#i am spitting out thoughts at a steady pace and you might see a lot of me if you permit me on your dash

[jeremiahthefroge]

also if i gain followers from posting about my mcd rewatch and potential mcd novelization i hope they have some frame of reference for the material they're seeing on my blog, being that I have posted all of this MCD shit in the span of like under 40 hours overall with a rapidly increasing pace, and I might possibly flood your dashboard like an asshole on accident. I will not be silenced. I will make 3 different text posts in a row and then another an hour later and then some art and like 40 reblogs of random other fandom stuff. I have a deep hyperfixation that's in full effect rn and I'm in touch with my creativity and motivation and I've got a LOT of free time on my hands since work has cut everybody's hours. If I'm not about to be scanning groceries for the criminally working class whites of rural vermont I will be obsessing over a 2015 minecraft roleplay, thank you.

[pinkteapotwriting]

I’ve been thinking. I see a lot of dom!marauders or them being experienced. But what if it was the opposite? Like y/n is experienced and perhaps a dom, while the boys are virgins (or just had little experience)? it makes me all soft 🥺. Like Y/N could be their best friend/fifth marauder (whichever you choose), and they like ask her to be their first time and it’s all blushy for the boys (them being subs, a few tears of pain for them) go crazy! It’s been on my mind for weeks!

Marauders x Fem!reader

Warning : unprotected sex, cursing, Dom!reader, pretty chill I think, you know, for smut

Word count : 1830

Thanks for being so patient, I hope you like it cause it took me forever to do this. It's a bit heavy on the dialogue but oh well

---

Surprise, surprise.

It was raining at Hogwarts. The Scottish countryside is taking on its usual demeanor of moisture in this season. Not that you minded, that just meant you got to spend the day with all of your favourite boys. You Sirius and James were giggling away in the corner while Remus was trying his best to ignore you all and read, but you figured you could peak his interest.

“Okay Pads, what’s your body count?”

“I’ve never killed anybody, but trust me Snivelus has come close.”

“No you dork, how many people have you slept with?”

“I’m not answering that!”

“I’m not gonna slut shame you Sirius.”

“He’s definitely not worried about being slut shamed Y/N” James snorted.

“Like you’re any better off than I am you prick.”

“Cut it out, there’s no need to call each other names. Are you both virgins then?”

“Well, yeah I guess.”

James was much more embarrassed than he needed to be.

“What about you Remmy, have you done anything at all?”

“Ask Sirius.”

“I already did ask Sirius!”

“Ask Sirius.”

“Oh my god why are you all so embarrassed there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m just surprised is all. You guys are all really attractive and kind people so I never thought you’d be inexperienced and you’ve dated plenty of girls.”

Remus shut his book.

“Not that it’s any of your business Y/N but i’ve at least given or received a hand job or two before.”

“Why’d you tell me to ask Siri- ooooooooh.”

Sirius had his face in his palms.

“Can we change the subject please.”

James patted his shoulder comfortingly.

“It’s okay Pads. It’s not like the opportunity never arose, we were all just waiting for the right person.”

“Aw well I hope you find them soon, I care about you all so much and you deserve the world.”

Sirius was still groaning into his hands.

“She’s so fucking oblivious.”

Remus chuckled.

“Quite.”

Quite what? Confused definitely.

“I don’t understand.”

The room’s silence was overwhelming, until James took a deep breath and all eyes were drawn to him.

“Sirius and Remus obviously like each other and I’m not going to deny my attraction to either of them.”

“Then why don’t you-”

“It doesn’t feel complete. See we already found that someone, it’s you Y/N.”

“Really? You guys want me that way?”

James shrugged meekly.

“If you’ll have us.”

“I’ve always felt that way about you. I just never wanted to risk our friendship, but if you feel the same then I’d love to.”

Sirius’s head popped out.

“Right now?”

“Ha ha, no we don’t have to right now.”

“Well what are we waiting for, to get to know each other. I know James too well actually.”

You rolled your eyes and turned to probably the most level headed one, but Remus was giving you puppy eyes. You were so drawn to him you walked across the room and cupped his face with your right hand.

“What’s wrong honey?”

“Waited so long already, love. Don’t wanna wait any longer.”

“Jamie, do you want this too?”

“Yes please.”

“Such good manners baby, so I have everyone’s consent then?”

“Very much so.”

“Enthusiastic consent.”

“If you don’t do something I’m going to combust.”

You smirked at Sirius’s comment.

“You don’t get to combust until I say you do, understand?”

“Ooo scary.”

“So be it.”

You took hold of Remus’s hands and placed them on your hips.

“I know you’ll be a good boy for me Remus, won’t you?”

He swallowed thickly and nodded.

“I’ll be good for you Y/N.”

“I know you will Jamie. It’s Siri I’m worried about. Why don’t we show him what he’s missing out on? Lie back against the pillows for me, both of you.”

“What about me?”

“You can watch for now, learn how to follow their example.”

He huffed.

“Suit yourself.”

You knew your usual roles in the bedroom, so you were trying your best not to be too stern. But still, you needed to teach Sirius his place.

You lifted up the bottom of James' shirt and kissed his hip bone delicately. He got more and more ansty as you drifted your direction to the middle and down, and down, and down.

You very happily undid his belt and pulled off his pants. The state of his arousal was much more noticeable now.

“Can I suck your cock Jamie? Would you like that?”

“Yes please.”

“Good boy, Remmy can you spit on my hand please?”

You held your palm up to his mouth expectantly, but he seemed hesitant.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed sweetie, never for doing what I ask.”

He nodded and did what he was told and immediately you felt your clit throb. Having control over these three boys was certainly a power trip. Knowing you were the first person to make James tremble like this as you engulfed his cock expertly was definitely a turn on. As you bobbed up and down on James’ impressive cock, you rubbed the bulge in Remus’s trousers. The whines the two boys were making was truly music to your ears. You lifted with a pop.

“Alright Siri, are you ready to be good now?”

“Yes ma’am”

“Did you like what you were seeing?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Do you wanna try and make Remmy feel good?”

“I’ve never sucked-”

“I know, but I’m here to help you baby.”

You’ve never seen Sirius so nervous, so quiet.

“What I’m gonna get you to do first is what you do when you jerk Remmy off, Okay? Just spit on his cock and move your hand up and down alright?”

Remus shuddered as he watched Sirius in his submissive state.

“Good job Siri, look how happy you’re making Remmy. Now you can start by sucking the head, like this.”

James whimpered, and soon Remus was making the same noises. You placed your palm on Remus’s stomach to keep him from bucking his hips. Much to James disappointment you pulled away from him again.

“Okay Sirius, don’t forget to breathe through your nose and make sure you keep your teeth tucked behind your lips, there we go that’s it. Hollow your cheeks now too. How does that feel Remus?”

“F-feels good.”

“Yeah? Sirius is being such a good boy now. Is Siri gonna make you cum?

“Y-yes.”

You grabbed hold of Sirius’s curly locks and pushed him down farther, making him gag and tear up. The vibrations making Remus cum instantly. You pulled Sirius off once Remus started squirming at the uncomfortable feeling of overstimulation.

“Did you swallow? Show Remmy.”

Remus groaned when he saw Sirius stick out his tongue, and you did too.

“Y/N”

James' voice was raspy.

“Yes baby?”

“Wanna make you feel good, wanna fuck you.”

“Want me to Ride you Jamie?”

“Please.”

“Okay, but since this is your first time you might not last that long alright?”

“That’s okay, Sirius can take over after me.”

“Alright well you lie back and I’ll take care of you. Sirius, you wait like a good boy and I’ll help you out in a second. If you want you can get Remus to suck you off while you wait. Teach him like I taught you.”

You were suddenly aware of how you were still wearing all of your clothes so you hopped off the bed to quickly strip them off and you found yourself smirking at the expression of pure need and desire on James’ face.

You straddled his waist and pressed a kiss to his cheek before aligning his cock with your entrance. Inch by inch you and down on him as he clutched the sheets below him.

“This alright Jamie?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Perfect, can I move now?”

“Yes please.”

You raised your hips up, but before you could bring them back down James snapped his hips up to yours.

“James, fuck.”

But he didn’t seem to care, with one hand resting on your hip and one fondling your breast he kept his steady rhythm that was taking your breath away. Sirius and Remus were no longer enjoying their own pleasure, but enjoying the sight of yours. You reached down to rub your clit, but Sirius pulled your hand away and replaced it with his own.

“Like this Y/N?”

“Just like that baby, doing so good for me.”

Remus squeezed in between James and Sirius to suck on the tit that James wasn’t occupying.

“Boys- I’m gonna cum fuck-”

It’s funny how in public James could be such a little shit, but now all you saw was this wide eyed trembling figure that you got to take care of and fuck it sure was enticing especially when he said things like this.

“Please cum, wanna make you feel good Mommy please please please.”

“Fuck-”

As soon as you clenched around him as you hit your high James was spurting white hot cum into the depths of your pussy. Thank god for wizard contraceptives.

You didn’t really get to bask in the moment however, since Sirius was pulling you from James out of his own desperation. He had you lying on your back.

“I need you”

“I know I’ve kept you waiting for quite some time, go ahead love.”

Not that Sirius was significantly smaller than James, but he had an easier time going inside after you had come already. Your legs found their home wrapped around his waist as soon as he found his pace.

“Y/N, I don’t think I’m going to last long.”

“That’s okay love, this is about you. Be a good boy for me and cum whenever you need.”

“It’s kinda embarrassing though.”

You cupped his cheeks and pulled his lips to meet yours.

“No need to be embarrassed- Doing such a good job Siri your cock feels so good inside of me.”

He falls down to hold his weight on his forearms, moving even faster than before.

“M’close Y/N”

“Go on and cum baby, feels so good.”

He whimpered into your neck and you soothed him by stroking his hair. Eventually he did roll off from you, unfortunately.

“You guys never told me you were subs.”

“When I’m with Remus I’m a dom.”

“Makes sense, I’d quite like to see that actually.”

Remus cleared his throat.

“Does that mean we get to do this again cause I never actually got to-”

“Of course Remmy, it just kind of makes sense doesn’t it.”

Sirius chuckled.

“Yeah, I mean it didn’t take long for James to be calling you Mommy.”

“It’s kinda sweet though, has Remus ever called you Daddy?”

“Not yet, but I feel like we’re on the brink of something big here.”

Now Remus and James were looking at each other like maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

You personally did not have any complaints; Sirius however would probably have some when you reminded him he couldn’t dom you though.

He’d have to learn the hard way.

---

@sunny-bunnny @quindolyn @midnightgremlin @weasleyposts @bluemoonyblurbs @emmaev @agalandhermarvelobsession

[omg-imatotalmess]

Pet Names

Hey guys! I have had the headcanon that George would turn into a puddle when you call him something sweet, and my hypothetical question got lots of positive responses. So, here I am, yet again, offering a subby boy because that’s my specialty. Hope y’all enjoy!

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Requested: No

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids!), sub!George, dom!reader, pet name kink, praise kink, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, riding, swearing

                                                            ---

There was one thing about dating George Weasley that was an absolute fact: George loved pet names. Of course, you knew that to a degree. Since you started dating, it had become a rarity that he called you by your given name. You would have hated it from anyone else. Pet names typically weren't your thing, but you couldn't bring yourself to hate them when his voice dripped with sweetness. However, it never really occurred to you that he might want you to use them too. It wasn't until the two of you were lying on a couch in the Room of Requirement that you even thought about it. 

Snuggled up to his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he dozed, you began to reflect on the whole pet name situation. He always had something sweet on the tip of his tongue while you only ever called him George. Georgie, if you were feeling particularly affectionate. You wondered if it bothered him that you didn't have a cute name for him. It wasn't like he'd ever asked, but sometimes he had trouble asking for things that he thought were embarrassing without joking about it. He always gave you delightfully cheesy nicknames when people were around that could easily be brushed off as joking. So maybe the embarrassment thing was the case. He just didn't exactly know how to ask. 

"I can hear the wheels turning in your head, sweetheart," George said, breaking you from your musings. 

"Sorry, go back to sleep," you said, nuzzling his neck affectionately. 

"Wasn't sleeping before anyway. Even if I was, what goes on in that brain of yours has to be more interesting," he said. Smiling, you rolled completely on top of him so you could see him better. "Well, hello there." 

"You caught me. I was thinking again," you said. 

"Were you thinking about me?" 

"Why, yes, in fact, I was." 

"How embarrassing. Do you have a crush on me or something, love?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

"You're an idiot," you said fondly. "Really, though, I wanted to ask you something." The playfulness drained from his face immediately as he adopted a more serious expression. He almost looked a little worried. Smiling, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss between his furrowed brows in an attempt to make the wrinkle go away. 

"Is something wrong?" he asked. 

"No, I was just thinking about the nickname thing," you said. Your answer did nothing to relieve the expression. 

"Don't you like them? I'll call you something else if you want." You shook your head. 

"Actually, I was wondering if you wanted me to call you something else. Do you want cute names too?" you asked. George shifted under you, his expression morphing into one you'd become incredibly familiar with. A bright red flush bloomed over his cheeks as an almost concerningly wide grin pulled at his lips. 

"Thought you'd never ask snookums!" he laughed nervously, "Here I thought you were about to let Ron and Hermione out cute us. Personally, I think you should go for something like 'the sweetest love of my life and future husband.' The whole phrase. Just to prove them that we're the cuter pair." As he rambled, you found yourself becoming more and more amused by his expert avoidance of your eyes. 

"George?" Your voice was gentle but prodding, cutting his nervous speech short. Blinking, he offered another nervous laugh. 

"Yes, darling, sweetness, light of my life?" he asked. 

"Breathe," you said. 

"Right. I'll live a lot longer if I do that," he said, pulling in a steadying breath. Smiling, you ran your fingers through his hair in an attempt to soothe him further. 

"Now, as much as I truly do like 'the sweetest love of my life and future husband,' it's kinda a mouthful," you said. 

"That's what she said," George rattled off automatically. 

"Jesus, I didn't mean to fluster you so bad. I'm sorry, sunshine," you said, testing the name.

And he whimpered. It was just a soft, breathy little sound. One you would have missed if you hadn't quite literally been laying on his chest. You weren't even sure if he was aware he'd done it, but, Christ, were you happy he did. That one little sound told you so much. Not to mention the way his fingers squeezed needily at your hips and that his eyes seemed to lose focus. Suddenly, you felt like you were taking up his entire field of vision. Nothing beyond you existed. Not to him. All that for just one simple word. 

"You like, sunshine?" you asked. 

"I dunno if it has the same ring as, uh, as whatever it was that I said, but it's alright," he said, squirming under your penetrating gaze. 

"Just alright? You want something else?" you teased.

"If you-if you think you can c-come up with something better," he stuttered. 

"Okay, baby boy," you purred.

If you thought sunshine had done it for him, baby boy blew that out of the water. A shiver tore through his body right down to his fingertips as his mouth dropped open into a quiet moan. Despite the low volume, the sound echoed in your ears. It dripped with pure need. As though he couldn't go another second without you touching him. The cherry flush that bloomed high in the apples of his cheeks swooped over the tips of his ears. He was beautiful. Enticing. And you were only human. Leaning forward, you traced your tongue up the shell of his ear, biting it lightly. 

"That better?" you muttered against his ear. Pulling back, you watched as George opened and closed his mouth, fishing for anything to say in response. He wasn't having much luck, just spitting out collections of sounds that didn't quite resemble words. 

"Come on, baby boy, use your words," you said, cupping his cheek and rolling your thumb over his bottom lip. 

"Yes." His voice cracked on the word. 

"Good boy," you said, smirking like a well-fed cat, "Now, how 'bout we get you out of those clothes. I wanna see all of my pretty baby." 

"Please," he breathed. Carefully, you repositioned yourself, so you had full access to his clothing. You only managed a couple of buttons before his much larger hand curled around one of yours. Before you could ask him what was wrong, he brushed a tender kiss over your knuckles. 

"I love you, (Y/N)," he said. Smiling, you pulled his hand to your mouth and returned the gesture. 

"I love you too," you replied. 

With your hand back, you made quick work of his shirt. You pushed it open and took in the lightly freckled expanse of his chest. His skin was a swirl of cinnamon-colored constellations. You trailed your fingers across them, admiring the trail of goosebumps the left behind. George was lovely. Devastatingly so. Bringing your head down, you followed the same path your fingers had taken, stopping briefly to lap at his nipples. He whined softly at the attention, tangling his hands in your hair. 

"You're so beautiful," you said. 

You kissed up his chest to his lips, and he tilted his head to meet you. His lips pressed hungrily to your own. The faint taste of honey teased your senses as you dipped your tongue into his mouth. You loved that he always managed to taste sweet. Lightly, you ran your tongue over his own, savoring that elusive sweetness for as long as you could. Slipping your hand down to rub him through his pants, you were surprised to find him fully hard. Even though you'd barely touched him, he was straining against his zipper. 

"(Y/N)," he whimpered against your mouth. 

"I bet that's uncomfortable. You want me to take care of that, baby boy?" you asked, popping the button. 

"Please. Please take care of it," he begged, bucking his hips into your hand. Without responding, you pushed his pants down to his thighs while trailing burning kisses down his torso. You pressed a kiss to each of his hip bones before wrapping your hand around his cock. Giving it a few long, slow strokes that had him bucking into your hand, you looked up at him. 

"Tell me what you want," you said. 

"Your mouth. Please, (Y/N)," he said quickly. 

"Anything for my sweet baby boy," you said. 

Slowly, you dragged your tongue from the base to the tip, paying special attention to the ridge of the head. A low moan sounded above you. You took a moment to appreciate the sound before sinking his cock into your mouth. His hips bucked, and you gagged slightly. Breathing softly through your nose, you gripped his hips tightly to keep him from doing it again. You bobbed your head slowly, running your tongue along the vein on the underside of his cock. 

"C'mon, don't tease," George begged, straining against your restrictive grip. 

You didn't say anything but picked up the pace slightly. Removing on hand from its place on his hip, you fondled his balls and teased lightly at his perineum. His hips flexed wildly against your hand. It only took swallowing around him once before he was calling out warnings and groaning loudly into the open air. You pulled off before he could cum, ignoring the disappointed whine. 

"Wanna come. Please, (Y/N), I wanna come so bad," he cried, bucking into the air looking for friction. 

"I know, baby boy," you said, shimmying out of your pants. "I wanna be ridding you when you do, but you gotta prep me first. Can you do that for me? Can you finger me until I'm nice and open for you, baby boy?" 

"Uh-huh," he said, fumbling for the lube that appeared on the table. Turning, you presented yourself to him, so he had better access. Gentle as always, he sunk a long finger into you. 

"That's my good boy," you sighed. As he fingered you open, he pressed open-mouthed kisses to the backs of your thighs. You wrapped your hand around his cock again, stroking it in time with the thrusts of his fingers. Then he curled them a bit. 

"There! That's it," you mewled, rocking back against him. 

"More!" He obediently added another finger. 

"Am I making you feel good?" he asked, his voice hoarse. Whether it was from moaning or just from the idea that he was bringing you pleasure, you couldn't tell. 

"So good," you said. You felt his cock twitch in your hand, and he shivered. 

"Close," he whimpered. 

"Let me sit on your pretty cock, baby boy," you purred. Almost reluctantly, he slipped his fingers from you, and you positioned yourself over him. Neither of you was interested in waiting long. Once he was fully seated inside you, you could already feel him shivering with the effort not to cum. 

"Move?" It came out as a question. Both asking your permission and begging you to ride him until he was shaking with overstimulation. 

Picking up your hips, you dropped them back slowly. You savored the slight burn of the stretch. Hands quickly found your hips. And then you were moving. You weren't sure if he'd thrust up into you or if you'd started this pace on your own. You didn't care. It didn't matter when he was hitting that spot inside you just right. 

"So good, baby boy! Right there!" you cried. 

"So tight. So good. Wanna cum! Please can I cum?" he begged, digging his fingers into your hips in a way that would definitely bruise. 

Pulling his chin up with two fingers, you kissed him like your life depended on it. Tongues tangled sloppily, your teeth clicked together, and the angle was a little off considering the constant motion. Still, you couldn't bring yourself to care with him, whining obscenities into your mouth. Begging to cum so prettily. If you were a little meaner or not so desperate yourself, you'd draw it out a little longer. Maybe next time. Separating with a wet pop, you smoothed your thumb across his spit-slick, swollen lips. 

"Are you gonna be a good boy and cum for me?" you asked. He nodded, hooded eyes staring at you pleadingly. 

"Close, close, please," he whined, dropping his head forward to your chest.

"Cum, baby boy." With a long, low moan, he was gone. He pounded sloppily into you with uncontrolled thrusts, wrapping his arms around your back to pull you impossibly closer. Between that and the sight of his utterly wrecked expression, you went tumbling over the edge after him. Your own shout of pleasure shook the room. Your thighs trembled with the force of it. For a second, you swore, you stopped breathing. 

"Holy fuck," you panted as you came down from your high. 

"Felt pretty holy to me," George said, leaning heavily against the arm of the couch. 

"When I find my brain, I'll say something witty," you said. You let him slip out of you, opting to ignore the mess running down your thighs in favor of laying against his chest again. 

"Anytime you wanna do that again, I'd happily oblige, love," he said. 

"You just fucked my brain across the room while I called you baby boy, and you're already thinking about round two?" you snorted.  

"Should I not be?" Well, round two did sound pretty good. 

"Give me a hot minute, and I'll get right on that, sunshine." You didn't miss the love in his dark eyes as he gazed down at you with a crooked grin. Or the way his cock twitched in interest.  

[ibelongtowrath]

Repent - Simeon x Reader (Obey Me!)

A/N: I got an idea for a dominant Simeon and decided to combine it with a request I had. I will see all of you in hell. Prompt: “You have no idea how badly I want you.” Pair: Simeon x Fem!Reader Tags/warnings: NSFW/18+, dominance, cursing, degradation, oral sex, face fucking, spitting, finger fucking, squirting, choking, rough sex, and a whole lot of sin. NSFW below the cut!

My...why don’t you come to my room tonight, beautiful girl? I’m sure that you will look even more delectable, standing before me. - Simeon

Your hand reaches out, almost hesitantly, placing three quick, light raps on the door. Turning your hand around, nails briefly dig into your palms before fanning your fingers back out, nervously studying the lines etched into the skin. Were you really about to lay with Simeon, one of the holiest of beings? 

A few moments later, the lock unhinges with a click. Your heart begins to race, the accelerator stuck to the floor, pedal to the metal as the door opens; painstakingly slow, creaking in the effort. Rendered speechless, your eyes meet Simeon’s, the gentle, tender look in his allowing your shoulders to relax, not realizing you had been carrying so much tension.

“My, my, little lamb,” Simeon chuckles, a soft smile dusting his handsome face. “You certainly are prompt. Please, do come in.”

The Angel gestures for you to step in, closing the door behind you, the familiar click! of the lock almost jarring in the serene quiet of his bedroom. Shadows flicker across the room, painted in the light of the candle as the flames dance, casting a hazy glow in the low light, almost sensual. The ever-eternal darkness of the Devildom looms just outside the window, concealed by heavy curtains. You turn to study him, his features even more handsome in the candlelight, excitement gripping your heart once more.

