#i very genuinely nearly threw up from fear lol

[quillkiller]

super cool being a butch dyke (and alone!) and like 20+ people from a fucking n*zi organization walk in line to the metro station im at

[thespookiestparker]

The Price Of Freedom

A/N: hello everyone!! it feels very weird to be coming back to this blog with a new fic but I’ve been trying to put this together for months, I’ve finally torn myself away from the game for long enough to write about it lol enjoy!

p.s. I also made this playlist after I romanced him for the very first time and it was what I was listening to if you want some ✨mood music✨

Summary: Astarion struggles with his newfound livelihood now that he isn’t bound to Cazador

Pairing: Spawn!Astarion x GN!Tav

CW: Angst (That gets resolved), blood mention/description (kind of inevitable with a vampire but 🤷🏻‍♂️)

Over your time traveling with your newfound friends, you and Astarion had grown to be what you considered close. When everyone else had bedded down for the night, the two of you would more often than not find each other.

It had taken time, and you honestly weren’t sure it would happen. For a while, you were left to wonder if Astarion even liked anyone at camp, let alone you. Sometimes, he’d let things slip, though.

Like when you threw a pile of shit at that goblin’s face, he’d let out a soft chuckle. Short and sweet, something you’re sure he didn’t mean to set free, but he did nonetheless before the fighting had broken out. Or, a week later, when you’d started to catch him sneaking glances at you over the campfire as you spoke to Gale or Wyll. You could’ve sworn that a flash of jealousy flashed in his eyes from time to time, but you’d never tell him that you noticed. You didn’t want to embarrass him, even if he would never admit to feeling that kind of emotion.

It all came to a head at the party that was held at your camp with the tieflings from the emerald grove, when he’d asked to sneak away with you for the night for some ‘fun’. Something about him had seemed…off that night when you looked back on it. Astarion had seemed too composed for someone who’d been drinking. The vampire hadn’t said much about his past by then, other than that he’d had a master in Baldur’s Gate who had treated him like he was less than nothing. You could tell that pity wasn’t the answer here, that he would only take offense to something like that, so instead you showed him respect. He was a formidable ally, after all, you couldn’t afford to lose him, even if you hadn’t developed feelings for him.

Now, you were almost inseparable. Every time you fell in battle, he was the first to rush to help you up, and at first you weren’t sure if it was because he’d smelled your blood or if he was genuinely trying to help. That was, until you saw his eyes widen in a way you’d never seen before and only a few times since, vulnerable concern etched into his pale face. It made a pang of guilt explode in your chest that you’d ever thought any less of him.

Every day seemed to allow you to peel away at his prickly, impatient, and overall grumpy layers to get to the man beneath. The softer, more broken elf that had been hiding behind all these nearly impenetrable walls that he only seemed to let down around you, though it had been only partial to start. Even if someone else in the party was able to take a glimpse, you were slowly piecing together the whole picture.

Or at least, you thought you were.

It was the night before you were to reach Baldur’s Gate when the next one of those walls came crashing down around him, startling both of you.

You sought him out in the night, as you usually did, but when you peered into his tent, it was empty. Before you had time to process that, you heard his voice in the form of a deep growl behind you,

“What are you doing?”

Your body whipped around to face him, immediately noticing how he was towering over you. The blood on his chin glistened in the faint light of the moon, catching your gaze before his eyes of the same piercing red did.

You must’ve had a fearful look on your face because he seemed to snap back into his own mind, his expression going from a feral sort of anger to something akin to the familiar loving and vulnerable look you’d come to adore. But this was different. There was a deep sort of pain in his eyes, it made you instinctively extend your hand to him before he tore himself away.

“Don’t touch me.” he spat, his voice guarded and icy. He nearly pushed past you to get to his tent, to shroud himself in the familiarity of complete darkness and isolation.

“Astarion, wait—“ you tried, your hand hesitantly floating between the two of you as he angrily gripped the flap of his tent.

“Just. Leave me be. For tonight.” His voice was nothing more than a whisper just before he disappeared behind the red burlap of his tent.

The heaviness in your heart was devastating and cold, but you left him alone for now and decided to sit by the fire instead. Keeping watch over your sleeping friends as tears spilled silently over your cheeks.

All you could think about was comforting him, holding him in your arms until the pain seeped out of him in waves. But you weren’t about to go against his wishes, so instead you let your emotions run free until you fell asleep. You didn’t mention anything to the others in the morning, and you didn’t want them to notice. Astarion’s business was his own to share, not yours, so you weren’t going to let your emotions get in the way of that. He deserved privacy after all this time, you weren’t about to get in the way of that.

The next days distanced the two of you as your group explored the city. He seemed just as closed off as when you’d started your adventure, if not more, and you were afraid that nothing could get him to open up to you again. It seemed like the others may have noticed as well, though it wasn’t exactly a secret. The silence between the two of you was loud enough to be heard miles away.

“OOO! A circus! Can we go?!” Karlach squealed, gesturing to a sign that displayed a brightly colored poster for something called ‘The Circus of The Last Days’.

Maybe not everyone had noticed. No one else had said anything to contradict you, so you didn’t touch upon it.

“Sure, we can go.” You chuckle, trying your hardest to seem normal right now, for Astarion’s sake if not yours. You lead everyone into the circus, past the elf and the ghoul at the gate, and you all end up splitting off until it was just you and Astarion. You half expected him to distance himself from you again, since he’d seemed to need to be alone, but then his words from last night echoed in your mind.

“Just for tonight”

You weren’t sure why he’d suddenly wanted the distance, but you didn’t want to question it. He was well within his rights, but you couldn’t help the worry gnawing in your stomach that you were constantly pushing down.

All of it was interrupted when he slipped his hand in yours, a discreet maneuver that would’ve gone unnoticed by anyone looking at the two of you, before you felt him squeeze it. A wordless apology, which you happily accepted for now. You could talk later, for now, it felt safe to be enjoying the circus amidst the chaos that was your lives.

“Darling, do you think a statue of me would be too much for our little camp?” He asked, his normal smug confidence radiating from him as he posed next to a nearby tent. It was owned by a mud mephit and his wife, who were conveniently named Boney and Stoney, and advertised statues made of the likeness of any passersby willing to pay their price.

“It costs 5,000 gold!” You laughed, shaking your head at him as you tugged on his arm in a vain attempt to pull him away from said tent.

“So? Don’t you want something to immortalize my beauty for all of eternity?”

“I don’t need it, I already have you.”

The love and care you shower him with never ceased to take him off his guard, but he smiled regardless and continued on with you through the circus, enjoying the frivolous nature of the it all.

Days of traveling later, once your party had not only found Cazador, but made sure he was good and dead, you decided to at least attempt to breach the subject when he seemed to be more stable. Your relationship was so fragile that something this deep and painful could shatter it, which was exactly what you didn’t want.

That night, you found him just as you always did on nights like these, sitting by the dying fire as the rest of your friends headed to their separate corners of your dwelling for the night.

“May I join you?” You ask softly, gently touching his shoulder now that he’d been the first one to make physical contact earlier that day. You always let him take the lead on things like that because you wanted to let him be the one to make the choice of whether or not he wanted that kind of affection, knowing he had so little of his own autonomy for so many years. Even if he had expressed to you that it was becoming easier to differentiate you from those sorts of feelings.

“Of course, darling, always.” He responds in a similar tone, turning his head to look at you as you sat yourself beside him which made some of his stark white curls fall into his eyes.

“There have been times when you seemed to…” You pause, considering your wording for a moment, “...disagree with that statement.”

“That was different, I was…not myself.” He seemed almost disgusted by something, presumably something about himself or the way he acted last night.

“I’ve never seen you that way, it was almost like you were—”

“A vampire?” he interrupted, and you rest your hand over his where it lay on his knee,

“Someone else…You know that I see you for more than what you are. That I always have.”

“Regardless, I am lucky that you saw me in that state and not anyone else. I haven’t been that disheveled since I was first turned, and anyone else would only see a monster, which frustrates me all the more,” without letting you speak, he continued. Seeming to be fueled by the traumatizing anguish that lies within him, or at least some of it, “because it isn’t fair! I didn’t ask to be a monster! No one told me that I’d be cursed this way, and I regret not dying that night on the street—“ he exploded into a rage, though it was like the one you had seen the night he came back to camp. The same deeply seeded pain behind his eyes was ever present as he roared such hurtful words. He stood quickly, turning away from you as shame diffused from his being.

“Astarion…” You cried, holding out your hand for him only to see him flinch away. As if he was afraid you would hurt him, which made a burning pain spread through you emanating from your heart. It felt wrong, like you’d only made things worse without intending to. The tears that welled in your eyes came without your permission but you were helpless to do anything but keep them from falling.

“What?!” He whirled around to face you, his face spattered with tears. A level of distress and anger you hadn’t seen from him since Cazador’s passing. You’re suddenly reminded of the image that was him, kneeling over his former master’s lifeless body as he sobbed. Shirtless and covered in blood.

It had broken your heart to see him that way, but he’d needed that moment to let what had just happened wash over him. To finally be free.

You snapped back to reality when Astarion seemed to realize what he’d said, and how it had affected you as he roughly rubbed at his tear-stained cheeks.

“I…I don’t really think that way. This…all of this…has been… a bit much for me. Knowing that he forever changed me. That I’ll never truly have a chance to be something other than a monster in the eyes of most–”

You step forward, once again extending your hands but stopping just before you make contact with his skin to ask silent permission from him. He nodded with little to no hesitation, urging you on before you gently cupped his cheeks and continued to speak, “I don’t think that you’re a monster…You’ve said it yourself, you are so much more than he made you. I, for one, fully believe that. If you don’t believe it yourself right away, that’s more than alright, because I’ll be here to remind you. Every step of the way.”

He almost can’t look at you, more salty tears threatening to spill from his red and puffy eyes.

“I…don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to right now. All that you need to do right now is to rest. We both should.” You answer gently yet firmly, starting to pull your hands from his face before he grabbed one of your wrists.

“Don’t,” he started, an air of desperation in his words, “I…I haven’t been the kindest to you, and I apologize for that, but I don’t want to be alone. Please.” You hadn’t planned on leaving him, but usually touch was something that had made him uncomfortable so you were simply ending the contact even though he seemed to take it a different way.

“You won’t be alone…I’m here.” You reassure, moving your hand to his shoulder instead while letting him hold your wrist. “But I stand by my statement. Come on,” You lead him inside his own tent, bedding down with him for the first time since the night he’d come back to camp covered in something else’s blood, though it would be far from the last.

[venicity]

HIIIIII I am so glad to be able to Understand them with you, they make me feel SICK, I hate them (I have been hyperfixating on them for months now)

I also absolutely agree that they'd choose MK / his life and safety over each other like I don't particularly see his relationship w them as father-son BUT I do think it's familial (with SWK at least) and deeply important all the same. I actually feel like both swk and mcq have an unhealthy dependency on mk BC he's like, the first person to care for and believe in them both in hundreds of years— swk bc he isolated himself on FFM for hundreds of years and mcq bc he was dead LOL. But even before that; mcq only ever had swk and after their relationship went south, he didn't actually have anyone else in his life which is definitely part of why he dedicated himself to hurting and being swk's enemy. Even if it was a relationship of bitterness and hatred, it was all he had that mattered to him.

Honestly, on the topic of mcq, he specifically drives me insane in his relationship w swk and mk bc he is someone who is deeply independent, distrusting, and he's made it a point to prove he's all about self preservation. But I do not believe he's someone who is inherently/by nature cruel or evil— he never cared about being strong for himself or about destroying or being on top of the world. All he cared about was being by swk's side, and when he couldn't do that, it was to hurt swk as much as swk hurt him no matter the cost.

But the MOMENT he realized mk cared for him and genuinely believed in him, he cracked. He went against his own self preserving nature bc his care for mk outweighs his own fear of lbd and his own death, and that's just the beginning of their developing friendship after yk,, being enemies LOL. And it's the same with how, the MOMENT swk said he trusted mcq in 5x2, mcq threw himself at Li Jing knowing he could die or be imprisoned at LEAST possibly for a very, very long time but it didn't matter. Because it was something he did to protect swk and mk, and smt he does AGAIN to try and save mk from himself during 5x9, because to him...it was an easy choice. Either run away and live, or throw himself at an enemy he knows he can't defeat to protect mk and swk. And he will always choose them. Always. Which is GUT WRENCHING to me bc for him, although I don't think he'd ever intentionally doom or end the world, it was never about saving the world. It was only ever about saving the very very few people he cares for in this world. Or at least dying like an old, loyal dog by their side.

Can u tell who my favourite character is LMFAO,, I am so deeply unwell about him. About shadowpeach in general but also just their relationship and like their individual relationships w mk as well bc I don't ship them w him bc it makes me deeply uncomfortable for personal reasons, I hate how people kinda just ignore just how important he is to both swk and mcq, and how he is the only reason they have a relationship again to begin with since without him, they would've stayed bitter enemies who are just a bit too obsessed w each other.

GOD DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON DRAGONFRUIT, I don't talk about them nearly as much as I should but they are my second fave ship in lmk specifically bc their entire relationship has been built up and tended to by the writers so beautifully, like the connection they share is a special on specific to just the two of them bc they can understand each other in a unique way that others can't— and also bc like even though they're their own seperate and well written characters, their stories are so intertwined that it simply does not make sense to have one without the other bc they have impacted each other in such important ways.

I wouldn't say they're written FOR each other but I also wouldn't say they're not like they did start as their own characters but throughout the seasons, they've went from simply having a fun dynamic to their relationship being so vital to the core of their characters and development (ie Mei going from afraid of her own powers to feeling lesser than and only confiding these feelings to Red Son, who was the only possible person who could understand and comfort her in the way she needed to Red Son only accepting and trusting in mk and his crew bc of Mei— bc of his relationship with her, and the fact that she proved he could believe in them by saving the world; saving his PARENTS when he needed her too. Although I do think he would've held her cose as the world burned around them if she was unable to.) that it'd be CRAZY if people stripped their relationship and importance of each other in favour of giving it to another character instead which...does nothing but get rid of the woman in the equation. That'd be wild. I couldn't imagine anyone doing that in a fandom space known to always prioritize male characters over female characters :)))))))

Chhejjxjdjsj thankyou for replying and reading, I am very sorry for the many MANY paragraphs its simply. Who I am. If I don't yap and ramble for things that could be said in like 5 sentences then who am I? LOL

Very very sorry for the spam but you are the only person outside of my immediate friend group who enjoys both shadowpeach AND dragonfruit in the very specific way that I do 🛐🛐🛐

Like I am the BIGGESTTTTT believer in aroace swk who has only ever really loved mcq in That Specific Way. Like not romantic but also not completely platonic— he loved him and he loved him in a way he never loved anyone else which is what mattered most. And mcq I see as...idk! Maybe he's aroace too, regardless I think he also loved and only loved swk BECAUSE he was swk. That is all that ever mattered to him. That it was swk. Loyal to a fault; even after swk hurt him so much, even after he hurt swk just as much. (Haha this is just like I'm Your Man by Mitski—)

And I do NOT see them as cutesy or as like a sweet and domestic couple. They are FAR from over their many, many issues and they will always have that bit of toxicity and hurt no matter how much they may hypothetically mellow out bc the ways in which they hurt each other WAS unforgivable. But the thing is, does that even matter? Does it matter if they'll still love each other anyways? If, in the end, all they ever wanted was to be by each others side even as they were covered in each others blood and blinded by their own heartbreak, anger, and hatred. Love. Obsession. Whatever it was that they felt for each other.

I also like,,, even if they somehow hypothetically hot their shit together enough to be a "functioning couple", I do not see them w any of the typical relationship labels like I think mcq would hurl if u called swk his boyfriend, husband, lover, etc like PLEASE I understand not everyone will have the same opinions and ship dynamics and I respect it, but I have a very specific view on their relationship and they are neither romantic or platonic, but a secret third thing. But they are also actually both. Whatever it is, it's love. A love that grew sharp and bent in its intensity when that love festered into a hatred that edged the line of obsession far too many times to ever be "normal" hatred.

Okay I think I've ranted enough. For now. Thankyou very much if u read all of this I have so very many shadowpeach thoughts 🛐

OMG HELLO

You are the only person outside of my immediate friend group who understands shadowpeach the way I do

I could honestly also read Macaque as allo, but no matter what their relationship is so aspec/arospec to me. Like whatever their bond was, it didn't matter because they had each other. Until they didn't. Until they knew their relationship was one of hatred. Until it was somehow even more complicated.

What drives me crazier is at this point, they would both choose MK over each other. It's pretty clear that Macaque expected Wukong to sacrifice himself in MK's place v ("He needs to know it's not all on him" "It doesn't always have to be you!" "Get the kid you idiot" "Wukong..."), because that was what he was willing to loose. He had already lost Wukong before, but MK? He's someone neither Macaque or Wukong could bear leaving them (the way they left each other). Like s5 committed so hard in the run motif ("You're the one always running off!"), and MK has been set up to be the one to leave Wukong since like s2.

It's also rare for me to run into another dragonfruit fan!! Tbh it is kinda just the text, but I find them so interesting. Like what if Mei handled the worst parts of Red Son better than he ever did. What if their mentor/mentee dynamic parallels MK and Macaque ("You don't use a weapon, you ARE a weapon! - "Don't use the flame Mei..." "Be the flame!"). What if Red Son knew Mei would stop at nothing to free his parents, the way he stopped at nothing to free her.

But also, what if Red Son was Mei's silly rabbit.

I know some people despise 5x05, but the truth is that Red Son has always been a support character to Mei. Even in AHiB, Mei and Red Son are often singled out together (ilu Mei saving MK and "I'll handle this" scenes). It's more obvious in 1x06 or 1x08, where Mei and Red are both racers and, of course, "Red flames are cool! Want to see some green ones?". RoTSQ focuses entirely on Mei and Red Son's relationship, which is continued into 3x06 and beyond.

