, his hands carding through my hair, as my own roam his shoulders. We kiss a moment longer and it’s Julian who breaks away with a roguish smirk and a dramatic tone.

“I can’t say I didn’t make one of two bad life choices during my lifetime... Just tell me this Y/N was he a better lover than I?” He closes his eye and fakes sadness, trowing a hand to his head. I know what he wants but he’s not getting it. My voice comes out monotone.

“If you keep talking like that I’ll say yes.”

“How cruel?!”

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Muriel

I can’t believe myself, the words feel traitorous and not my own but they come out anyway. I blink a few times and even start to wonder if I said that out loud, a fluttering breath leaves me as I side eye Muriel. His usual neutral expression has melted into a frown, I said it out loud! I bite down on my tongue and swallow thickly, words just don’t seem to want to form and I’m left sitting in silence.

Next to me Muriel’s face melts into something else, a small voice inside me screams to do something but I’m frozen. It’s taken a minute for Muriel to mull over the words, and I know it’s because he doesn’t quite understand my vague words. But now I can see it on his face, he knows what I meant and I know he doesn’t like it.

I can see the clench of his jaw as it works, his eyes uncharacteristically dark, and his large body tense. I flinch when he speaks.

“Are you lying?” He asks in his gravely tone, his lips barely part but I just about hear him. I can’t answer, my mouth stubbornly remains shut. He eyes me and I can hear the desperation in his tone as his eyes squeeze shut. Like he wants me to answer but knows the answer will hurt him. “Tell me you’re lying...”

“I wish I was,” quiet and hoarse my voice is not my own, now the words are out desperation takes me. “I didn’t know until the other day, my memories of him just came back and I-”

Muriel’s bolts up so fast his head thuds against a low hanging beam of the hut, I gasp at the noise but he seems undeterred by whatever pain it may have caused him. I look him up and down; fists clenched, red-faced and turned away from my gaze.

“I need to leave,” Muriel mumbles under his breath, at this I bolt up too but he’s faster than me and before I can take one step he’s out the door and out into the lashing rain. A fitting comparison to my tremulous emotions as I run out into it, but Muriel is gone. Where I have no idea, but I’m alone.

I call out in the rain for hours until I’m soaked through, fearing that if I delved deeper into the woods I could get lost or worse without him. I sit in the doorway for another hour shivering in the cold until I feel a cold settle in my lungs, at this point I don’t care but I go to bed all the same, planning to set out and find him in the morning. Inanna is nowhere to be found, I hope she is with him.

As I lay on the bed I close my eyes and breathe in his smell. Myrrh and wood smoke, I want him here with me and think that maybe if I had a better explanation maybe he wouldn’t have left. I don’t know how long I lie there, but at some point fever sets in and sends me to sleep.

I startle at the thud of wet footsteps, opening my eyes I see Muriel. Large shape outlined even in the darkness as he crouches by the fire and sparks a flame. Inanna is next to him laid out near the fire as it gets going. I remain silent and watch him as he sheds his wet clothes, and hangs them up. A weak cough escapes me and Muriel’s face turns to me, I can’t see his features but I know he’s looking at my face.

He approaches and I remain still closing my eyes as he draws close and kneels in front of my face next to the bedside. The back of what I assume is his hand places itself against my forehead, I know he feels the fever heat there and Muriel lets out a soft sigh. I pretend I can’t feel it as he climbs over to me and slips under the covers next to me.

“I know you’re not asleep,” despite wanting to move I lay still as his chest and stomach press to my back, one of his arms slips over my waist and pulls me close. His breath is on my neck as he nuzzles into me, I’m shivering from the fever although my skin is warm I feel so cold and I know he’s pressing up against me to warm me. But there is more there, and I can feel the waves of regret and love coming from Muriel. “You made me realise-”

“I understand-” He sighs against my skin and tries once more to say what he wants to say. “Y/N, I understand why you don’t hate me for my past, you love me for who I am now. Not who I was then, even though you were with him. I don’t care because I feel the same way you do. I love you here in the present more than I hate him in the past.”

I open my eyes, although they burn from my fever, and turn slowly to face him. Those green eyes are full with love as he stares at my face longingly, I must look a mess from being as ill as I feel but his other hand cups my face.

“Were you mad?” I croak and he nods slightly.

“Yes, but not at you. Never at you.” I sigh against him, snaking my arm over his waist and one of my legs moves to straddle his. I fight a cough and Muriel looks worriedly at me. “I’ll keep you warm and safe Y/N, sleep my love.” He kisses my cheek and pulls me as close as we can get. My eyes flutter closed and I hum in defeat.

“Okay, I love you.”

“So do I,” Muriel admits softly and I fall asleep as he asks, dreaming of him by my side.

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Portia

I’m kicking myself as the words leave my mouth, I’m more embarrassed than anything else. Portia pausing with a thoughtful ‘um’ on her lips, but if I had to tell anyone I’m glad it was her. Gods forbid I mention it to any of the others...

As I look desperately at her I notice that her face has gained a thoughtful look, nothing like the surprise, disgust or fear I expected. He mouth is opening and closing like a fish, and I know she’s trying to find the right words and I wait with bated breath.

“You mean the count?” Her head tilts regarding me with... confusion. It was a reaction I hadn’t expected in the least and I can’t help but let out an involuntary laugh.

“No, the guy who serves me coffee at the market.” I drawl sarcastically, it only serves to make Portia giggle “Of course the count!” I laugh with her, giving a rueful shake of my head. Our giggles dissolve quickly and I look down at my hands, wringing them unsure of what to say next, but Portia is already sidling up to me. Laying her head against my shoulder.

“Are you okay?” She whispers, her arm squeezing my waist. It’s a comfort that she is touching me and holding me close, I don’t feel like such a stranger and I can feel my troubles melt away.

“Better for telling you,” I murmur into her hair, I pull back to look questioningly into her eyes. Even though I’m unsure of myself her face betrays nothing but understanding and she gives me that cheery smile. My voice wavers as she stands and walks to the table where a pot of tea sits. “How do you feel about it?”

“It’s weird, I didn’t ever know him but I know he wasn’t the greatest guy around.” I watch as she pours tea out into tea cups, winding her way past the furniture and offering me a steaming mug.

“Yeah, it’s definitely weird.” I admit taking the cup and blowing on the liquid lightly, relishing the warmth seeping from the cup into my fingers. It’s pomegranate tea, one of Portia’s new blends she bought from the market, it smells overly sweet and is a deep red but I’ve come to like the taste.

“I’m curious though, if you could get back with him would you?” Portia watches me over the rim of her cup, hidden behind the light steam as it wafts up. She takes a sip as I reply.

“Not at all.” I admonish bringing the rim of my teacup to my lips and relishing the fragrant concoction, exotic and beautifully blended. I’m unprepared for her next question.

“What was he like... ya’know?” At those words I involuntarily inhale, choking on my tea. I splutter as it stings my throat and stains my shirt crimson, coughing some more I take a startled breath.

“Portia!” I place my cup to the side and give her a warning frown. I feel myself drawn back into my memories, every one of them feeling like an intrusion as if I’m not really seeing my own memories but those of another. It feels so intrusive to even think about them, to think about me and him together...

“I was just curious!” She giggles, when she notices me go quiet her hand creeps onto my leg as if to ask for my forgiveness.“But seriously Y/N, did he ever do anything you didn’t like? Because if you need to talk to me, about anything, I’ll listen. I’m good at that.”

“Portia, I-”  My slack face comes up to meet her gaze and I give her a sad smile. I can see in her eyes that she means it but I know that I’m not ready yet, to talk about Lucio or what happened. I know she sees it in my eyes too, but she doesn’t press anything. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for telling me, I don’t ever want you to be trapped in your own mind about things that happened so long ago.” She places her own cup of tea down and wriggles up next to me, we sit back against the headboard of the plush bed. She snuggles up against me and plants a long loving kiss on my cheek. “And in case you’re worried if being with Lucio made you a bad person you’re not, you’re two different people. You are not responsible for anything he did.”