Simeon pauses briefly, eyes drinking you in before striding slowly over to his nightstand where his D.D.D. rests. Picking up the phone, he crosses back over to you, pulling up a familiarly provocative photo: you, posed, back arching in snow-white lingerie, teeth biting your lip suggestively. Your eyes scan the screen, heart racing as though it might burst, that very same lingerie hidden beneath your clothes.

“Sinner,” Simeon hisses, circling you. “You dare tempt me, a Man of God…an Angel? One of the highest beings in all of the realms?”

The angel’s words drip with venom seemingly laced within every syllable. Goosebumps dart across your skin as your blood turns to ice, a shudder radiating throughout your body. Nervous eyes slowly flit from a set of soft, full lips to the Angel’s intoxicating jade gaze, beautiful enough to get lost in; tonight, though, what appears to be a searing annoyance is etched into his jewel-toned irises.

“Um....,” you stammer, words sticking behind your teeth.

You swallow. The Angel watches you, fighting a battle to conceal the smirk that so badly wants to paint his handsome face. How could you think to tempt him, an Angel? He won’t tell you yet, though, that he wanted nothing more than to tear the clothes off your body, kneel between your legs and taste your sweet nectar upon the receipt of your gift.

Simeon revels in the control he has; though, he is more than aware that he is to be a representative of all celestial beings, destined to uphold standards of purity while in the heart of all that is not pure, in Hell. But, oh, oh...how badly he wants to sheath himself in the constricting warmth of your walls, to taint you with the colors of his sin.

Simeon steps toward you. Your gaze rakes over his body, unable to control the wanton desire flowing deep within your veins. He can feel the yearning, sees it written in the delicate features of your beautiful face.

“I thought you would enjoy it,” you respond, holding steady. “We were just talking the other day, you joked about me tempting you...and you’ve invited me here.”

“And did you think my resolve was so weak that I would give in so easily to such temptation? To bring me to sin?” Simeon bites back. “I am nothing like these demons, these beings with no remorse about committing such acts, acting upon their sins without a shred of inhibition.”

He won’t tell just yet that he, too, aches to indulge you, to give you exactly what you want, for it is exactly what he wants as well. No. Not yet. First, he must make sure you understand: to lay with an Angel, to corrupt him, comes with a price. 

It is not as though Simeon had never sinned before. Even the highest of the celestial beings relinquished control to their temptations, and quite often. He certainly was no stranger to it. He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone. The entire Celestial Realm would be at a standstill. No, he would simply ask for forgiveness, as they all did.

In the meantime, he will certainly enjoy playing with his food before he sinks his teeth into your flesh, leaving his mark on you. Demons are not the only beings with sharp fangs.

“What am I going to do with you, my dear?” Simeon muses, his eyes drinking in the sight of you before him.

Simeon circles to your back slowly, almost achingly so, like a lion ready to pounce on its prey. He reaches out with a hand, weaving the fabric of your shirt between his fingers and tears it off your body, smirking as you gasp in surprise. 

“Are you surprised at my strength, little lamb?” he asks, injecting his smug demeanor into each word. “Thinking of us Angels as weaker beings compared to your precious Demon Lords, hm?”

He moves to stand before you, fingers dancing up your torso before reaching between your breasts to the band connecting the cups of your bra. He tugs, ripping the carefully-coordinated lingerie in two; your breasts spill out, and you shiver from the exposure, the room unexpectedly cold as your nipples harden. 

Simeon threads his hands into your hair, tugging you forward to his bed. You lower yourself to sit as he pulls your hair again, urging you to lay supine, on your back. You swallow, heart beating rhythmically; the wetness between your legs an obvious indicator of your abundant arousal. As if sensing this, he makes quick work of removing your jeans, sliding a few fingers across your panties, and smirking at the way your excitement seeps into the flimsy fabric.

“Naughty thing...have you no remorse either, just like these demons? Making yourself so wet, so lustful for me?” he purrs, rubbing his fingers harder against your panties and relishing your mewl of pleasure and aching desperation before tearing them off of your body, exposing your glistening heat. “Tsk, tsk.”

Briefly teasing his thumb over your sensitive bundle of nerves, Simeon steps back, smirking as he walks back to the nightstand. Turning your head to the side, you observe him, admiring the expanse of his back, the cutouts of his top that give a delicious peek at the defined muscles of his v-line. Watching as he pulls out rosary beads, metal glinting in the hazy low light of the room, adorned with a cross.

“Such an insatiable little slut,” he continues. “What exactly have you imagined me doing to you, little lamb? Perhaps you have lain in your bed at night, a hand between your legs, touching yourself to the thought of me doing something like…” 

Simeon pauses, lowering himself between your legs, placing featherlight kisses along the delicate flesh of your inner thigh; his teeth sink into the soft skin, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your sinful lips as he makes his way to your sex. His tongue darts out to place a few slow, sensual licks into your sweet arousal, curling his tongue to fully taste your essence as his nails find purchase on your thighs.

“...this?”

He smirks again, your moans like the sweetest melody to his ears.

“You have no idea how badly I want you, pet,” Simeon moans, softly. 

His lips linger between your legs for a few blissful seconds before he pulls away, straightening himself and feeling his cock twitch at the sight of you spread open like a forbidden tome. He begins to drag the beads between your wet folds, soaking them in the nectar of your lewd excitement. You keen at the sensation, moaning as the beads massage the swollen bundle of nerves at your core. He leans over you and holds the rosary, slick and shining in the flickering candlelight, against your lips.

“Open your mouth and taste your sin on this sacred relic, sinner,” Simeon commands.

Your lips part, tongue reaching out; taking the beads in, tasting yourself off of them with a moan. Simeon’s cock strains harder against the constricting fabric of his white pants, desperate to give in to his carnal desire and bury himself between your walls. He swallows, urging himself to keep control, to not give in just yet. 

He needs to see you struggle just a bit more.

Easily sliding two fingers inside of your dripping heat, Simeon smirks at your lewd gasp, curling them upward to elicit another loud moan. He adds another finger, skillfully pumping and curling in a come-hither motion; your wetness dripping down his hand, spilling onto the top of your thighs.

“Oh, my...someone is certainly excited for me, hm?” he teases, pressing harder against your walls, smirking at your lewd, pleasure-filled gasp.

“First...I will recite a prayer of forgiveness for you, dirty sinner, as I have sincere doubts you know of it,” he spits. “You are not to cum until I am finished. If you do, you will face consequences.”

Simeon increases the pace of his fingers, continually pressing into that sweet spot, letting the sensation overcome you. His cock hardens, straining harder against his pants as he listens to your sweet, sweet moans; thoughts rendering nearly incoherent watching you arch your back in pleasure. His breath hitches as he inhales, closing his eyes and beginning to recite:

“Have mercy on me, O God,

according to Your unfailing love;

according to Your great compassion

blot out my transgressions.

Wash away all my iniquity

and cleanse me from my sin.

For I know my transgressions,

and my sin is always before me.

Against You, You only, have I sinned

and done what is evil in Your sight,

so that You are proved right when You speak

and justified when You judge...”

The Angel feels you tighten around his fingers, your impending release imminent. He continues his ministrations, reciting the prayer for both your repentance and his. 

“S-Simeon, I’m going to cum…,” you whine, gasping as your thoughts cloud over with pleasure.

He grins, relishing the way you cry out and arch your back as your release begins to grip you. You shudder, the blazing fire of your pleasure washing over your body as your back arches and body jerks forward. 

Simeon smiles, dark and wicked. You moan his name loudly as your fluid arousal gushes from between your legs, dripping down your thighs, making dark wet marks in his sheets; undeniable evidence of your sins displayed before him.

“Oh, little lamb,” he purrs, pulling his slick fingers from you. “I couldn’t even finish my prayer before you came all over my hand like the dirty little slut you are. I did say you would face the consequences if you could not control yourself. Now...”

Fingers threaded through your hair, Simeon tugs you up to a standing position. Legs shaking, you stumble, whimpering in surprise. He turns you around, gently, tracing a finger down your spine painstakingly slow, watching as the goosebumps prick your skin, shuddering in the feel of it. 

Your heart pounds, chest rising and falling rapidly, labored with the effort of your panting breath. Hands reach forward, tucking your own behind your back, wrist atop wrist. Cool metal kisses your skin as the Angel wraps the rosary beads around them, binding them together. He leans forward, gently pushing your hair aside before pressing a soft kiss into the back of your neck.

“Face me, beautiful girl,” he whispers into your ear, breath tickling against your skin.

You obey, turning slowly, head down. Simeon tucks a finger under your chin, lifting your face to meet his gaze with yours before moving his hand down, fingers lightly wrapping around your throat. 

“Kneel,” he orders. “You filthy fucking sinner. Get on your knees before me.”

He squeezes lightly, not enough to hurt but to emphasize before releasing his hand and tightening his grip on your hair as the Angel yanks you down to your knees. Your eyes widen, watching as he begins rolling down his white pants, exposing his swollen length. A nearly feral desire fills you, teeming with need; wanting nothing more than to get close to him, to nibble his hip bones and eyeing his hardness with frantic hunger. He looks down at you, a wicked grin turning up at the corner of his lips.

“You’re just like these demons,” he hisses, “no hesitation before giving in to your desires.”

Gripping his hand tighter in your hair, Simeon pulls your head forward and begins to thrust into your mouth, slowly at first, allowing you to adjust to him. His hips move back and forth, achingly slow, groaning in the feeling of his cock ensconced in the wet warmth of your mouth.

“I’m going to fuck your mouth, little lamb, and if you’re a good girl...perhaps I will indulge you, and fuck that tight little pussy. I will fill you with the seed of an angel, and you will be mine.”

Simeon increases the pace of his hips, rocking faster, caring little for your comfort. Desperately trying to relax your throat, a few gags escape your lips. His head drops back briefly in pleasure, groaning as he feels his cock slamming into the back of your throat. Tears form in the corners of your eyes, raining down your cheeks.

“Keep your eyes on me, my pretty little slut,” Simeon commands, bringing his head forward once more. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Your eyes flit to look up at him, face stained with tears as he fucks your mouth, focusing on his beautiful jewel-toned gaze. After a few more thrusts, he groans, tugging your hair and pulling you off of his cock, spit coating your chin as you inhale sharply and deep, relieved at the break.

“Get on all fours on my bed, lamb,” Simeon orders, “in a prayer position. Or is that unfamiliar to you?”

You nod, hands still bound behind your back by the sacred rosary. You rise to your feet slowly, legs shaking slightly, knees reddened, lines etched across them from the wooden floor biting into the skin. You turn around, making your way to Simeon’s bed, immaculately made. Simeon places a hand on the small of your back, guiding you onto the mattress, lowering your head to the pillow. Spreading your legs, you arch your back, backside pointed to the Celestial Realm.

“I suppose you can’t have your hands clasped in prayer before you when they’re bound behind your back,” he laughs. “Let’s fix that, shall we?”

Simeon removes the beads restraining your wrists, lacing his fingers through yours and squeezing briefly before moving your hands above your head. Removing his own, he intertwines your fingers, wrapping the rosary around your wrists painstakingly slowly before pulling them just barely tight enough to restrict their movements. 

Leaning forward, he presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck before lowering your head against the pillow. He teases a few fingers between your legs, thumb dancing over your clit. You mewl, pushing back against him, aching to feel him buried to the hilt inside of you.

“S-Simeon,” you whimper.

“You want to know what it’s like to be fucked by an angel, my pretty little sinner?” Simeon asks. “Beg me.”

Keening, you turn your head to look at the Angel behind you. Raw need flowing fiercely, your excitement coating your wet folds and dripping onto the backs of your thighs, shining in the hazy candlelit room as your lips part to beg.

“Please, Simeon, please fuck me,” you whine, voice laced with feverish desire. “I need to be fucked. Please.”

“Good girl.”

Satisfied with your mewling begs, Simeon decides to indulge you; though he also is indulging himself, hardly able to hold back anymore. He thrusts into you roughly, relishing your pleasurable cry of surprise as a smug smirk paints his face, contrasting his otherwise serene beauty.

 “You’re so tight and so wet for me, my beautiful sinner,” he breathes, groaning at the sensation.

He moves his hips back and forth achingly slow, allowing you to adjust to the stretch of his cock between your walls. Your own body pushes back against him, desperate for him to go faster, harder, burying himself to the hilt and he grins at your evident eagerness.

“Fuck me harder, Simeon, harder,” you keen, turning your head to the side and moaning. 

The Angel chuckles, bending forward, lips next to your ear; his warm breath kissing your skin as he speaks.

“You have been such a good little slut, I will indulge you...though you should be careful what you wish for, pet. We can be equally as relentless as demons,” he murmurs, nails digging into your hips.

His own hips snap into yours at an unforgiving pace, fingers tightening their grip, pulling you back in perfect time with his thrusts. The carnal sound of two bodies coming together pierces the otherwise still quiet of the room, lit by flickering candlelight; casting a sinful shadow across the room.

“Did you imagine this as well, when you touched yourself to thoughts of me at night? My cock buried inside of you, dripping all over me as I bring you immense pleasure?”

You cry out in ecstasy, each slam of his body against yours eliciting a mewling gasp from your lips. Simeon snakes a hand around you, thumb circling your clit. He spits on your back, continuing your song and dance to an animalistic rhythm only the two of you can hear.

“Is this exactly what you wanted, my little lamb? To lay with a Holy Being, so you can say that you’ve laid with the Highest and Lowest of beings in all the realms?” Simeon growls.

Another feral growl of pleasure rumbles from his chest, feeling your tight heat clenching down around him. He rubs your clit faster, thrusting harder, eager to coax out your release; desperate to feel his own.

“That’s right, my beautiful, filthy sinner. Cum for me. Scream my name and fill this Hell with the sounds of your repentance,” Simeon rasps, edging closer and closer to his climax. “Sing it to the highest of the heavens, the holy Celestial Realm. I want to hear that sweet melody of the sinful pleasure I am giving you. Cum for me.”

As if on cue, you shudder, feeling the sweet pleasure of your release ignite, pulsing waves of electricity across your body. 

“F-fuck, Simeon!” you moan, pulling against the rosary beads wrapped around your wrists, desperate to curl your fingers into his skin, the floor, anything as your orgasm grips you.

His own release chases yours, the sound of his name from spilling your lips as you are in the throes of ecstasy pushing him over the edge. He groans, filling you with the seed of his sin. Panting, Simeon presses his chest flush to your back, peppering soft kisses across your shoulders and the back of your neck as he unties the beads from your wrists. He pulls you into his arms, both of you breathing heavily; his head drops down to crash his lips against yours, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“My little lamb,” he coos, kissing your cheek, “you are something else.”

Simeon grins at you, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. You can’t help but grin back at him, face shining in the afterglow of orgasm. His breath hitches, reaching another hand up to brush his thumb across your lips.

“God help me. I believe I am going to be reciting many prayers of forgiveness in the near future. I hope He doesn’t tire of hearing them.”

[hoodoo12]

Hammer Time

Is this a new story? Yes!

Did I need help from certain people (@strange-n-unbluusual) for certain parts of this, including the title? Yes!

Am I dipping my toe into a different fandom? Maaaaybe.

NSFW. Karl Heisenberg/f!reader.

Enjoy!

It was rare, but even Lord Heisenberg could relax occasionally. That was the case now, with him lounging in a careless manspread on a ratty sofa, pulling on a cigar. Thin curls of smoke twisted above him, and he watched them lazily.

“I’m bored,” you dared to whine.

This could backfire. If he didn’t want to deal with you, you might end up encased in scrap and left to think about how you interrupted him when he was resting. On the other hand, if he was in a benevolent mood, it could definitely work to your favor and alleviate your tedium.

“Bored, eh?” the Lord repeated. “Yes. Will you let me have a smoke?” He pulled the cigar out of his mouth and examined it, like he wasn’t quite sure what it was or how it got there. Without lowering it, he lifted his eyes and focused on you standing a few feet away. His eyes, not hidden by his dark glasses or shadowed by the brim of his hat, were pale. Their color had surprised you, the first time you’d seen them. “Bring me my hammer,” he mused, “and I’ll let you have a drag.” You cocked your eyebrow at him. “A challenge? Just for a smoke?”

The Lord stuck the cigar back between his lips because he knew you couldn’t help watching his mouth. “Let’s see how badly you want it, buttercup,” he replied, smoke spilling out around the words.

A shiver went though you and settled between your legs. He knew you liked the pet name, and what it did to you--

With a sharp turn on your heel, you marched over to his oversized, ridiculous hammer. Once, when he was the most mellow you’d ever seen him because he finally came after you’d edged him an impossibly long time, you’d made a dry comment comparing his favored weapon to his favored body part. He’d actually laughed at that. Unlike what passed as his typical laughter: sarcastic, studded with superiority, he’d chuckled from the bottom of his lungs. The low timber of his true amusement had sent shivers down your spine, in a good way. You felt a little superior yourself, being one of the only ones he allowed to sass him.

In front of his hammer on the floor, however, you silently despaired. There was no way you were going to be able to heft this thing. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained . . .

First you simply attemped to pick it up by the handle, as it was intended. Starting from the end furthest from the head of the hammer, you tested it to see if that was all it would need. No way. Slowly you moved your way up the handle, readjusting your grip each time to be tighter and tighter. Your hands were soon streaked with rust, which left orange streaks on your skirt when you rubbed your palms there to dry the sweat on them. Why was is always so hot in here?! That was a dumb question that Lord Heisenberg had already answered for you: the furnaces ran day and night to keep the factory’s production at a steady pace.

You shook your head to loosen the stray thoughts that had weasled their way in. You needed to focus. Mostly what the movement did was free some of your hair from the tie it’d been held back by. You blew at it from the corner of your mouth when it fell in front of your eyes.

One last chance to pick this thing up by the handle. Wiping your hands dry again, you carefully placed them, one underneath the grip right below the head, one on top--like that was the trick to this--and, after taking in a large breath, letting it out, and filling your lungs again, you made another attempt to pick it up. You failed. From behind you, Lord Heisenberg chuckled in that low tone that made you weak. In your determination to lift his hammer, you’d managed to block him out completely. “Nice try, buttercup,” he praised lightly. The barest tinge of sarcasm was there too, and you flicked a glare back at him as you huffed. “I’m not done yet!” Amusement crossed his face. “Then by all means . . .” He waved the cigar between his fingers back at his hammer, and your task. With another huff, you turned back to it. The problem was the head of the hammer. Welded together of random scrap metal and gears, it most likely weighed more than you did. You walked around it, studying it carefully, deliberately ignoring the man still on the couch watching you. There were plenty of handholds here, and it was solid, which meant you weren’t concerned you were going to lose a finger if you grabbed it wrong and the metal shifted inside. Of course, the Lord of House Heisenberg could make that happen, but he seemed so entertained by your determination that you believed it unlikely he’d maim you. For another moment you considered your options of how to lift it and win. A lever? Would he consider that cheating, or would he be pleased you were innovative? You decided not to risk it, and besides, there was nothing here in his private room that you could use to wedge under it and try to rock it upright. He’d probably say it wasn’t a victory anyway, claiming he expected you to lift it, not just knock it over.

So you just went back to doing what you’d done before: putting your hands on it and trying to hoist it by sheer strength alone. First you tried it from the side opposite the handle. No luck, and at the Lord’s continued chuckle you waved it off, saying, “That was dumb. The handle of this thing was working against me.” He laughed out loud at that dismissive, obviously untruthful, statement. You ignored him.

You moved so you were facing him, found new fingerholds in the gears on the surface, and tried again. Still nothing. This hammer had either been welded to the ground, or you were as unworthy to hold it as you would be lifting Mjöllnir. One last attempt, and you were admitting a pouting defeat. This time you moved around the tool again, so Lord Heisenberg was at your back. Crouching, you twisted your skirt to your hips as if that had been the whole problem holding you back all along, and let your hands skim the irregular surface of the head for a good grip. Once you’d found some that seemed like they would work best, you took a breath and lifted. Using your legs, straining till beads of sweat erupted on your exposed skin, you gave it your best attempt yet. It was moving! Was it moving? It had to be moving--your arms shook with the effort and you groaned-- You were grabbed from behind. “You fuckin’ knew what you were doin’, didn’t you buttercup?” Lord Heisenberg growled in your ear. “Teasin’ me like this. Strugglin’, liftin’ your skirt like a flirt, knowin’ I like to see you sweat--” It was an awkward position he’d caught you in, squatting between him and this tool. and now off balance. You dared trying to rock backwards and reaching one hand behind you to his thigh and waist, to be supported more by him, but he smacked your hand lightly away to discourage that, and moved back himself. It hadn’t been quick enough to prevent you from dragging your fingertips over his crotch and feeling the hardness behind his fly., however. Still, you stumbled over a reply. “N-no, my Lord, I, I--” “Shhhh,” he hissed in your ear, making you shudder.

You stopped trying to answer him. “Lean forward,” he ordered, with just as much quiet command as shushing you. Complying, you leaned over the lumpy surface of the tool you’d been trying to heft to prove what, exactly? It was difficult to remember, when Lord Heisenberg was whispering in your ear and was shifting behind you while doing something with his clothing. The metal of the hammer dug into your chest, so you risked keeping yourself slightly raised so your tits weren’t compressed as much. Even the quick kiss of cool metal through your thin shirt had tightened your nipples.

The sounds of the clink of a metal belt buckle and faint whisper of a fly coming undone followed by the clear rustling of fabric being pushed down, filled the air. Lord Heisenberg finally repositioned himself behind you again. His calloused hands slipped up the backs of your thighs, and rucked your disheveled skirt up to your waist and over your back, exposing your ass. You trembled and a faint moan slipped from your mouth. He caressed the soft skin of your ass for a moment. “No panties,” he announced, unnecessarily. “You did have a naughty plan in mind, didn’t you buttercup?” You remained silent, muzzled in indecision because no, but now yes.

The Lord leaned forward over you again, to whisper in your ear, “Cocktease.” You could feel his cock press against your legs. You held your breath. “Widen ‘em,” he ordered, and once again, you could do nothing but comply. You spread your legs and arched your back, waiting for what you knew came next. Even as he straightened back up again, Lord Heisenberg’s fingers continued to stroking you for a moment, You waited for a smack to your ass that never happened. Just as you relaxed and let the breath you’d been holding out, he spit, making you jump as the wet landed right along the crack of your ass, and slid its way down to your pussy. Sweat would provide some lubrication too, and sometimes he liked it when there hadn’t been a lot of foreplay--“Friction isn’t great for machines, buttercup, but it’s fucking divine on my cock,” he’d told you more than once--but he spat again, missing you this time. The distinctive sound of him stroking his cock made you tremble in anticipation, and when he shuffled forward between your knees you waited with bated breath once more.

The initial stretch of the head of his cock in your cunt made you whine in a much different way than you’d talked to him at the beginning of this. You panted, waiting for a slow thrust so he could feel every bit of you opening under him, but once again he surprised you and popped his hips forward, driving his cock fully into you in one movement. You cried out as your body was filled. Lord Heisenberg groaned too. The pace he set was brutal, snapping his pelvis in sharp, calculated thrusts. The points of his hips slammed against your ass, and if you hadn’t needed to support yourself with both arms, you could have reached back between your legs to cup his balls instead of letting them slap against your pussy. Then again, you might not have touched them, because they also slapped your clit and that sent additional bliss though your belly.