Thank you for the rant it was a good read!

[the-manors-writer]

glad to see this blog active again! i used to obsess over old posts lol

anyway, could i ask for some headcanons of emil with a s/o that got seriously injured in a match? hurt/comfort please :)

thank you for your past support, detective! welcome back :] also once again we're here with jack slander /j - mod orhpeus

request: emil with a badly injured s/o from a match headcanons pairing: [emil] patient x gn!reader warnings: descriptions of blood & injury, near death experience

emil

emil was already unhappy with the hunter for this match

the ripper is not a person he wants to see, let alone anywhere near you, considering his past and current personality plus habits, of course the patient would be iffy

though then again iffy is just a huge understatement but still

that entire match, emil wasn’t bothered by jack because he was chasing someone else

but that didn’t make him happy

because that someone else was you

he felt his heart drop when he saw you pinging that the hunter was near you

he wanted to abandon his cipher and run towards you, but he had to help the team out at the very least

he regretted that decision so much. so, so much

see, you were kiting jack for a good while, and it didn’t anger the hunter

it made him excited, actually

because you’re actually someone who gives him effort in his chase, and if there’s one thing the hunter likes, it’s that

by the time the third cipher popped, you know you messed up

he was right behind you as you grabbed the edge of the window, ready to vault

and you felt those claws scratch through your clothes, into your flesh, blood gushing out of the five gashes across your back

you didn’t even manage the normal vault, the sheer force of it knocked you to the ground with a rough landing

the force of hitting the ground was so hard you even scraped your leg badly

your scream of pain actually scared the survivors across the map because it was genuinely so much louder and bloodcurdling than what they were used to

and emily screams pretty damn loud

emil felt his heart nearly lodge itself deep in his chest

that was your scream.

the ripper hums as he slips through the window, chuckling as he grabbed you by the leg. damn that accessory of his

but to your surprise, he first dragged you closer to him. on your back.

you screamed and arched off the ground as the ripper’s unclawed hand gripped the side of your head

“you sound beautiful, my dear... such ragged shrieks, just like those whores.”

his claws traced your stomach

“i want to gut you so bad right now, pretty thing. little rose like you, with your innards spilled across the fucking floor. oh, that’d be such a sight. i can’t wait for the day that i can do that to you.”

he digs his claw to leave a mark, but not stab too deeply

then, he threw you to your stomach

you were dragged through the mud and grass, but every time you struggled, the wounds on your back stung and you couldn’t help but limp as the ripper snatched you by the scruff and threw you against the chair

you couldn’t do anything much, but you thought yourself lucky that the fourth cipher popped then and there. just one remaining

emil pushed the coordinator aside as he was running towards you

“focus on decoding!” he yelled at her, “i’m going to rescue!”

the fury and worry in his voice made her falter, and she did as he said

the ripper had left you alone and emil quickly took off the clasps, feeling his the pit in his stomach gnaw bigger when he saw the five claw marks across your back

you didn’t even have the energy to stand, just drop into his arms

the survivors squeaked by with a tie. coordinator and thief was chaired as emil supported you while he opened the gate

the two of you escaped, and as soon as the two of you got to the manor, he carried you to the doctor as fast as he could

despite his fear of medical figures, women especially, he had to do it for you. he wasn’t a professional at this, after all

“p.. please be okay..” emil sobbed as he clasped your hand, “i-i’m.. umh.. i don’t wanna be alone..”

“i’ll be okay,” you mumble softly, looking at him with a face that told him that you weren’t okay

emily patched you up as best she could, and very obviously told you that you couldn’t play a few matches for a while

which essentially, to emil, meant that he also wasn’t going to play until you were fully healed

he carried you back to your shared room and he doted on you so, so, much

he was crying the entire time

you were so pale. you were so cold. he was afraid that if he turned his back on you, you wouldn’t be moving anymore and you’d be gone

he wanted to kill jack, but he wasn’t strong enough for that

over time, the wounds turned less deathly and major, and you were healthy enough to be held and cuddled

and he did that a lot.

one night, he cradled you close to his chest, gently rocking you back and forth

he was still crying a lot over your injuries

“...emil?” you weakly mutter, and he stops to look at you

big tears rolling down his face, you cup it to wipe them away

“..hey, handsome.. what’s up?” “...worry.. over you..”

he whispers, leaning down to kiss you softly

“mm.. i know.. you’re okay.. i’m okay too, see..? don’t cry anymore..”

“..you’re okay.. okay.. we’re... okay..” he whispers, and he brightens a bit when he sees you smile and nod

he clings to you, because to him, you’re the only light he has left

and the warm light is all he cares about, here, now, and forever

[art credit - official art]

[fruggo]

the boys x tough f!reader (part 2)

requested by : @dranonymous

i love this idea and i hope you all enjoy part two! :D here’s part 1 with the original request.

warnings: swearing, canon-typical violence, dwight is really cute, danny is an asshole, jake is that cute “stoic man who is actually caring and thoughtful” trope because i say so

𝐃𝐖𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃

you are so cool. like ,,,,,so cool

dwight admires you so much. you just got here and yet you are breaking pyramid head’s ankles—dodging his trail of torment left and right, the killer just can’t touch you.

and how did you feel about everything? terrified, honestly, but nobody would ever be able to tell because you didn’t let it get to you. it was like you had already been here before, because the second you learned how to do something, you had it down no problem. fixing generators came naturally, and you could also run the killer for the whole trial if you had to. teammates could easily rely on you to do whatever needed to be done.

that was what made you and dwight such a powerful duo. from the moment you met, you knew you felt comfortable around this guy. he was sweet, maybe a little timid sometimes, but he knew how to step up and be a leader for everyone despite his fears.

you both knew what to do, and you fit together like a glove. your minds worked in very similar ways, which made communicating that much easier and efficient; the second a decision needed to be made, dwight was on top of it, encouraging the teammates and helping them get on their feet. you were already ahead of them, so dwight would just nod to you, knowing you could do your job well.

of course, there were times when dwight’s anxiety got the better of him, and you had to be the one encouraging him.

dwight hated the hag. despised her. he could not stand her jumpscares when a trap was triggered, he would swear he was about to have a heart attack. he couldn’t admit this at first, but you figured it out when feng min was hooked and dwight stuck to the generator, nervously glancing over his shoulder every few seconds. he always went for the saves, so something was obviously wrong.

“dwight? why don’t you go save her?” you asked, eyeing him from your side of the generator.

he didn’t respond, looking over his shoulder again.

you decided to rescue min, but when you got back, you were going to chew dwight out until he gave you a straight answer.

you crawled up to the hook to avoid triggering a trap and gently lowered min to the ground. the two of you inched away carefully until you were far enough away to patch her wound.

“dwight, get off your ass and answer me,” you demanded (affectionately) once you were back at the generator, which was nearly finished. “what’s wrong?”

his eyes conveyed nervousness in every sense of the word; they darted all around, searching for any incoming danger. this was your first time seeing him like this, so you were confused. was he alright?

“it’s just…the hag,” he started, still fiddling with the wires. “her traps, i can’t…”

oh. was he anxious about the traps?

“i just can’t deal with them,” he finally said with difficulty. that was understandable; when they caught you off guard it definitely made you leap out of your skin.

“dwight, listen,” you said. “you’ve dealt with every other killer in this realm, haven’t you? you’ve bested the nurse, the huntress, micky myers, and even the spirit, who’s a bitch. i know hag’s traps are fucking terrifying, but you’re dwight! you are a leader, and you are good at being a leader. you can get out of here, i promise. and besides, with me here, you have nothing to worry about. i’ll kick that witch’s ass, got it?”

your very inspirational speech got him to smile. you were right, anyways—you could definitely kick the hag’s ass. what could go wrong?

nothing, actually. genuinely nothing went wrong. you took chase for the rest of the trial so that dwight didn’t have to worry about a thing, and everybody escaped with no problem. he didn’t understand how you were so good at evading capture—but perhaps you would tell him about your past eventually. you hadn’t yet decided.

back at the campfire, you and dwight comfortably sat side-by-side, patiently waiting until your next trials.

“thanks,” he said.

“for what?”

“for that very motivational speech you gave me,” he laughed.

you wiped imaginary dust off of your shoulder, giving him a confident smile. “i got your back. and man, that hag lady really is a bitch, huh? i can see why you hate her.”

that comment unintentionally caused one of dwight’s long, angry rants about his least favorite killer, and all you could do was watch him and listen with a soft grin on your lips. you’d never seen him angry before—it was adorable. made you wonder if you should just piss him off for fun sometimes.

𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊

this guy has hella respect for you

you’re independent and easy to teach, and that’s everything he could ask for.

now and then, the other survivors basically gave newbies to jake to teach them everything about the realm—they considered him the expert on all things survival. you were one of those newbies he was forced to take care of.

jake normally hated teaching new survivors more than anything, because it was never his choice and they were all so difficult. but you were different. you were responsible, reliable, and smart, and it made his job so much easier. as time went on, he grew to be quite fond of you.

word eventually got out that the new girl had managed to charm jake out of his “hermit ways,” but he insisted that it was not true (he also disagreed about the “hermit ways” part). it was never spoken of between the two of you, but it definitely floated around in the air waiting to be addressed.

it really couldn’t be ignored any longer. anytime you were seen anywhere within 24 feet of each other, the other survivors would give you looks and wiggle their eyebrows or shoot you a thumbs up—all of which were unwanted. it created a weird tension between you and jake that wasn’t there before, and you really didn’t like it.

you missed when you were first starting out, and jake had just realized how competent you are. those days were fun—he respected you a lot; you could see it in his face when he looked at you. you always knew when he was pleased and when you did stuff right, because he would have the tiniest, most subtle grin on his face, but you could see it, and it made you feel accomplished.

you knew he still respected you, but you had basically jumped the learning curve of the realm and quickly adapted to every killer, every challenge, and every task. how you did it, nobody could ever know. but you were almost sad, because there was kind of no reason for you and jake to spend a lot of time together anymore. if you did, then everybody would freak out for the wrong reasons, and it would ruin your friendship.

so what if you had a few small feelings for him? no one gave a shit—you knew jake probably wouldn’t give a shit. to him, you were just another annoying survivor he was forced to teach. besides, you didn’t have time for that kind of thing.

man, were you wrong, though. he really, really wanted to be around you, but you already knew everything, so he didn’t know what to do to spend time with you. his way of initial bonding was sharing knowledge, but that had already been done, so…what now?

then came the one trial that changed everything.

it was normal at first. the killer, blight, was doing well, so you had to step up your game. one generator was completed and he had 4 hooks on three different people—you were the only one not hooked yet.

he was after you, and you were expertly dodging every rush and swing he threw your way. unfortunately, you accidentally ran to the generator that jake was working on, and things got a little complicated.

when the blight rushed at the wall, then at you, jake ran towards you while you ran towards him—you were both looking over your shoulders—and alas, bonk. you crashed into each other.

oh, no!! how terrible!! looks like jake fell on top of you :/ what an unfortunate situation to be in /s /s /s /s /s

wowwww near proximity ! you’d never been so close before and it was awkward but nice (?)

then you remembered there was a crazy drug addict or whatever over there and he was chasing you, and the moment was ruined. jake quickly rose and pulled you up with him, and you went in opposite directions, both nervous and wide-eyed now.

lol

after that, the trial went quite south. everybody was sacrificed. perhaps the loss could be partly attributed to you and jake avoiding each other like the plague. but who knows, right?

back at the campfire, you began feeling overwhelmed by all the weird stuff happening lately, so you excused yourself to the edge of the woods to have some quiet time to yourself. a few minutes later, jake came to check on you bc he is a fucking gentleman and yes i will die for the “stoic man who is actually caring and thoughtful” trope. fuck you

it’s slightly awkward at first, but then you start talking like normal and things feel a lot better. a little bit of the tension eases away, but not completely. what the fuck do you do with feelings like this?????

you simply composed yourself as best you could. it would have to do.

now that you felt a little more normal (lie), you trekked back to the campfire to wait for your next trials side-by-side. there was no one you felt more comfortable with or more respected by than jake. he appreciated you for your competency, and that was one of the best things you could ask for.

and to your surprise, jake actually took your hand and laced your fingers with his own. and it felt nice. never in your existence would you have thought he would be okay with displaying public affection, but you smiled up at him and gave his hand a light squeeze.

maybe the entity gave him drugs.

or he just liked you that much. either one would make sense.

𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍

danny hated you. he really did.

you were so unbothered, so calm, so good at knowing what to do. it really pissed him off.

you got so much attention from the other survivors for your skill and that really pissed him off too. it’s not like you cared or wanted it or anything, but how dare they even touch you when you so clearly belonged to danny?

…who knows wtf that even means. so anyways-

when you realized how much time danny spent chasing you in trials when he should have been patrolling generators, you began to get suspicious. especially when he would take you to the hatch and then close it in your face, watching you die to the entity. he obviously had some kind of beef with you.

you were determined to find out what he had against you, so you began to tease him a bit in chases. your favorite and most frequent phrase was something like, "can't catch me? lil baby man? lil baby? lil baby man gonna cry?" you were really testing your luck with that one, and that's why you loved it.

once, you told him his fly was down, and he actually fell for it, making you nearly keel over in laughter. you got moried without even being hooked after that.

despite the horrors that frequented this place, you were never in a crisis about it. you simply learned what had to be done, and then you did it, much to the chagrin of danny. you had skipped the big "useless baby survivor" phase, and that one was his favorite :( he loved trials with new survivors because it was so easy and fun!

but alas, from the beginning, you were always on top of things, always slamming pallets onto his head or saving teammates with a flashlight.

oh, don't even get him started on your flashlight usage. you were the absolute worst to go against--every pallet stun, boom: danny's eyes fucking burned out. every time he picks up a survivor, boom: danny's eyes fucking burned out. you were a bitch with that item.

he finally began to get so fed up with your behavior that he decided you must be taught a lesson. somehow, countless mori and tunneling and camping incidents had not even managed to bother you. you literally did not care. but he had something different in mind this time.

the realm was haddonfield, of course. all of the killers despised this map, and for good reason--you ran danny around the entire neighborhood for three generators. did he have to chase you? no. but he needed to for himself.

he finally caught you in a dead zone, rejoicing to himself as you fell to the ground in defeat. "wow, that was a good chase," you mumbled under your breath, feeling accomplished. one of your best against danny, probably.

you were expecting him to pick you up, but instead he snatched the flashlight from your grasp and chucked it as far away as he could. and before you could protest, he pulled you up to stand again and yanked you towards himself, gripping your wrists so tightly you swore it left bruises.

"what's wrong...lil baby man?" you said with a pout, trying not to laugh. "is baby man angry?"

you were slightly scared if you were being honest, but you couldn't let him know that.

danny sighed. you really didn't know when to stop, did you?

"bitch," he spat, voice dangerously quiet. "cut that shit out."

"what shit?"

he squeezed your arms tighter, provoking an "okay, okay, i get it!" from you.

"do you?"

"sure. what's the worst you could possibly do to me anyways?" after those words left your mouth, you got a weird feeling that the killer was smiling behind his mask.

"listen, uhh, danny, is it?" you said, putting as much nonchalance into your voice as you could. "i just wanna know why you hate me so much. remember that time you closed the hatch in my face? the fuck was that for?"

he frowned at the use of his name but responded regardless, "you're a little bitch, and you deserved that."

you gasped dramatically, feigning offense. "ouch. that one hurt."

"i can make you hurt a lot more," he said darkly. you probably should have been scared, but you just really couldn't take him seriously.

so you laughed. it shouldn't have been funny, but it just was and now you couldn't stop. "you're just--you--i can't--" you wheezed, shaking from the laughter. "i'm sorry, it's really not funny."

danny didn't understand you. anybody else would have been sobbing if he so much as touched them, and here you were acting like it was a joke.

what could he do if you truly were not afraid of him?

perhaps it was time to let it go.

while his guard was down, suddenly you reached above his head and plucked his mask off, revealing his face and continuing your bouts of laughter at his shocked expression.

you threw the mask in the same direction as the flashlight, composing yourself and putting your hands on your hips. "you look pretty nice," you said, nodding.

wow. what the hell was danny supposed to do with you? perhaps the only completely unbothered, completely unserious survivor? he knew you were smart, and you knew what you were doing. he didn't even want to kill you anymore, you were just that fascinating.

that trial ended in you standing at the exit gate, your finger and your thumb in the shape of an L on your forehead. danny couldn’t care less at this point--he was done with your shit. but somehow he still liked you, and this definitely would not be the last time you saw him without his mask.

[v-hope]

omg the love confession no.3 w tae would be adorable 🥺

forgot to add the scenario but just hella tension between the two and a misunderstanding? sees y/n with someone else but she does it to get a reaction?

pairing: kim taehyung x reader

genre: fluff, slighttttt angst, f2l

word count: 1.5k

prompt: “I love you, okay? I love you!”

a/n: thank you so much for requesting! i feel like i’m still lacking when it comes to writing but i loved writing this. also, y/n didn’t do it to get a reaction out of him in this one but it still did the job lol. i hope you enjoy, love!

To say Taehyung was fuming was an understatement.

Never in his entire life would he have thought he’d be jealous of one of his hyungs. Not only that, but he would have never imagined the cause of that growing green monster inside of him would be you.

He should’ve seen it coming, though. After all, he had brought it upon himself.

Drawing his eyes away from you and focusing them on the rest of the people on the dorms to try and forget about the way you were ever so happily laughing with Yoongi at their homecoming little gathering, he found himself staring back at you not even three seconds later — his eyes locking with yours this time, as you had just looked his way as well.