I smile and nuzzle back against her, and we forget talk of the former count, opting instead to enjoy each other’s company and some tasty tea.

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Lucio

MC probably wouldn’t say it to him as it’s him we’re talking about but I just think he’d be spluttering in offence to any one of the above.

(Sorry Lucio stans)

[angrymongol01-archived]

A/N: Am reposting two of my shelved discontinued fem!Hinata fics from my old blog here (for exposure ig? Also I didn't delete them completely there, they're just posted privately lol); for those who've read the original post before and wondering why this blog repost another blog's work, supplies~!! OP here, filling this blog with some Haikyuu content from last October. Enjoy ^^;; ALSO DO NOT SEND HATE ORZ smh

My Masterlist

Prologue | 01 | Omake 01

tho it doesn't looked like an extra chapter at all smh ahaha

Omake 01

wc: 1.9k words

warning: mentions of thigh touching (and probs kidnapping but not implied), a bit of OOC-ness, a few ‘damn’ mentions.

note: indented paragraphs -> flashbacks

*NOTE: since purple/violet is unavailable via PC (using desktop beta lol), I'll use yellow for Ushijima instead.

“…ta…nata…Hinata!”

A female’s voice continued calling her from her deep slumber.

The faint smell of ammonia wafted in the air.

Eyelids slowly opened as she regained consciousness.

“Ah, thank goodness you’re awake now, Hina-chan!”

“Yachi-san?” She groggily glanced at her friend.

“I’ll tell the others she’s awake!” Suddenly, the owner of that voice earlier, Date Tech’s manager, Nametsu Mai, stood up and headed outside the door. Yachi nodded her thanks.

“W-what happened… Where am I? Is this not our—the managers’—room?” she asked.

Hinata started to sit up from where she was laying but wobbled.

Luckily, Yachi and their second-year senpai Kinoshita Hisashi helped her out and gently positioned their fellow member on one corner of the classroom-slash-makeshift sleeping area.

Her senpai sheepishly replied to Hinata, “This is Date Tech’s sleeping quarters. We were having our first practice match of the day, against them, when Sugawara-san called to inform that they’ve found you together with Shiratorizawa, and their captain carried you on—“

The decoy shivered, thinking about the restroom incident hours ago.

“—and fainted on Ushijima’s shoulder. Ma~n, Suga-san’s so furious back then Kageyama had to stop him from killing them.” Kinoshita chuckled.

“Your room’s kinda far away from where they found you, so the managers decided to drop you off here since it’s the nearest one.”

Hinata sweatdropped, a bit embarrassed.

“Ah… thank you, and sorry for whatever inconvenience I have caused earlier…”

Yachi shook her head. “No, no, it’s fine! You’ve done nothing wrong, Hina-chan~,” she grinned at the orange-haired girl.

Smiled back also.

Then she suddenly facepalmed. “I forgot about the practice match! Is it still going yet?”

“It finished an hour ago, we lost—2-1,” a scowling Kageyama answered, trudging towards the three.

“K-k-kageyama…!!!” the female middle blocker blanched with fear, hands gripping the blanket draped on her lap, while the raven-haired setter shot a menacing glare at her, which she averted. “I’m… I’m sorry for—“

“Are you alright?” he quietly asked Hinata, his hand perched on her head.

His deep blue eyes swimming with concern and worry.

She felt a slight flush on her cheeks while meeting his gaze.

“H-hai, I’m fine!” the chibi assured Kageyama. “Nothing to worry about, Bakayama-kun~!”

And she smiled at him.

The boy suddenly became hot and turned to look away from her, hiding his flustered face with the back of his hand.

“H-hinata boke… idiot,” Kageyama stuttered, his heart thumping louder than normal.

Ahh… he sure is whipped for Hinata, that Kageyama boy, Kinoshita thought, shaking his head.

While their blonde manager only giggled.

Recovering from his blushing mess a while ago, the raven-haired setter took a deep breath, narrowed his eyes at Hinata and quipped.

“But I guess you do know that we lost in the match earlier because of your carelessness around your surroundings, right, dumbass?”

He smirked.

This pissed the female decoy and threw in some punches at Kageyama, which he constantly dodged. “Shut up, you!! I said I’m sorry, alright?!”

“No, you did not!”

“Yes, I did, Bakayama!”

There goes their ‘lovers’ quarrel’ again… hahaha…

“Hinata!” Sugawara’s sweet voice boomed inside the room as he entered together with their team’s captain Sawamura Daichi. Beside them tagged along Hinata’s friend from Date Tech, fellow middle blocker Aone Takanobu.

“Ah, Sugawara-san!” The first-year idiot duo stopped their bickering when the gray-haired setter all of a sudden hugged her.

Hc’d Suga and Hinata are chummy-chummy but in a mother/daughter sort of way.

He is, after all, Karasuno’s Sugamama.

“Honey, are you alright now? Did those Shiratorizawa bastards hurt you? Don’t lie to me!” She blinked in reply, baffled.

He might cry in an instant now—

“Oi, Suga, calm down,” Daichi said, drawing circles at the fellow third-year’s back to calm him down.

Aone then stepped closer besides Hinata and sat with his legs crossed, his eyes gazing at hers like Kageyama’s.

“Are you okay?” he asked her, his deep voice nearly startled both Hinata, Yachi and Kinoshita.

Date Tech’s one-third of the famous Iron Wall is a man of few words, and his replies were mostly grunts, hand gestures, and nods.

So it’s rare for him to speak, or ask a question, especially to a member of the opposite sex—or, in this case, at Karasuno’s Number 10. At Hinata Shouyou.

She held both hands at Aone’s now flustered cheeks, and grinned.

“I’m okay now, Aone-san! Don’t worry too much~ nn?” She tilted her head while looking at him.

C-cute… she’s cute, No-Eyebrows thought to himself. Even the other boys thought so, too.

Then he nodded.

Hinata patted his shoulders. “Good!”

Ahhh the power of friendship, feat. AoHina—

“Say, Hina-chan,” Yachi looked at the orange-haired girl. “Care to say to us why you fainted on Ushijima-san’s shoulder?”

The chibi stilled herself, cheeks starting to get a bit red. Kageyama noticed it.

“A-a-ano!! H-hinata-chan, it’s o-okay if you d-don’t have to tell us! S-sorry for asking such a foolish q-question—“

“Yachi-san, calm yourself down, too—,” the captain sweatdropped.

Looking at the people around her, Hinata slowly opened her mouth to speak.

“My thighs are kind of ticklish when being touched,” she muttered, face in an embarrassed state.

“Ha?” “Ticklish?”

“He—Ushijima-san touched the back of my thighs, but just to keep myself from falling down his shoulder!” the female middle blocker said aloud, pouting. “That’s why I… f-fainted earlier.”

Her partner remembered the face she made while being carried on Ushijima Wakatoshi’s shoulder.

“USHIJIMA-SA—hyaah! …P-please… stop—“

A vein pop ticked on the raven-haired setter’s face, his jawline twitching slightly.

Kageyama’s fists gripped hard, his face a big scowling mess.

Damn that Ushiwaka guy—

Another dark aura emitted on another corner as vein pops ticked on both Dadchi and Sugamama.

Wearing their scary faces.

Both Hinata, Yachi and Kinoshita panicked, while Aone furrowed his brows.

“Did you bring some shovels, Daichi?”

“They’re inside the bus compartment, Suga.”

“Good. We’re digging some graves for some perverted volleyball dorks to bury down later—wanna help us, Kageyama?”

———

Meanwhile, at Shiratorizawa’s side of the training camp, the members were at the sidelines, taking a break from practice when—

“ACHOO!!!” Tendou sniffled for the nth time already ever since coming back to the gym with Ushijima after the incident with Karasuno’s Number 10. “Uh, yizz…”

“Tendou-san, are you really alright?” their team’s first-year ace-in-the-making Goshiki Tsutomu asked, his face scrunched with worry. “You’re sneezing constantly.”

The redhead shook it off with a wave of his hand in reply, and smiled grimly.

“Yeah, I’m a-OK, thanks for your concern, Tsutomu-kun!”