Once he’d gotten into a rhythm that suited him, the Lord leaned over you again. It became obvious he hadn't discarded his shirt, but taht was okay, you were still wearing yours too. His weight pressed you into the hammer, making your nipples ache, but you didn’t dare complain. When his breath exploded into your ear in time with his thrusts, you relinquished your handhold and wrapped your arm around his head, keeping him close as he continued to fuck you. Cries dissolved into mewls as he continued. Your cunt spasmed around his cock, which made him groan at the additional tightness, so you strove to squeeze him as best you could. “You’re a fuckin’ angel, buttercup, takin’ my cock like this--” he grunted against the side of your neck. “A . . . fuckin’ . . . angel--” His truncated sentence was cut short as his hips juddered out of rhythm. There was a pregnant pause, and then with one final, heavy thrust that ended with him balls’ deep in you, he came. That last movement scooted the tool you were draped over several inches across the floor dragging you with it, leaving you in a slightly painful position stretched out under him. As hard as you’d worked to squeeze yourself around his cock, all that effort now went into not bending your spine too far backward with his weight atop you.

The Lord took a few moments to catch his breath. His cock continued to twitch inside you. After he’d collected himself, he pushed up and away. As your own hips were allowed to relax and you also straightened upright again, his come leaked out of you, painting the insides of your thighs. Lord Heisenberg got to his feet, leaving the trousers he hadn’t discarded completely hang open. His cock was slick and a residual bead of semen welled at the tip; if he wanted, you’d shuffle forward and clean him off-- Instead, he held out his hand and helped you up too, taking you back to the sofa. The cigar he’d set aside was still smoldering in an ashtray; he plucked it back up but instead of putting it back to his lips, he held it invitingly in front of your face. “Looks like you won,” he said. Your brow furrowed as you looked between the cigar and his face. “My Lord, I didn’t bring you your hammer . . .”

“But you managed to move it. That’s better than I expected, buttercup.”

The amusement was back in his pale eyes, and you knew better than to argue any more. With a smile like this was exactly the outcome you’d wanted, you plucked the cigar from his fingers and took a drag on it. You grinned more widely, and holding the smoke in your lungs, you stretched upward to kiss him.

fin!

[kalimagik]

Moonlight Swim

Neville Longbottom x Reader

Word Count: ~2k

A/N: Soooo, I was at the beach working and only actually saw the beach at midnight because that’s when I could and that’s how this idea blossomed. This is my first time writing for Neville, so I’m feeling really unsure about it, but I love this awkward, smiley boy! Feedback always welcomed, so leave a comment, reblog, like, or send an ask! Happy reading, lovelies <3

Edit: @summer-writes made the gorgeous moodboard

The moon was high and bright in the sky, it reflected off the ocean like a pearl polished and reflecting off the glass in a jewelry store. The waves grew and crashed onto the sand sounding like a drum beating at a steady pace. The whole world was calm, relaxed, and at peace. Well the whole world, expect for the teenagers walking down the beach.

“Y/N! Wait up!” Neville called, still a few paces behind his best friend, despite his longer legs.

She wasn’t listening though, Y/N was focused on one thing, getting from the little cottage by the sea to the sea itself. Seeing as how Harry had never been on a REAL holiday before, courtesy of the Dursleys, Y/N and Hermione decided that it would be a good idea to rent a little cottage on the coast and spend some time by the sea. Hermione planned all the details, but Y/N got the group together. She, Hermione, Ron, Harry, Ginny, Neville, and Luna could all definitely use a trip away after how school had been going from them.

But, the others were in the house. That day had been spent entirely on the beach. Ron was redder than his hair because of the sun burn after refusing sunblock. Ginny was exhausted after being in the water and forcing Harry to swim out in the waves for hours. Hermione and Luna spent their time reading, but were just tired from the sun. That’s not how Y/N felt. She was at the ocean. She wanted to be on the beach every second she could be, even if the moon was the only source of light.

“Common, Longbottom,” she giggled, plopping down in the sand, not caring about the mess it would make later. “Come sit beside me!”

Neville watched, still standing, as she breathed in the deep, beach air that surrounded them. He looked down at Y/N, her eyes now focused on the waves. She was one girl that he always felt comfortable around. She made him feel confident and like his opinions and ideas had value. Then, somewhere along the way, she became more than just his best friend.

He was more confident in general and loved talking about his passions, but she made him nervous again, even if it was in a different way. His hands got clammy when she was around, he forgot what he wanted to say, and his heart beat soooo loudly that he swore she could hear it and just pretended she didn’t.

“Are you going to sit down?” she asked again, looking away from the ocean and to his towering figure.

“Oh, uhhh, yeah.” Neville took the spot next to her and listened to the sounds that surrounded them.

“I’m happy we came here. It was a good idea.”

“Of course it was a good idea,” Neville chuckled. “It was your idea wasn’t it?”

“Precisely,” she beamed, leaning over to bump into him. “Just look at this place though! I never would have been able to find it without Hermione.”

“Don’t give her your credit.” Neville spoke before he even thought about what he was going to say.

“What’s gotten into you,” Y/N chuckled, glancing over her shoulder at Neville. “She did do all of the planning, so she deserves all the credit!”

“That’s not what I mean. You’re still the one that made it happen,” Neville complimented her.

“Thanks,” she smiled simply, looking back at the water.

The silence was comfortable. Y/N and Neville had that type of relationship where they could just sit in each other’s company for hours and not need to say much of  anything. It was a beautiful thing that not all people can achieve together, but they did.

The tide began to roll further and further up the shore. The foam of the water was close enough to touch Y/N and Neville’s toes. It was warm and felt good against the chilly summer night air.

“Want to go for a walk?” Y/N asked, getting restless as she usually did.

Neville just nodded, following Y/N’s lead as he usually did. If Neville ever got into trouble, it was usually because of something Y/N talked him into doing.

“How’s your grandmother again?” Y/N started a conversation. “I didn’t get to see her yet this summer.”

“She’s good. Still my grandmother. Still scary. She has asked about you of course. She always does. Personally, I think she would rather have you as a grandchild.” Neville kicked the sand as he walked with his hands in his pockets.

Y/N stopped suddenly, looking at the boy. “Don’t say that. It’s not true.”

“It’s fine if it is. I don’t mind.” Neville shrugged.

“Well, anyone would be lucky to have you as a grandson,” Y/N giggled, a smile growing on her face as she teased the boy. Neville couldn’t help but laugh alongside her. She grew serious again shortly after though. “You’re wonderful. And your grandmother loves you a lot. I can tell in the way she talks about you to me.” Y/N rubbed his arm, reassuring him before she continued down the beach.

“We sure have gone a far way,” Neville observed, looking back to the little speck of light that was the house.

“Well, it’s beautiful out! I can’t help that I still want to be out here. I would even get in the water-”

Neville looked to see Y/N looking out in the water longingly. “No…no, no, no. Don’t even think about it, Y/N/N. I am not getting in the water in my clothes.”

“Well why not? You’re already wet,” she smirked mischievously.

“What are you talking about? I’m completely dr–” Before he could even finish his sentence, Y/N walked into the water enough to kick it, completely splashing Neville’s front side.

“See! It feels good!” She giggled.

“I can’t believe you just did that!” Neville looked at her, wide-eyed. “I’m not going to take that sitting down!” He rushed her, but she dodged him, going further out into the water. Neville stopped at the edge. The waves were crashing right behind Y/N, the water now pooling around her knees and thighs. “You don’t even have a bathing suit on…”

“So? Who do I have to impress?” she giggled, walking backwards. Neville just took in the sight of her face. He really wanted to soak up as much of it as possible. The look she wore was just one of pure happiness and exuberance. She’d always been like that. Not caring what anyone thought and always doing what made her the happiest.

He could only shake his head and laugh with her as he just stood there on the shore.

“Come on in! The water’s great!” she urged him, lifting an arm to threaten that she would splash him again if he didn’t comply.

“You might want to come out before you’re dripping wet.” Neville warned.

“Nahhhh!” she shook her head. Her laughter was replaced by a happy scream when an invisible wave crashed on her head. Somehow, she walked out further into the water than she had realized and without the sun, the waves were invisible until they came crashing down.

Neville smirked as the water rushed back into the ocean. Y/N stood there, hair in her eyes and clothes dripping wet, her mouth hanging wide open in surprise, but the shock of the water over taking her was quickly replaced by laughter once again.

“I told you so,” Neville called over the sound of the waves.

“It was a good surprise!” Y/N spit back, smile growing even wider. “You know what would be an even better surprise? If you run in with all your clothes too!”

Neville didn’t take the bait, he just shoved his hands in his pockets once more.

“Ohhh, come on Neville, do something unexpected!” Y/N dared him, eyes sparkling with playfulness. That was all she needed to say for him to sigh before letting a lopsided smile replace the pursed lips he had worn watching her moments before.

“Yay!” she laughed as he crashed through the waves out to where she was. By the time he reached her, another wave crashed on top of them, soaking Neville as much as the one before drenched Y/N.

Their heads broke through the surface of the water as they came back up for air. “See, isn’t it nice out here?”

Neville took in a deep breath as he looked at her, swimming deep enough that her shoulders were underwater. Her Y/H/C pooled around her shoulders and the water made her skin sparkle. Water is supposedly rejuvenating, but new life and confidence seemed to enter Neville in that moment.

“What are you looking at?” Y/N laughed, out of breath from jumping over oncoming waves.

“I love you, Y/N,” Neville blurted, cheeks heating up the moment the words left his lips. Unfortunately for him, the moon was bright enough that the red was accented.

“You love me? N-Not just like a fr-friend?” Y/N stuttered. She never stuttered, she was always so confident.

He didn’t have anything planned to say after he made his confession. Hell, that wasn’t even planned. The move was Y/N’s to make. Neville was speechless, but he managed to nod. Y/N’s breath evened out.

“I love you too, Neville.” She stated simply, a smile growing on her lips. Neville felt his own smile following the feeling of relief. She loved him too.

“But, why didn’t you ever say so?” he asked, still confused that she felt the same way.

“I don’t know. I guess I was scared. We’ve been friends for so long and I didn’t want to push you into anything if you weren’t comfortable.” Neville watched her eyes fall to watch the movement of the water.

“You were scared? B-but you’re always so sure of yourself…”

“Not when it comes to stuff like that,” she admitted. “but, I do, ya know, love you.”

Neville smiled again. Hearing those words coming from her mouth made his heart flutter. Another surge of confidence as powerful as a wave flowed through him. He reached out enough to pull her body flushed with his and kissed her. He kissed her in a way he didn’t even know he was capable of.

The salty air filled Neville’s lungs when they pulled away from each other. His clothes hung heavily on his body and he had goosebumps all over his arms and legs, but he felt so light and warm on the inside. This was it for him. This was what he wanted for so long.

“Neville, you’re shivering!”

“No, no, I’m okay!” But, as another invisible wave crashed on top of them again, Neville’s teeth began to chatter.

“Nope, time to head in,” Y/N giggled. She swam towards the shore faster than Neville, but Neville didn’t want the moment to end.

“Wait, we’re just going to go back?” Neville pouted, bobbing up and down.

“We’re going to dry off and warm up, but we can continue once we do that,” she winked.

Neville’s face lit up at the prospect of spending more alone time with Y/N that he wound up reaching the sand before she did. “Woah, someone’s excited there.” Y/N exclaimed as she caught up to him.

“Can’t risk you changing your mind,” Neville teased, already starting to walk back to the cottage.

“Neville, wait!” Y/N called, catching back up to him.

“Yes, love,” he emphasized, excited to be able to use the endearing term with someone. Y/N took his hands in hers and placed a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Hold my hand while we walk?” she asked.

Neville grinned like a Cheshire cat as he led the way back to the beach cottage, where dry clothes and a warm bed waited.

The moon was high and bright in the sky, it reflected off the ocean like a pearl polished and reflecting off the glass in a jewelry store. The waves grew and crashed onto the sand sounding like a drum beating at a steady pace. The whole world was calm, relaxed, and at peace, especially the boy and girl who were dripping with salt water, but in love nonetheless.

[hcywards]

love — jj maybank

summary: in which jj maybank didn’t know how many types of love there were until y/n l/n asked exactly what type of love he felt for her

words: 2.4k+

t/w: swearing, a fight — blood mentions, and literally one mention of abuse that you won’t notice unless you squint, kissing, underage drinking

note: uhhh so this is my first fic and i don’t know how i feel about it but i’m a whore for jj so here we are

    Y/N had known JJ Maybank since she was four. 

     At four years old, thinking isn’t something you do often, and it was barely ever done with them. They did, rather than thought. They’d kiss each other’s cheeks as if it were nothing, change in front of one and another, sleep in the same bed. Hell, there were times when they’d had baths together.

     And the not thinking did work for a while. They didn’t think for a few years, and those few years were perhaps the most stress free years they’d ever experienced, because, when you don’t think, you don’t worry, and everything is carefree and happy.

     But there comes a time in your childhood when your not-thinking years come crashing down on you, and you have to think everything from the past few years through entirely. Suddenly, those cheek kisses could mean a lot more than just cheek kisses, but they could also just mean cheek kisses. Changing in front of each other couldn’t happen, because that meant more than ‘my clothes are soaked so I’m going to change them���; it meant ‘I have to undress in front of you’. Sleeping in the same bed? That had more connotations than imaginable. And, God forbid, sharing a bath? A pair of nine-year-olds couldn’t do that, no matter how close they were.

     When you first start thinking before doing, you don’t think that you could think any more than you do, but that had to be the most incorrect idea anyone’s ever had, because, now, sixteen-year-old Y/N seemed to do nothing but thinking, all the time.

     Which was how she came to the conclusion she was in love with her best friend.

     It was a conclusion she hated, and she wished she could turn back time and stop herself from thinking it, but she couldn’t, and now, every time she saw him, it was the only thing she was able to think — that she was in love with him, but he simply loved her.

     They’d drifted slightly as they grew older. They were still close, but not quite as much as they used to be, due to the thinking they both did. They were still in the same friend group, but JJ wouldn’t consider her his best friend any more. That place went to John B. And, as much as Y/N wished she could call JJ her best friend still, she knew that Kie was hers, not him.

     But did she wish she could still call him just her best friend? Did she not want him to be her boyfriend? Would she be able to stop herself from telling him everything if he was her best friend?

     There she went with the thinking again, the thinking she’d come to despise. She ran a hand over her face to bring herself out of her thoughts, taking a sip of her stale beer and looking out over the party. She then decided that idea was awful and tore her eyes back away from the scene quickly; she’d looked over at the dancing bodies and seen JJ with that stupidly beautiful blonde touron more times than she wanted to count, and she didn’t want to make the heart-wrenching mistake again.

     So, instead, her eyes went on the fire she was sat in front of, and she watched its flames dance in front of her eyes, swallowing back the jealousy that was still bubbling inside of her and instead focusing on the heat that the orange flames rolled over her. She watched it with such intensity she didn’t notice that Kie case to sit by her side, and jumped when the girl began to talk.

     “You should tell him,” the girl stated, as if it’d be that easy.

     Of course, Y/N wanted to tell him; she’d always wanted to tell him, ever since she found out. She wanted to tell him because she thought that, if she told him, he might stop talking about the last girl he had sex with in front of her, or blatantly hitting on another touron while she was stood right there. Maybe, deep down, part of her hoped he might feel the same, but she knew that part of her was stupid and still thought that a fan fiction reality might come true one day, when there was no way it could ever work. Not for her. And telling him would go awfully — it would probably tear them apart more than they already were, and Y/N didn’t want that to happen, ever. She wanted to have the ability to laugh with him, and drink with him and smoke with him and talk about when they were kids with him, not have it be awkward with him and only see him when she absolutely had to. So, she turned to Kiara with an eye roll, an exasperated expression on her face as she prepared for another repeat of the conversation they’d had plenty of times before.

     “Kiara,” she sighed, setting her drink by her side and pushing her hair out of her eyes. Kiara smiled bitterly, knowing exactly what her friend was going to say because she’d said it so many times before. “That’s stupid, and you know it. He doesn’t like me back. It’ll just make things awkward between us. And you know the rule.”

     “That rule sucks ass, and you know it,” Kiara replied. “Besides, things are already awkward between you because you keep on avoiding him. If you just told him, then maybe—"

     There was a loud shout that interrupted her, and the two girls looked up to see a circle of people beginning to form, the word “fight” ringing out around the beach loudly and repeatedly. Y/N and Kiara made eye contact, both rolling their eyes. Of course, every party had to end like this. Why couldn’t they all just go home, and not start punching each other?

     They stood up to go see who it was, anyway, pushing their way through the group of drunk teenagers and muttering the occasional sorry when they pushed too hard and sent one stumbling into another, grateful they didn’t manage to start a domino effect around the ring by the time they reached the centre.

     There, in the haphazard circle, was JJ and Rafe.

     Y/N wondered why she wasn’t surprised as she took another small step forward. Rafe had JJ pinned — obviously, they’d been fighting for a while before Kiara and Y/N heard, and the two girls looked at each other again, wincing at the cracks of Rafe’s knuckles on JJ’s cheeks.

     Y/N took another step forward, shrugging Kiara’s warning hand off of her. She’d broken up plenty of fights before, she knew what she was doing. Another step. JJ yelped in pain as a link on Rafe’s watch caught on his skin and ripped it, and more blood tricked down his cheeks, down his neck. It dripped on the sand in a steady pattern, staining the wet grains red. Another step. JJ kicked up at Rafe, trying to flip the pair. Rafe’s grip on him stopped him from doing so, but that didn’t mean he stopped struggling. Another step. JJ’s shirt pulled up to reveal bruising on his ribs — Y/N wasn’t sure whether that was from Rafe or his dad, and she wasn’t sure which one she’d be more content with.

     Finally, she reached him, shoving Rafe off of him with an easy kick and grabbing JJ’s hand to pull him up, an irritated but concerned frown on her face as she began pulling him through the crowd, ignoring Rafe’s shouts behind her. Now, she wasn’t thinking — she’d done this so often she didn’t need to think. She could just do, and not pay attention to anything else for once, and, for that, she was grateful.

     He stumbled with her as she lead him towards John B’a house, an arm over her shoulder and her arm around his waist in their usual way, as if Y/N felt even marginally close to usual. Her heart was hammering in her chest, her lungs constricted and her throat a narrow passageway. Breathing seemed to burn, and with each step she seemed to double in weight and half in speed. JJ’s arm was heavy on her shoulders as he rested a lot of his weight on her, and it took them a long time to reach John B’s — by that point, the other Pogues had joined them, and John B and Pope had managed to get JJ off of Y/N and have themselves take his weight, instead, which increased their pace considerably.

     Eventually, they got the near-unconscious boy to lay out across his bed, and Y/N was running to get the rubbing alcohol before anyone else had the time to think, because that was her speciality. She was back at JJ’s side within a second, and only paused when she realised she’d have to be over him to clean his wounds.

     He smiled at her, blood in his mouth and trickling down his chin, one eye already bruising and his lids squinted until the point they were almost shut.

     She frowned, but decided that thinking would waste time she didn’t have if she wanted to stop anything, and threw one leg over him to straddle him, resulting in him giving her an award-winning smirk that would’ve made her blush scarlet in any other situation.

     “You know, if you wanted to—” he began to murmur between the occasional spit of blood, and Y/N rolled her eyes.

     “Shut it, JJ. You’re not attractive when you’ve got blood on your teeth.”

     She leant forwards, tipping rubbing alcohol onto a cotton pad and raising a hand to his face. He hissed when it made contact with his skin, but, having done this many times before, didn’t make another sound, just watched her with red-rimmed eyes. “But I am otherwise?”

     Y/N could smell the combination of weed, alcohol and blood on his breath, and grimaced, continuing to dab at his face carefully. Thankful the other Pogues had left the room when she started to straddle him, she muttered back, “That’s not what I said.”

     “Really? Because it sounded like it to me.” he retorted. She rolled her eyes, shifting her position above his lap. His hands moved to her waist instinctively, steadying her, and she had to force herself not to gasp at the sudden, unexpected contact. This only caused his smirk to widen, though Y/N was unsure what he was expecting her reaction to be. After all, she’d been talking about how much she wanted to get laid for months, having not had sex since her boyfriend broke up with her over six months ago. “You alright there, Y/N?”

     “I hate you,” she murmured, but it stung bitterly as she said it, because it wasn’t true. In fact, it was the opposite of the truth, because, as much as she hated it, she’d been dumb enough to fall in love with her oldest friend, her friend who could have almost any girl he wanted, and would certainly never pick her out of those girls.

     JJ responded quietly, his voice teasing but words a painful sting, even though that was the opposite of how he intended them. “You love me.”

     Yeah, I do, Y/N thought angrily. She’d spent too many nights wallowing in self pity over her unrequited love, and tonight was the night she decided she was getting over him, because she was fucking fed up of the hurt.

     “Aww, don’t be shy about it,” JJ continued joking. “I love you too.”

     Y/N had had enough, then, and she looked into his pale blue eyes, lit only dimly by the faint moonlight. Y/N doubted it’d matter; she knew his face better than she knew her own. And his eyes? She could tell you every single seemingly unnoticeable detail about them. Only then did he notice the tears in her’s, threatening to spill. Y/N always cried when she was angry, though, right now, JJ couldn’t tell whether she was angry or hurt. Perhaps both.

     “Do you love me, or are you in love with me, JJ?” she demanded.

     JJ frowned, tilting his head to the side. “Is there a difference?”

     Y/N snorted, though it sounded like more of a scoff. “Yes, JJ! Of course there’s a fucking difference! I love my mom, I’m not in love with my mom! But I’m in love with you, JJ, and I wish you were in love with me too, but I know you’re not, and. . .”

     By this point, Y/N’s words had drowned into nothing. Her tears were spilling, dripping down her cheeks and onto the pair of them. Her lip wobbled as she spoke, eyes having left him as she started talking and now refusing to land anywhere near him, flitting from one corner of the room to the other.

     JJ wasn’t focussed on that, though, he was focussed on his sudden realisation that maybe he might be in love with Y/N. Maybe the anger he’d felt when she started dating her last boyfriend hadn’t been anger at all — maybe it’d been jealously. And maybe all of those glances he sent her way whenever she looked particularly pretty weren’t just platonic admiration, maybe they were romantic adoration. And maybe when he wanted to hug her for longer than the other Pogues, it wasn’t because they were best friends, it was because he wanted to be as near to her as possible for as long as possible because he loved Y/N L/N.

     And holy shit, if that realisation wasn’t a big one.

     JJ didn’t think before he was grabbing her damp cheeks and pulling her face to his. He was glad he didn’t, because, then, he might’ve thought himself out of it, like Y/N had done so many times before.

     Her lips were soft against his, and it felt a thousand times different to any girl he’d ever kissed. When she pulled back, he found himself chasing after her mouth, wanting more — and then immediately blushing when he realised what he’d done because he’d never done that before. She was looking at him with a confused frown on her face, lips slightly parted and tears still slowly trickling down her cheeks, between JJ’s fingers and along his cracked skin.

     “What the hell was that?” she asked.