And then you smiled. Sweetly, lovingly… the same way you had done with your eyes closed when he had kissed you the night before leaving for tour.

The same smile that had been quickly erased when he had panicked right after and told you to forget about it so the two of you could go on with your lives being the best of friends you had always been.

It was on him. He had been the one to ruin his chance with you. And so now, he had no right to feel jealous over you enjoying your night with his hyung.

But he did. Fuck, he did.

It was his first night back in Seoul after four long months and, instead of being attached to the hip to him like you always were, like he had been aching for you to all that time, you were right in front of him with someone else.

“Why the long face?” your voice brought him back to reality, having been so immersed in his own feelings that he had missed the way you had excused yourself to Yoongi and walked over to him instead.

Taehyung didn’t answer, a shrug of shoulders being all you got from him instead.

“Are you mad at me or something?” you wondered.

He bit the inside of his cheek, avoiding your eyes. “Why would I be?” his eyes travelled from Yoongi on the other side of the room to you. “It’s not like you’ve been ignoring me all night to hang out with hyung”.

Your jaw fell slightly open. “You’re serious right now?”

There it was again, another shrug instead of a proper answer.

“I literally spent nearly an hour next to you although you were barely even speaking to me and only went to talk to Yoon a few minutes ago”.

“Yoon” he mocked snarkily.

“Seriously, what is your problem?”

“You,” he hastily blurted out. “You are my problem”.

“Excuse me?”

Taehyung laughed under his breath, shaking his head in a way that showed no remorse whatsoever. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about”.

“I really don’t?” your tone, although confused, became stronger.

“You and Yoongi hyung?” he raised one of his eyebrows.

“What about it?”

“Come on, Y/N” his eyes faintly squinted. “I see the way you’re laughing with him. And don’t think I don’t know about you guys talking on a daily basis while we were on tour”.

“So?” you crossed your arms over your chest. “He’s a good friend, I like talking to him”.

“Maybe a little too much” he bitterly pointed out.

You stayed silent, analyzing his factions and trying to figure out what the hell was going on and why on Earth was he making a scene over something so meaningless like you talking to one of his friends.

And the only conclusion you could come up with, you couldn’t believe. Yes, you two had kissed the night before he left. And yes, you had felt like your heart would explode right then. However, it was late at night, and you guys were sleepy… and the atmosphere was just right. He had let himself get lost in the moment —or so had he told you—, and he had made it very clear you guys were nothing but friends.

So, the way he was acting this very moment, seemed to have no ground whatsoever.

Unless…

“Is this about you fearing he’ll take your place as my best friend?” you asked what you thought the problem was. “Because if that’s the case, Taehy—”

“Fuck, Y/N” he threw his head back in frustration. “That’s not it at all!”

“Then?” you questioned.

This time, he was the one to stay silent — lips parting ever so slightly as he tried to find the courage to say what he was dying to, yet ended up saying nothing at all.

You shook your head in disappointment. “You know, I’ll just leave” your words caused his heart to skip a beat in utter panic. “Talk to me when you know the reason why you’re so upset over me talking to someone else”.

Watching you turn around and go get your jacket, saying a quick goodbye to all of the people present at the dorms before you headed to the door, he felt his chest hurt. And it was after you closed it right behind you when he finally snapped back, not letting another second go by before he ran to the front door as well.

“I know the reason” he blurted out before he could fully come out of the apartment.

You stopped in the middle of the hallway, hesitating for a few seconds before you turned around.

“What?”

“The reason” he repeated, closing the door behind him. “Why I am so upset over you being so close to Yoongi hyung, or to anyone else for that matter. I know it”.

That had seemed to catch your attention, taking one step towards him. “And what is it?”

Taehyung took in a shaky breath. He had kept his feelings to himself for too long now and had been stupid enough to deny them to you even after you had kissed him back. He needed to say it for once and for all.

“I love you”.

And so he did. In a whisper.

A whisper so low that it had not managed to reach your ears.

“What?” you asked once again, eyebrows furrowing as you took yet another step towards him.

Only it wasn’t necessary to be close to him in order to hear him anymore, for he earned up the courage to finally, confidently say: “I love you, okay? I love you!”

You gasped, feeling your heart beating so hard against your chest you might as well had just been running a marathon. “You’re joking”.

Taehyung sighed, biting his bottom lip as he made his way over to you — feeling his heart ache when you took a step back from him. “I have never been more serious in my life” he stated. “I love you, Y/N”.

“And what it took for you to realise it was me talking to someone else? Because let me tell you, Taehyung, that is—”

Your words were cut off by his soft lips gently pressing on yours, the same way they had done four months ago. The same way that had taken your breath away and forget about the world.

“What it took for me to realise was kissing you back then” he murmured, wet lips brushing faintly against yours.

You shook your head in disbelief, an almost inaudible scoff escaping your mouth. “That is bullshit. You said you had got caught up in the moment and that you didn’t want our friendship to change because of it”.

“I was stupid” he was quick to admit. “Kissing you felt so good, so… right. I panicked. You’re my best friend, I was going on tour the next day, I…”

He sighed, sheepishly shaking his head as he did not know what else to say, how else to explain he had just been an idiot to deny his obvious feelings for you back then.

You, on the other hand, bit the inside of your cheek as you silently stared at him, trying to understand his motives and, more importantly, trying to figure out whether he was being genuine or not.

When you decided he was, you smiled sweetly. “You’re an idiot”.

“I know” he mumbled with lowered head.

“And I should be so mad at you right now for making me feel so shitty when you said those things right after we kissed”.

“I know”.

“Because I love you, too”.

“I kn—”

His eyes snapped up to fix on yours, searching on them for any kind of a cruel joke being displayed on them. “What?”

“I won’t say it again” you warned him.

He bit his bottom lip. “So you and hyung…”

“I told you, we’re just friends” you rolled your eyes. “Am I not allowed to have other friends?”

“You are” he nodded, taking your hands in his and pulling you closer — just enough so he could press his forehead on yours. “Just not ones you love the way you love me”.

You shoved him away in annoyance, only to be pulled right back to him. “You are insufferable”.

“Yet you still love me” he laughed lightly.

Shaking your head as an amused smile curved up the corners of your lips, you didn’t have time to neither agree nor deny his cocky statement when his mouth was back on yours.

After all, all it took for him to know his feelings were reciprocated, were your lips moving against his and your hands wrapping around his neck.

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Lavender Lace

Pairings: Tom Holland x Femdom!Reader

Summary: Edging Tom (no plot whatsoever which is super rare here cause I’m a slut for plot)

Warnings: Edging (male receiving), unprotected sex (because it’s a fic and there is no pregnancy or STD’s unless I say lol), Dom!Reader-Sub!Tom, Creampie, Cockwarming, Reader doesn’t cum (sorry)

Word Count: 1860

A/N: I wrote most of this on my phone so I’m sorry if there are any words that autocorrect changed. I looked through and changed the ones I saw but just in case I missed any, my apologies!

Part 2 out now!

______________________

Tom lied on the bed, hands tied up above his head to the bed frame. His beautiful body was on full display against the sheets, small freckles adorning his taut skin. A glistening layer of sweat made every dip and rise of his body shine deliciously, his defined muscles exaggerated by the light shining off it. His chest heaved up and down as he attempted to calm himself down yet again and his biceps flexed as he pulled against his restraints. “Fuck! Please, please please…” His voice was broken and desperate- but not quite desperate enough.

“Awe, Tommy. You’re doing so well,” you cooed, rubbing your hand lovingly across his firm thigh, “But I think you can go a little longer.“

Tom groaned in frustration, his cock already painfully hard and leaking precum. He hissed and bucked up into your hand when your hand went back down to pump his impressive length. Your hand glided up and down, adding a twist at the top around the tip. “Please-”

You stopped your movement but kept your hand still on his member, shaking your head, “No cumming until I say.” You chided, voice gentle in stark contrast to the torture you’d been putting him through for the last hour. Tom’s hips bucked upwards again, desperate for release, making you chuckle, “Look at you. So handsome. So desperate.” After a few moments, his breathing calmed down and your fingers circled feather light across his pelvis and down over his thighs, “Let’s get you a little more desperate.”

Tom shook his head, “I need to cum. Please, please let me!”

You almost felt bad for your boyfriend. He looked almost in pain and you really did want to please him more than anything but you also knew that he loved this torture. If he really wanted you to stop, he only had to say the safe word. That weird simple little word had yet to leave his lips, which meant the fun could go on, guilt free.

Your middle finger circled his tip, so agonizingly light that he couldn’t tell if you were there or his brain was just creating sensations to cope with the torture. “Just a few more, love. Think of how good it will feel when you finally get to cum.” With that, you licked a long, slow stripe up the underside of his length before taking only his tip into your mouth and swirling your tongue, lapping up the abundant pre-cum that had been practically pouring out at this point.

Tom pulled at his hand restraints aggressively, “Agh!” He almost screamed out as you brought him to the edge yet again with only small kitten licks to his tip while you stroked his shift with your hand. Tom was so painfully close, it only took mere seconds before he was crying out again.

“I’m gonna cum!” He warned and you took your hand off completely, causing him to cry out. You crawled up his body, kissing a line up along the way. You made sure that his cock rubbed through the valley of your breasts, concealed by a lacey lavender push up bra that did wonders for your chest. When you made your way to his lips, you straddled his waist, just above where he needed you most, and kissed his lips.

“What number was that?” You whispered lightly into his ear.

His eyes opened to find yours only mere inches away and he could have cried. You looked beautiful. Sultry, sexy, confident. Tom, on the other hand, appeared to be a few seconds from tears. His big beautiful chocolate eyes were practically black, pupils blown so wide they nearly overwhelmed his entire irises. His brown curls stuck to his forehead from where he’d attempted to desperately bury his head in the pillows. “Nine.” Tom managed barely, only able to focus on the intense pressure between his legs.

You kissed him again, lifting yourself off him just enough to move the thin fabric of your thong aside before sitting back down, his length sliding between your slick folds as you rocked your hips.

“Fuck!” He hissed out, eyes screwed shut. He had already been so close that this alone almost sent him over the edge.

Your nails scratched lightly over his chest as your ground on him. You moaned a little when his head bumped your clit as he passed through your folds, so close to finally being inside you. “You’ve been such a good boy, Tommy. Where do you want to cum?” You asked, reaching over his head to untie the scarf you’d had him bound by. Immediately, his hands were on your hips.

He timidly asked, “Inside you?” Even after all these years together and the fact you were on birth control, it was still a request he felt weird making.

You smiled against his skin as you licked up his neck, still moving your hips against him, “You can cum inside me when I hit ten, understand?”

“I don’t think I’ll make it. I’m already s-so close.” Tom stuttered when he felt the tip of his cock finally slide into your warmth.

You squeezed your walls around him, just to torture him a little more, “You’re gonna have to, love. If you cum before I say, I’m gonna have to stop and ruin it.”

A genuine look of fear ran through Tom’s eyes and you knew he’d behave for you. He wanted this - nay, needed this - so badly. You began to bounce on his length, his cock rubbing against every wonderful spot inside you. Your hands came to your breasts, palming them through the thick fabric of your bra. “One.”

Tom’s hands struggled to stay on your hips, knowing you might edge him longer if he stepped out of line, “Let me touch you.” He begged and you only nodded, reaching for his hands and placing them on your breasts. He pulled the fabric down and raked his nails gently over your nipples, making you breathe out in pleasure.

“Two,” You moaned out, “Three.” You kept bouncing and you could feel him twitch inside you. “Four. Five.”

“I’m not gonna make it. I’m so close.” Tom was almost crying, legs struggling to stay still as he used every ounce of willpower to not let go here and no. He was so close, all it would take was a millisecond of losing concentration to snap.

You slowed down and just sat on him yet again, not moving but clenching your walls around his aching member and he audibly whined, “You’re gonna make it or I’m gonna get off and leave you writhing on the bed. Then you can watch while I finish myself off. That what you want?”

He shook his head aggressively, his hands moving back down to your hips to keep you in place, “No, no, no! I’ll make it to ten!” You noted the movement of his hands and maybe if he hadn’t been so well behaved all this time, you would have punished him a little more for trying to take control but you could see in his eyes how painfully desperate he was, how hard he was trying to be good. You wouldn’t punish him for it - this time.

“Good.” You began to swivel your hips, just like you knew he loved it and he threw his head back into the pillows, eyes shut tight as he struggled to keep his composure. “Six. Seven.” You reached down and ran your thumb gently across his cheek where an actual tear slid down, still moving on his cock, still drawing this out, “Eyes open, love.” Tom struggled to comply, knowing that one of the only things keeping him from busting right this second was trying to take his mind anywhere but this situation. Seeing you looking so damn sexy bouncing on his cock was sure to send him over. But he managed to pry his lids open and lock eyes with your blown out orbs. You bit your lip and smiled, “You’re doing such a good job. Eight.”

“Shit!” A broken moan tumbled from his lips as he flexed every muscle in his body to keep it at bay. He was gonna snap and there was nothing he could do about it, especially at this painfully slow pace you’d been counting at.

“Nine.”

Tom’s heart raced as he waited for that last number, that last bit of permission before you would let him finally release. He didn’t think he’d ever been this painfully hard and it made him look back at every other time he ever thought he had blue balls and smack his past self. He had no idea what it was like to be this achingly close. “Please, please-”

“Ten. Cum for me baby.” You finally allowed, raking your fingers down his body, making sure to graze over his nipples.

The orgasm hit him like a semi, crashing into across his body hard and fast the very moment you permitted it. “Agh! Fucking hell!”! He was nearly sobbing, his hands squeezing tightly into your hips and bouncing you up and down at just the right pace. Again, something you let slide. He had just been so good for you, he deserved it. His seed shot deep into you, warm and overflowing and waves of pleasure just kept coming. Tom didn’t think he’d ever cum this hard or long in his life, himself surprised when more and more hot ribbons seemed to just. Keep. coming.

Finally, he slowed down, arms slackening weakly against your thighs as he came down from his high. He was still sheathed inside you, his seed leaking out around his cock, down his cock and along your inner thighs. You had never been so full and you didn’t want it to end. You leaned forward, coming to lay on his chest, head in the crook of his neck. When you moved, your walls instinctively fluttered around his sensitive cock and Tom hissed, his grip suddenly tightening on you as the stimulation became too much.

Once you had positioned yourself comfortably on his chest, he wrapped an arm around your body, rubbing large stripes up and down your side. You twirled his hair in your fingers and listened to his wrecked breathing with a bit of pride knowing you made him feel this good. “You did so good for me, Tommy.”

He sighed heavily, “Thank you.” You giggled a little, knowing his brain was still moving a little slow. He wasn’t thanking you for the compliment- he was thanking you for finally letting him cum.

“Wasn’t too much?” You asked, hoping you didn’t go overboard. Logically, you knew he’d use the safe word if it was too much but you just wanted to be sure you hadn’t gotten a little too lost in the power.

Tom shook his head with a chuckle, pulling you closer into his body, hissing yet again when your heat shifted around his overstimulated softening length. “Just right. Any more and I might have died, though.”

You both laughed at his joke before you cooed in his ear, “Oh, love, you can take it. We’ll just have to break your record next time.”

[fenristheorem]

it´s me again u.u! how about lance + begging nsfw please?

You again!? Well goodness, you just can’t get enough of Lance it seems, haha. Don’t worry, I can’t get enough either.

Writing this as a scenario because it’s specific enough to do so 😏

There is begging but it comes in a bit later, there’s a lot of build up to it lol.

*Note: This is an nsfw ask so it will include detailed sex scenes and - considering it includes begging - very kinky sex. Don’t read if you feel you won’t be comfortable with this subject. Minor swearing. Also, this starts off immediately in the thick of it, so don’t start reading until you’re comfortable (and alone) lol.

I usually write with the term Guardienne due to the neutrality of it, but it seems a bit... weird? for Lance to be saying that instead of an actual name in this case (since Guardienne isn’t an ‘actual name’), so I’ll substitute with the name Erika to give more flow(?) to the situation.

~Under the cut~

Lance + begging nsfw (+ bondage as discussed, and blindfolding because it’s wonderful - and let’s face it, Lance wouldn’t beg if he can do something about it so the man would need to be helpless):

Aged ropes - worn well from years of use elsewhere - creaked dangerously as Lance flexed his arms and tensed his body. His back arced and hips lifted slightly off the bed as he snapped his eyes shut and panted. He wasn’t entirely sure how he ended up in this situation - his thoughts were cloudy and wouldn’t allow him to think that far back and in detail, especially with the slick, velvety pair of lips that sucked delicately at the skin between his thigh and ball sac. His hardened cock twitched and he groaned lowly as her tongue lapped his skin for a moment before she pulled away.

Released now from the rippling pleasure, he breathed out and relaxed, nearly ashamed at how sensitive he had become. Sure, he was prone to succumbing to sensual physical touch quite easily, but he rarely displayed this much sensitivity at this intensity. It seems like she must have caught him on a good night.

The female pulled away to gaze at the man underneath her - lacking all articles of clothing and looking more gorgeous than ever as a thin layer of sweat slowly manifested on his skin. Powerful, scarred arms reached up towards the headboard, wrists bound tightly in musty old rope that seemed to be just barely withstanding his strength. It was faintly frayed in a few areas, and hopes that it would last the night passed through her mind. Lance broke the last one they used; it was thinner and was braided differently than the one they were using now, but newer than this old rope. However, the vendor at the market selling rope was closed today, and her their patience couldn’t last through the night, so they had to make due with the dubious old rope she found way deep in the guard’s stores until tomorrow came, where she could buy another stronger rope. Fortunately this one seemed to be holding for now, but it was completely unknown on if that would remain.