“Oi, are you sick?” Shiratorizawa’s team mom third-year setter Semi Eita stared at his fellow third-year teammate with disgust. “If you are, please stay away from us! We don’t wanna get infected by your cold… Goshiki, don’t go near him!” “Eh? But, senpai—“

Tendou narrowed his eyes on him. “Semi-Semi, if I do have a cold, I will first go straight at ya and share my germs, duh!”

“DON’T CALL ME BY THAT STUPID NICKNAME, YOU IDIOT!” the team mom seethed, throwing a pack of tissues at the middle blocker in reply, hitting his arm.

A quarrel ensued at Shiratorizawa—

“Okay, guys, that’s enough! Save your bickering later at lunch period,” another third-year, Oohira Reon, chided and managed to stop both Tendou and Semi from tearing off their heads.

While the rest of the team just sighed and/or watched at a distance.

“Ano sa…”

Some of them turned their heads at the semi-deep voice of second-year starting setter Shirabu Kenjiro.

Idk how to describe voice ranges ‘cept high-pitch, deep blah blah sorry—

“Tendou-san, you mentioned earlier that you and Ushijima-san met Karasuno’s Number 10, right?”

“Aye~ we have!” the redhead then nudged Ushijima, who was sitting near him, on the side. “Right, Wakatoshi-kun?”

He nodded. “Un. We met Hinata Shouyou early this morning, outside the gym.”

“EHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! You two met that cute sunshine already upon arrival!?!!” Both their libero, Yamagata Hayato, and middle blocker, Kawanishi Taichi, squawked at their captain.

Their faces looked like (‘◉⌓◉’), with Kawanishi gripping the collar of Shirabu’s shirt, shaking wildly.

“T-taichi, stop shaking me, goddammit—!” Whack!

Said second-year middle blocker started to wail in a dramatic way.

“WHYYYYYYYYYYY—!!”

Dunno how to grasp Kawanishi’s personality here tbh so stfu dejk—

“We were about to bring her here back though…” Then Ushijima’s usual stoic face darkened a bit.

“…if only those Karasuno setters didn’t show up.”

“Ah, that Kageyama guy and their vice-captain, isn’t it? Number 2?” Shirabu pointed out. “That guy’s really scary even though he has the face of an angel; their captain also.”

Oohira asked, “Wait… so you two attempted to kidnap the girl?”

“No, no, ‘kidnapping’ will only cause us trouble,” Tendou said, waving his hand in a disapproving way.

“Let’s call it ‘luring her with some sweets then put her inside a potato sack’—“

“ARE YOU A DOWNRIGHT LOLICON!?!!” Semi screamed straight at the Guess Monster’s face, pissed at his earlier statement.

Tendou vs Semi, Round 2–

“I-I heard from Date Tech’s Koganegawa-san that Hinata-chan fainted on you, Ushijima-san,” Goshiki stammered, red tinge on both his cheeks due to embarrassment, maybe? “Is that true?”

Ushiwaka nodded curtly. “Ye—“

“EHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! SHE DID WHAAAAAAAAAAT!?!!” Both Yamagata and Kawanishi squawked again, interrupting his response.

Their faces now looked like (● ˃̶͈̀ロ˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾, with Kawanishi again gripping the collar of Shirabu’s shirt, shaking wildly.

“KAWANISHIIIIII!” An uppercut.

Chaos ensued inside the Shiratorizawa Academy (High School Division) Men’s Volleyball Club.

Their captain declared to himself, his olive-colored eyes shone with determination:

We will take Hinata Shouyou here, in Shiratorizawa. She should have (come here). Whatever the consequences be.

“WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU SLACKING OFF, YOU NIMRODS!!! GET YOUR ASSES BACK TO PRACTICE!!!!”

“HAI!!!!”

———

How did the supposed-to-be ‘rumor’ begin? It all started when…

“Aaaarrrggghhh!! This is not right, Ryuu!”

“Huh? What d’you mean ‘not right’, Noya?”

“I want to sit next to our cute kouhai Shouyou on the bus earlier, but it’s always that bastard Kageyama who gets to sit beside her!! Hnnnnnngh—!!! He gets to touch Shouyou’s hair whenever she dozes off, or place her head on his shoulder to sleep on! Or-or maybe even take a candid shot of her sleeping cutely—dammit!!! This is frustrating!!!!!”

“Ahhh~ I know how you feel, bro! I, too, want to sit next to our precious Hinata-chan on the bus! B-but… Noya, what about Kiyoko-san?”

“Ryuu bro, our loyalty is always on our beautiful goddess Kiyoko-san—BUT SHE’S DIFFERENT FROM SHOUYOU! Our kouhai is literally the epitome of a living sunshine~! She cures our blues away! Remember that time during our match with Wakunan, when you were kind of down about Daichi-san’s injury then Shouyou suddenly hugged and peppered you with words of encouragement?”

“Oh, yeah! It calmed my senses down… and also! Remember when you came back from your suspension, and me and Hinata noticed bruises—“

idk I really need to refresh my HQ knowledge by rereading the whole manga orz—

“—on your arms? Ma~n, she freaked out and began applying those with some ointment she had in her bag. And you told me later that time Hinata’s hands were very soft even though she spiked and blocked so many balls in her lifetime? Also that expression on your face! So priceless!”

“Ahhhh~ I wanna touch Shouyou’s soft hands again longer! Not just a high five—but holding hands!”

“Me too~ Damn, I wish there’d be some kind of (rotational?) seating arrangement whenever we’re on the bus, traveling to matches and stuff…”

“Ryuu! Noya! Heya!”

“Tora! Our shitty (city) boy from Tokyo—wassup!”

“We can’t wait to play another game against you guys later! ww”

“Same here!”

“Ah, what are you guys talking about?”

“OUR PRECIOUS KOUHAI HINATA/SHOUYOU!!!”

“Eh? Shrimpy-chan? What about her?”

“It’s like this….—“

The two crows and mohawked cat walked their way inside the camp premises, talking.

Unbeknownst to them, two eagles accidentally eavesdropped on the earlier conversation.

DO NOT REPOST/EDIT WITHOUT PERMISSION. PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME, KIDS. LIKES ESPECIALLY REBLOGS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED. ALL WORKS © angrymongol01 - 2021.

[mendaxiety]

“After making all that fuss about how you wanted to be fucked hard, you’re whinning like a little baby.” with Virgil doing the fucking on Deceit?

Prompts || Not accepting! || N//S//F//W

Warnings: Noncon elements, dubcon, abusive / rough themes, unhealthy relationship, uuh one large fuck me up fam.

Janus has been at this all day, hardly getting more than a scornful look for his efforts. But, he is nothing if not tenacious, someone like him has to be, after all. The effort to convince one to lie, to present that lie as truth, it all takes an awful lot of work, so yes, Janus is determined, but he is not patient. Perhaps that’s why he resorts to less refined tactics. . . not that Virgil is unused to any of that, either. 

The anxious side’s patience is about to snap, and along with it, a very unfortunate liar. But then, they both know that’s the backbone of this plan anyway, the final reward for this twisted game they indulge in. They’ve just indulged too much, someone a glutton for punishment and another a glutton for something. . .equally as damning. Neither of them will ever admit such a thing though, so they continue to dance around each other, pretending that glaring fact isn’t there, until they collide right into each other. . .full force.

Janus’s back hits the wall behind him, knocking the breath out of him with a sharp exhale. Virgil’s hands are like iron around his wrists, and he cracks open one eye to peer up at the other side, but he finds little amusement on Virgil’s face. Janus feels a smirk tug at his lips, and he allows the coy curve onto his mouth, if only to watch Virgil’s jaw tighten. “I swear to god,” Virgil starts, his voice low, dangerous, taking on that timbre that chases a shiver down Janus’s back. “I’ve had enough.”