     JJ grinned, the shithead grin Y/N hated to admit she loved. “A kiss, stupid.”

     “Yeah but. . . why’d you kiss me?” Y/N questioned, heart racing in her chest as she waited impatiently for the answer.

     “I’m in love with you, too.”

[pastelwitchling]

Based on a prompt request by @moviesbuff. (I am not currently taking prompt requests, please don’t send them in!)

***

Michael’s bones were vibrating, his heart hammering painfully in his throat, his hands clenched to fists no matter how hard he tried to release them. He didn’t think he could, not until he got the answers he wanted.

His brother’s house was quiet, but his car was still parked outside, so Michael knew he was home. If he hadn’t been, Michael would’ve tracked him down through all of Roswell. After what he’d heard, after what he’d discovered, he wasn’t taking chances leaving this alone.

He banged his fist on the front door. “Max! Open up!”

Max opened, his brows furrowed. He had a journal in his hand, his finger bookmarking the page he’d undoubtedly been writing on before Michael came barging in.

“Michael, what the hell –” he managed before Michael swiped his journal, flipping through the pages.

“Were you writing about him?” he demanded. “This – this passage, who’s it about?”

“What are you doing?!” Max snatched his journal back. He gripped Michael’s shoulder, stilling him, searching his face. “Are you drunk?”

Michael yanked his arm free, and pointed a threatening finger. “I’m gonna ask you just once, and I want you to tell me the truth.”

Max frowned, shaking his head. “Ask me what?”

Michael swallowed through clenched teeth, every fiber in his being on edge. “Do you . . . want Alex?”

Max faltered. “What?”

The answer was not what Michael had wanted. He licked his lips, hesitance creeping into his own ears as he asked again, “Do you want Alex?”

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “What’re you talking about?”

Something like a growl or a sob rose up Michael’s throat. “You used a handprint to save Liz. Your feelings transferred to hers –”

“Yeah, so?” Max said. He was trying too hard to pretend it didn’t matter. He wasn’t fooling anyone. “D-Did she say something?”

Michael shook his head. “She wants Alex. She’s wanted him since you saved her.” He took a slow step towards his brother, and saw him glance up warily. When he asked again, his words were quiet and strained. “She thinks it’s funny. Doesn’t know that it’s only an echo . . . of what you feel. So. Do you want Alex?”

Max tucked his journal into his back pocket before he spoke, which was his mistake. “Michael, come on, I could never –”

“DON’T LIE TO ME!” Michael screamed, and both his truck and Max’s car levitated several feet off the ground before crashing back down to the ground. “She’s talking about how – how sudden it all is, and you’ve been weird since you knew about me and Alex.” Max flinched. “See? See? Y-You’re different when it comes to him! Why?”

Max had been staring at the ground as Michael yelled, and only when his brother stood panting, waiting, Max looked up. In a quiet, pained voice, he said, “You know why.”

Michael turned silent, stumbling back like Max had shot him. He felt before he saw the ground shaking, and Max held onto the wall to steady himself. His heart thudded painfully, his eyes burned.

“But, Michael,” Max tried, “I – I’ve never gone near him! I’ve never touched him!”

“Does he know?” Michael demanded. “DOES HE KNOW?!”

“NO!” Max snapped. “No, he has no idea!”

Michael searched Max’s face as if to decide whether or not he believed him. The ground barely stopped shaking before he warned, “If he finds out –”

“So you’re gonna tell him?” Max said. “How you feel, I mean? Wait, hold on, will you do it before or after you break up with Maria? Because you’re still with her, right?”

“What the hell’s your point, Max?” Michael demanded. “If I don’t tell him how I feel, you’ll go after him?”

Max clenched his jaw. “I’ve thought about this a lot, brother. And . . . if you really loved Alex, you wouldn’t have given up on him. You wouldn’t have chosen someone else.”

Michael flinched. “What, like you?”

Max held his gaze. “I stayed away because I knew that you loved him. But – God, Michael, after everything he’s done for us, you can’t even be honest with him! You’ll fight for everyone else before you fight for him, and he doesn’t even expect you to anymore! Doesn’t that kill you? He won’t look twice at me, and it rips me apart! But he loves you so much, with everything he has, and you don’t even care! You can’t see what you have right in front of you!”

“So, what?” he said darkly. “You’re gonna tell him how you feel?”

Max looked around helpless, and exhaled sharply. “I want to. Michael, I want to. I want to see . . . what happens –”

“What happens?” he breathed. “What do you think is going to happen, Max? He’ll be your boyfriend? Is that it?”

He hesitated. Then – “I want to find out.”

Michael shook his head, unable to believe what he was hearing. His voice when he spoke was hoarse. “He won’t love you. Not more than me.”

Max nodded, like it hurt him to do it. “I know. But maybe he could love me just enough.”

               *

               Michael had not left happy. Max hadn’t expected him to. But he would forgive his brother someday, because if Max had a hair’s chance at being with Alex, then he planned to make him the happiest man alive.

               Not that Max actually thought he had a hair’s chance, and Michael had been sure to remind him of that before he’d left, angrier and darker than Max had ever seen him. Max had carried that with him as he’d finished writing the last lines in his heart, the last lines of his love for Alex, and got in his car. He’d spent years holding back his feelings for Michael’s sake, knowing that the pain of being away from the airman and not getting to explore these very strong feelings that he had for him would all be worth it when Michael finally got his happiness.

But years had passed, and Michael had found every excuse not to tell Alex the truth. Even when he’d come back. Even when he’d been right here, in front of him, wanting. Michael had still said no and chosen someone else.

Max promised himself he would never take Alex for granted like that. He’d look after him, he’d make him laugh, let him know how appreciated he was.

Then Max neared Alex’s house and found him working in the garden, and all the old doubts returned. All he could think about was Michael, and how betrayed he must’ve felt, and how much happier he could make Alex.

But it was too late to abort. Alex had glanced up the second Max’s car had come in and was starting to stand, his brows furrowed in that way they did when he was preparing for an attack. Max half-wondered if that was how he usually looked when Michael came and was expecting the same of his brother, or if it was a natural reaction he’d come to have to everything.

Then he wondered how anyone could survive with that mentality for so long, and stay as strong as Alex was. His heart leapt slightly.

“Hey,” he said tentatively as he stepped out.

Alex was still watching him warily, dusting his hands off. “Hey. What’s going on?”

Max swallowed. Alex wore nothing but a pair of jeans and a white tank top, sweat lining his chest and making the dark patch of hair visible. His straight, damp hair fell over his eyes, and a bead of sweat rolled down his temple. Max briefly imagined licking it away, and had to clear his throat.

“I – uh – I wanted to . . . talk to you . . . about something.”

Alex’s eyes sharpened. “Did something happen to Michael?”

The question made Max step back, shame and embarrassment crawling up his spine. Of course Alex would ask about Michael.

“N-No, uh,” he huffed, “I just need to talk to you.”

“Okay?” his shoulders rested. Max noticed Alex wouldn’t look anywhere but his eyes. What a difference, since Max wanted to look everywhere but Alex’s eyes. “Talk.”

He blushed. “It’s kind of important, Manes.”

Alex raised a brow. “Right. You better come in, then.”

And he led the way into his house. Max smelled wood and vanilla the second he walked in. The fireplace wasn’t lit, but the small space was warm, there were carpets on the floor and deep navy couches. He spotted a journal open on the coffee table, and blinked when he saw his name scribbled in delicate writing.

He reached for the page, but Alex seemed to realize what he was doing and closed the journal at the last second.

“Sorry,” he muttered, hiding the journal from view as he hid it away in a drawer and locked it. “That shouldn’t be out here. Look,” he sighed, “f you want to ask me about Liz –”

“No,” Max said immediately. “No, I’m definitely not here to ask you about Liz.”

Alex frowned. “Uh – please, take a seat.”

So he did. On the couch. And Alex sat at the far end of it, waiting.

“Okay . . .” he took a deep breath. “There’s no real way for me to start this, but I – I want you to know that I’m not expecting anything in return, o-okay? You can kick me out if you want –”

“Max,” Alex cut him off, an amused smile tugging at his lips. Max hated how cute it was. “Spit it out.”

“Right,” he huffed. Then, without time to think, blurted, “I want you.”

Silence. Alex stared at Max, still waiting. Max could hear his own blood rush in his ears, his heart pounding so loudly that he worried Alex might hear it, too. He was just starting to wonder whether Alex had even heard him when the airman began to nervously chuckle.

“What?” He blinked, and shook his head. “Sorry, could you say that again? I don’t think I heard you right.”

Max’s nails were digging into his palms. “No,” he said. “No, you heard me right.”

Alex’s smile fell away. He didn’t look angry or confused or like he pitied Max. He didn’t look anything like Max thought he would. Instead, he looked nervous.

“You . . .” he cleared his throat. “You want me to do what?”

“N-Nothing,” Max said. “I just . . . want you.”

Alex was blinking way too quickly. “Uh – l-like . . . sexually?”

He exhaled shakily. “Yeah.” A pause. “Please say something.”

“I-I’m thinking, this is just a little . . . unreal. What about Liz?”

“I tried with Liz,” he quietly confessed. “I really did, but . . . there’s something about you – I – I’ve never been able to get you out of my head, Alex. Not since high school.”

“High school?” Alex stood and started pacing. “Uh – s-sorry, I just – I need a second –”

“Take your time!” Max was quick to reassure him. And so they spent the next few minutes like that, with Max staring at Alex’s carpet, glancing up at the airman every so often to find him rubbing the nape of his neck or muttering to himself. Max almost asked him to sit down, to go easy on his leg, but caught himself. Advice from him was definitely not something Alex wanted now.

Finally, Alex sat down right in front of Max, so close that their knees touched.

“Are you saying,” he said carefully, his eyes dark, “that you . . . you want to . . . sleep with me?”

“Yes,” Max said at once. Then, “No.” He shut his eyes and stood. “Damn it, Alex. I want to sleep with you, but I don’t want to just sleep with you. I – I want to make you breakfast, and fall asleep with you on the couch watching tv, and – and protect you from homophobic assholes in town. I . . . I want to . . .”

“To be with me,” Alex finished, realization dawning. He stood. “That’s what you’re trying to tell me? That you want us to be boyfriends?”

Max couldn’t look away from him. “Is that so bad?”

               “Bad? No. Shocking? Hell yeah.” He turned away, running a hand through his hair. Max’s eyes fell to the nape his neck, the line of sweat down his back.

He clenched his jaw. “I know I’m not Michael,” he said, his voice low. “I know you could never love me like that –”

“Love?” Alex breathed, turning around. He shook his head. “You love me?” Max didn’t answer, but he didn’t seem to need to. “This can’t be happening,” he muttered, sitting down. “This isn’t happening.”

Max’s heart was in his throat. He knelt in front of Alex, but didn’t dare touch him. “Alex, I’m – I’m sorry. I told you, I’m not expecting you to do anything, I know you couldn’t love me, I know that, but –”

Alex suddenly crashed their mouths together, cutting Max off. Max managed a whimper before Alex slid from the couch and onto his lap, his own hands coming up to instinctively grip Alex’s hips.

When they pulled back to breathe, Max managed one word, “Alex –”

“Don’t, just –” Alex kissed him again. “Just touch me. We can hate ourselves later, just – please.”

Max should’ve argued. He should’ve told Alex that they couldn’t hate themselves for how they felt, what they wanted. But he couldn’t be sure how Alex felt. Maybe he just needed to be touched. Maybe, worst of all, he just wanted Michael, and Max was as close as he was going to get. It didn’t matter if this was the one time Max would be allowed to have him. He wanted him. He’d take sex over nothing.

“Okay,” he breathed, slipping a hand under Alex’s shirt, his mouth watering at the soft, hot, damp skin. “Okay.”

And he pulled Alex in again, kissing him roughly, eagerly. Alex’s mouth opened against his and he slipped his tongue in like it was something he’d been used to doing. He slid a hand into Alex’s hair, moaning at the soft strands between his fingers.

It felt strange, pressing his mouth to another man’s, but knowing it was Alex, the same Alex he’d never been able to help but glance at even when they were younger, excited him in a way he’d never felt with anyone else. He wanted to tear off Alex’s clothes, push him onto his back, and thrust into him until he had nothing left. Until Alex said no one else’s name but his.

He did as he wanted, resting Alex down on the carpet. He kissed down his throat, and grinded their hips together. Alex’s small moans made him groan, fueling him on. He sat back enough to slip his jeans down, and came down into Alex’s waiting arms, their chests pressed together. Neither of them looked down at what was happening between their hips as Max thrusted into him, but they each held on. Alex pushed his hips up in rhythm to Max’s thrusts, panting into the crook of his neck.

The hours passed, and Max and Alex didn’t stop touching each other. They couldn’t. Alex held onto Max like he never wanted to let him go. There were a million different reasons for it, Max knew there had to be. But for that time that they spent together, before exhaustion came, Max wanted to fall asleep with Alex on his chest, believing that they were, just for a short while, both in love.

*

Alex woke first, because he always did. He’d found himself face-to-face with Max, sleeping and rested in a way he didn’t normally look. Alex figured they should really move to the bedroom at some point – the clothes on the floor and the carpet not the softest surface for his leg – but at the moment, he was too busy tracing Max’s cheek with his finger, his nose, his lips.

He smiled, though something nagged at his heart in a way he couldn’t explain. His answer came as a knock at the door.

Carefully, he moved Max’s arm from his waist, biting his lower lip as he quickly, and as quietly as he could, pulled on his prosthetic and jeans. He opened his front door as he pulled on his shirt, just pulling it down over his eyes as Michael met him on the porch. The cowboy stared at his naked skin until it was covered. Alex blushed.

“Hey,” he said.

“Alex,” Michael greeted, looking over Alex’s shoulder into the house, but Alex was already closing the door. He clenched his jaw. “Why is Max’s car here?”

Alex licked his lips, crossing his arms. “Because he’s here.”

Michael’s eyes flicked back to his stomach, as if remembering what he looked like without his shirt on. “Why?”

His tone indicated he knew exactly why.

“Leave it alone, Guerin,” he said. “Walk away before you do something stupid.”

“He told you,” Michael smirked, but there was nothing remotely funny in his expression. “He told you about his crush, and you caved.”

“I’ve wanted to kiss him for a long time,” he quietly confessed, and Michael faltered. “I finally got to. This was as much for me as it was for him.”

Michael began to chuckle, disbelieving. “This is – this is a joke. You and Max?”

“Please, stop it –”

“Why you?!” Michael demanded, his eyes glistening with tears. “Why, of everyone on this damn planet, did he have to pick YOU?!”

Alex waited until Michael was done panting to say, “Because you wouldn’t.”

Michael stilled, the world stopped shaking, and Alex was able to stand without holding onto the doorframe. “That’s not true.”

Alex shook his head. “I tried, Michael. I really did. But nothing was ever enough. And – and Max was the first person after Kyle changed who was ever kind to me. I – I’ve wondered what it would be like to be with him, and you know what? I want to try.”

“I want to be with you!”

“Is that why you’re still with Maria?” Alex demanded, his own eyes burning. “Or why, even after I broke up with Forrest, you still wouldn’t come talk to me? Or why you left me alone while I was pouring my heart out to you in a bar full of cowboys?”

“Alex . . .” Michael looked lost, like he’d never expected the kind of damage he’d caused on Alex. It made things so much worse. He’d never cared about Alex long enough to see the way he was hurting him.

“You have no right to be here now,” Alex said. “You have no right to want me, Guerin, or to touch a hair on Max’s head for having the guts to do what you never did. Go back to your girlfriend, and leave me alone.”

“Alex –”

“Leave, Guerin,” Alex said, turning away from Michael as he opened his door to head back in. To keep Michael out. “I don’t want to see you again.”

“ALEX!”

Michael sat up in his bed, grasping at the air. He was breathing heavily, his heart hammering painfully. The sky outside was black, the night air cold, but Michael was sweating. His nightmare flashing in his mind, repeating the words “I don’t want to see you again” in Michael’s ears, he fished his jeans off the floor quickly, pulled out his phone, and dialed Alex’s name.

The phone rung three times, and Michael clenched his jaw, already imagining driving down to the airman’s house to see him for himself.

Then the call connected, and Alex’s sleepy, but alert voice sounded. “Guerin?”

“Alex,” Michael breathed. “My Alex. Are you sleeping with Max? You’re not, right? Y-You’re not?”

A moment of silence. Then –

“Are you drunk?”

Michael huffed a chuckle, the bad dream already fading away to the back of his mind, disintegrating to ash and flying away in the wind. Good riddance, Michael thought with no small amount of relief.

“No,” he said. “No, I – I thought . . .” he shook his head. “Bad dream. Really, really bad dream.”

Michael heard some rustling on the other end, and pictured Alex sitting up against his headboard.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Michael said, wiping a tired hand over his face, but unable to stop smiling. “Yeah, I’m okay, baby.”

More silence. Alex and Forrest had only broken up two weeks ago, after all. He and Michael definitely didn’t call each other baby.

Michael worried he’d frightened Alex off for a minute, but then Alex asked, “You want to tell me about it?”

“No,” he said right away, and slumped against his pillow. He clenched the blanket in his hand, and confessed, “I just want to curl up with you in bed and go back to sleep.”

A pause. Alex sighed. “You know how to get in. I’ll keep the hallway light on for you.”

Michael sat up straight. “R-Really?”

Alex hummed, and Michael swung his legs off the edge of the bed. He scoffed. “Am I sleeping with your brother – are you kidding me?”

Michael groaned as he rapidly pulled his jeans on and pushed his feet into his boots. “Don’t talk about it, please.”

Alex giggled, the sound bringing a warmth to Michael’s chest and erasing the last of his troubles.

“Whatever you want, baby.”

***

I had to 😂 I don’t write outside of canon, so I had to adjust it to fit my style. But there ya go!

[multifandomthoughts]

Killing Innocence

Requested by: Anonymous

Word Count: 1.4k words

Synopsis: a serial killer is running amok around morioh, and there’s only one thing that connects the victims together. Can you and Josuke find out what it is before you become victims yourself?

Trigger Warnings: mentions of death, brief mention of stalking

It had been years since you had met Josuke and defeated Kira. Josuke had grown a bit older and a bit wiser, however one thing had not changed. Your friendship with each other had been quite steady and hadn’t changed a bit. You might have even gotten a little bit closer if you had to admit.

Until another stand user had appeared around your town. And of course it was another serial killer. It had appeared that this killer was not targeting adults, but teenagers and people in their early 20s. Something much different than what you were dealing with before.

According to rumors, someone had seen the perpetrator with a snake that bit the jugular vein on one of the victims. However, that would end up not being the cause of death. The students of the local high school were panicking, including you and Josuke. Kids were missing school left and right in an attempt to stay away from the killer.

It had sadly taken a few victims to identify a connecting thread between the dead individuals, but it was certainly a hard to believe one. Every victim of this strange killer had been a virgin. But that was a fact unknown to the general public, as it was thought that this was too invasive to the victims and their families.

You had just started walking home with your friends Okuyasu and Koichi when the news hit; another victim had been found and with no identifiable evidence. Not even a cause of death could be found for this poor soul. You lived close by to the rest of your peers so it only seemed right that you walked home with them; it also gave you the advantage if the unknown serial killer came across you.

“Oi, guys! Okuyasu shouted, acting like someone with a secret they couldn’t wait to share. “Another body was discovered while we were in school! Don’t you think we oughta be more careful about where we go and what we say?” Josuke chimed in, spouting “Okuyasu, we have stands. We defeated a serial killer already, one more isn’t going to stop us.”

Okuyasu nods at this, looking like he’s thinking deeply about something, before suddenly throwing his hands out to the sides and yelling to the sky. “Whoa! I’ve got an amazing idea!! Josuke, your gramps is a police officer, right? I bet he knows all about these dead guys! You gotta ask him!” He gets a massive grin and nods at Josuke expectantly,

“Okuyasu, friendly reminder that my grandfather was killed by Angelo, remember?” Okuyasu looks ashamed, putting his hand behind his head. “However, I still am in contact with some of my grandfather’s friends, maybe they could help me out?” Okuyasu’s face lit up again. “Yeah, that’d be great!! Get ‘em to tell ya all about where this guy does his killing, and who he’s been going after!” Josuke knew it wasn’t going to be easy to get the information from his grandfather’s friends, but he had to try.

Looking at you, Josuke tapped you on the shoulder and began to talk. “You want to come with me to the police station? I just need to drop my stuff at home and say hi to my mom before we head out. Is that okay with you?” You responded quickly with a “Yeah, that’s totally fine! Always good to have more time to spend with my friends.” You wave goodbye to your friends as you near your separate houses. Hopefully this police station visit would give you some clues on how to defeat the stand user.

Walking down to Josuke’s house, you enter through the front door, dropping your bag the minute you enter. You say hello to Tomoko, and head back on your way to the police station, Josuke in tow. Upon arrival to the police station, you say hello to the officers as your friend introduces you to them. The two of you head towards the back to an empty desk cluttered with knick knacks and papers. You can take an educated guess whose it was. The man whose desk is closest greets Josuke and asks who you are. Being polite, you speak up and tell him your name, saying that you’re a friend of his. Trying not to act suspicious, Josuke clears his throat and begins to speak.

“There’s been another reported serial killer on the loose in Morioh. My friends and I have been pretty worried about the chances that we will become victims of them. The victims seem to be around our age and that’s just adding fuel to the fire. Any chance you could tell us what connects all these crimes together?” The older officer was not at all pleased with this and declared with a firm and resounding “no.” Josuke frowned, but gave his best “I’m an innocent boy and you can trust me” face.

“Now Josuke, you know we can’t be telling that sort of thing to civilians. This is an open investigation and we don’t want anything to go wrong if info gets into the wrong hands.” Josuke subtly has Crazy Diamond turn the photo on his grandpa’s desk towards the police officer. “Please? One last favor to my grandpa?He knows you would’ve been understanding with him…” With the family photo now looking right at him, he would certainly be feeling a lot more guilty. “Oh... alright, but just this one time and don’t let me hear you told anyone else. It took a while to figure it out due to many hoops to jump through and due to not wanting to ruin these kids personal lives. And it goes without saying that you cannot spread this information as to offend the dead, okay?” Josuke was a little bit puzzled but managed to spit out an “okay…”

The officer sighs and looks away from you as he tries to think of the best way to put this. “These kids were uh... they all died as virgins. We don’t know why this killer chose that as the connecting factor, but it’s the only connection we could find.” Josuke’s mouth dropped. That was the last thing he thought could have been the connection. He assumed the maybe the criminal had spray painted a naughty word on them, or maybe the kids had been caught up in drugs? You on the other hand, were terrified. This meant that you could be a target, and that even with stands, you could not be protected.

“I see...” Josuke finally answered. “Well... thanks for the heads up. We’ll be on our way now. Nice talking to ya. Now we can make sure that our friends and I will stay safe.” And with that the you exited the station in a hurry. Sweat dripped down your face as you paced faster and faster. What were you going to tell Josuke, and what were you going to do about your own impending mortality? The stand user could come out at any moment and ambush you.