Her eyes trailed over Lance’s wrists - not rope-burned thankfully, but definitely unable to escape unless the rope broke. His circulation looked fine based on his skin tone, and as her gaze trailed back down again she couldn’t help but admire the thick veins that wound down his forearms. She threw a glance at his burning icy eyes - narrowed in a glare of pleasure and irritation - as she climbed over him, straddling his abdomen before flicking her gaze to his parted lips and then back to his eyes.

“What do you want?” Her voice was a low, husky murmur as she stared enticingly into the dragon’s eyes, shifting to rest her hands on his broad chest and accentuate her naked breasts.

His gaze twitched as she did so, but he didn’t leave her eyes as he narrowed his further and growled deep within his chest, almost so that she could feel the reverberation underneath her palms. The dragon’s answer was clear.

“What do you want me to do?” She asked again, her head tilting slightly and hair spilling over her shoulder.

Lance’s nostrils flared slightly under a heaving a breath when she adjusted her hips, resting her weight on his abdomen and shifting in a continuous rotating motion, just a mere few inches away from where he’d like to feel her slickness instead. Every movement downward allowed the tip of his cock to brush against her rear, just enough to create some sort of tempting friction that sparked another wave of feral impulses to flow through him and buck his hips. The woman above him quickly lifted her weight off of him at this, narrowing her eyes slightly and giving a faint coy smile.

“Erika.” He growled her name, impatience rising within him.

She had been continuing her teasing ministrations for nearly an hour based on his internal clock, starting from foreplay, then pinning him down - at his will - and tying him up.

That’s how she got him like this.

He remembered clearly now when she brought him down on the bed and gently traced along his arms, bringing them over his head to hold his wrists together as she dug around in a bedside drawer. Lance humored her by submitting and laying obediently as she began tying his wrists with the rope, and then tying that to the headboard - only to realize too late that she could tie quicker and stronger than he thought when preoccupied with teasing her neck, and he found himself genuinely bound without easy escape. He had glared at her as he struggled against the restraints for a minute while she backed away, reminding him of their consistently unused safe-words as she reached under his knees to wrap her arms around and grasp at the top of his thighs before pulling. Once leaning up and struggling faintly with the knot, he found himself completely against the bed sheets with his arms gently taught above his head, and Erika made sure to keep him like that by placing her hands on his waist immediately and resting her weight on him to keep him from pulling himself back up. She made quick work of his pants from there, and the rest is history. 

Now, leaning teasingly above him, Erika’s skin crawled with anticipation as she recalled her victory. Rarely could she get Lance bound without his true obedience to the matter, so having this powerful man underneath her truly by her own accord made him seem that much more feral and dangerous - which made her feel that much more powerful. Technically he could use their safe words to get out of this - their first rule is to always obey the safe words, it overrules all other rules - but she knew he wouldn’t. He would make his resistance interesting by actually using his wits to escape, not taking the low road and using the safe words just because he feels taken down a notch by being so easily bound while being completely aware of her game.

However, he didn’t seem to want to play her game. That would make sense; he’s not one to beg, but Erika set her ambitions on hearing him plead, so by the oracle that’s what’s going to happen.

She smiled at his low growl before taking her weight off of the hands on his chest, turning back to the drawer she pulled the rope from - she still had a few other techniques to disarm him further...

“Not in the mood to ask, huh? I’m sure that’ll change.”

Lance’s gaze flicked over to the dark, thin cloth she held in her hand, and then to her playful grin as she looked back at him. He could do nothing to resist her as she used both hands to place the cloth meticulously over his eyes and around his head, tucking the loose ends behind him to keep it in place.

“Not too tight?”

Erika gently tested the tightness of the blindfold by slipping a finger between the cloth and his skin, finding it loose enough to provide comfort but tight enough to keep him effectively blind.

Lance openly bared his teeth and snarled at her from deep in his throat - not the first time he’s done that, usually when he’s angered or irritated in ways he doesn’t know how to express, but occasionally to humor her. It was a mix of both irritation and humor that drove him to snarl this time.

“Oh dear! I suppose I should beg for you not to hurt me?” Her voice was a coy, amused teasing that drew a mean but genuine smile from Lance as they both shared a hushed laugh.

“Only if you don’t want me to hurt you.” He purred.

Erika hummed in response as her weight shifted above him.

“I don’t think there’s a lot you could do right now anyways.” Her voice was silky and light as she teased him, and the only warning Lance had was her weight settling between his legs again before she licked a path up the middle of his sac until the base of his cock. He gasped a quick moan, the smile dropping from his face before he clamped his mouth shut and bit his lower lip. 

This woman would be the death of him.

Erika held his shaft with two fingertips of one hand as she brushed her lips up his length, stopping just before his head before ghosting her way back down. She moved to the soft, sensitive skin between his thigh and sac again - this time on the other side than she was before - and gently sucked a small portion of the skin into her mouth, licking and attentively sucking to assure she wasn’t being too rough to the point of pain. The hand that wasn’t holding his twitching cock rested on the inner of his thigh as she moved again, pressing a firm, wet kiss to the curve of his sac. The muscles under her hand tensed as she did so before she pulled back slightly.

“I can keep at this for a good, long time you know. Are you sure you want to be that stubborn? I could relieve you, all you need to do is ask nicely.” Erika drew the words out tauntingly, watching the dragon’s facial expressions as she spoke and hoping he would give some hint that he would crack and yield to begging.

However, Lance refused to give in so soon. He knew he was in a bad position; he couldn’t move, couldn’t see, and now he feared opening his mouth for any reason lest he somehow ended up pleading instead, but he refused to go down without a fight. Instead, he took a steady breath and willed himself to relax as much as possible again, mentally steeling himself to avoid any possible temptation of pleading for her from entering his mind.

All of his mental preparation, however, fled from him when he felt her fingertips brushing his inner thigh, before warm, silken lips took one of his balls into her mouth as her tongue gently lapped at his skin. 

Fire rolled underneath his skin as he tensed again, impulsively flexing his arms and pulling down before they came to an abrupt halt as the rope reached it’s limit. A shaky, rumbling breath made it’s way from his throat as electricity surged through his veins and settled at the base of his cock, sparked from the persistent restraint that rendered him helpless. In this moment he never wanted to break a restraint so badly, so he resolved to pulling further against the ropes, encouraged by the faint creak of either bed or rope, until he couldn’t find it within himself to apply more pressure while under such states of intense desire. 

Erika glanced up as she swirled her tongue around the tender skin, her own skin shivering momentarily as she watched Lance’s display of strength against his restraints. She sucked harder at him - testing the limits - as the thrill encouraged her, wondering how long this could continue for before the ropes broke under the might of the ice dragon. Did it even occur to him to perhaps use his ice to freeze the rope and snap it? Was he fully aware, but wished to prove that he could escape without the use of his dragon ability? Erika watched with anticipation as she teased him, awaiting his next move. How wonderful it was, doing something so lewd to such a powerful man as he fought for control under the weight of his own rules.

She adjusted herself again, gently releasing his skin from her mouth before teasing her lips around his other ball, only to back away again a few short moments later.

Lance huffed a shaky breath as he relaxed slightly, the ropes binding him loosening just a bit when he did so.

“What do you want me to do, hmm? What do you want me to do next?” Erika watched Lance closely again as she spoke, once again attempting to assess where his level of self-control was.

Lance parted his lips, unknown but desperate words lingering at the tip of his tongue, before he resorted to shaky breathing. He knew she could keep at this game for a while, keeping him at the edge of pleasure and infuriating him just enough so he would eventually buckle and give her what she wanted, but he still wasn’t ready - he had a bit of composure left.

However, the one small gesture told Erika exactly what she needed to know. She kissed along his lower abdomen, nipping lightly once in a while, before dipping back down to his ball sac, taking the first ball gently into her mouth to tease again before letting go and taking the one she neglected into her mouth. Lance’s back arched slightly in response and he bucked his hips when she began tracing her tongue over the sensitive skin. Her hand caressed his cock, thumb rising to pass over his slit where precum was dripping, and stroked once as he bit his lip and tensed against his restraints again.

Erika released him from her mouth and moved to lean over his cock, running the tip of her tongue from his sac, up his throbbing shaft, until she felt the ridge of his head before backing away again.

“I need you to beg for me, Lance. Tell me what you want me to do.”

She spoke knowing he was probably drowning in relentless waves of pleasure from her bold actions, hoping it would weaken his resolve further. For assurance that her tactic would work, she immediately leaned back down after speaking and ran the flat of her tongue over his cock head, tasting the salty tang of precum as she passed over his slit.

Lance grunted, a minor desperate note in the sound, and rolled his hips, gasping faintly when he felt her lips brush his head momentarily. However, Erika quickly pulled back, taking both hands off of him and refusing to initiate skin contact.

“Lance,” she started, her voice a lewd murmur. She knew exactly how far to push him now. “If you want that you need to beg. Beg to feel my lips sucking you off.”

Erika traced a finger over his cock head before leaning back down and running her tongue underneath the ridge, brushing her lips over his head in a soft kiss as she laid her hand on his abdomen and dragged her palm lower, towards his sac.

Lance bit his lip and groaned again as Erika gently took his sac in hand and squeezed softly, before she pulled away and held his cock in her palm instead. She teased one of his balls into her mouth again, adjusting properly as Lance’s hips rolled when she stroked his cock, and swirled her tongue around it before sucking lightly and pulling gently back.

“Fuck, Erika, please!”

The words escaped Lance before he had a chance to argue against himself, caught agonizingly in the desperation of wanting to feel her lips around him again. Tight coils settled in his lower abdomen as his cock throbbed in her palm, and the precum that was slowly slickening her touch on him only encouraged his desire to feel her lips sucking him off.

“Please what?”

Erika pulled gently away from him to speak, brushing her lips over his skin still and flicking her tongue out to lap at his cock when she could.

“I...” The dragon hesitated, not knowing how to find his words.

Erika leaned back down momentarily and sucked the flesh of his sac into her mouth, purposely excluding his balls, before releasing again and dragging her tongue from his sac, between his balls, up to his head. Lance jerked momentarily against his restraints and released a faint growl as he bucked his hips, and Erika humored him by complying to his wishes and wrapped her lips around the head of his cock, swirling her tongue and lightly sucking as she pulled steadily back to release him again. Lance’s hips rose off the bed to keep his cock in contact with her lips as she pulled away.

“Fuck, alright! I need you to suck me off! I need to feel you!”

His hips rested against the bed as Erika pushed him back down, bobbing her head once to take him further into her mouth. Her tongue ran along the underside of his shaft as his cock throbbed, precum seeping out of his slit to mix with her saliva and help slicken him. Lance moaned as he rolled his hips, enjoying the warm wetness of her mouth before she pulled away again.

“If you beg more I’ll swallow.”

“Only if I can watch.”

She smiled as she leaned up and grasped the blindfold, and with a flick of her wrist the blindfold drifted off the bed and towards the ground. Her eyes met with Lance’s piercing blue eyes - weighed heavy with lust - for only a moment before she leaned back down and took his cock in her mouth again.

Lance’s gaze followed her as she bobbed her head, gently sucking and swirling her tongue around his head when she came back up. One of her hands came to the base of his shaft, encircling her thumb and forefinger around his base and squeezing. He groaned and slightly rolled his hips, embracing another wave of warm electricity that came cascading through his veins as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

Erika pulled back for a moment, tilting her head to the side to lick along the dry skin further down on his shaft before taking his head in her mouth again. She eased herself further down, slowing as she felt his head press against the back of her mouth, but persisted and relaxed herself so she could take more of his cock.

Lance gasped quietly as Erika swallowed him, pulling against his restraints before releasing a loud groan.

“Fuck yes. Let me cum in your mouth, please let me cum in your throat.”

Lance’s voice was low - laced with the rumblings of a growl - as his abdomen tensed and breathing increased to a light pant. He rolled his hips as gently as possible, asking for more without making her too uncomfortable to the point of pulling away.

Erika released his base and took the rest of his shaft into her palm, slowly backing off to allow herself a moment to relax as her hand followed the direction of her head movement. She swirled her tongue around his head and stroked his shaft, pulling away momentarily to drag her tongue up the middle of his sac and take one of his balls into her mouth again. The pad of her thumb swiped across his slit, spreading more precum as he groaned, before she gently pulled her mouth away with a gentle tug and took his head into her mouth again.

Her hand stroked his cock at the same pace that she bobbed her head, continuously going deeper every time, and licking the sensitive underside of the ridge below his head when she came back up, until his head was pressing against her throat again. She gently squeezed his shaft once as she relaxed herself and took him further into her throat again, giving herself a moment to adjust before moving slightly.

Lance groaned as she took him into her throat again, abdomen tightening and hips rolling like earlier. He panted, casting a glance at her to make sure she wasn’t displaying signs of distress, before gently bucking his hips. Erika held steady, meeting his gentle movements with further advancements of her own as she stroked with her hand what she could. Lance squinted his eyes shut again, a small shiver rippling through him as he felt his oncoming release.

“Let me... please! Yes, like that!”

He panted his words and arched his back as Erika tightened her throat around him, applying more pressure to the underside of his shaft with her tongue and pulling back slightly for a moment before swallowing him again.

Lance struggled against the restraints again - tensing and pulling so hard he was sure that he’d break something - before the impending wave of fire rolled through him. He bucked his hips a last time, a shout escaping him as he released himself. 

Erika held still as Lance’s cock throbbed in her throat, a strong, salty taste making itself apparent a few moments later as the dragon panted and slowly relaxed. She gently pulled back after a few heartbeats - keeping in mind that he would likely be sensitive now - before glancing up and locking her gaze with a sated blue gaze. Without a moment’s hesitation, she swallowed and licked her lips, as promised, and Lance narrowed his eyes slightly.

Her gaze broke from his and she leaned off the side of the bed, taking his discarded shirt from earlier.

“You can clean yourself up, right? I need to wash myself off quickly, I’ll be back in a minute.”

She tossed the shirt casually onto Lance’s chest and rose tediously from the bed, testing to make sure she could stand after so long in an odd position.

“Uh... wait!? I can’t...”

Minor alarm laced Lance’s voice - a rare thing to hear from him - so Erika immediately stopped all she was doing and looked towards him, remembering now that he couldn’t, in fact, clean himself up. He was still restrained.

“Wait, you really can’t break out of that!?”

Sure he was restrained, but the last rope he broke was much stronger than the current one, and not as frayed as this old one. Apparently the little old rope could stand to a dragon’s strength.

He merely gave her a look;  a raised eyebrow combined with a half amused glare.

“Your ice-”

“Hey, I can answer that question while you unite me.”

Lance watched her stubbornly, a twitch at the corner of his mouth signaling the beginning of a small smile.

Erika rolled her eyes.

“Your ice can’t freeze it then shatter it or something?”

She was sure he had that ability, so why didn’t he just do that? Regardless, she went to untying him, gently loosening the ropes around him and affectionately brushing her hands along his arms to soothe any pains the rope could have caused from his fighting, until he was completely free.

And then she was grabbed by the waist and pinned on the bed.

“What-”

“You really think you can tie me up, blindfold me, and then ask me to beg for you without there being consequences? I think it’s only fair that you know what that feels like now.”

Lance already had both her wrists pinned under his large hand and was setting to work with the rope, and Erika couldn’t help but fight the anticipating grin that slowly overcame her as she realized what that would entail for her.

She hoped for a moment that the rope would break, and then decided against it. If begging for Lance came along with his tantalizing teasing, she certainly couldn’t complain.

~I hope you like this! I don’t entirely know how to talk teasingly so the dialogue might not be the best, but otherwise I think I wrote pretty well. 😂

Thank you for asking, darling! ❤️

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[hurting-fictional-people]

Betrayal Story - part 5

This is it guys, this is why the characters got names! I hope y’all like it <3  

CW: branding, burning, forced to watch, emeto (pretty brief and only at the end), whumpee restrained to a table, nonsexual noncon touch, hurt no confort again but that will change eventually I promise lol

tagging  @thelazywitchphotographer @swift-perseides @whump-it-like-its-hot  @sunflower1000  @msrandonstuff @fromtheo-withlove  @boxofsilence  @lionhxartx @sometouchofmadness @paleassprince @livingforthewhump (let me know if you ever want me to stop or start tagging you ♡)

Part one is here, continued from here

-

Fire is strangely beautiful, Liam thinks, watching it flicker and dance in the hearth. A kind of painful beauty that hurts to see, the idea of touching it enough for gooseflesh to rise, but pretty nonetheless. 

He wishes he could be like fire. Not because of its beauty, but because it produces no shadow. No darkness comes from the flames, only light. And pain, when touched without notice. If he could be like that, only light and self-defense, maybe all of this wouldn’t hurt so much. Chase’s leaving, the dread of what each of his breaths might bring as time passes, the plummeting of his stomach every time he hears footsteps outside his room’s door. 

The flames crackle, and Liam wonders why it is he can’t shake the fear off, as he remembers the guards bursting into his room and pulling him out of bed, leading him outside as Liam pretended each step didn’t make him want to scream. That was minutes ago, and yet the fear still drums in tandem with his heart, pulsating turmoil into his bloodstream. Why feel fear when all it does is make things worse? Wouldn’t it be easier if he could just be at peace in those moments between pain, before it comes? But instead, his mind or his body or his soul decides to fill him with dread – only another layer of horror he cannot avoid.

Jonah was waiting for him when they brought Liam inside a weirdly cozy living room, leaning against the fireplace and watching Liam’s uncertain footsteps as he was pushed down to lie on a steel table placed in the middle of the room. Eyes glued to him as Liam was restrained until he could no longer move. His gaze went straight to the fireplace and stayed there since, watching the flames as memories of electricity, lighting up his every nerve until he nearly lost his voice to screaming, flashed before his eyes. The memory is still fresh enough to freeze him into not resisting. What a pitiful sight he must be.