“Oh?” Janus asks, only not really, just like he tugs on both his wrists, only not really. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m minding my own business,” Janus shoots a condescending glance up and down Virgil. “It’s not my problem you can’t control your own temper.” Janus feels that grip on his wrists tighten, ever so slightly, but that glitter of violet is in his Virgil’s eyes, a brief gleam; a knife unsheathing, just as cold and twice as sharp. It’s a warning, no words needed, Janus still hears the silent “Watch It” that’s spoken from that one look. 

“Why don’t I show you what I can control?” Virgil says, his voice dropping, much like his mouth as it hovers by Janus’s ear, a hint of cold, a hint of teeth. Virgil has been stretched terribly thin lately, it really hardly takes any work to rile him like this. Maybe Virgil thinks Janus doesn’t notice those fleeting glances, the curl of his lip that shows off a hint of fang, a hint of hunger. “Oh, I forgot, it’s not my problem you’re too desperate to ask for what you really want.” Virgil smiles coldly, watching Janus’s mismatched eyes widen a fraction, and it’s something Virgil loves so much—watching Deceit get caught, watching him tangle himself in his own lies. 

“Fuck you,” Janus hisses, Virgil’s words stealing his breath away just like the hit against the wall had. Virgil’s grin sharpens, darkens, and Janus’s heart is in his throat, the sound almost tangible. . .snap. Virgil descends on Janus’s mouth, the violent, angry action almost undeserving of even being called a kiss. Janus groans when fangs cut across his bottom lip, impatiently forcing entry, and as Virgil’s tongue snakes into his mouth, the tang of blood follows. The kiss is all teeth and tongue, hungry and messy. 

Janus tugs harder at his wrists this time, actually trying to get free so he can reach at Virgil, tug at his clothes. Virgil growls into the kiss, the sound rolling like thunder down Janus’s back and prompting him to arch forward, chest gluing to Virgil’s own. There’s a swish of wind, a swoop of his stomach, but Janus hasn’t opened his eyes to watch the rooms change; he can tell by the sudden darkness, the sudden chill, that Virgil has sunk them into his own room. The kiss is broken and they pant into each other’s mouths, the pause so brief, but when Janus blinks open his eyes to look at Virgil, it seems to last forever. 

Without warning, Virgil uses the grip he has on Janus’s wrists to yank, drawing a startled cry from the lying side as Virgil shoves him to the side and down onto the bed. Immediately, Janus tries to find his balance, tries to sit up, but Virgil is on him in seconds. His mouth finds Janus’s again, unrelenting as he snags a handful of Janus’s shirt, pulling him in close. Janus’s chest is tight already from trying to catch his breath, and he reaches up to tangle his fingers in Virgil’s hair, dark, darker than the rest. . .

Virgil is shoving clothes off and out of the way, and when Janus thinks he hears fabric ripping, he rolls his eyes. “Desperate loves company, or have you lost control already? Maybe you never even had it—” 

A hand wraps around Janus’s throat, cold but steady, and it squeezes. Janus’s voice cuts off with a cracked gasp, eyes fluttering shut as Virgil throws him back down to the mattress and pins him there. He slides off his jacket and shirt where they’re only hanging off him by a shoulder, and Janus lets his gaze drip down Virgil’s body as he prowls above him; he’s coming undone, Janus knows it, has known it. He can always sense it coming, always gets to Virgil first. He’s the only one who can take this side of Virgil, the only one to know this part of him…this part is his.

Virgil feels Janus swallow, throat bobbing beneath his palm where he keeps it clutched around the lying side’s neck, slowly scraping his nails down into green scales. Janus shudders, bucking up into Virgil as that shooting, odd sensation flares at his neck, that feeling Janus can never tell is good or bad, but what he can tell is that Virgil doesn’t care. With careless hands, Virgil twists Janus over onto his belly, keeping one hand on the back of his neck as he briefly stretches away, as if reaching for something. There’s a pause, only for Janus to regain some breath, before he feels Virgil move again. 

Virgil settles behind Janus, and with one knee slid between his thighs, forces Janus to spread his own knees far apart. Virgil brings a hand down hard on the pert ass presented to him, and the little yip it earns him makes his cock twitch, slick with the lubricant he reached for. “Bite the sheets,” Virgil growls the warning, far from the mood for bothering with flowery pleasantries. Janus takes it this way all the time, he likes it this way, it’s almost the only way it’s ever done. Nothing slow, nothing gentle, nothing pretty. 

Janus opens his mouth, just in time to sink his teeth into the bunched up sheets below him. That warning is the only one he gets before Virgil’s hand is on his hip, and then he’s shoving forward and yanking Janus backwards, forcing reluctant muscles to spread too fast and too rough. Janus screams, teeth grit into the sheets to muffle it, but that does little to ease the pain shooting up his back as Virgil forces himself inside. It aches, it aches hot and deep, and even Janus can feel himself quivering in a struggling bid to relax and try to loosen up. Virgil does still, just for a beat, smoothing one hand up Janus’s back, scratching his nails against scales and admiring black against green. “Always feel so good,” he hisses under his breath, almost to not be heard, perhaps not wanted to be heard.

Janus clings to the blankets when Virgil starts to move, too soon, but he’s not asking Janus. Virgil feels those hot muscles cling tight to his cock, and he shoves himself back inside, setting up for a brutal pace. Each slow pull out is countered with a hard thrust forward that buries his cock in one go, until bit by bit, Virgil is rutting into Janus almost wildly, scratching down the man’s back and not noticing when his nails catch on certain scales to draw blood. Janus does his best, his fucking best, to bite into the sheets and muffle his voice; but he can feel the blankets growing wetter beneath his face, though he tried to ignore his cheeks getting wet. 

Virgil hears a choked sob and glances up, panting for breath, but his lips still curve into that near predatory smile. “After making all that fuss to get fucked hard, you’re whining like this?” Virgil says, and neither of them miss the mocking croon to his voice. “You asked for it, this was all you were here for.” Virgil’s voice lowers into a growl again, and Janus flinches when he feels the hands clawing into his hips tighten. Virgil stills, hips shuddering just before Janus feels the other man reach his peak, spilling sticky heat inside. Fuck, Janus hates that feeling. He does.

Slowly, the only slowness of the night, Virgil withdraws, glancing down at Janus’s red and raw entrance as he leaves it a little gaped from the abuse. Virgil slides his hand off Janus’s back, off his hips, and straightens up, leaving the other side to roll carefully onto his side, trembling a bit in the aftermath. Janus winces, aching, sore, thighs closed tight to viciously ignore his own cock. He listens instead as Virgil cleans off, catches his breath, and redresses, all while never sparing Janus a look. “Be gone by the I come back,” Virgil says, and the door shutting punctuates his warning. 

It’s always like this. Janus scrubs the backs of his hands over his face, willfully ignoring the sink of his stomach, the throb of his body, ignoring all of it as he struggles to his own feet. It’s his shirt that had torn earlier, he discovers, but he dresses anyway. He can get to his room before anyone else sees; no one will question it, anyway. It’s always been like this. It’s how they do things. Janus doesn’t think either of them want to change it. 

Janus doesn’t think either of them know how to change it.

[askthiscpblog]

Showdown: The King vs The Jack

After months of planning and hiding, everything is ready.

As viewers of the red room came flooding in eager to watch what's believed to be the grand finale of the infamous Slaughter Show. The Cutthroat sits on an old crate withered from rot and mildew that didn't appear to be able to hold his weight.

His temporary partner waited for his command to open the seal to the room that contains his attacker from a decade ago. The monster's been healing wounds from a wolfman and a stab wound he self-inflected to save his attacker from being a happy meal to his partner.

In about 5 minutes the door will open and the Cutthroat will finally have his revenge. Even though he wanted this fight to start yesterday, he's also an entertainer. His audience has been eager for this day almost as much as he has. There are no heroes in this grand finale. Only two monsters in a cage digging their metallic fangs into each other. He's not even sure if he can win after seeing him duke it out with a wolfman. It makes no difference; only one will survive and there will be one less killer in the world.

Thirty seconds left before the grand show. The Cutthroat kept fiddling with the knife in his hand, feeling the weight of it, eyes glancing up to the door every few seconds. The one thing he has trained for the past ten years is finally about to happen. Whispering to himself, “Five…..four…..three….two-” the door flies open with a loud crack like thunder as it hits the wall. Inside the room is only darkness.  