Once outside, Josuke turns to you with a less than calm look on his face. “Okay, can I talk to you about something kinda personal? And do you promise not to laugh?” You’re a bit confused by what he means, but nod anyway. He looks around to see if anyone might be listening, then leans in close to say “this guy might target me if that old guy is right about how he picks his kills...” You look at him a bit dumbfounded, someone so attractive, funny and playful, a virgin? You stutter over your words before blurting out “I thought I was the only one! Koichi has Yukako, Okuyasu I’m pretty sure has a girlfriend he’s keeping from us, and that just leaves us two.” He gets over his internal shock that you’re in the same boat fairly quickly and nods back. “So we gotta have each other’s backs... never know when he might strike.”

As the two of you walk back towards his house, a man you don’t recognize steps into the road in front of you. “Glad to see you little squirts are finally out in the open again. Now I can have my fun…” “Has he been stalking us?” Josuke says to you, frankly unsurprised. “Yeah, he has been.”

“Our virginities are a hell of a reason for us to get into a fight. If we make it through this, wanna make sure it can’t happen again?”

“Fuck yes.”

[delldarling]

i didn’t ask | merrick

chasing truth | chapter six male faerie x gender/body neutral reader 2691 words sfw | a little bit of fae q & a note: formatting! i hate it! but hey, a recent comment on this story fully pushed me into working faster to get these next chapters together. you really helped get me through a bout of imposter syndrome, so thank you very, very much chapter index? or chapter five?

⊱ ────── .⋅ 🜁 ⋅. ────── ⊰

“You’re going to find a car? What about-” 

“We can’t use anything that might have a hint of us in it, so using the clunker I have is out. Borrowing one from anyone we know is out too because they can’t have any remnant of glamour, no hair, or spit. Nothing.” Gar glances at you out of the corner of his eye, hesitating before he continues. “I know Merrick wasn’t using glamour, back at your place. He never uses it if he can help it, but what exactly was going on that he left that much of a…” Gar falls slowly silent, blinking twice. “Ah.” Gar’s grin spreads like molasses, slow and lasting and genuine, but it's so wide, it’s almost painful to look at. 

“What?” You ask, feeling like you should be self conscious, but you’re still too worried about Merrick to focus on why.

“It’s, no, never mind. Gives me hope, is all. Now, I don’t know how long we have,” Gar confides in you, elevator rattling steadily on the way down. He takes one look at your face and amends his statement, laughing awkwardly and scratching at the nape of his neck. “It’s not that Merrick can’t keep the guy occupied! He definitely can. He’s more than strong enough for that, and they have-”

“History?” You interject, frowning at him.

“Uh, yeeeah," he says, trying to erase the grimace tugging at his lips. "That. Don’t worry though, I don’t think he’s going to try and kill Merrick, because-” Gar cuts himself off, shaking his head. “Anyway, what I meant is: I don’t know how long we have before Merrick is going to need an out. He can hold him off, but eventually he’s going to tire.” The elevator doors open, but as soon as you take a step forward, Gar has his fingertips pressed to your sternum to stop you. He walks out ahead of you, quieter than normal, but still sporting his typical smile as his eyes sweep the room, and after a few seconds waves you forward.

“Eventually his friend is going to turn his attention back to his mission. As dedicated as Merrick always claimed to be?” Gar doesn’t frown, but it’s a near thing. “I think his friend has him beat.”

You follow Gar to the entryway, hesitating again when it comes to walking around outside barefoot. It shouldn’t be an issue, not in the long run, but part of your brain is insisting that you just need to head back to your apartment for a moment, just to pop in to grab your shoes, never mind the fighting Fae inside it. You know it isn’t wise, isn’t even feasible… Which definitely means you’re in shock.

There are sirens echoing through the streets as soon as Gar pushes open the door. And they’re coming closer. 

“Someone heard the fighting,” Gar mutters and then turns around, beckoning you closer. He has a slightly nervous look on his face, lips curled upward but not smiling. “Honestly, even though you might find this awkward? You need to climb on my back.”

“Your back?” Further words fail you.

Gar kneels, slapping impatiently at his shoulder. He’s right, you do find it awkward, but you listen anyway, circling your arms around his neck. He gets to his feet, wraps his arms around your legs to hold you in place and starts walking. He laughs when you make a grumbling noise, skipping over a crack in the pavement just because he can.

“Why are you walking?” You ask after a moment, lowering your voice even though there isn’t anyone within arm’s reach. Talking loudly feels like asking the universe to fall down on your head right this moment. 

“Police are coming,” he says, and whether it’s because you tense or he can follow your train of thought, he continues: “I can run very fast, but I don’t want to leave a glamour trail. And running that fast without the glamour?" Gar scoffs. "Even if I keep myself to any kind of human running pace, the police are going to assume we’re suspicious. Doing this? It looks like I’m giving a buddy a piggy-back after ruining their shoes, yeah?” Gar hikes you a little higher on his back, whistling. 

“I don’t know that everyone is going to assume that,” you grumble. You can’t help turning your head, looking back at the two police vehicles screeching to a stop in front of the apartment building. Hurriedly, you look back ahead, trying to look like some poor fool who lost their shoes somehow. You probably look more like a child, with someone like Gar carting you around, arm muscles bulging, head bopping as he walks.

“Maybe not, but no one is going to come after us. Now, shoes first—think you can make it in some knock-off keds?” He turns his head, nearly knocking you in the face with the bill of his ball cap. You jerk out of the way, frowning when you realize that you’ve never seen him in a hat before. Granted, you never would have pegged him as a sports guy, not hearing him chatter about TV or comics, but still. You’re learning all kinds of new things about Gar.

“How long have you been hanging around with humans to know about things like keds or knock off brands?” You ask, and jump, squeezing awkwardly at Gar’s shoulders when there’s a shattering noise coming from your building. You know it’s Merrick and Roran, but as soon as you try and look again, Gar picks up the pace. 

“Unlike Merrick, I’m very into submersion as a learning tool. Languages, culture-”

“You just like TV,” you tease, trying to ignore the heavy feeling in your stomach. Everything is going to be fine, right? “And since when do you wear Banshees merch?” You ask, purely to keep yourself distracted. 

“Yeah, yeah, I like TV,” Gar agrees with a sigh. “Since today,” he adds. “No glamour, which means warm clothes annnd now I feel worse about leaving you without shoes. Alright, knock off keds, here we go!” He walks for the next ten minutes, barely even breaking a sweat. Gar heads straight for the pharmacy when he spots it, forgetting about the constant stream of chatter he’s kept up for your benefit. He keeps to the edge of the parking lot and deposits you carefully on a bench just outside the door, letting you settle comfortably. He pauses when he sees your face though, fiddling with his hat when he sees your eyes widen over the gloves he’s wearing.

“Going to tell me what’s under those?” You ask, only half joking. 

Gar snorts, lingering. “You’re not wowed by any of this, are you?”

“Shut up. I most definitely am, but-”

Gar interrupts your answer with a quick flap of his hand. “Yeah, I know. It’s a compliment though. You humans sure are terribly resilient in the strangest of ways.” Gar shakes his head, brown eyes blinking a little too fast. “Anyway, scream if you see… Just scream,” he finally settles on saying. “Going to get you those shoes.” He turns on his heel, pasting on a bright smile as he strides into the shop. He’s only gone for a few minutes, but you spend your time alone trying not to fidget, trying not to meet the eyes of passers-by. When he pops back out of the pharmacy, holding up a pair of gray canvas shoes and blinding white socks, you can’t help but laugh. “They were out of black,” he says primly, turning to glance down the street. “Uh, put those on and I’ll be right back.” He sets them in your hands, only barely tilting his head to make sure you have hold on them before he’s moving.

The shoes are by no means comfortable, but between them and the cheap socks, you can manage for a bit. It isn’t until you hear the steady rumbling of a car engine, and spot him parked at the corner, waving at you with a goofy smile on his face, that you realize he was off stealing a car. For a few moments all you can do is sit on the bench and stare, but when his waving gets a bit more urgent, you jump to your feet, white noise filling your head. He stole a car.

As soon as you slide into the front seat, Gar hits the gas pedal, cruising out of the parking lot. He’s leaning far too close to the windshield to be comfortable though, tiling his head so he can keep looking up.

“Are... is Merrick up there?” You ask, leaning forward too, but Gar quickly shakes his head. He glances pointedly at the seatbelt in your hand. You click it closed immediately. 

“Wasn’t looking for the flying fools, but that’s a good idea!! I was actually checking for security cameras,” he says, an awkward smile curling his lips.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you say under your breath, slouching back in your seat and trying not to grip too tightly to the door handle. “Alright. Can I get some answers from you now that we aren’t on foot, or are you going to ignore me?”

“Do I usually ignore you?” Gar asks. That petulant little frown of his fast wipes out any hint of a smile.

You scowl, noting the phrasing. “You didn’t answer, but okay. This- Roran. Roran is after you, Merrick was after you, and Merrick says he still doesn’t know why. You aren’t the gardener that-”

Gar wrinkles his nose. “Well, Merrick didn’t really hold anything back from you, did he?” You realize, with a start, that you’ve never seen Gar drive before. He doesn’t look like he’s doing a half bad job of it, actually, he doesn’t look confused, at any rate, but he looks… Uncomfortable. He’s clutching a little too hard at the steering wheel, shoulders raised and elbows out in an awkward looking hunch. 

“No, he didn’t.” You open your mouth, ready to plow ahead with your questions, but... “Gar, you’ve driven before, right?”

“Of course!” He says, immediately. “I’ve definitely driven before. The only thing that makes it difficult is the man made material. It just makes me... lethargic, possibly?” His lips thin, jaw clenching as he puzzles over his choice of words. “Coupled with the movement, I’m not fond of it.”

“...Alright. Now, are you going to keep this whole thing to yourself or what? Because Merrick gave it up, but now he’s going toe to toe with a, a friend over you, and-”

“Listen,” Gar says, tone more than passingly sharp. “I didn’t ask Merrick to do anything for me-”

“Nope,” you interrupt, reaching over and slugging him once in the arm. It hurts you more than it does him, as it didn’t exactly have much force behind it, but it makes the anger fade from his face. “We’re not going to get into the whole you don’t understand cliché, because you know why we don’t understand? You’re not talking. Merrick said you tried to save someone? But that’s as much as you’ve told him. So even if you don’t end up telling me, I think you need to reconsider letting him in on what’s happening. I’m still just trying to wrap my head around this Faerie business and the fact that you exist! But you two are dealing with assassins and monarchs!” You huff, out of breath, frowning when you recognize the street he’s driving down. 

Gar’s hands twist awkwardly at the steering wheel and the worn out cover around it. One of the small splits in the fake leather turns into a large tear when he gets a little too vigorous, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. “..are we done yelling at me?” He asks, forcing a small laugh.

You shake your head, ignoring that particular question. “We’re coming back to the subject, I promise, but did you just bring us back to your place?” You ask, the older car rolling to a stop in front of his apartment building.

“Yeah, and we’re going to pack some things this time. Want to lend me a hand?” Gar barely looks at you, but he doesn’t dare leave you in the car by yourself. As soon as he’s out, he waits next to your door, scanning up and down the street like he’s some kind of bodyguard until you’re out. He takes hold of your forearm, grip steady, but loose, just in case he needs to pull away. 

“Seeing as I don’t want to sit on my hands and worry?” You ask sarcastically. “Sure.” You let Gar tow you inside, nervous, but the place they share looks mostly untouched. Things have been moved, but it doesn’t look like anything in the front room is broken. Gar’s bedroom is much the same, but Merrick’s bedroom is… A mess. Nothing has been destroyed, but the sheets on his bed are strewn across the floor and his clothes look like they’ve been thrown around the room by a whirlwind. A leather bag, one he’d carried with him everywhere when you first met, has been emptied across the top of his dresser, items still hanging out of the pockets. 

“If… If you don’t mind,” Gar says, frowning at the mess. “Put everything that’s been spilled out of the bag back in, and grab him some clothing? We’ll try and make a round trip back to your place for stuff too-”

“My stuff?” You ask, surprised. Gar’s smile has all but faded. 

“...Roran isn’t going to be looking for only Merrick and myself, now. If he’s made a promise, if he wants to keep himself from being forsworn, he’s going to use any and everything he can to get one or both of us out in the open.” He waits a beat, debating before he finally blurts: “Hostages.” Gar pulls his phone out of his pocket. “I shouldn’t have told Merrick to hide at your place, I know that now. He tracked me down before I reached-” Gar swallows, closing his eyes tightly as he attempts to steady his breathing. “I’m just saying it’ll be safer, for now, if you come with us.” 

“With you, you mean. We don’t know where Merrick is,” you say, trying to ignore how tight your chest feels. Maybe the shock is wearing off, or maybe you’ve just reached that point of too much. Your eyes feel hot, and your shoulders ache with tension, but you aren’t crying. Not yet. 

Gar laughs, though it doesn’t sound particularly happy. “Unless Roran has learned how to use a phone in the few hours we’ve been gone, I think we’ll see Merrick soon enough.” He turns the phone your way, where a text from Merrick is open on the screen. 

talk soon 

“That’s informative,” you tell him, but you can’t deny that you feel slightly better. 

“Right, well, can you pack for him, or should-”

“I’ll do it,” you sigh, and turn away. Despite having been friends with Gar for technically longer, you’ve never been more than casual buddies. He’s always been fun, has always had a lovely sense of humor and he’s good with people in general. But you’ve never had reason to press for more than he’s offered, and he’s never offered to invite you into anything personal before. 

“Are vampires real?” You call over your shoulder, picking up the leather bag and some of the trinkets laying next to it, thumb stroking over the rounded edge of a plastic gem. Merrick had snatched it up off the street a month ago, fond of it’s shine.

There’s a choked laugh from the next room. 

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,” Gar quotes, which is another ridiculous non-answer that you are fast getting tired of. 

“Be that way then,” you mutter, tempted to start shoving things into the bag angrily. You roll your shoulders though, hoping to ease some of the ache, and start going through the clean clothes strewn everywhere, grabbing things you think you’ve seen Merrick wear before. His tastes run towards the simple, so finding ones he’ll wear isn’t terribly hard. You recognize the ridiculous cartoon print shirts that Gar had bought Merrick as a gift though, recalling the grimace he’d done nothing to hide, mouth twisted like he’d bitten into a vastly sour lemon. Those look like they’ve never been worn.

“I do expect a warning if one of my co-workers ends up being one,” you call out, just to keep conversation going. The quiet is… A little uncomfortable, if you’re being honest. “If people around town start keeling over from blood loss, I’m coming straight to you-”

“Got it,” Gar calls back, and he sounds a bit more like his usual self. “No vampire coworkers for Horatio.”

“If you stick me with that nickname, I am going to-”

His phone rings, echoing through the apartment, and interrupting both your words and his response. The both of you stop. You abandon the packing, coming to stand in the doorway of Gar’s room as he answers his phone.

“Merrick,” he starts, knuckles pale and eyebrows drawn together, and then he wheezes, flashing you a thumbs up. You don’t hear the next few words, overwhelmed with relief as you are, but you do catch sight of the grin on Gar’s face. “He’s packing you a bag,” he tells you with a laugh, when he sees that you’re paying attention again. “And we have a place to meet, so we all need to hurry the hell up and-” Gar glances down at the floor, licking nervously at his lips. “I guess I have some things I should talk to you two about, if you’re willing to hear it.”

⊱ ────── .⋅ 🜁 ⋅. ────── ⊰

...turn the page?

[alpacaparkaseok]

Where you should be

Chapter 3: Nemesism

Genre: Hobi x oc

Warnings: this series contains stalking, blackmail, and similar stressful/fear inducing situations. Also unrequited love, which is perhaps the most terrifying of all.

Word Count: 3.8k

Guys! Last chapter was a bit of a downer lol. I wish I could say that all of this gets resolved quickly and easily, but that’s no fun. So enjoy!

Nemesism (n.) frustration or anger directed against oneself

The next morning I hardly see Hobi. He eats early, making me a smoothie and leaving it on the counter with my name.

Well, with a sticky note that says ‘Sunny’.

I can hear his music blasting from his room where he’s getting ready, it’s loud enough that he doesn't hear my loud breathing as I close my eyes and try to focus on just getting through this morning.

When it’s time for us to leave Hobi walks out into the living room to find me standing awkwardly before the window, staring out of it like I just might flee the scene before he can see me.

“Do-yun sent a car for you, it should be outside.”

They’re the first words he says to me all morning, and they have me turning around from where I stand before the window, the meaning behind his words enough to rake through my already shredded heart.

“Hobi-”

Just as I begin to speak he turns away, starting to walk from the room. A heartbeat later finds me striding toward him, throwing caution to the wind.

“Jung Hoseok, don’t you dare do this to me. Don’t you dare,” I jump in front of him, putting a stop to his escape. He keeps his eyes trained on the hallway beyond. “You’re going to start being all weird and distant, and I can’t...I can’t-”

My voice breaks a little until I’m suddenly drowning in tears. I’m just as shocked as Hobi is, and I bring my hands up to my face, trying to stop the flow.

“I- Ha-rin, I didn’t mean to-”

My face is burning with embarrassment as I realize that I have no right to be bawling like a baby in front of the man that just confessed his love to me last night. He has every right to be distant and angry, yet here I am sobbing before him.

But I want him.

I want him so bad. And he’s standing less than a foot away, that sad expression swimming in his eyes as he brings me into his arms, his cheek resting atop my head.

Don’t ever let me go.

“We’re a mess, aren’t we?” Hobi mumbles.

I laugh through the tears, melting into his embrace as Hobi laughs along. How can we still be laughing even after we’ve put our hearts through so much pain?

Standing there with my face pressed up against his shoulder, crying and laughing at the same time, the realization of my feelings for him hit me hard and fast. Sure, the foundation has been laid for a while now, but standing here with my heart in pieces and completely unable to pick up Hoseok’s shattered heart, I know what I feel.

There’s a difference between wanting someone and loving someone.

If I just wanted Hoseok, I would have bailed out on any sort of integrity I have left and told him right then and there that I was an idiot. That I couldn’t stand not being around him. That I want to be his, and I want him to be mine.

Yet, I love him.

Which is exactly what has me extracting myself from his arms, apologizing, and heading straight out the door.

I only allow myself to look back once as I close the door, clutching my things in my arms. There he stands, still facing the hallway. Clinging to his sweatshirt in his fists as though it’s the only thing keeping him on the earth.

Sitting in the back of the black SUV, I wonder how I can feel such different emotions at once. There’s peace knowing I did what I had to do.

And there’s loneliness, cursing my name for throwing away what was sure to be a cure.

♟

June 2019

“That sounds great,” I say into the mic. “Come out here and listen to it, then we’ll go from there.”

Soobin, Hueningkai, and Beomgyu exit the recording booth and head into the studio. They crowd around me, leaning in to listen to the latest version of the song.

We’ve been in here for about an hour now, going over a rough version of a new song for them. It’s been nice to have them around, I’m usually pretty alone in my studio. Other than the occasional visit from Dohyeong or Pdogg, I tend to have my space.

Space is...good.

We’ve just started listening to the recording when there’s a knock on my door. Swiveling around in my chair, I grin as I see who the visitor is.

“Well well,” I muse. “Look who decided to drop in.”

Dohyeong smiles back at me, saying hello to the other boys. “How’s it going?”

I shrug. “Good. We’re just working on some stuff. What’s up?”

“I was actually coming to steal you away for a bit. I need a second opinion on something. Unless you’re busy…?”

Glancing at the other boys, they wave me away. “Will it take long?”

“No, not too long.”

Getting up from my seat, I laugh as Hueningkai immediately takes the vacant seat. “Take your time,” he croons, enjoying the seat of power. The other two boys instantly start bickering over the chair, making me roll my eyes endearingly at them.

“I’ll be back soon. Don’t delete anything.”

I follow Dohyeong out the door, taking the stairs as we head up to the next floor where his studio is.

“So how’s it been going?”

Dohyeong is one of the only people I ever really see around the Bighit building these days. Other than TXT and a handful of other producers, it’s a ghost town on my floor of the building.

I guess I never noticed how little traffic there was on my floor before. I always had one visitor popping in.

Ever since February, Hoseok has been scarce. While he didn’t seem to be angry anymore, he certainly hasn’t gone out of his way to seek me out. I can’t say I blame him.

It’s made it a little easier, I think. Not seeing him everywhere I go has allowed me to buckle down and get to work without feeling sorry for myself.

“It’s been good. Pretty steady. What are you working on that you wanted me to look at?”

We’re just entering his studio as I finish my question, and I nearly fall flat on my face as we walk through the door.

It would appear that Dohyeong was not working alone. In fact, the entire rapline is here with Pdogg.

Namjoon paces back and forth on one side of the room, hardly even noticing my presence when I walk through the door. Yoongi sits in a chair beside Pdogg, chatting with him about the track.

Hoseok sits on the sofa in the back of the room, his elbows on his knees as he stares forward, lost in thought.

His hair is black now, so different from those honey-brown highlights I swooned over a few months ago. Now he looks much sharper, like a force to be reckoned with.

He looks dangerous.

“Really Dohyeong?” I try to keep my tone light as everyone in the room turns to look at me. “Second opinion?”

Dohyeong shrugs, moving to sit before his computer. “If I told you I needed your opinion, you would’ve told me to ask Pdogg or something.”

Pdogg chuckles, nodding along knowingly. “Nice to see you, Sunny. You never come around anymore. Too cool for us now?”

It takes every fiber of my being for me to not look at Hoseok.

“Just been busy,” I mumble, coming to stand beside Dohyeong’s chair. “How’ve you been?”

Pdogg shrugs. “Same old same old.”

Namjoon strides forward, never one to get bogged down with awkward small talk. Not when there’s work to be done. “Hey, Sunny. Would you mind listening to this for us? I think we’ve all been listening to it for so long that we can’t get a fresh perspective on it.”

I nod, settling down into the chair beside Dohyeong and slipping a pair of headphones on. “Anything I need to know going into it?”

Yoongi chuckles from behind me, causing me to turn about in my chair. In the process, I can’t help but peek over at Hoseok.

He’s looking right at me already, every bit of his attention honed in on me. My eyes graze his, and the momentary eye contact leaves me sparking with electricity.

“Well, Hoseok wrote most of this, so it’s his fault if it sucks.” Yoongi smirks at his friend, earning himself a glare in return.

I force myself to laugh along with everyone else, wincing internally as Hoseok leans back against the sofa and crosses his ankle over his knee.

Has he somehow become better looking over the past few months?

“Good to know,” I mumble, turning back to the screen. Dohyeong nods at me, starting the track.

From the corner of my eye I can see that everyone else has gone back to pacing or chatting, so I take the time to lean back against my chair and close my eyes, really taking it in.

I can definitely tell that Hoseok inspired a lot of this track, it sounds like him. RM starts it off, his voice gruff as he delivers the lyrics, painting a picture in the way that only he can.

Suga joins in on the chorus, and I frown. His voice is nearly drowned out from the heavy drums in the background. I make a mental note to tell them as much.

It’s not until the bridge that J-hope makes an appearance.

My heart begins to pound in my chest, and my eyes fly open as I stare at the monitor. I watch the small numbers counting down until the end of the song, begging them to pick up the pace. Hoseok’s voice lodges itself into my mind, and for a moment the words end it before it can begin are replaced by the phrase he keeps spitting out again and again.

You moved on before I could move you.