“Hello there,” Jonah smiles, taking casual steps towards him and stopping by his side to watch from above, hands in his pockets as if having someone tied to a table in his living room is nothing out of the ordinary. “How are you today, Liam? Has your voice returned after our last encounter?”

He lifts his gaze to find the man’s eyes blinking innocently at him.

“You are sick,” Liam rasps out, shaky and small, but the words are there. He might be restrained and scared, but he is not broken. He isn’t. Right?

“That’s a yes, then. Very good, I like to hear you,” scream – he doesn’t even have to finish the sentence for the word to be heard. Liam feels sick. “Now let’s call our mutual friend, shall we?”

Liam narrows his eyes as Jonah types something on his phone. He can’t be talking about– 

“Chase!” Jonah says to the camera Liam only now notices a few paces away, held by another one of Jonah’s men. He tries to hear more, but Jonah comes so close to the camera and talks in such a low voice that all he grasps and holds on to is the name. 

Jaw clenched and stomach churning, Liam stares at the ceiling, letting the wave of bitter rage break against him without resistance. It wins the battle against fear for one moment, and that’s enough for him to seize it with every last bit of willpower. It is better to be angry than frightened, and he’s had enough of the latter for a lifetime.

The frantic beat of his heart turns into aching memories of Chase’s lies, promises of love he never intended to keep, each word meant to trick Liam into being a fool. Twice. Once months ago, then again when he genuinely, stupidly, hoped Chase would pick him instead of a job. Fucking ludicrous. 

But bitterness can only do so much to keep fear at bay, and when Jonah’s voice reaches his ears again, not even a minute later, it comes crashing back and flooding his veins with pointless adrenaline.

“He was a very good boy if you want to know. Just stood there, still and obedient as we buckled in the restraints,” he says to the camera, stopping beside Liam once more, placing a hand on his head. “Say hi to Chase, Liam boy.”

“Fuck you,” he spits. Fuck both of you, he means to complete, but Jonah’s hand is already closing on his hair, drawing out a pathetic little whimper from his lips.

“Language, Liam.”

He closes his eyes and waits for the hand to let go. It’s all he can do. Still, his hands twitch uselessly by his side, palms turned to the ceiling closing in fists, knuckles scraping against cold steel.

“I guess this is a lesson for both of you, then. For Chase to not be a prick and for you to behave better, my pretty plaything.”

Eyes snapping open, he glares up at Jonah, feeling indignation bubble up inside of him.

Jonah doesn’t even see it. He is too busy looking at his phone with an unamused expression before handing it to one of the guards. 

Is he talking to Chase? Is Chase delighting in seeing Liam like this, helpless and scared?

The part of him that refuses to give up entirely shakes its head, remembers gentle touches and tender gazes that couldn’t possibly have been faked. The other part, the one that grows each day he spends in this hell, purses its lips and scoffs at his naiveness. If Chase cared, he wouldn’t have left him here. 

“You know, if it wasn’t for Chase, this wouldn’t be happening,” Jonah says, painful grip turning into deceivingly soft fingers that run through Liam’s hair in mock sympathy. “He knew what I’d do if he pissed me off. So here we are again. It is always him, isn’t it Liam? It doesn’t matter how far Chase goes, he’s always the one causing you hurt.”

He tries to fight it. Of all the things he’s been put through, he fights the tears that prick his eyes. And just like everything else, he loses. They fall in warm drops down his temples as he turns his head, looks away into the fire again. No shadows there, nothing like the darkness seeping through the cracks of his heart, tainting his soul.

“Now for the fun part,” Jonah declares, sauntering to the fireplace, crouching down in front of it. Something entirely too close to panic pools in Liam’s stomach as he gets back up, holding two iron rods he’d dismissed as fire pokers. As Jonah approaches him, he can see with disturbing clarity how wrong he’d been – the rods’ bright-orange tips shine in intricate shapes. Letter shapes.

“J-Jonah,” he breathes, more sob than word, “please, please don’t.”

Jonah smiles at him, and without saying a word hands one of the brands to a guard before placing himself beside Liam’s exposed arm.

He tries to breathe, beg, say something, but every rational thought disappears as Liam follows the blazing hot shapes with wide eyes, gasping for air that refuses to fill his lungs.

He is almost there, the please I’ll do anything hanging from the tip of his tongue when the branding iron is lowered onto the delicate skin above his wrist. 

Burn could never describe the pain that steals every last bit of himself Liam tries to hold on to. Fire sinks into his skin, into muscle and bones until it reaches whatever lies within, and destroys everything in its path. He screams, cries and wails senseless pleads, but nothing passes through the ocean of agony he’s drowned in. 

He barely notices when the brand is pulled away.

He does when the second one is pressed onto his other arm though. 

Liam writhes and sobs, but there’s no escape, no mercy to be begged for. Only pain to feel, nothing, no one else but pain and pain and pain that swallows and dissolves the world into searing flames that hold nothing of whatever beauty he thought he saw.

-

You know, what really makes me mad isn’t even your fucking stupid idea of keeping things from me. It’s the shit job you did deleting those files. Who do you think I am, Chase?

That was all that waited for Chase when his phone buzzed, along with a link to a live stream instead of a video. No recording this time, no certainty that at least while Chase watches, Liam isn’t in pain anymore. 

“Chase. I see you’re faster now. Pity you’re no smarter,” Jonah sighed as soon as he clicked on the link. “But I won’t go into how fucking idiotic it was of you to delete half the information I asked you to get me,” he hissed, low and angry enough for Chase to feel the words as bugs crawling along his skin, up and down, circling his throat, ready to squeeze. “What’s happening here today is entirely on you. I hope you see and hear and remember every bit of it, sweetheart.”

He felt like screaming when Jonah closed his hand in Liam’s hair and made him yelp. The impulse to clench his fist until it shattered the phone was strong enough for Chase to connect the live stream to the television in his living room and bite on his lip when the image expanded and Liam’s terror became so painfully obvious.

One minute later, Chase nearly threw the phone at the wall when he called the man and Jonah simply looked down at his muted cell phone on the other side of the screen and handed it to someone else.

“You know, if it wasn’t for Chase, this wouldn’t be happening,” Jonah said, and Chase seethed, half anger and half guilt boiling inside of him. “He knew what I’d do if he pissed me off. So here we are again. It is always him, isn’t it Liam? It doesn’t matter how far Chase goes, he’s always the one causing you hurt.”

Chase dropped the phone in time to avoid crushing it, but the desk chair didn’t escape his rage. Its broken pieces fell on the other side of the room, doing nothing to soothe the horror building up in his stomach.

And then Jonah grabbed the branding iron, and Chase’s heart missed a beat at the sight, eyes widening in tandem with Liam’s.

“J-Jonah,” Liam choked out, “please, please don’t.”

“Jonah,” Chase said too, unable to hold it in just like anything else in his life, even if he knew he was the only one listening. There was never such a thing as restraint when it came to Liam. If only Chase had seen it sooner. “No–“

When the iron descended on that soft, silky, perfect skin above the restraint circling Liam’s wrist, Chase fell on his couch, legs too weak to hold his weight. 

Liam screamed, loud and raw and utterly hopeless, back trying to arch and being pulled back down by too tight restraints before it even left the table. His body spasmed, trying to escape the blaze, but there was nowhere to go, and it took only a moment for the despair to turn into sobs and tears.

It didn’t last more than a few seconds, but those would star Chase’s nightmares forever. Jonah pulled the iron off Liam’s now bright red skin, and Chase couldn’t bear to look at the letter-shaped burn. He also couldn’t help it. 

When Jonah exchanged the used iron with the second one, Chase felt bile rise in the back of his throat. “Please, p-please, please,” Liam begged, so little Chase barely heard it, so dazed he didn’t think Liam did either. 

He echoed it though.

“No, please don’t.”

But no one heard him, and the second branding iron was pressed to the inside of Liam’s other arm, and his mouth opened in a silent scream Chase heard nonetheless.

By the time the second one is pulled away, Chase is kneeling on the floor, hands covering his mouth and tears threatening to overflow.

It is nothing compared to Liam, though. His mouth hangs open even as the iron stops touching skin, and soft sobs wrack his slim body as his glassy eyes leak a constant stream of tears into his hair.

Chase doesn’t even move when Jonah’s voice leaves the speakers again.

“So? Do you like it?” he asks, a manic grin stretched across his lips as he points to Liam and the camera walks toward him. 

It focuses on his face first. Sweat, tears, pure agony written all over it. His eyes lay open and unfocused, lost to the pain. The image slides down to his heaving chest, restrained arms, until it stops above both his wrists.

Chase turns to the side and vomits at the sight. 

Two bright red burns mar the perfect skin he had once worshipped with lips and tongue and feather-light touches that never felt like enough. 

Jonah chuckles, and the live stream ends in that ghastly image of two letters forever engraved on Liam’s skin. Flourished and elegant, a C stands out on his right arm and an R on the left one. His initials. Chase Raymond. 

Chase pukes again, and then curls up on the floor and weeps.

(next)

[kaitwrites]

Part 22; Apologies

Word Count: ~3k

Masterlist 

A/N: Okay, it’s finally here. First of all I’d like to say I’m very nervous lol. But also, a HUGE thank you to @garbagepale-kid​ for editing and proof-reading for me. Best Wife Cassie <3. Secondly, she has given me so much confidence in my writing and I love her so much for that. Once again, Cassie Best wife. Also you can follow her (18+) writing blog here. In other news I just finished my last 55 hour week at work, and I only have four more days of work before a week of vacation! Anyway, the next part will be written as well, and I hope you guys enjoy <3

You stared at your phone, watching anxiously as the minutes ticked by. After making it back to the hotel you made a beeline for the little gazebo off to the side of the property. With the late hour and it also being a weekday, you were left waiting alone in the dark, unbothered as you sat on the weathered bench. The only light  came from the dim bulb that seemed to hang only by a thread from the tented ceiling. Bakugo had said he wanted to take a shower before meeting with you, but the longer you waited, the more you feared you’d been stood up. 

Finally, you spotted a familiar spiky-haired shadow coming from around the corner and your heartbeat spiked in your chest. 

You let out a shaky breath as he approached, relieved that he had finally shown up. “Hi.” 

He offered you a rare smile, one it seemed only you got to see. “Hey.” He had stopped at the steps, not making a move to come any closer - almost unsure what to do with himself. “So…” 

“So?” You questioned, your voice coming out far more confident than you thought it would. 

Bakugo huffed and made his way up the few steps, sliding onto the bench beside you. The old wood creaked under your combined weight. He sat facing forward, choosing to stare out into the darkness. “So, you and Sero?” There was a bite to his tone. 

Your eyes narrowed. “What about me and Sero?” You quipped back, your tone just as harsh. 

You observed him carefully as he clenched and unclenched his jaw, bracing yourself for an onslaught of the usual insults you heard thrown at your friends. “What are you two?” 

You were taken aback by how soft his voice was when he asked, and it took you a moment to compose yourself once more before answering him. “What does it matter to you what goes on between me and Sero?” 

“Because, damn it!” He let out a hefty sigh, knotting his hands into his hair.  “I thought we had something.” He hissed out through clenched teeth. 

You turned away in disbelief, unsure of how to react. He planned this whole thing, the song, the apology, in front of hundreds, if not thousands, of people, but he wanted to get upset with you? Act like you had been the one in the wrong this entire time? Sure what you and Hanta had was artificial, but did he really expect you to wait around while he tried to figure out how to communicate with you? It wasn’t like you two had been anything official, so what was the big deal if you had started seeing someone? The questions mounted and mixed poorly with a nearly-venomous sense of indignation, erasing any of the calm you’d been maintaining.

You threw your hands up in exasperation, ignoring the way he flinched away from the unexpected sudden movement. “You know what? I thought we did too. But then you kicked me out of your hotel room, wouldn’t tell me why! You ignored me for weeks, Bakugo! I think I deserve an explanation!” 

“Fuck! I know!” He shouted, making you jump. He noticed it from the corner of his eye and took a deep breath before he spoke again, this time a little calmer.

“I knew your phone had died so I plugged it in for you. Figured I’d save you the hassle in the morning. It started going off like crazy once it turned back on and I assumed it was those idiots blowing up your phone. He slumped his shoulders, leaning back against the bench. “I was going to tell them to shut the hell up and leave you alone so you could sleep, but the messages were from some guy acting like your boyfriend or something - I got angry.” 

You fisted your hands in the hem of your shirt, feeling your nails dig into your palms through the thin material. “No shit! Why didn’t you talk to me?” 

His gaze shifted to the floor, unable to look in your direction after hearing the hurt and anger in your voice. “I wanted to! I knew I had upset you and I figured you’d be over it in a few days. But when Kirishima told me just how upset you were I just- I couldn’t. I’m just some asshole, and you deserve better than that. I couldn’t talk to you.” 

You glared at his profile, lips pressed into a thin line, waiting for him to face you and continue. The silence stretched on for several moments, so you cut in. “You could have texted me, called me, wrote me a note, sent me a fucking email for god’s sake! But instead, I was left sitting alone agonizing over what in the hell I could have done that made you so mad at me!” 

“I realized I fucked up. No matter how much I wanted to talk to you I know I’d just fuck it up and hurt you all over again.” He finally turned his gaze to you, features softening once he saw the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. He ventured again, barely audible “But now I realize that not talking to you hurt you more than anything I could have done.” 

You aggressively wiped at your eyes as the tears escaped, realizing you were more frustrated by the burst of tears than you were angry with Bakugo.

“You had become such a constant in my day to day life, and just like that, the familiarity was gone. You were gone. You wouldn’t even look at me. I was literally packing my bags a week and a half ago because being around you was not only uncomfortable, but it hurt.” 

Bakugo shifted on the bench beside you, uncomfortable from the sudden burst of tears. He wasn’t good with his own emotions, let alone someone else's. A slew of curses ran through his brain as he tried to gather the right words to say to try to make you feel better. A stab of guilt shot through his heart watching your shoulders shake as you tried to hide your face from him. Damn, he thought, this is all my fault. He slid off the bench with an exasperated sigh, kneeling in front of you and tilting your face to meet his eyes. “Damn it, stop crying dumbass.” His hand slid up to your cheek, wiping the tears that continued to trail down your face. “Especially over some asshole.” 

Your eyes narrowed. “You’re the asshole I’m crying over.” You spat, pushing his hands away. 

“Listen. I’m not good at shit like this, alright?” His voice no longer held the softness it had just moments prior. You went to speak but he cut you off abruptly. “Just- let me talk, okay?” You nodded, letting him say his piece. 

He took a deep breath, eyes pointed at the ground. “I fucked up. I know I did, alright? I’m not- I don’t know how to do stuff like this, I never cared how anyone felt before you came along. To be honest, I regretted kicking you out as soon as I did it, hearing the pain in your voice then- Even now, it’s still… I don’t even know how to describe it. But, fuck. I'm just trying to say sorry, alright?” 

“It’s called guilt.” You sniffled, bumping your leg against his. 

He moved back beside you on the bench, and after a moment of hesitation he pulled your legs into his lap. Your heart fluttered at the sudden movement, and you were tempted to remove your legs from his light grip, but it felt right. You sighed and let yourself relax into him and he wrapped his free arm around you as you let your head rest on his shoulder. I’m so tired of being mad at him. You thought, I want this moment with him, I don’t want to fight against it. I’ve missed him so much. 

His hand came up, stroking your hair with a tenderness that surprised you, and you melted into his touch. “I know what it’s called, Dumbass.” 

You closed your eyes, taking in the scent of his body wash. It smelled like the forest after it had just rained, and reminded you of all of the nights you had fallen asleep in his room while you worked on videos or watched movies together. How you would wake up snuggled up to his firm chest and he would complain that you took up all the room on the bed so he had no choice but to be so close to you. You smiled fondly at the memory and felt a few more tears fall from your eyes. 

His hand rested on your knee and gently squeezed. “I thought I told you to stop crying over some asshole.” He slowly brought his hand up to wipe at your tears, assuming you would push him away once more. The weight of his hand disappeared from your head, drifting down to wipe your tears even though he was sure you’d try to push him away again. To his surprise, you let him.

You pressed your cheek into his calloused hand letting out a shaky sigh when it lingered a little longer than necessary. You looked up at him through wet eyelashes.

“Say it again.” You mumbled. 

He pulled his hand back, confused. “Don’t cry over an asshole? I think twice is enough, you really need to hear it a third time?”

“No, you idiot.” You sighed, pushing his shoulder. “You know what I mean.” 

He smirked and placed his hand on your knee. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

This time it wasn’t surrounded by a jumbled mess of an explanation, it wasn’t a quick, quiet apology like he had done prior. It felt genuine. It was genuine. You felt like a weight had been lifted from your chest, and you could feel the tears burning in your eyes again, but you pushed them back and let a shaky breath escape your lips. 

“I forgive you, but it’s not okay. Learn how to talk to people.” You flicked him on the forehead and he grabbed your wrist, returning the motion to your forehead. “Hey!” 

“I’m working on it, woman.” He let go of your wrist but slid your hand into his, gently squeezing it before dropping it completely. “Shitty Hair already told me about you and Sero, but I want to hear it from you.” 

“Damn it, Kirishima!” You threw your head back, covering your face with your hands. You had asked him not to say anything to Bakugo about it, scared that it would just anger the blonde and make him never want to speak to you again, and you were aggravated that your best friend had decided to tell Bakugo instead of just letting things take their course. But suddenly, what Kirishima told you had made sense. You two are going to be the death of me. At first, you thought he meant you and Sero, but the more you thought about it, he was talking about you and Bakugo. Mina said that Kirishima had been working with Bakugo for a while, and he was probably just trying to get a handle on the situation, tired of having to go back and forth especially if it was going to be all for nothing. Kirishima never should have been caught up in the middle of the mess between the two of you, Bakugo could have talked to you, and you could have just gotten over it and made him talk to you in person, even when he was ignoring all of your messages. 