The smiling pasty man stood at the once sealed door, ears ringing from the sound of his blood pumping through his veins. On one hand, a knife and in the other a piece of paper was a notice that the final show's today. The vein on his head pulsed, his body ready to go after his mysterious capture. Although he was at a large disadvantage when he noticed there was only one way out. That means an ambush could happen once he left, and there was nowhere to hide in the room but a mattress and a latrine bucket. There were no other shadows with the lightbulb in the middle still on.

“Hmmm...oh! Now that's an idea.” The man turned to the light, closing the door behind him. Looking at it with his ever unblinking stare, he takes an empty bucket that was in the corner and swings it at the bulb as hard as he can. A semi-loud pop rings in the room as glass shatters to the floor. The light vanished in an instant to a void of black. He then hid. Ready to pounce. His fang was ever ready to taste the crimson water of his prey. Then the door swung open slamming into the wall like an angry beast and outside was a faint light. 

The Cutthroat raises an eyebrow at the blackened room knowing full well that a light should be on, but then again he did supply his opponent a weapon. His vanquishing of the light is not that hard to believe. He hops off the box, landing on the ground without a speck of dust out of place. The rotten cube he was sitting on, yet, finally gives in and crumbles, releasing the rusted scaffolding onto the ground. He looks back and sighs. “Smooth.” He grumbled to himself. Approaching the doorway with a survival knife at hand, ready to draw first blood. 

As he enters the threshold, he swings the blade to his right to strike his opponent at once. It worked! If his opponent was there. That’s when something large and heavy hits the Cutthroat and pushes him back out the door onto his ass. 

“Shit!” He screams, seeing a mattress is coming down on him fast. 

“You looked like you’re overworked. I think you need to head to bed!” A voice called from the other end.

The Cutthroat rolled back avoiding the mattress and hopped back to his feet, but was knocked right back down. He lost the grip of his blade as a white blur charged right into his abdomen knocking the breath out of him. Then there was a sharp sting at his side, white-hot pain, and the smell of iron. Out of reflex he grabs his attacker's jacket, follows his momentum, falls onto his back, and throws him backward over his head using his legs to kick him further. His opponent was stunned for a moment and that gave him enough time to melt into the shadows to regain his breath. 

Everything was quiet. The killer gets back to his feet and looks around taking in the surrounding area. It looks like an abandoned warehouse, the walls of the building covered in what he believes a black foam. He's seen this in one of his housemates' rooms; it was meant to absorb sound. The killer’s smile grew wider, liking that his so-called host was nice enough to make sure that there will be nothing to worry about. No one coming snooping around from the racket they are making made everything more fun. He holds up his blade seeing it covered in blood. His host's blood.

“You know?! With all the big talk you were doing months ago I thought this would have been fun, but I guess I’m just too good! No wonder why you wanted me as a guest star! Your show must be shit!” The killer calls out hoping to get a response, but nothing. He huffed and started the search for his wounded prey.

In the shadows, Cutthroat slumps behind an old crate putting pressure on his new wound. He's surprised at how fast the situation turned but was a bit pleased. He's worried that this would have been a bland fight and he would come out on top. His train of thought cut short by his attacker yelling for him. A smile forms behind the mask now knowing what he's up against. He gets back up and inches his way to a spot that will give him the best flanking position. Picking up one of the many knives that's hidden in the old building, he gets into position readying his new blade in hand, waiting for the right time to strike. This may not be good for his viewers, but he needs this surprise counter attack if he wants to get a leg up on his opponent. 

As he feels the bloodlust of his prey getting near it reminded him of that dreaded day. He started to look back on what made him who he is today but shook that off. The first hint of anxiety started to bubble in the back of his head. After a minute of calming himself down, he almost missed the glint of sharp metal coming for his head. Ducking as it glanced his head, the Cutthroat delivers a counter-attack to his opponent with a cut to the stomach. It landed but was too shallow to do any real harm. The smiling man hops back, feeling the blade graze him, and now has a good view of his abductor. 

Before he was a man wearing all black. Long-sleeved zipped up hoodie with the hood up, black jeans tucked in a dark brown pair of combat boots. His hands have fingerless gloves with his pale fingers revealed. It would be hard to see someone like that in a dark room if it weren't for the pure white mask on his face. That mask had a black smile and joyful eye holes that reveal his dark green eyes that seemed familiar to the pale killer. 

“Not bad Jeff. That’s twice you got me off guard, but I guess that my fault.” The masked man speaks to him in a nonchalant tone. 

The killer that is now known as Jeff replies with a cackle. “Well, that’s what happens when you go against a pro dickweed.” 

The Cutthroat scoffs. “Pro?” He looks at Jeff’s chest not daring to meet his eyes. 

“Most of your kills are stuck in beds. If you’re a pro then I’m an Olympic…..” within mid-sentence his left wrist shifted with a knife sliding out of the sleeve and in rapid motion, he threw it at Jeff’s face. The killer’s eyes widen to the sudden attack and take a quick sidestep. When he looked back to the masked man he was right on top of him. Cutthroat strikes at Jeff’s chest with an underhand side stab as he finishes his sentence in a low raspy voice, “.... Athlete.” 

Jeff was able to adjust his body right before the blade entered his body. It missed his heart by the width of a few strands of his unwashed hair. Jeff wrenched in pain and went to retaliate with a similar blow, but the Cutthroat retreats. Getting into a basic knife fighting stance, he cursed under his breath because he knew he missed. Jeff on the other hand got a look of anger in his unblinking blue eyes, but his everlasting smile grew larger. 

“IT’S ABOUT TIME I GET TO HAVE FUN!” He bellows, the blood pouring from his fresh wound. 

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

At the Slenderman’s manor, a boy in a green outfit sat drinking a large soda cup in a dark room with a monitor lighting up his face. He was scanning the deep web looking for any leads of the enemy or what happened to his housemate Jeff. He was more focused on the second part. Mumbling to himself as he runs through all the sites. “Junk, Junk, Junk, Save, Junk, junk……”

A knock came from the other side of his door. Before he had a chance to answer, it opens. Letting light pour inside the blackened room a woman in light blue nightgown stands at the threshold. Her raven black hair shines from the light. Her jet black eyes scan the room as she enters. 

“Anything yet Ben?” The woman asks the boy. 

He responded, “Noooope. Nothing. I personally say call off the search and say he is dead, also Jane wait till I say you can come in. It’s rude.” 

Sighing, the woman continues, “I would love to do the same too, but if he was dead then the boss would have known, also don’t give me that crap. You and the clown love intruding everyone’s rooms.” 

Ben looks at her and smiles then continues what he is doing. “You know. It’s not like Zel to keep prisoners, especially this long. Not to mention putting up with his ass.” He says a little puzzled. Jane nods agreeing with him. 

“Then who would want to kidnap the fuck”? she asked, more to herself.

“You”. Ben replied, knowing her relationship with Jeff it slipped off the tongue.

“Very funny, but let’s be serious. Who would want to take him? Ya I would, but not like anyone else has a bone to pick with…...hmm.” Jane had an unsure look from her statement as if she was questioning what she said. Her face tightens as she spaced out in thought. 

Ben watched her, raising an eyebrow to her spacing out. “Earth to Jane. Are you there? What are you thinking?” The woman blinked a few times and shook her head then looked at the boy in green. Finally replying. 

“....Lookup a red room called the Slaughter Show. Hopefully, he hasn’t changed it.”

Ben raised an eyebrow to the request. “You do know red rooms aren’t real. Right? It’s nearly impossible to do live streaming in the deep….and who is he?” He replied wondering what she was talking about. 

“Just do it!” She snapped at him. A worried look washes over her face. Ben rolls his eyes and does his search. It took about 5 mins, but lo and behold there it was. Sight with the title with blood font called the Slaughter Show. 

“Ok. How do you know this existed?” He asked, trying to get in the chat room with the live video feed. Jane bites her lower lip to the question. Not sure if she should say. It was like this for 30 seconds until she opened her mouth. 