You moved on before I could move you.

You moved on before I had a chance to move-

My knee hits the bottom of the desk as I rip the headphones off my head, tossing them onto the desk before launching out of my chair. Everyone freezes where they sit, looking at me with various levels of confusion.

Hoseok is the only one in the entire room that has yet to react to my sudden actions. He keeps his eyes down, picking at something on his sleeve. His chest doesn’t move as he refuses to breathe.

“Drums are too loud in the chorus, Yoongi.” I bite out the words, ripping my attention away from Hoseok. “They’re drowning out your voice.”

Yoongi nods slowly, his mouth hanging open as he stares at me. “Ok.”

Namjoon steps forward, hands outstretched as though trying to grasp the situation. “You didn’t even finish the song, though. Isn’t there anything else?”

I’ve already taken several steps toward the door, Hoseok’s voice ringing through my mind unceasingly. Turning to shake my head at Namjoon, I feel as though somebody set me on fire. “No. Sounds great. Sorry,” I lie, I really couldn’t care less. I have to get out of here. “I’ve got to go check on the boys.”

The door gives way and I’m out into the hallway, striding toward the elevator like my life depends on it. I decide against it once I get there, heading into the stairwell beside the elevator and making it down a total of five steps before I collapse and sit with my head between my legs.

You moved on before I could move you.

The walls are caving in on me as I sit in the stairwell, and I close my eyes tight against them. Eventually it becomes too much to handle, and I find myself launching up and climbing up the stairs.

I’m not completely sure how tall the Bighit building is, but it’s definitely tall enough that I’m a panting, sweaty mess by the time I clear the final floor. Staring at the door, I push through it and find myself in an empty hallway.

The sound of music coming from what I assume are training rooms at the end of the hallway meet my ears, and as though in a trance I gravitate toward the sound.

The music gets louder and louder as I approach the room. The door is closed, so whoever is inside must be blasting it. Leaning up against the wall just outside the room, I close my eyes for just a moment.

The bass vibrates through the floor, accompanied by the persistent music that seems to know just how horrible I’m feeling inside.

For the first time in my life, I understand why people say that there’s only a thin line between love and hate.

Standing here with my back pressed against the wall, I feel so much hate. It’s overwhelming, overtaking my senses as I clench my fingers into fists. If my eyes were open, I’m sure I would be seeing red.

Instead, I’m picturing my contract in my mind. The music swells as I picture signing that contract over and over again, laughing at the thought of ever getting to know any idols past a purely professional level.

There’s so much anger in me as I think over the past few months, remembering all those hours spent alone in the studio. Staring at my monitor, the same scene from Hoseok’s apartment playing over and over again in my mind as I try to pretend like nothing happened. The way I held my breath every time I heard footsteps coming down my hallway, some pathetic piece of my praying that it would be Hobi, coming with a bag of food and a sheepish smile, telling me that being friends was enough for him.

I should know better by now; I live in a world where Hoseok is a stranger to me now and I’m back to taking the bus.

Still, in those slower hours in the studio I find myself wondering what it would be like if I could tell him that I do love him. I love him still, four months later. That all of this was some horrible rule I had to follow in order to save us both.

But even in this world how could I look him in the eyes that once gazed at me so softly and tell him that he’ll move on? That he’ll find someone that is free to love him?

Hate is an addicting feeling, I realize. Hate is so much safer than love. Love requires you to make the right decision, even if it means you’ll come out lacking.

The music stopped.

My eyes open to find myself almost in another world. The hallway hasn’t changed at all, but the absence of the booming music almost makes it easier to breathe. Suddenly I’m no longer drowning in my feelings, but rather observing them.

The sound of someone nearly hyperventilating has me pushing off the wall, rushing over to the closed training room and throwing it open before another thought can cross my mind.

Even though the door flying open should have alerted the occupant to my presence, they don’t notice me as I stand in the doorway.

Hoseok sits with his back against the far wall, his knees pulled up to his chest as he runs his hands through his hair and over his face. He’s still wearing the same clothes as he was less than fifteen minutes ago in the studio downstairs, but it’s clear he was just working out in them. Most likely dancing, if I’m going to make a guess.

How did he get up here so fast?

Frozen in the doorway, I go over my options. They’re quite simple, seeing as there’s really only two.

First, turn and leave. Run away before he sees me. It’s tempting, especially because it already looks like I’m invading his privacy.

And second.... “The song wasn’t that bad.”

Hoseok’s head shoots up so fast that I’m afraid he hit it against the wall. His eyes are wide and he looks quite frankly exhausted. I wince at the look he gives me.

“What...” his voice is raw and I wonder how it got like that. He shakes his head, looking down at the floor.

I take one step forward, then one step back. Hoseok’s eyes shutter as he watches my uncertainty, but he makes no move to say anything else.

So tired.

He looks so drained. Like someone took a giant spoon and ladled out all of his leftover emotions, leaving him a drained well that is just waiting for another rain.

Suddenly the thought of me hiding in my studio and replaying this entire awkward experience in my head seems more horrible to me than talking to Hoseok, so I take another step inside the room. His eyes never leave the floor.

“Is everything...” I shake my head, trying to gain some courage. Did my heart always beat this hard around him before? “Is everything alright?”

Hoseok chews on the inside of his cheek as he ponders my stupid question. Then, almost as if changing clothes, his expression changes. Brightens, almost.

I can still see the dark storm clouds hovering over his head, though. No matter how brightly he smiles at me now, those rain clouds aren’t far behind.

“Fine.” He brushes his hair away from his face, reverting back to the meticulous Hoseok I know. “Did you see...?”

I frantically shake my head, earning a look of profound relief on Hoseok’s part. “No! No, I was just-” I pause, not entirely sure of what to say. Running from my undying love for you and the hate of what we’ve become doesn’t seem very appropriate.

Hoseok raises his brows, rising to his feet but remaining on the opposite side of the room. “Just what?”

“Just...going for a walk.”

“A walk?”

“Yep.”

I cringe as Hoseok takes a long look at me before turning away and heading toward the speaker system in the corner. “Do you have a tendency to take walks to the top floor?”

Is that worry I’m sensing? I realize with a start that perhaps Hoseok spends a lot of time up here, and I think that the lack of visitors on this floor might have something to do with that.

“...no.” Watching Hoseok’s back, which remains visibly tense, I take a step backward. “I should probably get going.”

He nods once. “Ok.”

“I…” Why can’t I form a proper sentence around this man? “Sorry. Bye.” Turning on my heel, I stride out of the room as quickly as possible, keeping my eyes ahead of me as my heart nearly pounds out of my chest. Throwing the door to the stairwell open, I don’t stop moving until I’ve returned to my studio.

Beomgyu jumps out of my chair when he sees me come in, his smug victory smile wiped off his face.

“Is everything alright?”

Well isn’t that the question of the day. “Yep. Did you guys listen to the track?”

Soobin steps up. “Yeah, it sounds great. We were just going to pass it along-”

“Perfect. I’ll export it to your project manager right now.”

In my peripheral I can see the three boys exchanging glances, but I pay them no mind. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll be mortified and apologize, but right now I would really like for them to leave.

They shuffle out, mumbling their farewells. Hueningkai turns around at the last moment. “Do you want me to leave the door open or close it?”

Swiveling in my chair, wave him off. “Closed, please.” He does just as I ask, and suddenly I’m alone in the studio listening to their retreating footsteps.

Closing my eyes, I gather the strength to get up and lock the door. Something tells me that I won’t want to be interrupted for a while.

I’ve just risen from my chair when an envelope slides under my door, making my breath catch in my throat. Hurried footsteps rush down the hallway, but I don’t bother to open the door to see who it is.

Picking up the envelope from off the floor, I frown when it isn’t labeled. It’s simply a white, blank envelope. Ripping it open, I unfold a piece of notebook paper.

I know who you are, but do you know who I am?

Bighit can’t save you now, Jung Ha-rin.

Instantly my heart rate kicks up as I read those words over and over again. Rushing to my door, I pull it open to see who left this horrible note only to find the hallway empty. Standing there in the middle of the corridor, I fight the urge to rip the note to shreds and cry in a corner.

The sound of me barging back into my studio and slamming the door shut reverberates throughout the entire floor, but the sound of my heart pounding drowns out the noise. I hold the note back up to my eyes, practically panting as I read it again.

“What is happening?” I whisper.

♟

When I leave later that night, I still have no idea what’s going on. I leave earlier than usual, although it’s still dark. Mentally cursing myself, I decide to just hope for the best. With my luck today, I’ll be kidnapped or something before I can even make it to my apartment. 

I sent a picture of the note to Bang PD along with a short explanation of what happened. He told me that he would review the security cameras to get a look at who it was that delivered the message, but advised me to catch a ride with someone rather than taking the bus.

So naturally I’m taking the bus.

Sulking at the bus stop while keep my eyes and ears open for any suspicious activity, I can’t help but laugh a little.

Today sucked.

Just as the bus pulls up, I feel my phone vibrate. Scrambling onto the bus and sitting in the first available seat, I pull my phone out and nearly choke when I see what message I just received.

I can’t help the sound that comes out of me upon seeing his message - it’s a mixture of a groan and a sharp intake of breath, resulting in a coughing fit. The people closest to me glare and scoot farther away but I don’t care.

Staring down at his message, I have to breathe slowly and deeply in order to stop myself. As much as all of this is a dream...the note I carry in my pocket reminds me of all that’s at stake here.

Bang PD’s words accompany the note, repeating themselves over and over again in my mind as I punch out a reply. 

End it before it can begin. 

Shoving my phone back into my pocket before I give into temptation, I jump off the bus as my apartment complex comes into view. Keeping my head down, I hurry up to my apartment. 

As soon as I enter the apartment I’m rushing to my room, grabbing a box from under my bed and rummaging through it until I find what I’m searching for. 

“There you are.” Holding up a staff photo from when I first started at Source entertainment, my eyes zone in on one of the male staff members on the far end. 

Now just add a hood, a bit of scruff, and crazy eyes. What is my old co-worker doing hanging around my apartment complex? And if my hunch is correct, what was he doing in the Bighit building today?

Previous - Next

taglist is open! 

taglist: @taylorroe3​ @dreamcatcherjiah @diorhoba @eusticenatalie @ddaeng-i-need-help

[fruitymimi]

Pet Hero - Tomura Shigaraki x Reader

where shigaraki finds a hero who was trying to complete a mission, things go south and he ends up fucking them dumb

warnings: uh... lots of degradation, sort of dumbification, it’s kinda gross, choking, quirk play kinda? shigaraki just mentions what would happen if he gripped them with all 5 fingers, Autassassinophilia is what it’s called, shigaraki has foul language

pairing: tomura shigaraki x gender neutral reader

a/n: heres a lil smth for yall while you guys wait for free bird 5 cause im such a simp for this mf. thank you guys sm for 240 followers, i love each and every one of you sm <3. don’t be afraid to leave requests, writing small stuff like this rlly helps me create ideas for free bird!! you can request x gender neutral reader, male reader, or female reader from any anime! <3 also... expect reader x levi MAYBE??

word count: 1885

“Stupid little slut can barely control themselves, hm?” Shigaraki traced the back of their neck with his two fingers, his free hand coming up to yank at their hair to force them to look up at him, pinkie out of course. “I‘ll ask you one more fucking time, what’s a pretty little hero like you doing here?” 

They didn’t even know what to say to him. When the hero commission tried to explain to Y/N that even one step going wrong in this mission would easily land them right in the position they were in now. And of course, due to carelessness, here they were, tied to a chair, staring up at the most wanted villain in the large city they lived in. 

“The heroes did this on purpose, huh? Sent their dumbest slut on this mission. How pathetic,” Shigaraki gripped at their chin, giving them a sympathetic look as he ran his pinkie nail over their throat. 

“That’s not true! I am not dumb!” They yelled, tears brimming in their eyes as they looked at him. 

He let out a chuckle. “Oh… So you’re telling me, they sent a pretty little hero like yourself, one who has a useless quirk and can barely fight for themselves, hoping that you alone would take me down? If they cared about you, they would have sent someone who would at least put up a slightly fair fight.” Shigaraki stared at them with his crimson, glowing eyes. “But they sent you, a stupid little hero.”

They bit down on their lip, shaking their head. “I’m not a useless hero!”

Shigaraki leaned back, tilting his head. “Oh? I see what you’re talking about now..” Shigaraki stood up, walking over to now stand in front of them. “You’re not useless cause you’re the heroes little cumdump, aren't you? I can see it in your eyes… You’re too pretty to be a real hero. Too dumb to be a real hero.”

They just looked at him, eyes wide and cheeks hot. “No…”

“Lying right through your teeth? Tell me the truth. You’ve had Eraserhead’s cock between your lips, huh?” Shigaraki pushed his thumb into their mouth, pressing down their tongue, “ooh, you’ve probably had Endeavor’s dick stuffed in your sex, yeah? No… what was All Might’s cock like?” Shigaraki chuckled, swirling his thumb around their mouth. 

“Do you think they would mind if their filthy slut got used by the League? All you have to do is say ‘yes’...” Shigaraki leaned in, licking a stripe up their neck. “And I’ll bury my cock right… in… here…” His free hand traced their throat again, looking up at them. 

Y/N bit down on their lip. They’d be lying if they said they didn’t think Shigaraki was sexy. Especially when he didn’t have that hand on his face, they could see his eyes and his features, his chapped lips, and his wrinkled eye bags. Y/N blinked a few times, mumbling a “yes..” to him. 

Shigaraki hummed, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. “Didn’t take you long? I guess you really are their dumb little slut who’s addicted to cock… I need you to be louder. Say it. Admit that you’re a whore and tell me what you want me to do.”

“Yes. I’m a whore… I want you to fuck me, please..” Y/N said louder, looking up at him with pleading eyes. 

Shigaraki smiled, his hand going to their hero top. He clenched it, instantly decaying the thin material. “Little whore…” He mumbled, his thumb and pointer finger going to their nipple almost immediately. He tugged on the bud, hearing their breath instantly hitch at the feeling. 

“Responding so well, too.” He whispered, darting his tongue out to swirl around the hardened nipple, his teeth coming down to gently bite at the sensitive bud. He hummed when he heard a moan come from their lips, his eyes flickering up to watch their face. 

Shigaraki got a hold of their pants, decaying them with ease. “Have you ever fantasized about this? Me fucking into that pretty hole of yours, my hand around your neck. You’d probably get off on the thought of me ‘accidentally’ dropping my pinkie down on your skin, am I right?” he asked, his tongue trailing down to their thighs. He spread their legs with his knees, his lips attaching to the flesh of their thighs. 

He bit down, gently sucking a bruise onto the soft skin. “You’re gonna be the villain's pretty little fucktoy, aren’t you excited? I can tell you’re already excited, your pretty undies have a wet spot on them..”

“Please, Shigaraki..” they whispered, looking down at him. “Please touch me, I’ll be a good little slut.”

Shigaraki dipped his finger into their underwear, tracing that sensitive spot on their sex. “It’s all wet, too. I knew you’d get off on something as filthy as this..” he decayed the underwear, his hand rubbing against them. “Listen to what I’m about to do, bitch.” Shigaraki cursed, stopping his hand movements. “You’re gonna get on your knees and you’re gonna stretch that pretty hole while I fuck your throat.”

They nodded, “Please do it, I want you so badly..”

Shigaraki grinned, untying them from the chair. “Get on your knees,” he demanded, watching them instantly fall onto their knees. Shigaraki unbuckled his pants, sliding his cock out from his boxers. He gripped their hair, tugging them forward. “Wet your fingers and stretch yourself.” 

They did as they were told, their hand sliding down to their hole. Y/N slowly pushed one of their fingers inside of themselves, their eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. 

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue,” Shigaraki told them, his cock sliding into their mouth instantly. He let out a sigh, his eyes almost rolling back. “Good slut..” he whispered, slowly beginning to move his hips. 

Shigaraki honestly got off on his own ego. It was so painfully obvious. Just the thought of him having one of the pro heroes on their knees when they were clearly supposed to be completing some dumb mission had Shigaraki already hard. It was a fucked up fantasy he’s had, but that’s not even the worst of them. “Choke on that cock like a good little whore… Those dumb heroes couldn’t fuck you half as well as I can, I bet. They just wanna fuck that pretty mouth and call it a day, hm? I’ll make you scream my fucking name.” He promised, thrusting his cock into their mouth at a steady pace.

They whimpered around his cock, looking up at him. His face looked so pretty, his eyes were hooded, cheeks were blushed red and his lips were parted as he panted through his words. 

“And look at you… drooling all over my cock like the little slut you are… how fucking cute..” Shigaraki whispered, running his hands through their hair. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” He said when they glanced back down because of embarrassment. 

They looked up at him, swirling their tongue around his cock. Believe it or not, Shigaraki had a surprisingly sweet taste to himself. They wrapped their hand around his cock, moving it up and down his shaft along with their mouth. 

Shigaraki bit down on his lip, his hand still tangled in their hair. It really was such a pretty sight, seeing Shigaraki with his red tinted cheeks, almost matching his pretty eyes. His lip was still caught between his teeth, eyes were hooded as Shigaraki looked down at them.

“Fuck…” he said with a breathy moan, his hand tightening in their hair. “M’ gonna cum down your throat…” he whispered. Shigaraki clenched his eyes shut as he felt that familiar tingling in his cock. 

Shigaraki’s hips slowed as he reached his climax, a moan coming from his lips when he’d finally came down their throat. He looked down at them after a few seconds, watching them swallow around him. 

He smiled, pulling them up by their hair. “Good little whore, taking all my cum. How does it taste, bitch? Is that slutty little hole of yours ready to get fucked raw, hm?” Shigaraki traced their spit-covered bottom lip, pushing them to have them leaned over the table, face against the cold wood. “Speak.”

They nodded eagerly, looking up at him. “I wan-...I want your cock so badly.” They told him, gripping onto the edge of the table. 

Shigaraki hummed, walking behind them. He gripped at their hips, leaving his pinkies up as he lined himself up with their hole. “Once you take a villain's cock, you’re gonna fall in love. Pretty little hero’s gonna get fucked dumb by all of the league.” Shigaraki slowly slid into them, both of them letting out a sigh. 

“You’ve been fucked so many times and you’re still this tight? Those heroes weren’t fucking you right, huh? Left you unsatisfied all the time, didn’t they?” Shigaraki began to thrust his hips, watching their face twist in pleasure. 

All they could do in response was moan, their eyes clenching shut. The corners of his lips were pulling at a smile, his eyes narrowing. He pulled them up by their neck, putting his chin on their shoulder, pressing their body against his. “Does it feel good, slut? Tell me how my dick feels in that pretty little hole of yours..”

“It feels so good,” Y/N whimpered, looking up at him with teary eyes, “your cock feels so good inside of me..”

Shigaraki watched one of the tears slide down their cheek, a chuckle coming from his mouth. “You look so pretty when you cry, Y/N. Can’t handle how good my cock feels, can you?” Shigaraki’s four-fingered grip tightened on their throat, his teeth coming down to bite on their shoulder. 

They moaned out, back arching into him. “You fuck me so well, you’re gonna make me cum!” They cried out, feeling his hips move faster into them, his tip constantly pressing against that sensitive spot. 

“Yeah? Gonna cum while you’re getting fucked from behind? Do it. I want you to cum so fucking hard that you only think about me whenever you cum. I want you to cry out my fucking name.”

They fluttered around him, their breath becoming ragged. “You feel so fucking good!” They moaned, throwing their head back against his shoulder. They felt their climax finally wash over them as they came, eyes rolling back. 

Shigaraki reached his hand out to trace his fingers over their sensitive spot, hearing their moans grow louder. 

“Such a good little slut, making a mess. I’m gonna cum inside of you, yeah? Gonna make sure everybody knows that you’re fucking mine.” Shigaraki said, his thrusts becoming more and more sloppy as he neared his own orgasm. 

He spilled inside of them, moans leaving his own lips as he bit down on their neck. He muttered curses against their skin, feeling himself throb inside of them. 

He slowly pulled out, looking at their hole to see the cum dripping out of it. “Would you look at that..” he mumbled, turning them around.

As surprising as it is, Shigaraki pressed his lips against theirs, his hand holding the back of their neck. 

“I’ve got my own pet hero..”

[cheekysos]

Between Hate And Lust Part Three

Ashton Irwin x Plus Size Reader

Author’s Note: I think this will be the last part but if you guys feel differently and have any ideas please feel free to share.I think I might have gotten a little carried away but I still kind of like it. Let me know what you think. As I always say  I’m not writing this series to exclude any body type, shape, or size because everyone’s bodies should be accepted and celebrated. So I am very sorry if this in any way excludes anyone, that is not my intention. If there’s anything you’d like to read please leave a request in my asks and I will try my best to do it justice. If you have any feedback or ideas for part three please let me know. Also I know the picture doesn’t really go but I love it and I couldn’t find anything else   

Summary: Y/N is forced to interact with her ex and Ashton comes to her rescue.

Warnings: Brief mentions of alcohol and cigarettes, violence, swearing, and smut 

Y/N’s POV

That voice instantly made you sick to your stomach. You knew he was invited  but you were hoping for your sake and everyone else’s that he wouldn’t show. You were pretty sure he was drunk already, his cheeks were flushed and his eyes were glossed over. He pushed off the wall and stumbled closer to you, the overpowering smell of alcohol confirming your suspicions.

“ ‘cha get all dressed up just for me?” he slurred. 

“It’s a wedding,” you retorted, stepping back from him. 

“You still mad at me? I told ya it was a mistake.” he flicked the butt of his cigarette aside. 

“I really don’t want to get into this with you,” you let out. “Can we just go back to forgetting each other’s existence and call it a night?”

He scuffed dramatically. “You couldn’t forget this even if you wanted to,” he crudely grabbed at his crotch. “Look like you haven’t had a proper fuck in a while...” 

“You’re right...been about two years.” You figured he was too drunk to catch on to your implication about your guys’ sex life but he caught on. 

“Look, I fucked you the best I could considering all the extras I had to work around.” he motioned towards your figure. 

As much as you wanted to fight back you knew now wasn’t the best time; outside your best friend’s wedding, all by yourself with your ex drunk off his ass so you started to walk away from him. His empty hand immediately reaching out for your wrist and holding on tight. 

You looked up at him with pleading eyes, “Please let go. Now is not the time.” 

Ashton’s POV

Your cover song was hit, countless people stopping you as you walked off stage. You tried to be as polite as possible, but the truth was you really didn’t care what they were saying. You saw her reaction as you played the song, you watched her hurry outside and all you wanted to do was make sure she was okay. 

You walked out the door and found her almost instantly. Your blood started to boil, a guy stood there in front of her with his hand wrapped tightly around her wrist. It most likely wasn’t your place to get involved but you didn’t care, you needed to make sure she was safe.

“Y/N,” you called out. “Everything ok?”

Y/N used the distraction to pull away from the man. Your heart aches when she looked at you with puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks.

“Um ya,” her voice was shaky and she rubbed at her wrist. “I was just...”

The guy stood in front of her stepping closer to you.

“Fuck off. It’s none of your business,” he slurred.