 You narrowed your eyes once more, crossing your arms over your chest.“You drove Kirishima just as crazy as I did, didn’t you?” 

He mimicked you, quirking a brow as he crossed his arms over his own chest. “You have no proof.”

“Stop copying me, liar. I can’t believe I’m attracted to a liar.” You reached out to pry his arms from his chest, but he turned it around on you, grabbing yours and pulling you so close so you could feel his breath on your face. 

 “So you’re attracted to me?” You didn’t miss the way his eyes traveled down to your lips, then quickly darted back up to your eyes, a smirk forming on his own lips

“I never denied it.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as he moved his hand up your arm. “You would have known forever ago if you hadn’t been so mean to me.” 

His crimson eyes made their way back down to your lips once more, and you shivered under his gaze. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?” He leaned forward, closing the distance between the two of you, observing your features carefully as he drew closer. He slowly closed his eyes, but you put a hand to his chest and stopped him. He eased back, pressing his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering open and breath heavy as if he had been holding it this whole time.

“What now, dumbass?” He was annoyed, but his voice wasn’t as gruff as it usually was. 

“I need to talk to Sero.” 

“Oh? Need to fake break up with your fake boyfriend?” He chuckled, hands trailing up and down your arms. “Come on, Y/N.” 

“Well, It’s a little more complicated than that.” You bit your lip and looked down, nervous to tell him about what had happened earlier in the night, anxiety eating at your nerves over the events of the evening.

He rolled his eyes as he waited for you to continue. “Spit it out, Y/N.”  

Sero had been there for you for this entire ordeal, hell even before Bakugo came into the picture, he was one you could always come to and he would welcome you with open arms, dropping whatever he was doing for you. And what if that kiss had meant something to him? Obviously, you were taken back by it at first and you weren’t sure how to feel, but he knew that all of this was for Bakugo, and since this - or at least something - was happening between you and Bakugo, he deserved to know what happened. 

“He kissed me earlier before you guys went on stage. He came down to get some drinks and we ran into each other at the bar. I just wanted to tell you because I didn’t want you finding out later and getting upset with me again.” 

“Mother fucker.” He pulled back and his hands tightened on your arms for a minute before he let go. You saw anger flash in his eyes, and you were preparing yourself for an outburst. “I was supposed to be the first one in this damn band of idiots to kiss you.” He was trying to keep a light tone with the joke, but you could tell he was struggling to keep his cool. 

“Hate to break it to you, he wasn’t the first to kiss me either.” You reached up and ran your fingers through his hair, always shocked at how soft his seemingly prickly hair was. 

“Shouldn’t be surprised you kissed that red-haired idiot.” He leaned his head back into your hand as you scratched his scalp, side-eyeing you as you giggled. 

“Wrong again! Jirou and I made out once or twice, no big deal.” You smiled as his mouth fell open in shock. “Actually, the only person I haven’t kissed is Kirishima. Well, and you.” His hands made their way down to your hips and he pinched you at your remark. 

“I don’t know why I’m so surprised. You two did seem close.” Soft circles were rubbed into your sides before a look of realization came across his face. “Wait, even that purple-haired bastard?” 

“Only once during spin the bottle when we were in high school.” You giggled, watching a pout form on his lips. “Aw, what’s the matter, Katsuki?” You reached up to pinch his cheek, “you jealous-“ He grabbed your hand, cutting you off and pulling you completely onto his lap, his lips just a few mere inches from yours. 

“What were you saying?” He whispered, his lips just barely ghosting against yours, eyes half shut, staring up at you. Goosebumps ran up your spine as he ran his hands up your sides. “Not so talkative now are we?” 

You inhaled sharply and placed your hands on either side of his face, rubbing your thumb over his cheek. “I missed you.” 

“I’ve been here the whole time.” He squeezed your sides and kissed your jaw, leaving tingles where his lips had met your skin. You visibly shivered and sighed, leaning more into him, allowing him to continue the light trail of kisses along your jaw. “Come back to my room.” He whispered. 

You nodded, opening your eyes and peering down at him. “After I talk to Sero.” His grip tightened at the sound of his name and you didn’t miss the way his face scrunched up in disapproval, but he lazily let his hands fall from your sides. “It won’t take long,” you promised, slowly making your way off his lap already, missing the presence of his hands on your sides. 

You had barely made it two steps away from him before you felt his hand at your wrist, pulling you back and twisting you around to face him once more. “You really thought I’d let you go that easily?” His free hand landed on your cheek, making its way to the back of your head and pulling you closer to him, his lips finally meeting yours. 

Taglist! @hopelesshawks @goustcop @pride-of-persephone @jadenyukis-bodypillow @unawi13-blog @sokka-simp @astroninaaa @pansinspace @oikawasiwa @thelifeoftheshorty @camry-orphanaccount @vhskenma @hallothankmas @pinkquartz19 @reblogs-of-things-i-like @xxoperatexx @kiristanfirsthuman2nd @introvertatitsfinest @garbagepale-kid @calumsfringe @itsmysticalmystery @sirachano0dles @bakugousflowerprincess @fukyouthink @ynfics @hadesnewpersephone @cirtruss @cherryblossom242 @chaichai-the-weeb @sergeant102105 @punicorn999 @definitelynotaundrayah @dangerousluv1 @missalienqueen @coffeeaddictedmay @nxynxy @tansyfleurwhisper @insane-without-delirium @ravenkake @thoretical-theo @overzealous-imagination @delightfulartisancolorauthor @multifixx @emomochi

[speechlessxx]

Newfound Family (Chris Evans x Reader)

REQUEST: Could you write a chris evans x reader where the reader has a really bad relationship with her family and never talks to them so she doesnt understand the closeness between chris and his mom and shes just kinda weirded out (angst and then fluff) from @rororo06​

Hope you enjoy <3

Warning: bad family relationship, language (but not really lol), bad writing

Word Count: 1.9k (I got carried away with this)

Feedback is appreciated!

Chris didn’t have to be a genius to know that you were nervous. From the way your thumbs fiddled against one another to the way your leg anxiously bounced as you sat in the passenger seat. It was obvious. 

“You alright?” He asked, glancing over to you as he drove. You let out a hum in response. He chuckled, reaching over and taking your closest hand in his, raising it to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand, a small smile on his face. “It’s okay, (Y/N). It’s just my family.”

“Just your family?” You asked, raising your eyebrows. “Chris, I think your grip on reality is a little loose.”

“Don’t be scared to meet them,” Chris shook his head, the grin on his face got wider. “They’ll love you.”

“And if they don’t?” 

“Guess you’re walking home, then.” You scoffed at his response, pulling your hand from his. “I’m kidding!”

“I’m not.”

“They’ll love you,” he reassured as he took your hand back. 

You frowned, losing yourself in your own head. You thought back to your family. You’ve been estranged for so long. You don’t even remember the last time you spoke to your parents. The last interaction you had with a blood relative was a small “happy birthday” comment on your sibling’s Instagram post a year ago. They didn’t even bother to respond.

Your upbringing wasn’t like how it was in the movies. Your parents weren’t the kindest people. You were pushed to be the best, so that they could flaunt your successes as their own. However, that didn’t save you from the mishaps. 

If you were one point off from a perfect score, you were sent to your room without dinner. If you defended yourself, you were whooped and called disrespectful. If you spoke in a way that they didn’t appreciate, you were locked outside the house. 

You spent years trying to make yourself their perfect child, but they always found a flaw. 

They wanted you to become a doctor. They talked highly of you when you received your acceptance letter to Stanford University. They were willing to pay the expensive tuition just so they can brag about you to their snobby friends. 

However, you got accepted to your dream school for your passion. It was what you wanted to do. You were even gifted scholarship though it didn’t cover all the expenses. 

Ultimately, you decided to do something for yourself for once - to make yourself happy. But that meant your parents cut you off completely. 

You were so lost in your own thoughts that you didn’t even hear Chris say, “after this, I should meet your family.” You nearly choked. 

“Um, I’ll have to see when my parents are free,” you muttered as you watched him pull into the family home. 

“Just let me know. I’ll clear my schedule,” Chris smiled as he withdrew the key from the door. He quickly jogged over to your side of the car to open your door. You quietly thanked him as you both walked towards the front door. 

Without even pressing the doorbell, the door swung open to reveal his mother. She had a big smile on her face as she engulfed her son in a hug. 

“It’s been too long!” She said letting him go. His mom put her hands on his cheeks, giving them a squeeze. “Sweetheart, I forget that you’re so handsome!” 

“Mom!” Chris blushed as he playfully swatted her hands away. When he finally got her to get off of him, a hand found its way around your waist. He pulled you towards his mom with a smile. “Ma, this is (Y/N), my girlfriend.” 

“Hello, (Y/N)!” His mom beamed, immediately wrapping her arms around you, pulling you into a hug much like the one she just gave her son. 

You let out an awkward laugh as you patted her back. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re even more gorgeous in person!” She complimented. You blushed, muttering a thank you. “Come inside! C’mon, don’t be shy.” 

You let out a shaky breath as she slung her arm over your shoulder, bringing you into the house with Chris at tow. You felt your body tense up at the touch and it didn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend who walked behind you.  She showed you both into the living room where children played while women, Chris’s sisters you assumed, were talking on the sofas. 

“You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Evans,” you forced a smile though the compliment was genuine. 

“Mrs. Evans... please, call me Lisa.” Mrs. Evans - Lisa shook her head as she finally let you go. “Shanna, Carly, this is (Y/N), Chris’s girlfriend.” The two sisters smiled and greeted you as Lisa exited to the kitchen.

Chris’s hands snaked around your waist again. He leaned into your ear and whispered, “hey, you okay?” You nodded. He didn’t believe you but didn’t want to push you past your comfort zone. So instead, he switched the topic. “Scott, here?” 

Shanna was the one who answered. “You know him, he likes to make an entrance.” Carly and Chris laughed. Chris released you and led the both of you to sit on the sofas. The three siblings immediately began to converse.

Laughter filled the living room as jokes were thrown around. The children were very sweet, running up to Chris and you asking to be held by your boyfriend. 

After around 20 minutes or so, the front door swung open to reveal another man. “The favorite has arrived!” He shouted with his arms open as the children screamed in delight, running over to their other uncle. 

“More like the least favorite one has arrived late,” Chris jokingly said, pouting as the little one in his lap jumped off to join his cousins and uncle.

“Heard that!” Scott called out.

“You were supposed to!” Chris quipped in response. The Evans siblings all began to laugh at the exchange.

Chris’s family was so close with one another. Their interactions were foreign to you. 

A room full of laughter would’ve been a room full of tension if it were your family. The sarcastic but playful jabs at each other would’ve resulted in consequences that normally came with a belt. A normal (L/N) get together would’ve been a competition as to who had the best life - who was the most successful child. The hugging, the compliments, even the smiles that the Evans threw your way made you uneasy. 

“Excuse me,” you muttered to Chris, squeezing his bicep before finding your way into an empty hallway. You took deep breathes as you tried to calm yourself, leaning against the wall.

In a way, you were hurt. This is what a family was really like. It wasn’t the need to be the best. It wasn’t being in a constant state of fear. It wasn’t suffocating in the tension at the dining table. It was happy. 

“Hey, you okay?” You heard Chris ask as he walked up to you. You looked up at him with watery eyes, shaking your head. He engulfed you in a big hug, rubbing your back in an attempt to comfort you. “What’s wrong?” 

“It’s stupid,” you rolled your eyes at yourself as you put your head on his shoulder.

“If it’s bothering you, then it’s not stupid. Was it my mom? When she hugged you? I’m sorry... She’s just a very friendly person.” He rambled but you shook your head, pulling away from him. “Then what is it?”

“Your family is perfect,” you sighed. 

“We’re nowhere near perfect,” Chris scoffed. “But we’re happy.”

“Exactly,” you said. “You guys are happy. You all live near each other because you want to live near each other. You all crack jokes and laugh... and you hug each other?” You chuckled at yourself, realizing how stupid you sounded. 

“That’s just a family, babe.”

“My family isn’t like that,” you admitted. “Everyone’s vicious. They’ll find something you aren’t good at even if you make sure you’re the best at everything. They’ll pick at your insecurities just because they can. I don’t think I’ve ever heard my mom laugh or had my siblings in the same room before an argument erupted.” You gestured towards the living room as loud laughter followed after a joke Scott made. “My family doesn’t do that.” 

You told him about your childhood. You explained your punishments when you did something your parents deemed was “wrong”. You told him about when you finally stood up for yourself, you were cut off completely. You struggled to pay your student debt, but you managed it because you wanted to prove your parents wrong. 

You unloaded your familial baggage on your boyfriend and he listened. He always listened and gave you his undivided attention, a trait the members of your family didn’t have.

Chris exhaled through his nostrils, his brows furrowed, as he realized the reason why you didn’t talk about your siblings as much as he did. He recalled all the moments were you dodged questions about your parents. He even remembered a time when a friend of his complimented you about your success in your career and you were started by it. 

“Then screw them.” Chris responded after your rant. You frowned at him. “If they don’t want to be in your life, then screw them. You’re right. That’s not a family... But baby,” he smiled, pulling you into him, “what’s mine is yours. My family most definitely can be yours, too. I love you.” 

You gave him a soft smile, standing on your tip toes to peck him on the lips. “I love you, too.” 

“Now, c’mon, and spend some time with our family.” You smiled at his words, taking his hand as he lead you back into the living room. 

You quickly adjusted as you pushed your tainted family memories to the back of your head, allowing yourself to make new ones with Chris’s family. You got along well with his siblings and soon joined in on the Chris teasing. You even played with his nephews and nieces, who were convinced you were a Disney princess. 

His mother showed you Chris’s baby photos and the two of you gushed over how adorable he was. “What happened?” you joked with your boyfriend. He only responded by sticking his tongue out at you like a child. Even his dad was fond of you by the end of the visit. 

-=+=-

You smiled at the memories you made as you finished up getting ready for bed. Chris was sitting at the foot of your shared bed and you walked over to him, taking a seat. You gave your boyfriend a kiss and a tight hug. “Thank you for today,” you smiled. 

“I told you they’d love you,” Chris laughed with his arms around you tightly. “Not as much as I love you, though.” 

“Dork,” you laughed, lightly smacking his chest before you got into bed. 

“I’m gonna go put water in Dodger’s bowl. You need anything?” Chris asked. You shook your head as you fluffed your pillow. 

Chris closed the bedroom door, running over to his coat that he hung over his desk chair. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw the black velvet box was still tucked in the pocket. 

“She’s the one?” His mom asked him as you were saying your goodbyes to his nieces, who were sad that the ‘Disney princess’ was leaving. 

A big, goofy smile found its way onto Chris’s face as he nodded. “Oh, yeah, most definitely.”

“Where’s the ring?” His dad asked. Chris fumbled in pocket for the box before showing it to his parents discreetly. “Excellent choice.”

“I know it might seem early,” Chris began. “We’ve been together for a year and a couple months now, but ... I just know.” 

“Then go for it,” his mom encouraged. “She’ll be a great addition to the family.” 

Chris beamed as he slid the box back into his pocket. “I know.” 

[kyber-crystal]

steady || obi-wan kenobi

summary: even amidst the chaos of the war, obi-wan is always there to remind you that you don’t have to carry your burdens alone. 

words: ~1.8k

warnings: mentions of death, violence, flashbacks to traumatic events (essentially mild PTSD), angst-to-fluff, mutual pining (oops my cliche side has jumped out here)

a/n: requested by the one and only @rentskenobi !! i’m sorry if this was really bad lol this is actually my first time writing for him. the middle-end was really poorly written i’m so sorry fffff

The war was beginning to take a toll on you.

It was affecting everyone to an extent, of course. As you walked around the halls you were met with tired eyes and lowered, worn-out voices telling you that you weren’t the only one who felt completely drained.  

You threw yourself into your work—working extra hours with the Council and helping strategize battle plans, organizing committees and having longer meditation sessions with Yoda. If sacrificing a good night’s sleep was what it took to keep all the intrusive thoughts at bay, then you were more than willing to take up on the offer. 

You did your best to keep your head held high but as time passed, it grew increasingly difficult. Hope seemed too far away on the horizon for you to reach out to it and actually believe it was in fact, going to get better. You were trying, but it got harder every day.

And Obi-Wan noticed. As a Jedi, you’d trained yourself to show no emotion whatsoever, or very little if you ever did—but being as observant as he was, he was quick to notice. It was all the little things that gave it away—the way you were constantly clearing your throat before speaking because it sounded hoarse and wobbly—as if you were on the verge of tears, the dark circles underneath your red-rimmed eyes, and how your hands always went up to fiddle with the moon-shaped charm he’d given you that hung from your neck.

You hadn’t eaten or slept in a solid six days. The dull migraine at the back of your head and sharp hunger pangs in your stomach told you to rest up and get proper nutrients into your body, but you ignored them. Maybe if you keep yourself on your feet, it’ll be easier to forget, you told yourself. 

But no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that you were okay, the guilt still sat heavily upon your shoulders. 

You knew you could’ve stopped them; you had all the power to. But you didn’t. You couldn’t, and you failed.

It was only a few weeks into the war when you’d lost your old mentor, your friend, your parental figure whom you stayed close to long after you’d completed your Trials—and, being who you were, you took it upon yourself to put all the blame on your shoulders. Because technically, it was, was it not? You knew if you’d gotten there in time, if you were even just the tiniest bit faster and more observant and paid better attention, she would be alive. 

You caught a glimpse of your reflection in the bathroom’s mirror as you entered your quarters, and did a double take. 