“Well-" she started to speak but was cut off as the screen on the monitor changed showing a chat room with several live video feeds. Ben goes to click on one and becomes a full screen. It shows what seems to be the inside of a warehouse, filled with random large boxes scattered all about, some withered and others rotting of mildew. Two figures standing at each other one in a black hoodie with a white smiling mask that reveals piercing green eyes behind it. And the one in a bloodstained white hoodie with black greasy hair, a pure white scared face with a carved smile and unblinking glare with blue eyes.

“Oh look at that. It's Jeff…..why is Jeff in a red room?” Ben asked, then looked at Jane. She has a look of hate on her face, but with her eyes full of grief she utters out a single word in a hushed tone.

"Jace….” 

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

The two co-star killers standoff with one other, each blade coated in the red liquid of life. Not moving until the other does. The tenseness of the air thickens as seconds feel like days that lead to eternity. Both knowing that one will die tonight and the winner will walk away.

Finally, the smiling killer known as Jeff goes charging in for his opponent. He swings haymakers at him, not aiming anywhere, knowing it will land on his target. So long it connects, he doesn't care. 

The other man sidesteps the attack and goes for a stab to counter-attack, but Jeff slammed his right foot on the ground, swinging his left fist at the masked man, socking him dead in the face. The impact sends him stumbling back. A loud yelp comes from Jeff, screaming, “The fuck is that thing made of!?”

Regaining his footing, the man who calls himself Cutthroat rebounds at Jeff soon after, striking at his neck. Out of pure reflex, he hops back avoiding the attack by a few inches. Seeing an opportunity the killer Jeff slices at Cutthroat's hand. Blood spilled to the floor and he lost his grip on the knife from the sudden pain. Jeff then followed his attack by stomping down on his opponent’s foot and stabs into his left shoulder. A high pitched shrill manifested behind the smiling mask. Cutthroat tried to back away, but it was in vain. The blade exists the wound, leaving a hole as blood followed out of it and he went to stab again. Over years of honing his reflex's Cutthroat catches the arm with both his hands, stopping it. This is where he realized differences in their strengths. Jeff was overpowering him with a single-arm, it getting closer inch by agonizing inch. Jeff was staring into his opponent’s eyes, but they didn't gaze back at his. 

“Looks like we got to do it the old fashion way.” He whispered to himself as his left arm strikes like a viper at the man’s throat. Crushing the windpipe from his powerful grip, he held onto the man. No one ever thinks to protect their throat. Cutthroat was losing more and more space between him and the knife, his strength was depleting. As a last-ditch effort, his right arm lets go, shooting upward striking the ball of his palm right under Jeff’s nose. A jolt of pain goes through the killer’s nose and to his face reels back out of natural reaction. Cutthroat stumbles backward gasping for air that burns in his oxygen-deprived lungs. 

Fighting through the pain Jeff glared at him, but everything was blurry. The darkness of the building made it worse. All he can do is observe the gasping getting further away from him. He tries to chase his wounded foe, but ran into an iron column, falling on his ass cursing profanity as he clinched his face.

Cutthroat limped away holding the fresh puncture wound. When he heard Jeff cussing, he takes the opportunity to climb some of the crates until he was sixteen feet off the ground. He lowered himself down onto the large crate, careful to not make any noise when doing so. He also wasn't sure how stable it was, but he first assessed the wound while up there.

'Gah…. no way to stop the bleeding if I keep using my arm. Have I bitten off more than I can chew?' He thought to himself. Then he shakes his head, willing the thought away. 

'No! You didn’t kill all those people just so that you can turn tail and run…' He protested. As he finishes his thought a faint glow catches the corner of his eye. He turns with a sudden, swift movement and saw nothing but black. He takes a deep breath and sighs. 'Must be hallucinating. Not surprising.' Reassuring himself was easy, but it is still finding it hard to regain his confidence in this. Despite the feeling, he plans his next strike. He is no match going head-on, but if he can wear him down then the odds will be in his favor. He pulled back his left sleeve and smirks behind the mask.

Jeff sat on the ground in a painting daze. His nose is sore from the blow he received minutes earlier. The blow was not strong enough to break it but had enough to blind the pale murderer for a brief moment. Sight becoming clearer every passing second he picks himself up off the concrete floor. His breath coming out in huffs infuriated that he's hurt by something so weak in the fight he was winning. Forgetting about the stab wound he received earlier, he looked around the area. 

Despite his fuming anger, he could not shake the feeling that fighting his masked opponent felt familiar. Did they fight in the past? No. That can’t be. Jeff would have remembered that irritation. It felt like how he and Jane would fight. Like a feeling of familiarity when the blades clash, but why is he getting this same feeling from this guy? As he starts to lose himself in thought until something touches Adam’s apple of his throat. He snaps back to reality and his eyes shot down what looks to be a string of web, but thicker. He raised his imaginary eyelids and non-existent eyebrows widen of a shock to the realization that it was not a web, but a wire around his neck. The moment he reacted to it, the wire noose shrieked around his throat and started to lift him in that air. He flailed as a fish caught on a hook unable to free himself. Jeff’s eyes looked up for a brief moment and sees dark green eyes in the dark above.

The longer he was hanging the more he panicked and struggled, which lead the wire to start cutting in him, crushing his windpipe. He tries to get his fingers under the nose, but it’s far too tight. He then tries to grab the line to pull himself up to gain slack. His hand slips realizing it's lubricated. Cutting the wire does not do much because it was piano wire, something a knife can't cut through. Time is ticking by and he feels himself losing consciousness. As a final attempt starts to swing his body toward the creates that held the hangman. 

Cutthroat started to panic at this. Using rail as a pulley made it easier to hold Jeff off the ground, but now it’s backfiring. He has no control over stopping him and his struggling makes it more difficult to host him up anymore. He could drop down with the wire and use the momentum to rise Jeff up higher, but that can backfire in many ways. He was playing out different scenarios he can do within the span of a few seconds in his head. As this was happening, Jeff got enough momentum to crash into the creates. Holding on for a moment, he then pushed off as hard as he can with his legs separating both him and the box. The force shifted the heavy crate making the column of mildew coated cubes too unstable to balance on. The Cutthroat let go of the cable and leaped to another batch of creates that was lower, as his column crumbled to the ground like Jenga blocks. Jeff crashed down onto the hard floor knocking the breath out of him. 

Scrambling to undo the noose, he pulls it off to be able to catch his breath. It was painful, but refreshing as the air fill his lungs was the best thing he felt in a while. This was short-lived as the tower went crashing down near him. Noticing this, Jeff rolled away at the last second as it crashed where he was laying. He starts to get to his feet coughing for air until something gleamed from the dark and struck him. Pak, Pak, pak! 3 throwing knives embedded themselves in him. One in his right craft and two in the gut. Jeff gasped at this, the sudden pain flooding him, but before he could do anything a boot smashed right in his face from a flying kick, knocking Jeff right off his feet again and onto his back. Seizing the advantage, Cutthroat comes in with a curb stomp at Jeff’s head. The Grinning killer rolled out of the way right before the impact, the boot missing his face. Jeff scrambles back to his feet in an instant. Pulling the knives out of him, he armed both his hands with one each, letting the last one fall to the ground at his feet. His opponent's sudden change of tactics threw him off, but now this is how he fights. A good old knife to a knife fight. No more hiding and no more tricks.

Jeff readies himself in a semi sprinting pose. His muscles like compressed springs, set to release at any moment. As for his opposition, he is in a tighter pose, his left arm vertical in front of his chest and holding his knife close, pointing it at Jeff with his right hand.

The tension in the air as high as the two waited for whatever trigger would start the fight. Jeff stares down Cutthrought’s eyes, but no matter how long he looks at them they won't meet his. He suspected that he's informed that anyone who looks in his eyes becomes paralyzed with fear. This goes on for two long minutes until Jeff finally loses patience and sets off his muscles. Lunging himself forward at an inhuman speed, thrusting his right arm forward striking at Cutthroat’s chest. Cutthroat takes a sidestep in a 45-degree angle to his left, dodging the blade’s bite and making a quick stab into Jeff’s stomach. Jeff roared in pain as he took a few steps back. Cutthroat did not give him a chance to gain any ground between them. 