You were heated. “You made it my business when you put your hands on her mate. So why don’t you fuck off, let’s go Y/N.” You stepped to the side and reached out for her. She looked at your with a meek smile, just about to grab your hand when hands collided with your chest. You stumbled back a few steps. It took everything in you to not retaliate. You wanted nothing more than to lay him out on the ground right now, which you were fairly certain you could do with just one punch. This time Y/N stepped towards you and placed her hand on your balled up fist.

“It’s not worth it. Please let’s go.” You unclenched your fist and tangled your fingers in hers. Her hand was soft and inviting and you were positive you’d hold it forever if she let you.

Y/N’s POV

You never thought you’d be so happy to see Ashton. You were grateful that he followed you outside. You were desperate to remove yourself and Ashton from that situation before things got any worse. For a split second you forgot about everything while you looked down at your hand intertwined with his, for a split second things were nice.

“She wasn’t the first ya know!” Your ex yelled back at you as you walked away with Ashton. His words stung more than you care to admit but you tried to ignore him and he wasn’t happy about it.

“There were six! And you better get used to gettin’ cheated on when you look like that, fuckin’ cow!” he yelled.

Before you could even process what was happening Ashton’s hand was pulled from your grip and swinging at your ex. His fist connected with his jaw and he was down.

 “Don’t ever talk to her again,” Ashton snapped.

He was either too drunk to care or too scared to hit him back because he just sat on the ground spitting out blood.

You looked at Ashton, “what the hell?!” you questioned.

From the look on his face he wasn’t happy with your reaction. “Seriously? Nothings ever good enough for you!” He raised his voice. “First you’re mad at me for not standing up for you and now I stand up for you and you’re mad at me? Fuck this.” He huffed past you, walking in the direction of the parking lot. 

Ashton’s POV

You really tried to keep your cool, but the second he opened his mouth again you lost it. You weren’t expecting Y/N to just fall into your arms and instantly forgive you but you definitely didn’t expect her to be upset with you. You were just trying to do what you thought was right and at that moment when you heard him say those words, punching him in the face seemed right. Granted it probably wasn’t the best choice but it’s what he deserved.

You hated raising your voice at Y/N, but you were upset. This back and forth with her was getting to be too much. You started to storm off to your car. 

“Ashton will you just stop!” she huffed. You stopped dead in your tracks, Y/N practically running into you. 

“Why? So you can yell at me some more.” You stepped towards her, the space between you two was practically none existent. You could tell Y/N was caught off guard, she bit her bottom lip nervously and it drove you crazy. 

“I don’t get you Y/N,” you chuckled. “One second you seem like you’re ready to forgive me and then the next second you’re ready to rip my throat out.” 

“Because that’s how I feel! You drive me crazy! I know I should hate you, I really want to...but you’re.. fuck! I dont know.” This time she was raising her voice at you. You could tell she was having the same struggle you were so you decided to throw caution to the wind and go for it. 

“You do know. You’re just scared. Tell me what you want.” You looked her up and down and licked your lips. 

Y/N’s POV

God he was infuriating. “You think I’m scared of you?” you laughed. 

“No I think you’re scared of what you want.” You were a little taken back by his sudden confidence but you decided to play along. 

“Oh really? And what is it that I want?” You held your breath while you waiting for his response. 

“I think you want me...want me to push you up against this strangers car and show you how a real man should treat ya.” His words hit you like a ton of bricks. He was right, you were feeling so many different emotions right then but all you could think about was Ashton. If he was going to play this game then so were you.

“Then what are you waiting for?” you teased. 

Ashton was on you instantly, his toned body pressed against yours and massive hands cupping your face. His kiss was better than you could have ever imagined. His lips were soft and sweet, eager but not rushed. Your lips parted, half because you were in shock that this was actually happening and half because you craved to taste him. His tongue slipped into your mouth and danced along yours. He pushed the two of you back against a car, his leg pushed your knees apart to make room for his leg to rest between yours. His thigh providing you with much needed friction. 

“Bet you’re so wet for me.”  he whispered in your ear. The moan he elicited from you was almost embarrassing.  Your desire took over, you couldn’t waste anymore time being shy and self conscious. It was obvious Ashton wanted this as much as you did so for once you let go. 

Ashton’s POV

You were certain she’d be the death of you by the end of the night. The sounds she made went straight to your cock. You were already so hard and you had barely even touched her, who knows how you were going to last once you did. You couldn’t get enough of the of her body. The way it felt pressed up against you, the way she responded to your touch. You kissed every inch of her exposed skin- her cheeks, down the length of her neck,  and all over her clavicle.

“You teasin’ me on purpose?” she moaned. 

“Maybe a little,” you laughed. 

“Please do something, drivin’ me crazy.” she rocked against your knee, begging for more. 

“Since you asked so nicely...” You kept eye contact with her as your fingers trailed down her body, outlining her every curve. You kissed her softly as you got to the hem of her dress. In a swift motion you pushed up her dress and into her soaked panties. 

“Fuuuck...” she gasped so loud you instinctively covered her mouth with your free hand. You started to rub circles around her clit. 

“Gotta keep quiet doll. We are in a parking lot ‘member?” Y/N nodded eagerly. 

You decided you both had had enough teasing for now so you slipped your index finger inside of her. She was so tight and warm, just thinking about being inside her made your dick twitch in your trousers. 

“So tight and wet for me. Ya feel fuckin’ amazing.” You spoke against her lips. 

You started off with a steady pace, pumping in and out of her while your thumb traced over her clit. She tangled her fingers in your hair, pulling on your locks as her climax built up inside her and her other hand started to palm your prominent erection. You were needy for her touch, but you were determined to make this about her right now, to make her feel good. 

“Need more please... Ash,” she begged. 

“You’re such a good girl for me..so needy.” You added an extra finger inside her and increased the pressure on her clit. It must have felt good because you could feel her legs start to shake. She grabbed on to the wrist of your hand that was down her panties, encouraging you to not let up. 

“C’mon doll. Want to see you cum for me. Let me feel ya.” She nodded at your words.

Watching her cum on around you fingers was unlike anything you had experienced. You had made your share of women cum before but none of them looked like Y/N. Her face was so expressive, her body writhed with pleasure and her sounds alone were enough to make you cum.

“Fucking shit Ash,” she panted when you removed your fingers and brought them up to your mouth. 

You licked her orgasm off your fingers, releasing them with a ‘pop’. “Knew it. Taste amazing.”

She caught her breath, “Let’s see how you taste...” She stepped towards you and started to drop to her knees. 

You reached for her, “Not here doll. Can I take you home? I want to take my time with you and treat ya right.” 

“Fine but I still kinda hate you,” she teased.

[winteratdusk]

whumptober day 5/7

@whumptober2020

Captain America: The First Avenger 

Prompts: rescue/carrying/”i’ve got you”

Warnings: vomiting, implied past torture, mentions of past non-consensual drug use

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

“Am I dead?”

Bucky’s familiar voice, rough from disuse or maybe something worse, grabbed Steve’s attention as quickly as anything could. Not like Steve didn’t have plenty else on his plate - he’d just completed his first successful military operation without the military even knowing it, rescuing nearly 400 POWs from certain death - but somehow, through it all, Bucky still took precedence.

“No, Buck,” Steve spoke past a lump in his throat. “No. You’re just fine. Or at least, you’re gonna be.”

Steve was leading the rescued men resolutely southward, out of Austria and back to the encampment in Italy where Captain America had just mysteriously cancelled a series of USO shows geared toward raising troop morale. Finally having seen combat firsthand, Steve was beginning to realize that no amount of flashy choreography or empty rhetoric could raise morale enough to make any sizable difference in the war effort. He had to hope that bringing a whole army’s worth of missing men back from the dead would suffice. Still, he was having a hard time focusing on the mission - as soon as he’d caught sight of Bucky, strapped to a table and trembling his way through his name, rank, and number even though nobody had stuck around to listen, his priorities had shifted so drastically that he was hardly able to spare a thought for the exhausted men trudging along beside them. Hardly an hour of marching with Bucky by his side, clearly hurt and shaking and looking about ready to keel over at any given moment, and Steve had entrusted command of the mission to Dernier and Falsworth, turning his own attention to making sure Bucky made it back in one piece.

“No,” Bucky was saying, shaking his head as though trying to clear it of some delusion. “‘M not. This isn’t real. You’re not real.”

Steve hardly knew what to say. Bucky’s wide eyes and jumbled syllables served as undeniable proof of his impaired lucidity, proof that whatever drugs the HYDRA doctor had cooked up were still running through his veins. Steve didn’t know how to reach him, to make him realize that, whatever else he was seeing or whatever else he’d been through, this was real, and he was safe.

“Come on, Buck,” he settled for saying. Simultaneously walking and talking seemed like a challenge for Bucky in his weakened state, and he’d stumbled to a halt on the narrow dirt path, swaying a little as he stood staring up at Steve in guarded disbelief. “We gotta keep up so we don’t get left behind. Can I… can I help you?”

Steve reached out for Bucky, who had gone deathly pale and looked about a second from passing out. Bucky pitched forward a little before righting himself, batting Steve’s outstretched hand away even as he winced at the rapid movement.

“No!” he forced out, loudly enough to startle a couple of errant birds out of the trees that grew thick and sloping over the covert path. A few of the other rescued men spared them a sideways glance, but soon enough turned their weary eyes back to the road under their feet. Steve supposed they’d all seen far worse, a realization that did little to alleviate the worry rising in his chest.

“I’m fine,” Bucky insisted. His voice was loose and watery, like the muscles in his jaw were too lax to enunciate with any degree of precision. Anyone who looked at him would know just how wrong that assertion was - he looked awful, all clammy skin and grime and bruises so bad that the sight of them pulled at Steve’s heart. Then there was the constant trembling, which Steve had initially attributed to the cold but was now beginning to believe might be coming from something else, and the lingering confusion, the lack of recognition in Bucky’s cloudy eyes. Steve wanted nothing more than to reach out to Bucky and just hold him until he was steady on his feet again, but Bucky still seemed bent on fighting him, unable to reconcile the Steve standing before him with whatever else was going through his head.

“Okay,” Steve sighed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat to resist the urge to use them to manually steady Bucky on his feet. “Okay. We’ve got to move, though. Can you do that?”

“Hm.” Bucky swallowed hard before forcing his shaking legs back into motion, his shoulders hunching as he doggedly stumbled forward. Steve hovered by his side, knowing he wasn’t welcome but still finding himself physically unable to let Bucky stray more than a few feet away from him. He’d crossed an ocean to be here, gone behind enemy lines without even a second thought, thrown everything he had away just for the off-chance that he might be able to see Bucky again. And he had, but, god, it was all so wrong, Bucky Barnes from Brooklyn beaten down and half-dead and looking at Steve like he didn’t even know him. Steve knew it was selfish, but he couldn’t get over how much that last one hurt.

Steve forced himself to stay quiet, giving Bucky space to concentrate on putting one foot in front of another. Their boots crunched against the thin layer of ice that had settled on the path overnight as they walked, the steady rhythm of Steve’s footfalls all but masking the sounds of Bucky’s stuttered steps. Their breath crystallized in the chilly morning air, rising in clouds toward the canopy of trees above them. It was cold, Steve was realizing. He hardly felt cold anymore, but it was bad enough now that even he found himself shivering a little, tugging the shoulders of his coat tight for warmth.

Bucky, on the other hand, was shaking hard. Even the jacket Steve had forced him into back at the factory didn’t seem to be helping much. The slight tremor that had been running through him when Steve first found him on that lab table had ramped up tenfold, making every jerky step look like it took an almost herculean effort.

“You okay?” Steve murmured, fully aware that Bucky wasn’t but having no idea what else to say. Bucky had always taken care of him, Steve thought bitterly. Why was he finding himself so woefully incapable of returning the favor?

Bucky didn’t respond, keeping his shoulders hunched and eyes down as he staggered along. Steve sighed, trying not to get too upset about it. He knew Bucky was in rough shape, and half out of his mind on HYDRA drugs to boot, but that didn’t make his stoic disbelief any easier to deal with.

Steve glanced away from Bucky for a moment to take stock of the other men. It looked like they were moving forward as steadily as they could be, but Steve was realizing that Bucky’s halting pace had set them falling behind with the stragglers - any slower and they stood the chance of being abandoned entirely. Steve was about to turn back to Bucky and relay this information when he heard an awful thud, the sound of a body hitting the ground. Steve whipped around to see Bucky curled up in the dirt, looking like he’d just taken a hard fall onto the icy path.

“Bucky!?” Steve was wholly unable to keep the panic from his voice as he dropped to his knees, the other men all but forgotten. His world had once again narrowed until it was just Bucky, trembling on the cold ground.

Bucky moaned, the weak, shaky sound barely audible over the sounds of the other men’s boots as they made their way past. He shoved himself up until he was braced against the hard-packed dirt on his hands and knees, still swaying even though he was barely inches from the ground. As Steve watched, Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his jaw and swallowing hard against seemingly nothing.

“Hey,” Steve said, hardly hearing himself over the frantic pounding of his own heart. “Hey, talk to me. What’s wrong? What… what can I do?”

Bucky gulped again, pulling a deep breath in through his nose. He worked up a mouthful of spit and aimed it at the ground before struggling to wrap his mouth around a word.

“Dizzy…”

“Okay,” Steve sighed, reaching out a tentative hand to gently brush Bucky’s shoulder. At first Bucky tensed under his touch, but another round of nauseating swaying seemed to drain the fight out of him.

“Okay,” Steve repeated. “You’re okay, Buck.”

“I - I don’t…” Bucky slurred, staring wide-eyed at the ground like it might move or disappear if he so much as blinked. “I don’t… feel good.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry,” Steve whispered. “I know you’ve been through… a lot. And I promise, as soon as we make it back, this’ll all be over and you’ll be able to lie down and rest. We just have to make it a little bit further, okay?”

Bucky barely acknowledged him. He was going paler by the second under the garish bruises on his face, and Steve had the sudden and horrible thought that he might pass out right there on the cold ground.

“Come on. Let me help you,” Steve said quickly. He stood up and offered a hand down towards Bucky, who blindly raised a trembling arm to meet Steve’s.

“Yeah, okay. Good.” Steve tugged Bucky into a standing position, trying not to be too rough as he manhandled all of Bucky’s dead weight. He debated for a moment the most helpful course of action, eventually deciding to sling one of Bucky’s limp arms over his own shoulders, wrapping an arm around Bucky’s waist to support more of his weight. Upright, Bucky seemed to have a hard time finding his footing, stumbling into Steve’s chest before righting himself and pointing his feet in more or less the direction of the path.

“Good,” Steve encouraged him as he nudged them forward. “That’s good. Just a little further…”

In reality, Steve had no idea how far it was. He’d passed all of his navigation equipment along to Dernier and Falsworth when he’d relinquished command of the mission, leaving him with nothing but his vague memory of getting to the factory to help him approximate the distance back. He had a feeling that the camp might be a fair amount further away than he’d prefer to admit, but all he could do was press on, silently praying that Bucky could hold out a while longer.

Steve held Bucky close against his side as they walked, listening as his breath grew steadily shallower and his steps increasingly faltered. Steve tightened his hold on Bucky’s waist as they went, taking progressively more and more of his weight as the last of Bucky’s energy seemed to seep out of him.

“Doing great, Buck,” Steve kept murmuring, half for Bucky’s benefit and half to drown out the tiny, pained sounds that kept escaping with Bucky’s labored breaths. “Doing real good. Just hold on, okay?”

Bucky still seemed unwilling or unable to acknowledge him, looking blankly past him with a thousand-yard stare fixed somewhere in the distance - but as Steve whispered his mindless encouragements, Bucky curled the hand that was slung over Steve’s shoulders into a fist, holding tightly to a wad of Steve’s jacket. Steve’s heart swelled, and he had to believe that that tiny gesture of recognition would be enough.

For a few blissful minutes Steve allowed himself to imagine that they might really make it without incident. He supposed, considering his luck, that he probably should have known better. He and Bucky were making their way along, just managing to keep up with the tired soldiers at the back of the group, when Bucky lurched away, tearing himself from Steve’s supportive arms with surprising force. Steve’s first instinct was annoyance - Bucky had just started trusting him, and now they were back to square one? - but that annoyance quickly evaporated when Bucky just stumbled to the side of the road, leaning over and looking about ready to fall face-first into the weeds.

“Buck?” Steve asked, rushing to him. By the time he made it over Bucky was already gagging, a tiny stream of bile spraying from his nose and lips into the dead vegetation lining the path.

“Oh, god. Okay,” Steve muttered, trying to focus on Bucky and not on the mess. Bucky heaved again, bringing up scarcely anything for his efforts but ending up doubly unsteady on his feet. Steve reached forward without even thinking about it, wrapping an arm solidly around Bucky’s chest as he continued to dry heave. He was completely empty - not surprising, Steve supposed, given the state he’d found him in - but that didn't stop his body from continually trying to violently reject something that wasn’t even there.

“Just breathe. You’re okay,” Steve murmured around the thrum of panic in his chest. He hoped he was telling the truth, but in reality he wasn’t so sure.

As the retches tapered off, Steve reached up to pat Bucky gently between the shoulder blades, just wanting to offer him a little bit of comfort. Bucky very nearly whimpered in pain at the contact, and Steve quickly withdrew his hand.

“Sorry, shit,” he said frantically. “I know you’re probably hurt, I didn’t mean to -”

Steve stopped speaking as Bucky’s quivering knees finally gave out, leaving him sagging against Steve’s supporting arm with his full weight. Steve quickly steadied him, pulling him back to lean against Steve’s chest, holding him up as he got his footing back. Steve watched with bated breath as Bucky’s eyelids fluttered for a moment before finally, blessedly, opening again.

“Hey,” Steve whispered. “I’ve got you.”  

Bucky laboriously turned around, still clinging to Steve as though he was afraid he’d fall again if he let go.

“Hey,” Bucky said roughly, a tiny spark of recognition finally alighting in his eyes. “Stevie?”

Steve’s face split into a grin in spite of himself, in spite of the dire situation they were in. It had been far too long since he’d heard that nickname. “Yeah, Buck. It’s me.”

It wasn’t quite the reunion he’d been hoping for. It wasn’t the soft comfort of their apartment or the celebratory relief of the end of the war. But in that moment, the two of them clinging to each other in the cold and bleak winter light, it was enough.

[dreamcatcherfication]

Ghosts Are Just as Real as You and Me - Part 7

*Lifts cowbody hat and spits out toothpick* It’s been a while, hasn’t it?

Hello everyone! Sorry for that dramatic one liner, but it has been a while! Two weeks to be exact, and I was pretty cruel to leave you all on such a cliffhanger. But not to worry, I’m back! If I had to guess I’d say we’re about halfway through this fic, but I can’t say for sure how long it’s going to be. But thank you for sticking around this long, and I hope you enjoy this installment! This part delves into a lot of pyschology, and I won’t spoil it, but you’ll (hopefully) understand by the end. Sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors, they only thing I ate today was a chicken sandwich, and that was it - my body functions are nonexistant.

Writing Masterpost

If you want to send a request or a prompt, my inbox is always open! I publish a story at 8:00 AM PST everyday, so I’m always in need of new ideas. If you want to be tagged in my works, just let me know and I’ll be sure to tag you!

Prompts | More Prompts | The Trifecta of Prompts | Original Prompts

Trigger Warnings: Anxiety, self-loathing/self-desutructive tendencies, (very vague) allusions to sexual abuse, references of violence (stab wounds), attempted accidental self-harm, hospitals

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

The hospital was stark and white, the rhythmic beeping of machines the only sounds in the crowded room. Sitting in the pristine bed was Kit, her hair splayed out across the white pillows and her eyes shut peacefully. If it weren’t for the IV in her arm and the bandages on her side, she would’ve looked like she was sleeping. Around her bed in an almost cult-like circle were the five other queens, all with varying looks of concern.

Hunching over the bed was Aragon, her eyes closed as she most likely prayed for the safety of the girl in front of her, a last ditch effort in making sure she would be okay. Henry hadn’t been lying when he said he was coming for Kit first, and they had learned that the hard way. To Aragon’s side was Cathy, her eyes scanning each of the queens for any possible tells. Her eyes were red-rimmed, although it was impossible to tell if it was from unshed tears or sleep deprivation. 

On the other side of the bed was Jane, her eyes nervously darting from Kit to the other queens. Every time she would make eye contact with Cathy, her eyes narrowed at the suspicion on her friend’s face. She would be more concerned with Cathy’s paranoid behavior if Kit wasn’t lying half dead in the bed before them. Anne was at Jane’s side, her head in her hands. She was tuning out the rest of the world, mumbling unintelligible phrases to herself and periodically wiping tears and snot from her face. She was torn up over Henry’s attack, but none of the other queens had it in them to go and comfort her.

Standing at the foot of the bed was Anna, her eyes staring directly at Kit’s unmoving body. She was still, her mind silent and her body unwavering, just like Kit’s. Her arms were crossed subconsciously as her mind refused to believe what was in front of her. If she didn’t accept it, it wasn’t reality. Right?

The uncomfortable silence was broken by Cathy as she stared directly at Anne. “What happened?” she demanded. When Anne didn’t respond, Cathy softened her tone and glanced back at Kit. The poor girl was pale and silent, but her heart rate was steady going. “Anne,” she tried again. Despite how paranoid Cathy had become, she still had feelings for Anne, and those weren’t going away. “Please,” Cathy let her eyes bore into Anne’s head, hoping that would catch her attention.

Jane, Anna, and Aragon watched on in silent pity as Cathy tried to get Anne to talk. The beheaded queen wouldn’t acknowledge her, and continued with her mutterings. “Anne,” Cathy kept saying her name. “Anne, do you want to tell them about the journal, or do you want me to do it?”

Anne’s head shot up at those words, her eyes going wide. “You know?”

“I know enough,” Cathy confirmed, leaning forward. She was going to get her answers from Anne.

With Cathy’s inquisitive eyes and the other queens’ confused ones, Anne felt her anxiety grow. “It’s not what you think.”

“Then tell me what it is,” Cathy shot back. Jane and Aragon were watching on like they were in a tennis match, and Cathy was winning.

Swallowing thickly, Anne bowed her head and watched her hands. “The first night Kit saw Henry… he came to me. Not - in person,” she cleared up at the shocked faces of the others. “He said that he would kill her if I didn’t help him.”

“So you’re helping him?” Aragon asked.

Stumbling for words, Anne tried to say, “Yes, but no -”

Cathy cut her off, “You can’t say yes and no, it has to be one or the other.”

“I don’t want to help him,” Anne whispered, unable to face Cathy.

Huffing, Cathy sat back in her chair at Kit’s bedside. “Wanting and doing are two different things, Anne. I saw you going into her room when no one was there. What was that for?”

Playing with Kit’s bed sheets, Anne’s voice croaked, “I was trying to help her. Henry said he had eyes on her at all times, and I thought he might have cameras.”

“Henry can see our every move?” Jane asked, her back straightening.

“I don’t know,” Anne shrugged, her arms falling uselessly to her sides. “But he’s coming after Kit, and I’m not going to let him hurt her.”

It was impossible for Cathy not to admire Anne’s commitment to her cousin, but it still left a pit in her stomach. “I think you should leave,” Cathy stared at Anne.

The beheaded queen’s head rose so that she could see Cathy. “What?”