Gripping the edges of the sink, you stared back at the woman in the mirror. Her hair, normally plaited in elegant braids or pulled back into an updo, tumbled loosely and informally down her shoulders. Were those eye bags always there to begin with? Or had they recently appeared?

It was maybe half an hour or so later that you finally crawled into bed—without bothering to change. Fatigue was pressing down on your body rather heavily, but sleep never came.

You woke up screaming. 

There was no way in hell you were going back to sleep—not when the prospect of your premonitions coming true were still fresh in your mind. You weren’t going to lose him the way you lost your master—the thought alone was too much to bear.

Without thinking about what you were doing, you got out of bed and quietly made your way down the hall. 

Obi-Wan yawned as he opened the door and rubbed his eyes with one hand. “It’s 2 in the morning, what—Y/N, what are you doing awake?” He immediately paused when he saw the remnants of teartracks on your cheeks, falling silent as he placed a gentle hand on your back and ushered you inside. 

Without a word, you climbed into bed, and Obi-Wan didn’t say anything either as he pulled the sheets over you. 

You longed to be like him—to spend your nights not worrying about being plagued with terrifyingly realistic nightmares, to fall asleep almost at the very moment your head hit the pillow. The last time you remembered such a thing happening to you had been nearly a full year ago—but with the way time passed you by now, it felt like a lifetime. You wanted to ask Obi how in Force’s name did he sleep so well amongst an intergalactic war with seemingly no end to all its pain and suffering?

"What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” you mumbled as you turned your face more towards the pillow. It smelled just like him—warm coffee and citrus—and for a moment, it seemed to calm you down.

He sighed, and carefully slid in between the sheets right next to you. “Why don’t you try and sleep, alright? You need rest.” 

"Mhmm.”

“Now get some rest, my love.” 

You woke up sweating bullets, chest rising and falling as you struggled to catch your breath. You initially panicked when you looked around and couldn’t see Obi-Wan, but your shoulders sagged in relief upon seeing he was still there, sleeping peacefully right next to you, his hand brushing against yours ever-so-gently.

He stirred in his sleep slightly as you pushed yourself up into a sitting position. 

“Y/N?” he mumbled, still only half-conscious as he turned to face you, immediately sitting up as well as he saw you staring blankly ahead. “Y/N. Are you alright? You’re trembling.”

“I’m fine,” you replied, but the shakiness in your tone gave it away. “Obi-Wan, go back to sleep. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” He took your hand in his, gently rubbing patterns into your palm. Force, the way his blue eyes shone brightly even in the dark...the way the seemed to stare straight into your soul... 

“I can’t sleep.”

Obi-Wan paused for a moment. He got up out of bed and motioned for you to do the same. 

“What are you...”

“Shh. Come with me, there’s something I want to show you.”

His warm hand slipped into yours again as he led you down the hallway and up a long, winding staircase, and kept holding on until you finally reached the top, pushing open the heavy doors together to reveal a sprawling, open balcony. 

“What is this place?” You were practically speechless as you stared up at the star-littered sky. 

“It’s one of the meditation balconies...I often come here when I find that I can’t fall back asleep. Stargazing is rather helpful in clearing the mind.”

“It’s beautiful,” you exhaled. “It’s so hard for me to find time to come even during the day...”

You sought solace in staring up at the skies. It was rare, being able to gaze upwards into a cloudless, clear abyss when you were so often surrounded by the atrocities of war. So you were grateful for any night in which you were able to see the stars.

“You seem tired,” he noted, gazing worriedly at your appearance. 

“Who isn’t at this point?” you exhaled, faking a laugh. “I’d be genuinely surprised to find someone around here who gets adequate rest.”

“Y/N, please tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m fine, Obi-Wan. I keep telling you there’s no need to worry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“What?” The sudden sternness in his tone took you by surprise. 

“You’re not okay, Y/N. You haven’t slept properly in a week, nor have you had any proper nourishment along with it. You almost passed out in the middle of sparring with Anakin, and Master Windu released you from yesterday morning’s meeting early because you were on the verge of knocking out cold. You don’t think I’ve noticed? I’m worried...if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, how am I supposed to help?”

You bit your lip and anxiously fiddled with your thumbs. “I haven’t slept in six days. Seven...if you count when I fell asleep during that meeting.”

“A week? If you keep it up, you’re going to fall ill. You almost have.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Why not?”

You shook your head. “I had a bad dream."

“And you didn’t bother to tell me?” Obi looked more concerned rather than upset. “Y/N.”

“I didn’t want to be a burden to you. You have enough on your plate as it is,” you mumbled. 

“You’re not a burden. I’d much rather listen and help you than have you go through it alone.”

You let out a long sigh and crossed your arms over your chest, staring blankly out at the darkened horizon. It seemed that everything nowadays served as some sort of bad omen. “I’ve been having these dreams for months on end...but I don’t even know if that’s what you can call them anymore. And I can’t lose you. I can’t let any of this become real.”

“You won’t lose me, Y/N, you have my word.”

“Are you sure?”

“Dreams pass in time.”

Releasing a shaky breath, you leaned forward and pressed your forehead against his broad shoulder, letting him slide his arms around your waist and gently kiss the top of your head. He lets his lips linger there; neither of you say anything about it. 

Obi-Wan found himself going down a risky path. He knew better than to grow attached. But now that he was made well aware of your fear over losing him, his equal fear towards having you taken away from him as well had become too prominent for him to to keep brushing off to the side. If he couldn’t do so much as protect himself from imminent danger, he would do everything in his power to keep you safe under his wing for as long as he could. 

He glances down at your peacefully dozing figure for several moments. You looked so serene, so young, while you slept all curled up against him and wrapped up in the sheets. And right then and there, the thought of wondering how it’d be to wake up next to you every day for the rest of his life hits him like a truck. 

Brushing your hair away from your forehead, he places a hand to your face and skims his thumb across your cheekbone. He wants to stay like this, even if it’s only for a little while longer.

This isn’t right, he tells himself. But he can’t resist; there’s something about you that prevents him from doing so.

“You’re staring,” you mumbled, eyes still closed.

Obi blinked in surprise, slightly taken aback. “You’re awake.”

“...What time is it?”

“Half past nine.”

“I’m going back to sleep,” you muttered, throwing the sheets over your face to cool yourself down. Despite your effort, you could still feel your face burning. “I haven’t rested in six days. Goodnight.”

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Alright. Sleep well, my love.”

tags (including sw mutuals that might be interested): @haydens-moles @thedevilwearsbeskar @propertyofdindjarin @arkofblake @stardust-kenobi @poesflygirl @voguesir @fl0ating @anakinswhore​ @rynhaswritersblock​ @dracos-jedi-marvel​ @marvel-dameron​

drop an ask to be added or fill out my taglist form here!

[themilky-way]

like water {din djarin}

gif credit: no-droids

pairing: the mandalorian/din djarin x fem!reader

summary: when the one person he cares about is threatened, he lets himself indulge in the aftermath of defending them. 

warnings: some violence in the beginning, choking (not in the fun way), depictions of scratches, punches, and minor abrasions; the reader is hurt basically. oh and mando’s gun bc yeah❤️umm that’s it i think? nothing too horrible tho but if this thing triggers you, please don’t read !!

author’s note: not to be conceited or anything (is that even the right word for it lol?) but im super proud of how this turned out! requests are open btw for anyone who wishes to submit anything (if unsure, just ask which fandoms)!

----------

cyar’ika-> darling, sweetheart

nothing in that exact moment had made much sense. one minute the most precious thing to ever exist to him was snatched away, and the next his hands were gripping the treasure beneath his holster. his knuckles were lily-white at this point, holding the gun as hard as his body would allow him to without crushing underneath him, and the urge to cock it made him visibly shake. he’d been given a command, and out of all the merciless men in the filthy galaxy, he needed to follow it, so his weapon of preference stayed where it needed to. 

the meager specks of emotion that still lived within him betrayed his prominent composure, the view in front of him blocked by the sudden glaze of his eyes. the small drops of saltwater puddled together in his now hazy orbs, holding on until it was nearly impossible to stay put and then rivered down his cheeks. the cause? well, you.

you were filling up the mandalorian’s line of vision, his eyes darting between you and the bounty that had gone wrong. an alienated hand was wrapped around your innocent throat, your feeble hands wrapped around its wrist in a dumb attempt to break free. the ground you were roaming on before appeared to be never ending, and in the same way, the darkened sky absorbed you whole. vertigo was now in full effect; any quick movement caused you to shut your eyes tightly and hope to the maker you’d get through it. it took a few seconds for you to regain your balance, a sharp pain pinging around your neck forcing you to find it. you half expected to be back on the mud again, to have the man you had spent the past year flying around with pulling you to safety. instead, you found din frozen in place, an instinctive action rooted in the steel handle of his pistol. he wasn’t moving, too scared to blink as if you’d disappear if he did. 

perhaps you were; someone like you seemed too good to be true. in all actuality, it may be that you were a fever dream, a celestial that had come down from the sanctity of your home to finally rescue him from his burdens. amidst his frantic glances, he reminisced every second he’d spent with you since your unforeseen arrival, and that somehow worked for him. the gears in his brain started to turn again, and with every ounce of his strength, he pounced on the quarry and did what he should’ve done the instant you were taken from him. anger took over his worry, the effects illustrating themselves in a collage of mitted fists and blood. the pistol residing on din’s waist was useless compared to his hits; the softened position of his jawbone was locked firmly as a result of his gritted teeth and he was going to need more than your delicate hand on his shoulders to ground his senses. 

the mandalorian never expected to succumb to anyone, nor to feel remotely joyful upon hearing someone’s laugh. the idea of kindling a relationship was ludicrous, utterly impossible if only he weren’t bound to the chains of his creed. oftentimes, he wondered if someone would one day traverse his path and make him question every moral he’d been taught. din had dismissed the thought, as any other member of his intricate society would have, but the wondrous insight depicting a different lifestyle always lingered faintly in his mind. 

today, the very same visions behind his recurrent insomnia framed themselves in a frail art piece. din’s focus laid directly ahead, the fingers navigating the center controls as tight as they’d been on his gun. his eyes deserved to rest, perhaps take in the splashes of color nature was offering him, but he landed them on the same lovely sculpture adorning his cockpit. 

you were seated in the chair adjacent from the pilot’s, with your knees closely tucked to your chest. one large scrape designed itself on your leg-a dull reminder of the ordeal you were involved in hours earlier-with flakes of arid blood protecting the wound. bouncing off the skin of your throat were shades of red and purple, now properly mixing into a deeper complexion that’d require you to hide it for some time. besides the scattered nicks living on your face, and the other couple dozen on your arms and legs, the outcome wasn’t as terrible as the one your attacker received. it was a rule of thumb to not mess with a mandalorian, much less with the pretty little lady clutching his arm as if it were second nature. the foolest of fools wouldn’t even have done such a foul thing, and this particular creature came to know the punishment for harming what wasn’t rightfully his. 

it truly amazed him; the way you seemed to be so unphased by a traumatic circumstance. the woman beside him-the same one who couldn’t sleep unless a window was open-had endured pain, and the marks on her skin proved themselves in jagged indications of it. through the darkened screen of his visor, din could make out your hands neatly intertwined around your folded knees, your chin simultaneously resting on top. you’d been as observant as you always were, hardly missing his actions as he navigated his newfound family to a safe stop. sure, you were unaware of the loving term he considered of you and the baby, but it didn’t hurt to keep it a secret, right?

“hey.” it came out more hoarse than he intended it to, but the emotion behind it flowed out nonetheless. “you okay?”

not really. i don’t feel good. it was easy to say exactly that, to speak the truth, but it was even easier to lie. for the sake of his own worry, at most. your eyes were still glued to his armor, taking in the rough outline of where you imagined his skin would be underneath, or moreso the abstract idea of feeling it with your hands. reflections of your yearning came and went like the mandalorian’s missions, almost impulsively at times, and the curious, teasing tilts his helmet would bid you only encouraged that craving. much like now; the black “T” of his expressionless face leaned to the side, asking you to earnestly respond. “mm, yeah. ‘m kinda tired, though,” you mumbled.

you threw him a lie and he caught it. “don’t lie to me.” din swiveled his chair to accordingly match the peripheral of yours, his elbows coming to rest on top of his beskar-clad legs. “can you look at me?” he inquired softly. then, his intent fell on the slow shift of your head and how it turned to face him, your cheek settling on your unscathed knee. a breath fell from his lips at the doting admiration swimming in your stare. “there she is,” he confirmed with an upward curl of his lips. “is there anything i can do?” it was sincere; a genuine concern to accompany his question. you hummed in response, fearful to accidentally voice the confessions you hid from him. you blinked once, twice, until his question became a plea. “please, cyar’ika.”

reasonably, you were too busy exploring the shape of his helmet, permitting your creative imagination to paint images of the man next to you; so when your ears perceived his sudden name of endearment, there was nothing amongst the stars that you could’ve possibly denied him from. “you’ve never called me that before,” you smiled, all big and brilliant. 

“i’ve wanted to,” the man replied. what resembled ages of pent up stress released with a few curated words. his muscles relaxed, something he never believed to be attainable given his vigorous profession. “god, i’ve wanted to.” 

he followed it with a humble laugh. a sound so familiar and warm, so genuine that it empowered your grin to spread higher. “by all means, keep saying it.” now it was your turn to nervously giggle, and him who embraced the noise with everything he could. a mutual infatuation, so wonderfully obvious, yet it was refused acknowledgment. “i think there is something you can do, though.” silence advised you to continue, “can i sleep with you tonight?” 

the misguided pieces of your minds’, maybe even your souls’, reattached themselves that very same night. as the both of you slept, hands, calloused and smooth, intimately merged against the cushions of the warrior’s bed. tender kisses planted to your forehead left electricity in their wake, and the dark ambiance of his dwelling favored the entanglement of your tired bodies. 

“i wish i could see you, din,” you sighed. the manner in which it was expressed, full of sleep and everything akin, urged him to lift your weightless wrist to his lips. 

“you’ll get to one day, cyar’ika. for now just let me hold you, yeah?”

[undergrounddweller89]

(look you don't have to like this, I'm not expecting anyone to, I just needed to write and if there's the possibility that even one person was hoping I'd write more and enjoys it then that's cool, just don't be a dick about it, it's more house mate au stuff, don't hope for continuity by that I mean it's just all over the place and nothing makes sense , just expect what ever came to my head at the time lol)

Walter was sat at his work table, fiddling with one of his new devices working on to perfect it, no I can't think of anything specific so I'll let you fill in that with your imagination.

The day had been long, his lab assistant Timothy Lawrence (Yea that Timothy if you know him because reasons) had been pretty quiet but done as told so at least that made it easier.

He was tired as the day had gone on his mood had sunk, what was he doing teasing Killian like that, honestly spanking him with the hair brush, he knew some of the things Killian had been up to.

But it was more likely a sign of marking territory or just because he had needs right and it was exciting to do things where you shouldn't.

The blade he was handling slipped and ran across the pad of his index finger, he hissed in pain, seeing the blood smear under the blue latex, pooling to drip, focusing on the red colour he hadn't even noticed Timothy running to fetch the first aid kit.

Pulling his gloves off he discarded them and popped open the box that had been set on the table.

"Thanks Timmy."

Walter smiled a little as he tended to his finger, he hated how the skin felt parting every time he flexed his finger.

Cleaning up and applying what was needed, thankful it wouldn't need stitches.

He wondered what Killian was up to, watching TV, reading maybe, did he eat, did he have enough to drink, was he in a depressive mood, was he mad that hed spanked him, he really should send a message.

Pulling his phone from his lab pocket he texted him.

'Hope you're day has been good, hope you're well, sorry if I upset you this morning.'

He shifted and rubbed a shoulder, he didn't realise how stiff his back had gone, being in charge of a division meant he'd somewhat lost track of self care making sure to do his stretches.

Timothy stood here watching his boss, lot better than the last one, this one was kind and genuine, always looking out for people, honestly Beckett made him feel safe and relaxed, he wasn't looking for anything serious but even he could see that furrowed bow and the lean that spelt hey I'm exhausted let me die.

Walking around and behind him he slowly massaged his shoulders, they were small and rather petite for someone Walter's age but it was more lean muscle and just body build, he just hadn't seen many men like Walter where he'd come from, he was rather pretty.

Walter had considered telling him to stop but when his fingers pressed into that one perfect spot in his shoulder blades he melted, ooooh that just felt so damn good and shit when was the last time he'd had contact, had someone be closer to him...he liked Killian...wondered if they could be more, but he didn't believe for one second that they could be lovers or bed fellows for one moment...not that he wouldn't be interested in finding out but Killian had been there a month, like he wasn't going to make him uncomfortable and feel like that the only way he could stay was if he dated him.

(I keep forgetting times or how many days set shrugs just don't expect like decent continuity, I write these because I need to just write things and moments)

Walter leaned forward arms folded and face buried in them

"Sorry sir, am I doing that badly?"

Timothy's enquired nervously, his hands going still.

"No, please don't stop, I literally didn't realise how stiff I was, you have good hands, I'm just so tired Timothy, I could really use it if you don't mind that is."

"Not at all sir."

Tim smiled happy to know he was helping, yes much nicer than his last boss, Walter was smart but he was also fragile, like him he loved his mother and when he'd heard Walters mother had died when he was small he wanted to scoop him up and just hug him.

A talk with Lance at one point and he'd learned that was a natural reaction for anyone with a heart around Walter who didn't have their head up their ass.

Which had practically been the last tech department Beckett had worked in, that totally wasn't cool that they'd done that to such a brilliant mind, it was so much fun working on items that didn't kill people and actually helped them!