“What's the matter, Jeff? You started out pretty strong, but I guess that's the only way you could kill someone is catching them off guard.” Cutthroat says as he strikes Jeff’s chest. The pale man sides steps, causing it to miss and counterattacks for Cutthroat to dodge it like the one before. Jeff pressed on with another strike with his second blade at his heart. 

“But I know how to make it hurt!” Cutthroat raised his left arm to take the blow as it drove in deep with a quick turn to follow. Cutthroat screams out in agony at the white-hot pain of the wound tearing wider. Slamming the side of his right boot with his left, he kicks Jeff right in the shin. Jeff’s eyes widened in shock. He falls backward from his leg gives out under him. He grabs it as blood pours out of the new stab wound in it. 

“Oh, you got to be shitting me?!” Dumbfounded, he gritted his teeth as he saw the blade protruding from the boot that kicked him. 

“Gah! A bit overkill I admit, but agh! It gives me the leg u-up.” Cutthroat joked in pain as he goes for another kick. Jeff braced himself, his arms over his face taking the blow of the blade tipped boot. He gritted his teeth as it pierced the flesh, he fell on his back from the force. Jeff groaned as he tried to sit up, but crashed back down from Cutthroat’s boot stopping down on his chest. 

“What's the matter, Jeff?! I thought you put up more of a fight!” Cutthroat mocked, stomping down on Jeff’s chest over and over until something gold moved at the corner of his eye. He reacts to it, turning to see what it was and finds nothing. The hairs on the back of his neck stand as he pulls out the forth throwing knife of the six he has in his jacket. He then saw the gold in his peripheral again to his left. 

'Did they find him?' He thought to himself. 

“Better finish the show before it gets canceled,” he mumbled under his breath. He turns to Jeff who is now dragging himself away from him since the Cutthroat had his attention elsewhere. He's heading to a broken crate. With a single motion, the Cutthroat threw the blade at the killer’s back, embedding itself under the left shoulder blade. 

“Fuck!” Jeff yelled, not from pain, but aggravation. The masked man starts to approach his prey to finish the job until something. No. Someone whispers in his right ear, “Hello, Jason.” 

Before Cutthroat could react, a golden string looped around his neck and yanked him back. He couldn't gasp from the shock and pain as it tightened around his airway. Cutthroat’s hands shot up to free himself from the shimmering choke cord. Grasping and digging, but he couldn't find any purchase on the string. He looked all around to find his attacker, finding nothing until he looked up. 

A transparent young-looking man floated above him. He dressed in what looked to be a grey sweater with an open black trench coat over top. His legs and feet covered with black pants and a pair of untied black and white basketball shoes. The man’s head revealed gray skin with eyes and teeth shimmer gold. His hair is black and goes to the nape of his neck with a gray beanie rest on top. His hands covered with black gloves as the golden strings come out of the tips of his fingers. He smiled at Cutthroat once they made eye contact. 

“Took a bit to find you two. If it wasn't for the live feed you were broadcasting I don't think we would ever pick up your trail.” 

Cutthroat’s movement starts to stiffen as his new puppet master pulls on the strings, making sure it was slow and methodical. He tries to reach for his last throwing knife. It was impossible as his arms were now being raised over like an old marionette doll. Fear starts to creep up to the Cutthroat’s mind. Unsure what to do as he tries to break free, desperate to get out of the situation at hand. 

Jeff looks back to see his opposition and sighs with relief, seeing one of his housemates, the Puppeteer, had arrived and caught him like a fly in a spider’s web. The pale man stands up without a sound, limping to a rotten demolished crate to pick up an old scaffolding screw covered in rust. He brandished it in his hands. His smile once again grew as he turned and made his way back to Cutthroat. The walk back was slow, so very slow. Jeff’s mind wondered during this. He imagined how he would kill this man and how he would savor the moment. How he will enjoy it when he breaks his bones and tears out inners. Now standing right before the Cutthroat, he savored watching him struggle. Cutthroat was too wrapped in the fear of being restrained to realize what was going on around him. Jeff without warning swings the hunk of iron. The point of the screw impacted the lift side of the Cutthroat’s mask, causing a crack to ring through the enclosed area. He was knocked right off his feet and the Puppeteer was so busy with the new plaything that he wasn't prepared for the sudden shift in movement. 

“Shit! Jeff! You asshole!” Puppet yelled at the smiling man from above.

The Cutthroat's vision was hazy like hundreds of gnats were flying around him. His mind was to a near blank as he is fading in and out of consciousness. He could hear noises around him. It sounded like people were arguing, but he couldn't make out the words. He lifts his left hand to his mask and feels a new puncture in it with something wet on the outside. Pulling back with care, he looks at it and tries to concentrate on what he was seeing. It was blood. The palm of his gloved hand was covered in fresh blood. His head was spinning on what happened a second ago. He tries to lift himself, but the pain in his head made him drop. He knows if he doesn't do something he will die and that all he has killed will be in vain. He reached for the flare gun he had hoisted in his jacket, making sure the other two couldn't see his movements. Right, when he was about to pull it out the arguing stopped and a voice rings out. It was closer this time where he could make out the words. 

“Oh no, you don’t!” The Strings in his arms pulled and forced Cutthroat to starfish on the ground. His hand was still on the gun, but unable to pull the trigger. 

“Damn it, Jeff! You have any idea what a dumbass you are!?” Puppet cried out in fury to him. 

Jeff waved him off. “Relax. String bean.” He stands over Cutthroat and readies himself to swing the screw leg down on his head. Looking him in the eyes one last time, but is infuriated that they would not meet his. Jeff drops the blunt object and pulls the knife from his back. Limping around and dropping his knees on Cutthroat’s arms, this caused both to wince in pain for different reasons. 

“You know? I'm getting tired of this fake smile of yours. I think it's time I give you a real one.” Jeff said as he rips the mask off revealing another smile. 

“What the fuck?” Jeff whispered in disbelief as he didn't recognize the man’s face. It was almost looking in a reflection. His skin has a natural pale tone. His hair was a clean midnight black and his mouth showed distress, but that’s not what Jeff was looking at. There at the ends of his mouth was a scared smile that reached to his cheekbones. Jeff was silent for a moment, then roared into laughter over the other man. Putting his left hand on his forehead and bend himself back. 

“No wonder why you want me dead so bad! You're just like her! Another person I failed to make beautiful!” Puppet looked at Jeff with an unamused look thinking that the Seedeater without its rag in its head is still prettier than him. The thought was interrupted as he starts to feel the flow of negative energy that was increasing every second. He looks over to see it was coming out of the pined man that he learned was named Jason. The energy was sweet but was slowing turning into a spicy bitter taste. This made the Puppeteer uneasy because both are common from Jeff and Slenderman’s proxy, Masky. 

“Yo Jeff let’s wrap this up and head back. Somethi-“ Puppet started.

“Give me a moment string bean! Let me enjoy the moment.” Jeff interrupted, wanting to savor the moment.  

Jeff leans in front of Jason’s face, inches from one another. Jason’s breathing pattern is gaining speed trying to closes his eyes out of desperation, but to no avail as that too was being controlled. Then the one thing he wanted to avoid at all costs happened. Jason’s eyes locked with Jeff’s.

The smile on Jeff’s face widens even more that it looked as if it would tear his head in half. He finally got what he wanted. Now that his itch satisfied he pulls up the knife to Jason’s face and whispers three simple words, “Go.” 

Jason’s vision was melting away memories from 10 years back into the past, to the fateful day that changed and ruined his life forever. Remembering how those eyes have tortured his body, mind, and soul. How he was held down on his bed as the dark demonic figure with bulging blue eyes cut his mouth open with a sharp rusty knife as slow as he could.