Sighing, the writer turned her eyes to Kit once again. “Right now, I don’t think you’re the best person to be here.”

Anne stood up. “But I’m her cousin.”

“And you’ve been helping the man who stabbed her.” All the other queens refused to watch the argument, finding anywhere but Anne and Cathy to look.

Mouth opening and closing like a fish, Anne gave up, defeated. She shot one last glance at her cousin before making her way out of the room. Jane was the only one who turned her head to watch the other girl go. “I’m going to see if she’s alright,” Jane mumbled, standing up and following after Anne. Cathy, Anna, and Aragon said nothing, but each of them felt most of the tension leave the room as soon as Anne was gone.

In the bed, Kit’s body shivered, and then went still again. Her heart rate had picked up momentarily, but it was so small that only Anna noticed it. Shutting her eyes tight, Anna breathed in deeply, hoping to ease the tightness in her chest. “I’m going to go too,” she told the other two, “Tell Kit I was here.”

Without another word, Anna was out of the room, boots making a light clacking sound against the tile floor. Cathy and Aragon watched her go, attention diverted from Kit. “You should go after her,” Aragon urged.

“And leave you alone with Kit?” Cathy frowned. “What if she wakes up?”

Aragon shrugged. “I can handle it. But go talk to Anna before she disappears.” Taking her godmother’s advice, Cathy stretched out of her stiff chair and left the room in pursuit of Anna. She would’ve liked to think her intentions were pure, but the writer knew better. She had been suspicious of Anna’s behavior ever since they discovered Henry was back, and this was the perfect opportunity to investigate her. Cathy was going to get her answers, or she would die trying.

Anne had her head down as she exited the hospital. It was cold outside, and not a lot of people were out and about. “Anne, hold on,” a voice called from behind her. Turning around, Anne exhaled as Jane made her way over to the sidewalk Anne was standing on.

Putting her hands in her pockets, Anne asked, “What do you want?”

“How are you doing?” Jane probed. Her voice was soft, but Anne wasn’t convinced it was genuine.

Waiting for her arms to warm up, Anne answered, “Not great. My cousin was stabbed by my bastard of an ex-husband and it’s all my fault.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is completely my fault.”

The two queens fell into an awkward silence. The self loathing was radiating off of Anne as she berated herself internally for what happened. If only she had been able to beat Henry first. If only she had acted quicker, Henry wouldn’t have hurt Kit. If only, if only.

Picking up on Anne’s frustration, Jane offered, “Would you like to tell me the full story?”

Again, Anne was confused. “What do you mean, you heard it all in there.”

“There must be more,” Jane’s speech was patient and steady. “You wouldn’t have hesitated so much if there wasn’t more. You can tell me, Anne.”

They both played it off like neither of them had any ulterior motives, but silently they both understood. Anne needed to get everything off her chest, and Jane was desperate for any knowledge she could get on Henry’s motivations. They both needed each other, so they ignored the obvious warning signs. Anne started to spill everything. “From the moment Henry asked me to help him, I wasn’t going to do it. There’s no way I’m helping him and his plan.”

“Then why did you do it?” Jane questioned.

Groaning, Anne’s hands moved wildly as she tried to find something to do with them. “It was supposed to be a cover. I was going to be a double agent, almost. I was playing a long game. Get him to trust me and tell him lies so that I’m one step ahead of him. But he came out into the open and attacked us before I could even try to fight back.”

Nodding in understanding, Jane put a hand on Anne’s arm. “So there wasn’t much you could do?”

“There wasn’t anything I could do,” Anne spit at the ground. “And now Kit’s suffering because of me.”

“Anne -” Jane tried to reach out to her.

Pushing away the other queen, Anne started walking away, her pace faster than normal. “It’s my fault Jane. I can’t be around you unless you want to get hurt.”

Freezing in place, Jane watched as Anne stormed off to go let out some steam. Jane sighed and put her head in her hands, a pressure weighing down behind her eyes. How was any of this going to get better? Jane feared the answer was simply that it wasn’t. Things were going to get much, much worse.

There were very few people in the hospital hallways, probably because Kit’s room was on the top floor. There were less patients around, and therefore less doctors than in the emergency rooms, and less visitors coming and going. Anna counted her blessings as she passed door after door, looking for an elevator or stairs to get her out of the building. It was like a maze and it was stressing Anna out.

She turned a corner and almost yelped when Cathy appeared right in front of her. “Cathy, what are you doing?” Anna asked, trying to push past her.

Cornering Anna, Cathy set her gaze. “You need to tell me what’s been going on with you.”

Panic set in on Anna, but she pushed it out in order to keep a cool exterior. “Nice try. Aragon’s already tried that, and I’d appreciate if you left me alone.”

“Yeah, well I’m not Aragon,” Cathy countered, not budging. “So are you going to continue being shifty after Anne’s meddling or are you going to tell me the truth?” The tension between them was unnatural. Neither queen was acting how they usually would - Cathy was far more aggressive than her typical observing self, and Anna was far less open than she often held herself. It only worked to heighten their nerves.

Attempting to push pass Cathy and failing, Anna groaned. “Have you ever heard of boundaries?”

“Boundaries are irrelevant at a time like this,” Cathy shot back. “If Henry is watching us, then it’s stupid to be infighting and keeping secrets. So tell me what you’re hiding.” Anna didn’t miss the feral glint in the back of Cathy’s eyes. The queen was driving herself crazy with paranoia and her lack of knowledge. She needed to know everything, and if that meant forcing it out of Anna, she would.

With one final look at freedom, Anna gave up and leaned against the wall. “I’m going to find Henry first.” At Cathy’s blank stare, Anna elaborated. “I’m sick and tired of watching him hurt people. I did nothing in our first life, and I can’t - I can’t sit idly by again Cathy, I can’t.”

Narrowing her eyebrows, Cathy wasn’t completely convinced. “So why are you pulling away from us? How could that possibly help anyone but Henry?”

“Because,” Anna reasoned, “it’s the only way I’ll be able to beat him. If I focus on getting stronger, if I focus on finding him, it’ll pay off.”

“I always thought you were a pacifist,” Cathy commented, crossing her arms.

Cringing, Anna’s eyes darted to the ground before rising again. “I am - I was,” she lacked confidence in her words, but spoke them anyway. “Someone has to protect us. Someone has to make sure that he won’t hurt us again, and if that person has to be me, then so be it.”

With hidden concern, Cathy muttered, “You do realize how self destructive that is?”

“I realize that it’s what needs to be done. Now if you’ll excuse me,” Anna pushed past Cathy. This time, the writer let her go. Her curiosity was satisfied, but she wasn’t sure it had done her any good. If anything, it had only added more problems. Anna was refusing to work with the group, Anne was working with Henry, Jane was lying, Aragon didn’t want to get involved, Kit was in the hospital - It was all so much. Cathy closed her eyes and sunk to the floor.

The next thing she knew, the writer was passed out on the floor, exhaustion finally taking over her body. 

The room felt a lot less stifling when it was only Aragon and Kit. The unconscious girl made surprisingly good company, her soft presence helping to ease Aragon’s anxieties, despite how ridiculous it seemed. By any means, seeing the beheaded queen unconscious because of a stab wound should have stressed Aragon out further, but it didn’t. 

“Why is everything falling apart?” Aragon whispered to Kit, knowing full well the girl wouldn’t respond. She listened to the silence, taking that as an answer. “I think it’s because we’re all so scared. We’re acting like we did after first waking up here. We keep getting hit where it hurts the most and… that’s how Henry will win, isn’t it?”

Instead of a proper response, the only sound Kit made was a groan, followed by silence. “I hope you’re okay Kitty, I know it must hurt,” Aragon put her head in her hands. “I can’t believe he would do this to you. He wasn’t always like this.” Aragon put a hand on Kit’s and rubbed her thumb over the back of Kit’s hand.

Kit mumbled in her passive state, but none of the words were coherent until, “Stop.”

Pulling away, Aragon sighed and hunched over next to Kit. “I’m sorry -”

Before she could continue, Kit’s voice rose, “Not again, not again.”

“Kit?” The girl’s strange behavior was starting to worry Aragon.

Rolling around in the bed, Kit shook her head repeatedly. “Not there, get away, get away.” Her voice was breaking, her face scrunching up.

Making a split second decision, Aragon hopped out of her chair and started to shake Kit awake. The doctor had told the queens not to wake Kit up, that they would have to wait until she came to on her own. But if something was wrong, Aragon wasn’t going to leave the girl trapped in her mind. 

It took quite a bit of shaking, but eventually Kit shot out of the bed, lurching forward. She let out a small scream of pain, hand moving to claw at her stab wound. Seeing Kit’s movement, Aragon grabbed Kit’s wrist to keep her from causing herself harm. “Ah!” Kit yelled, falling back against the hospital bed. Her eyes were dilated, but as she focused on Aragon, they shrunk in size. “Catherine?” she questioned.

“Hey Kit, it’s me,” Aragon smiled, releasing the girl’s hand.

Moaning in pain, Kit’s eyes drifted around the room. “Where am I? What happened?”

“You’re in the hospital, you were stabbed.”

And in that moment, Aragon could see all the memories rush back to Kit. She gasped and put a hand to her head, eyes dilating once again. “I… this isn’t good.”

“What, what isn’t good?” Aragon kneeled next to the bed.

Pulling Aragon closer to her, Kit stared into her eyes. “Henry’s been planning this the whole time.”

“Kit,” Aragon spoke calmly, “We’ve known that for a while -”

“No,” Kit cut her off, “Don’t you get it? Henry’s not the real enemy. We’re the enemies. He’s getting us to fight each other. And we’re falling for it.”

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

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[whumpcollector]

Lucas pt.2: The Caravan

Thanks to everyone who enjoyed the first part, here’s part two!

Content Warnings: Broken feet, drowning, dehumanization, torture, brief murder reference, forced drinking. Let me know if I missed anything!

The sun was just barely over the horizon when Lucas was awoken by a harsh kick to the side. They boy started, blinking rapidly to try and clear the fog of drowsiness from his mind. He took a moment and looked up, a sour looking Devran standing over him. The man huffed before detaching Lucas’ shackles from the pole and jerking them forward.

    “Come on rat. Town is still pissed at us so the boss wants us to get going before the people start waking up and getting it in their heads to run us out.” 

    Devran jerked the shackles again, prompting the boy to start walking forward. Lucas was still exhausted, he had only slept for a couple hours at most and his body was still recovering from yesterday. Each step was an effort and Devran wasn’t helping with his brisk pace. Lucas kept up as best as he could. Maybe if he was good enough his masters might show him some small amount of mercy. It was unlikely, but it wasn’t impossible, and Lucas had to cling to whatever hope he could scrounge up.

They both walked back to the caravan in silence. The streets were mostly abandoned, with only beggars and the odd guard to be found that early of an hour. The people they did see eyed Lucas with suspicion and disgust, and one guard even walked up to the pair just so he could spit in the boy’s face. Devran snorted at that, and Lucas lowered his gaze to the ground and tried to ignore everyone. 

    The pair arrived at the caravan as everyone else was finishing packing up. Lucas and his masters traveled with a variety of other performers and peddlers for the sake of safety. A caravan of this size tended to scare off most brigands, and everyone was able to chip in for guards. They had all been travelling together for years, and everyone was at least acquainted with everyone else. 

    That meant that everyone was also acquainted with Lucas, and they generally fell into one of two camps. Some people openly hated him and went out of their way to make his life miserable when they had the chance. Everyone else didn’t care enough about him to fight with anyone in the caravan. Some even sympathized a bit, but still not enough to step in for his sake. Lucas didn’t blame them, Harold and Devran were vengeful, violent people and getting on their bad side wasn’t good for your long term health. He remembered a juggler that tackled Devran off of him during a beating once. Poor guy was found in his tent with a slit throat two days later. 

    The cart that Harold owned was at the back of the caravan. It didn’t carry any precious cargo so it didn’t need to be as protected. Harold was busy hitching the horses to the cart when Devran and Lucas walked up. The man eyed Lucas coldly before walking over. He stood in front of the boy for a moment, before suddenly raising his foot and slamming it down on Lucas’.

    Lucas let out a strangled cry as Harold ground his boot into Lucas’ foot. The sudden noise prompted a few people that were close by to investigate, but they left when they saw what was going on. Harold kept applying pressure for a moment more before he raised his foot and promptly slammed it down onto Lucas’ other foot. The mage was doubled over in pain, his eyes watering and Devran being forced to keep him from collapsing. When Harold was done Lucas looked down at his feet. They were bloody and bruised purple. One of the toes on his left foot was bent at an unnatural angle. Merely standing was agony, and Lucas was well aware he wasn’t getting to ride in the cart today.

    “I warned you yesterday what would happen rat,” Harold said with a sneer. “Devran, get the little shit tied to the cart.”

    Devran nodded and dragged Lucas over to the back of the cart. The boy let out a small gasp with each step. Walking was torture, and this was on the reltivley smooth dirt they were on. Once they hit the main road he would be walking on uneven cobblestone. Lucas didn’t want to think about that, but he didn’t really have anything else to take his mind off things. His shackles were secured to a ring on the back of the cart, and he was left standing there until the caravan got moving. 

    The morning air was cold and Lucas shivered as he stood in the middle of the road. The caravan would get moving soon, and Lucas tried to enjoy this brief “respite” as best as he could. Their next destination was about three days away and he would have to walk for two of those, maybe three if Harold was feeling particularly vengeful. Hopefully his healing would kick in sooner rather than later, but his magic had to fix a lot of damage yesterday and there was only so much it could do before it gave out for a while. 

    A shout rang out from the front of the caravan and Harold and Devran hopped onto the cart. After another moment the horses started pulling the cart forward and Lucas had to get moving. It was as agonizing as he expected. The rough sharp stones that paved the road dug into his skin and pressed harshly against the already shattered bones in his feet. The even nature of the road forced Lucas to walk awkwardly as the occasional dip or rise made him change his gait so as to not fall over. The only saving grace was the pace the caravan moved at. Most of the carts in the caravan were large cumbersome things filled with valuables that moved slowly to avoid falling apart and losing cargo. Lucas wouldn’t have to run to avoid being dragged behind the cart, but that didn’t make things all that much easier. He closed his eyes and tried to put all his focus onto moving his legs and not the pain he was feeling. All he had to do was last until sundown and he would be allowed to rest.

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

    It was just past noon and Lucas felt like he was at the end of his rope. Sweat beaded down his face and his breaths had been slowly devolving into ragged gasps. It felt like there were 50 pound weights tied to his feet and each step threatened to be the one that made him collapse to the ground. He was close to begging Harold to be allowed to ride on the cart. Usually asking for anything led to swift reprimand but at this point Lucas was desperate. 

    Apparently his exhaustion had not gone unnoticed, and Lucas overheard Devran talking to Harold. “The kid looks like he’s about to fall over.”

    Harold glanced back over his shoulder before huffing. “Sure does. What about it?”

    “Think he could use a bit more uh, motivation?”

    Lucas almost started crying at those words. The last thing he needed was Devran lashing him while he struggled to keep himself upright. He stared pleadingly at Harold, who mercifully shook his head. 

    “Nah, we start beating him now he’ll drop like a sack of horse shit.” Harold paused before reaching into a satchel and pulling out a small glass vial. He tossed it to Devran and then nodded his head towards Lucas. “Go shove that down the boy’s throat. Should give him enough of a kick to make it to sundown.”

    Devran nodded and jumped off the cart. He made his way to Lucas and walked beside him for a moment. Lucas eyed Devran warily. The man’s face was impassive, which was hopefully a good sign. 

    “You feeling tired kid?”

    Lucas paused. Devran usually didn’t talk to Lucas with any intent of having the boy respond. 

    “Well?”

    “Oh um, yes master Devran. I am tired,” Lucas replied carefully. 

    Devran nodded before grabbing Lucas' face and forcibly opening his mouth. The sudden movement caused the boy to stumble, needing to hop on one foot to keep himself from falling entirely. Pain shot up his right leg as he jostled the broken bones in his foot and tears filled his eyes. Devran waited for Lucas to steady himself before opening the vial and shoving its contents into the boy’s mouth. 

    Lucas choked as thick liquid slid down his throat. It burned on the way down and settled heavily in his stomach. He coughed a couple of times, clearing his airway as he swallowed the last of the liquid. Devran was laughing at his discomfort and Lucas was exhausted enough to consider shooting him an indignant glare. 

Any insubordinate thoughts were swiftly pushed aside as his stomach began to churn. A faint tingling sensation flooded his limbs that quickly became a sharp burning sensation. His chest tightened and he doubled over, just able to continue walking with the cart. His body felt like it did when he channeled his magic. It was almost as severe as when he conjured the phoenix. A few seconds later it began to subside and Lucas began to feel oddly rejuvenated. His feet were still broken and his entire body ached but he no longer felt moments away from collapsing to the ground.

Devran raised an eyebrow and looked quizzically at Harold. “The hell was that?”

“Some sort of magical tincture. Guy I bought it from said it helped enhance a mage’s magical energy reserves or something like that. Thought it might be neat to try out for a show but eh whatever.” 

Devran just nodded and made his way back up to the front of the cart. Lucas was thankful that their interaction ended there. The longer he and Devran were together the worse he got hurt. He was also thankful for whatever was in that bottle. He could already feel his magic resetting the bones in his feet. The healing hurt as always, but it wasn’t any worse than what he had been feeling already and at least now he would get better. 

The rest of the march was a lot more bearable and by the time that the caravan stopped for the night Lucas’ feet were almost completely healed. They had stopped by a river, a good place to set up camp. Devran unlocked Lucas from the back of the cart and the boy took a moment to stretch his arms. They were stiff from being held in the same position for so long. He was also hungry, and really really thirsty. He hadn’t eaten since before the last show and hadn’t had any water since that morning. A headache was coming on and the river looked oh so inviting right now. He looked at Harold and silently made a gesture towards the river.

Harold nodded before shouting over his shoulder, “Devran keep an eye on the boy.”

Lucas nodded in thanks  before making his way towards the river bank. He knelt down and cupped his hands, letting the cool water fill them before bringing them to his mouth. It was immediately refreshing and Lucas began to greedily gulp down handful after handful of water. Being able to sate his thirst was a godsend and for the first time since yesterday’s show Lucas felt alright. 

“You enjoying yourself rat?”

Lucas looked up and saw Devran squatting next to him. The man had a look in his eye that set Lucas on edge. 

“You must have been thirsty eh?”

Lucas nodded warily, wondering exactly where this was going. He got his answer when Devran grabbed his hair and pushed his head into the river. The boy began to struggle, fighting against Devran’s grip with little effect. About twenty seconds passed and just as Lucas began to feel his lungs burn his head was pulled out of the water. The boy gasped, coughing out water and trying to pull as much air into his lungs as he could. 

Devran was laughing like he always did when he tormented Lucas. “You still thirsty? Don’t worry there’s plenty of water in the river so drink up!”

    Lucas was able to take a breath before his head went underwater again. This time he forced himself not to struggle so he wouldn’t waste any air. He stayed almost stock still for a few moments before he was abruptly pulled back out. Devran was looking at him unimpressed.

    “Think you’re smart eh? Well I’ll be honest with you, it's not nearly as fun when you’re not struggling.”

    With that Devran slammed his fist hard into Lucas’ somach. The boy could feel the air in his lungs being forced out and before he could take any back in his head was once again dunked into the river. Without any air to draw on Lucas immediately felt his lungs burn. He struggled desperately, bucking and thrashing to try and get his head above water, even for a moment. His entire body cried out for air and he began to fight as hard as he could, his magic instinctively surging towards his hands only to be blocked by his shackles. Slowly his struggles began to weaken and just when he felt like he would give out and fall unconscious he was pulled out of the water. He could hear Devran laughing still as he gasped and sputterted, forcing as much air into his lungs as he could. 

    “Yeah, that's a lot more fun. You still thirsty kid?”

    Lucas’ eyes winded and he looked at Devran pleadingly. “N-no master. Please, please no more ple-”

    Devran slapped him across the face and Lucas immediately shut his mouth. The man eyes him for a moment before replying. “You know normally I think I would let you off the hook but I’m in a bit of a bad mood. See back in Owerin I bet on you making it to fifteen before you started screaming. Lost obviously, so now you need to make it up to me.”

    Without another word he slammed his fit into Lucas’ stomach again and pushed his head under water. After about thirty second he would pull the boy out and give him a couple moments to recover before punishing him and starting the process all over again. The cycle repeated a few more times before Devran finally got bored. By the end a couple others from the caravan had gathered around to watch the show. One of them even decided to pitch in, pushing his foot into Lucas’ back to keep him under for a few moments more. The boy was left lying on the ground gasping for air as the small group dispersed. One of the spectators kicked him in the side, muttering something or another about how much he hated mages. 

    Lucas didn’t move for a while, simply staring up at the sky and letting himself recover. All in all things probably could have been worse. At least nothing was broken or bleeding this time. Now that Devran had his fun he seemed to be left alone. He wasn’t really, either Devran or Harold were keeping an eye on him from afar, and it wasn’t like he could do much anyway. Right now he just wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet he had been given. 

    A shout from the caravan startled Lucas awake. He had dozed off apparently. Blearily he sat up and looked around. Harold was beckoning him over. It looked like dinner was ready. Lucas stood up and made his way over to the campfire set up by the cart. Some sort of stew was cooking in a pot over the fire, and the smell made Lucas’ mouth water. He was starving, but he also knew that he wasn’t touching that stew. As if on cue Harold walked up to Lucas and shoved a bowl into his hands. It was filled with greyish oatmeal, what Lucas ate when he didn’t earn proper food. It was near flavorless and always cold, but it was something to eat and Lucas wasn’t in any position to be picky. 

    He sat down on the ground and began to eat. He wasn’t given any utensils so he had to scoop it into his mouth with his hands. It was degrading but he was used to it. Harold and Devran served themselves from the pot and Devran took a minute to taunt Lucas with the stew. Dinner passed in silence, and shortly after Harold chained Lucas’ leg to the cart. Then he put out the fire and the three of them went to sleep for the night. 

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

    The next two days were infinitely more bearable for Lucas. His feet had healed by the second morning and now the long marches were just exhausting and not excruciating. He had been allowed to ride in the cart on the third day and was given some proper food in order to help him build his energy back up. It was late in the afternoon when the caravan reached its destination, a large city called Ulbrisk. By tomorrow he would be putting on another performance. 

Lucas could already feel the nerves building back up. He really wanted his next show to go well. It had been weeks since he had given a satisfactory enough performance to earn a reward and he could tell Harold’s patience was running thin. If he didn’t put on a good show tomorrow he dreaded what might happen. While he was ruminating Harold walked up to him, an unusual sparkle in his eyes. That probably wasn’t a good sign.

“Change of plans kid, you’re not doing a show tomorrow.”

Lucas was taken aback. What? What did that mean? He looked up at Harold quizzically and the man continued.

“You see as luck would have it there’s actually a mage living in this city. Owned by some noble lord that likes to flaunt him around as a trophy or something like that. People here won’t be impressed by any magic tricks. However that does  lend itself to a unique opportunity.”

A large grin spread across his face and he roughly ruffled Lucas’s hair.

“Hope you’re good and rested kid, because tonight you’re taking a trip to the pit.”

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