As Jeff utters his second word, “To.” Puppet felt that the flow of energy turned into a torrent as if a floodgate opened. It was intoxicating to the point he felt nauseous. He side glanced at Jeff as he puts the knife on the scared smile. Puppet cries out to him. “Jeff!” 

“Sleep!” Jeff finishes his sentence and as he starts to cut a bright red flash engulfed the dark building. Puppet reared back in pain as the glow touched him from the light source. Jeff's vision goes white from the flair of the light after being in darkness since the start of the fight. He throws his hands up to his face trying to block the light then as if on cue, he's thrown on to his back from a sudden force underneath him. 

“What the?!” Jeff yelled in confusion As Jason sat up and lunged himself onto Jeff. Mounting Jeff as he did to him. Jeff’s eyes started to adjust to the light and what he saw in his blurred vision was Jace’s tear-soaked eyes that were on the face of malus. Jeff thought he had him with his paralyzing glare until he was pistol-whipped right on the bridge of his nose by the empty flair gun in Jason’s hand. Jeff’s head spun and reeled from the pain of the blow. Unsure if what happened was real. Wham! He's hit again, but this time on his left temple. The pain sends his head spinning again with the understanding of what his predicament was.

The gun comes down for another blow, stopped at the midpoint as Jeff grabbed it to keep it back. He could push it back, but this time Jason has more force in his strength that was matching his own. 

“What type of anime bullshit is this?!” Jeff howled in anger, only to be cut off as Jason started to strangle him with his free hand cutting off the windpipe with a monstrous force. Jeff strikes at Jason’s throat with his knife-hand. Jason lets go of the choking man to stop the fatal attack to avoid the fatal blow. Jeff bucks Jason off of him and stagers to get back on his feet as Jason tumbles and recovers in a kneeled position.

Jason stands up with the amazing speed and charges Jeff with his blunt weapon. Jeff goes for a side step, but his injured leg gives out from the sudden movement and the gun collides into his face, reintroducing them. Knocking him off his feet once more and landing on his right side. Jason with deft fingers pulls out another flare from his bloody jacket and starts to reload the gun and aims it point-blank at Jeff. 

The pale killer struggles to get back on his feet as the gun fired. The flair shot far to his right. Jeff looked at the flare and looks back to Jason that his firing arm is yanked away by golden strings. 

“What the hell is up with this guy? He is like a mini-you, Jeff.” The weakened Puppeteer remarked, the blast taking more out of him than he thought. That set Jason off. He screamed like gravel filled banshee and grabbed at the strings, yanking Puppet towards him. Puppet, caught off guard by this action, was a ragdoll. Jason looped around him and pulled the strings tight to the corporeal neck. This didn't concern Puppet at first because he does not breathe. Not until he was being dragged towards the light of the flare. He dismissed the strings that were holding them both and flew back out of panic. Jason loaded the third flare into the gun and fired it at the ghost. Puppet avoided the shot and retreats to a dark corner of the building to recuperate his losses. 

Seeing that the intruder fled he turns back to Jeff to meet eye to eye with only a couple of feet between the two. Jeff slams his blade into the shoulder wound that Jason retrieved earlier. Burning pain ran through Jason’s arm. He screamed out in pain letting go of the gun and lashed out at Jeff. Grabbing onto his hair he brings both his and Jeff’s into one another, headbutting Jeff’s teeth. Before Jeff can retaliate, he repeated the same action two more times before Jeff pulled the knife out of Jason and cuts his hair. Once freed from the assault he roared with rage through bloody lips as he lowered himself to Jason’s chest and tackles him with an explosive impact. Not ready for such a move both Jason and Jeff go flying to the ground. Jeff stabbed his opponent but found that it was difficult as Jason was wrestling him in a tooth and nail for the knife. Jeff socks him on the cheek causing him to screech from the pain of his scar. Jason hooked his thumb into the wound on Jeff’s chest and started to pull. This only made him scream in pure bestial rage as he bites down on Jason’s mutilated shoulder to try to tear a chunk out of the bloody meat. 

Jason shrilled in terror now seeing the monster he saw many years ago has come to reality. He throws his arm over Jeff’s head to prevent it from moving and causing more damage. Unable to shake him off and has a bad arm not able to grip the knife and his good arm holding him in place. Tears flow down his cheeks at a faster rate. He, as he was about to give up, his life flashed before his eyes. It was bizarre. How he watched memories pass by so so fast, but slow at the same time. Seeing all the past experiences shook him. How he fakes his death to his family, becoming a thing he hated and pushing Jane away. He gritted his teeth knowing that he was nothing but a failure made him grasp reality. He lets go of the knife that both he and Jeff were fighting over and grabs Jeff’s face and plunge his thumb into his eye.

Jeff spazzed out of the pain that he never felt before. He bit down harder hitting the bone in his opponent's shoulder. His screams muffled in sickening sharpish sounds. After a minute of bloody struggling, Jason’s good arm lost strength. This gave Jeff the chance to humpback like a cricket. He dropped the knife and held both his hands on to his bleeding eye socket, sitting in his blood that’s pooling around him. Jason took the opportunity to stagger to his feet. Both are now tarnished in each other's blood. He precedes to pick up the screw leg that was used on his walks to Jeff with his stimuli concealed to him. As Jason reaches Jeff he restricts the screw onto his good knee causing a sickening crack. Jeff screamed out from the new sudden pain and realized that Jason is looming over top of him. Jeff was about to lash grab the man not before has stuck in the face be the blunt weapon and knocked on to his back head first to the ground. Jason looked at the crimsoned coated construction scaffolding and tossed it to the side. He lost his balance for a moment and vision going blurry. Knowing he had lost too much blood and will die soon. He can’t help but smile that there will be two fewer killers in this world. He reached into his jacket one last time to pull out his final throwing knife. Jeff could only smile as well. A tear starts to flow down his one good eye. 

“G-good job out there…… You did a number un me.” He coughed. Jason was not expecting a response like that he thought he was knocked out. Jeff continued to speak. “W-Whatever I did to you in the past. I want to let you know. I am sorry and hope you are glad he get your revenge.” Jeff doesn’t know why he’s being sympathetic to him. Maybe this is Jeffry Woods talking to him rather than Jeff the Killer. 

Jason was lost for words. The demon that hunted him for years is speaking to him in the most somber way possible. He thought to himself for a moment. Resisting the urge to kill him outright. He smiled at the killer then finally said, “Thanks for being a part of my grand finally Mr. Woods. You were an amazing guest.” 

Jeff only laughed, coughing up blood. “Thanks for having me. Been a wild ride.” Jeff responded with weak glee.

Jason aims the knife at Jeff’s head. As he was getting ready to strike a voice in his head echoed.

'I have seen enough. Miss Angle if you please.'

Jason tries to react, but like Puppeteer it was too late. A woman with a long sword comes jumping out of the shadows and shoulder checks Jason’s in the chest knocking him back. He tries to retaliate, but she was too fast. Parrying his knife then sidesteps with downward swing chops off Jason’s arm. 

“No, NO, NOOOOO!” He screamed in a painful rage. He clicked his heels and kick into the side of the woman’s side. She hisses as the boot blade sank into her and came out. She gets into a stance with her sword at a 45-degree angle. Jason wobbles back, standing by willpower and stubbornness alone, but it was precarious at best. His vision is going in and out. Not sure how much longer he has left. He goes to take a step towards his opponent. She readies herself but drops her guard only to seeing Jason drops to the ground. Laying in his blood. Tears stream down his face. 

“I-I’m sorry. I’m s-so sorry.” The world around him faded to black. 

The woman walked to Jason’s body. “Now you will be judged,” She said readying her blade to impale him only to stop at a mental command. 

'Not yet. We’re taking him back for questioning.' She looks at the tall man that dons a black suit and red tie and bears the face of a blank canvas. He holds Jeff’s broken body in his arms he turns to walk away not before an inky black cathedral protrudes from his back and snatches Jason’s severed arm from a pestle goth clothed woman.

 'You are not eating that and are in a lot of trouble!' A voice yelled in her head. 

She throws up her arms and yells in disbelief. “I wanted the chicken wing and what did I do!?”