Walter was imagining the fingers loosening the knots in his back were Killian, wondered what that would feel like with those pretty metal claws, but he never forgot it was Timothy, after all Timothy deserved more respect than that.

Looking over his shoulder at him, auburn hair flopping off to one side, Tim's hands on his waist he noticed the subtle blush.

"You wanna go grab some dinner or something in a minute there's a corner café I know, makes steak sandwiches and baked potatoes with a perfect crispy skin, a warm meal sounds pretty nice don't you think?"

Tim in the angle he was in was trying not to think about how suggestive this looked, he would absolutely lean down and kiss Walter if he thought it was an option, it really was a casual thing he felt, but Walter just looked so pretty and like he needed someone to carry him right now.

Continuing to rub his back Timothy nodded

"Yeah that sounds pretty nice actually."

---

At home Killian had found plenty to do, he'd read, watched tv, all in Walters bed of course, just to feel close to him as he could, he did wonder after handling himself, if Walter could see him as anything more than a friend, someone more than a few passing jokes between the other...turning his head and taking in his scent as he buried his face into a pillow again, looking forward to seeing those blue eyes...he should really get out of Walter's bed and get the covers washed.

Beckett brought comfort to his mind after his years of suffering, the sunrise after the storm.

He'd talked to Lovey, wondering if she could understand him, she was surprisingly responsive to his rambling as he worked on his arm, updating the tech and keeping up with maintenence.

Living here with Walter and slowly working past things with Lance and seeing he had genuinely started changes of his own, it made it easier with how Walter talked about him on the job, that he considered all options before violence and discussed the situations with him...it was good to know Beckett had helped Lance to.

He was glad to know Walter's field partner was a good one, though his lab partner, this Timothy Lawrence seemed to be pretty chummy didn't he, he'd seen a picture, thick brown hair, heterochromia eyes, blue and green to be exact and a chiseled jaw, in other words a damn pretty boy and he didn't want him around Walter.

He huffed folding his arms, yes he was jealous he was going to be pouty, before his injury he had thick black hair and had been known to be a very handsome man, now he looked like he'd been put through a grinder when he took off his holo mask and this Timothy Lawrence just had to be Walter's lab partner, he'd be around him alot and-

His phone buzzed, it'd been put on the side table and he read the text that'd come through and there was another one.

'Going out to dinner with Timothy, don't know what time I'll be back, have fun you probably need a break from me anyway lol 😂'

Killian's eye twitched, he nearly threw the damn phone, but how would he explain that, honestly he couldn't, Tristan sighed, shoulders drooping a little and answered his questions

'It's been a relaxing day, did work on the arm, Lovey' s surprisingly easy to talk to, watched a little television but perhaps you could suggest something to watch, it's rather hard deciding with all these options and no Walter you didn't upset me, though you left in a hurry, you do not need to avoid me. You're not a bother. Are you alright?'

'I'm so happy you're warming up to her! That's awesome! Also it's good you have time to relax, ten years of hectic stress you're more than overdue! I...well I was more embarrassed than anything, I reacted on instinct, last boyfriend liked that well that's probably more than you needed to know, but yeah I'll help you pick something to watch see you later!'

Last boyfriend? Spanking, Walter had, he had...Killian shifted well the blankets were starting to tent, the idea of being put over Walters petite lap and being told he was a very bad man came to mind.

He liked it.

A lot.

He looked at his phone as it pinged again.

'And god damn it, make sure you eat something for dinner, don't just go picking out the cupboard!'

Killian snickered and replied

'Yes Daddy, I'll make sure to eat something.'

After sending the text he realised what he'd written and wished he could take back that text, wincing as he managed to look at the response

'Behave, eat dinner or I'll put you over my knee young man.'

Killian stared and stared at that answer, he knew Walter was just teasing but, his cheeks were warm and he was...was he blushing.

----

"You all set to go Timothy?"

Walter smiled, his back was feeling a hundred times better after Timothy had dug into the knots, it wasn't a surprise that he was good with his hands, you had to have nimble ones to work with the tech they used here.

"Yeah, just coming boss!"

He pulled his satchel over his shoulder after pulling on his old brown leather jacket

"Please Timothy don't call me that, call me daddy."

Walter laughed at how silly that sounded

"I'm sorry, pfffft don't call me that god please, no, Walter's just fine."

Tim had paused a moment a slight fear he might have a streak like his last boss after all but that laugh was too warm and giggly and just shook his head with a smile

"Wouldn't dream of it Walter, you're more of a kitten anyway."

Timmy felt his insides tighten a little and there was that hint of Jack Dna surfacing.

"So shall we go?"

Beckett enquired looking up at him, huh he kinda looked like Killian, just a little.

"Ready when you are."

And with that they were off.

(Alright end of this ramble, Timothy has been thrown in because I needed the gasp drama of prolongation and shit and didn't have the energy to create an oc and honestly I'll mash anything from anywhere if it's convenient bleh)

[backtothestart02]

Fallen Star - 12/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: I’m ngl...this chap def gets your hopes up. Enjoy! lol

*for @itzvickilou

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing.

...

Chapter 12 -

Iris spent nearly the rest of the night almost calling or texting Barry Allen.

Her heart ached for him hours after he’d left. Her body felt his phantom touch from when their hands had brushed. She couldn’t shake the feeling if she tried.

The worst part is she knew he wouldn’t be able to resist coming if she called for him, if she said she needed him. She could probably even seduce him if she wanted to, if she went about it the right way. It wouldn’t solve anything come morning, but at least she would remember what it felt like again to be alive.

But the ache she felt during the night wasn’t even for the lovemaking. It was just his presence. It made her feel whole and safe. They didn’t spend every night together when they were dating, but they spent enough time in general for her to never fear for her safety.

If he was just in the living room… Or hugging her, holding her until she fell asleep…

Would that be so wrong? Would it really make things that complicated?

Yes, Linda’s voice sounded in her head, and she knew her very wise best friend was right.

Letting her very recent ex-boyfriend, who she was still very much in love with, into her apartment when she was feeling vulnerable was a bad idea all around.

So, at 6am and with barely a wink to her sleep count, Iris called Linda Park instead and invited her out for coffee.

Linda yawned onto her hot coffee cup, then blinked several times in an effort to keep both eyes open.

“Tell me, West. What was so pressing that we had to go out two hours before work starts? I don’t know about you, but I need my beauty sleep.”

Iris was quiet for a while, biting down on her bottom lip while she tried to figure out what to say.

Her silence seemed to tip Linda off, because she straightened in her seat and asked with her chin atop folded hands, “Is this Barry-related?”

Iris met her eyes. She didn’t say anything or even nod, but her insides were screaming, and it clearly came through in her sad-eyed gaze.

Linda reached across the table to grip one of her friend’s hands.

“Tell me what happened.”

Iris sighed and decided to go all in.

“Well, for starters I almost got mugged last night.”

Linda’s jaw dropped. “Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting that.”

“The Flash saved me.”

“Did he now…” Linda remarked softly, taking note of how Iris didn’t seem annoyed by that fact.

She nodded.

“Anything else?”

She didn’t even pause before blurting, “Barry came by to see me later to check on how I was doing.”

Linda’s eyes went wide. “Did he come in?”

Iris shook her head. “He just wanted to see if I was okay… It was too… I mean, who knows what would’ve happened if I’d let him come in.” She threw her hands about.

“Mmhmm.” Linda watched her closely.

“What?”

“Did you tell him to leave?”

“No. I wasn’t mad he came. It was…it was soft and tender and it… God, it hurt so much to watch him go.” She covered her eyes to hide the tears welling up there. “It made me realize…” She caught her breath.

“Realize what, honey?” Linda asked, shuffling closer and wrapping her arm around her shoulders.

“That I still love him.”

She chuckled lightly, soothingly even, as she pressed her head to her Iris’.

“I could have told you that. It’s written all over your face. His too.”

“No, I know, I’m sure it… Well, it’s just…” She huffed.

“What?” Linda asked gently.

“The first time we said I love you was on that rooftop.”

Linda’s eyes went wide again, and she pulled away slightly.

“Seven months and it took you that long to-” She was cut off by Iris’ meaningful look. “Sorry, it’s just hard to believe. I mean, you knew how he felt. He must’ve been dying, waiting for you to say it.”

Iris bit her lip again. “Yeah… I just… I hate that it took us breaking up for me to say it. Like, what good is it now? What does it matter? We’re exes. It’ll only hurt him knowing that I love him but am still choosing my work over him.”

“But…you’re not.” Her brows furrowed.

“He broke up with you because he thinks that your work will always come first.”

Iris blinked, that dawning revelation never having occurred to her. Or to Linda for that matter until right that moment.

“If you want him…prove him wrong.”

Iris licked her lips.

“You think that’s all it would take? He’d want to be with me again, and he’d drop this ridiculous ultimatum about stopping me from doing my job if the story is remotely dangerous to investigate?”

Probably not, Linda thought to herself, but Iris looked so hopeful now she couldn’t bring herself to say anything that might fill her eyes with tears again or break her heart.

“You never know until you try, right?”

Iris lit up, beaming ecstatically.

“You know what, Lin? You’re right. Barry is way more important to me than any story. If he just understood that, maybe he could appreciate what I’m trying to do, and then we could get back together!”

Linda smiled. She couldn’t help it. Iris’ giddy happiness was contagious.

“Go get him, girl.” She winked, and Iris slid off the stool, smiling brightly.

“I’ll see you later, Lin.” She smiled and twirled as she headed out the door.

Linda relaxed into her chair and took another sip of her coffee that had gone from hot to lukewarm. There was a buzz from her cell phone, indicating an email notification. She pulled the device from her pocket and hit the email app to see what was so important.

Her heart fell when she saw it, even though she knew she should be ecstatic. Not only for herself, but for Iris too.

It was a lead on the arms dealer story Iris was currently working on. Despite all the research Iris had done the day before, even staying after hours, it had appeared as though the trail had gone cold. Or the dealer was just discreet enough to keep his dealings under the radar, for the most part. But this tip would be just the ticket to get it going again. Iris would be thrilled when she saw it.

Barry, however, would not.

…

  A pounding headache and memories flooding through him just like every morning for the past few weeks, Barry very seriously considered calling in sick to work today. The Flash couldn’t take a day off, but Barry Allen, CSI extraordinaire, could. And to be fair, the CSI rarely took off, despite often being late and leaving frequently for his red-suited duties.

The fact of the matter was… seeing Iris almost get mugged and then retrieving the gun from her last night had only strengthened his conviction that they couldn’t be together. It broke his heart, but seeing her with the gun in her hand only reminded him of how reckless she was with investigative reporting, and that she hadn’t even considered the danger in her taking it, or how her fingerprints would be all over it.

Then again, what was she supposed to do with it? Just leave it in the alley? Wait for the Flash to return and take it from her? Go to the police station herself with it? Now that wouldn’t look suspicious at all, would it?

He rolled his eyes at himself.

Was he making up excuses now? Maybe.

The reason behind that possibility remained to be seen.

He couldn’t possibly be avoiding getting back together with Iris, could he?

Maybe this was for the best, and being so close to her last night had threatened to break his heart again.

He should just accept they weren’t meant to be together. He didn’t want to cut her out of his life. She was his best friend, first and foremost. And he had just told her she shouldn’t stop coming to STAR Labs on his account. She was part of the team too. It was inevitable they would see each other regularly. And it had been a few weeks, so maybe it was time for them to ease back into being friends again. They could do that. They’d been friends for years before they got together. Surely, they could be friends again.

Surely…

A knock at his apartment door rattled him more than it should’ve. He got up from the kitchen table, where his coffee had gone cold and his milk-soaked cereal had become mushy, and answered the door without looking in the peephole.

His eyes went wide.

“Iris.”

“Hey, Barry,” she said, soft but also restrained, like she was trying very hard not to show how…excited she was? “Can I come in?”

“Uh…sure.”

He moved his hand away from the doorframe just in time for her to come plowing through the entrance.

She looked around the apartment once inside, taking note to how it was just a little bit messier than when she’d frequented it nearly every day. Memories flashed before her eyes of them making out on the couch, at the kitchen table, on the counter…

“Iris?”

She cleared her throat and turned to face him. Obviously, he was talking to her.

Way to zone out, Iris.

“Yes?” she asked, grateful he couldn’t see her blush.

“Why are you here?”

She felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach, even though his tone hadn’t been cruel or cold in the slightest. It brought back the reality of the situation and how strange this must seem for her to be showing up like this. And peppy at that.

She sobered herself and remembered how she’d been feeling when she first got up that morning, and how he must be feeling pretty much the same thing.

“I wanted to check on you,” she said cautiously. “Like you checked on me?”

The tension seeped out of his shoulders, and he nodded.

“I’m okay,” he said with a shrug.

“Didn’t sleep either?” she asked knowingly.

His eyes locked on hers, taken by surprise with how right she was and how in sync they still were.

“I was thinking of calling in today,” he admitted. “I’m not…feeling myself.”

“Maybe I can help with that.”

“Iris…” he tried, as she walked towards him.

There was only one thing that could make him feel better, and it wasn’t going to happen. Not today at any rate. Maybe not ever.

She stopped when she saw him back up by the slightest part of an inch.

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.” She looked genuinely hurt.

He paused a moment before asking, “What are you going to say?”

“I was hoping you could walk me to work.”

He blinked. “What?”

She came over to him and hesitated for only a moment before looping her arm through his and tugging him towards the center of the room, careful not to let the feel of him distract her senses too much.

“I want us to be friends, Barry. Maybe it’s too soon for you, but it’s not nearly soon enough for me.” She stopped and turned to look at him. “I miss you.”

He swallowed hard. “I miss you too, Iris.”

“Then…” She gulped as she let her hands trail down to his fingers and squeeze gently. “Walk me to work. And…speed me to STAR Labs afterwards. Maybe come by on my lunch break? We can eat together. Try to…start something instead of accept nothing.”

He ached to say yes. She could see it in his eyes, in the way he wasn’t pulling away.

“It’ll be a lot harder to call in if I’m out in public so much,” he hedged.

“So, don’t call in. Let seeing me be the highlight of your day instead of the one thing you’re trying to avoid.”

“I’m not trying to avoid you. I just –”

She gave him a knowing look. He sighed.

“I suppose walking you to CCPN wouldn’t be the end of the world.”

She smiled brightly, and it broke his heart. He was making her happy, but they weren’t together. He was making her happy by doing the bare minimum. Was he giving her hope where she should have none? Or was he giving it to himself? He wanted to scream, but more than that, he wanted to kiss her. And he was the only one preventing the latter. It wasn’t like before where there was someone else.

Someone else…

How in the world was he going to handle it when she started dating again?

He looked back at her and tried his hardest to suppress the tears welling up in his eyes.

“Just…let me get ready? I mean, since I’m going to go to work now, officially.”

She smiled and nodded. “Of course. I’ll just wait here.”

She plopped down on the couch, and he ran a hand through his hair and headed for his bedroom. It was no short trip from here to CCPN. It was a warm day for January, but he knew she was only walking in heels in winter temperature this far for him. Because she wanted to be with him.

He shut his bedroom door behind him as soon as he reached the inside and braced his hands on top of his dresser. He groaned.

God, he wanted to be with her too.

…

Waiting in the living room, Iris tapped her foot on the carpet and tried to calm her nerves. The last thing she expected in that moment was to get a text from Linda demanding she call her NOW.

Seeing as how it was Linda who had set this grand plan into motion, she figured it’d be better if Barry didn’t overhear anything regarding it.

She got to her feet and turned towards the direction he’d gone.

“Uh, Barry? I have to make a call. Can I meet you in the hallway?”

There were a couple seconds of silence, then, “Uh, yeah, sure. I’ll be out soon.”

“Take your time.” She put a smile in her voice and then walked out of the apartment, shutting the door behind her.

“Hey, Iris,” Linda answered urgently over the phone.

A trickle of sweat dribbled down Iris’ neck. This sounded serious for Linda to be so anxious with just two words.

“What’s up? I was just about to get Barry to walk me to work. I think it’s the first step in a long-”

“Cancel it. Make an excuse. Don’t go with him.”

Iris’ shoulders slumped.

“But I got him all hopeful. I got me hopeful too. And what harm is there in him walking me to work? Especially if I’m at the very least sticking to being friends again?”

“Because, Iris Ann West, when I give you what I’m about to give you, Barry will not want to be your friend or anything else. I’ve got a lead on that dangerous story you want to investigate so badly.”

“Oh, my God, a lead? I thought it had gone cold!” She made a mental note to lower her voice so Barry wouldn’t hear, even through the solid wood door a foot away from her.

“I just had it emailed to me this morning. I put out feelers yesterday when you were having so much trouble finding anything, and I got something back.”

“What did you get?” Iris whispered excitedly.

“I’ll email it to you, and we can talk more at work. But from what I can tell by just skimming it? His underground alias and hide-out where he may possibly be keeping his weapons.”

“Oh, my God.”

“So, what’s it going to be, West? Spending your spare moments with Barry today or taking advantage of this tip while it still has validity?”

The door swung open, and a now smiling Barry Allen stood before her after quickly locking up his apartment. She forced a smile as she debated her options and knew in that instant that she was going to break his heart again.

“I have to go,” she quickly said into the phone and then hung up, slipping the device into her pocket.

Barry’s smile faltered.

“Is everything okay?”

“Y-Yeah, yeah, of course, it’s just um…”

“Something come up at work?” He tensed, trying hard not to show it but failing.

“In a matter of speaking…” She licked her lips and tried to come up with a lie he’d believe. “Linda got locked out of the building. Or rather, she probably forgot her key and knows I have a spare.” She pulled the key out of her pocket smoothly, but her laughter was strained. “Raincheck?”

The thought crossed his mind that he could easily speed her there or at least wait for a cab to take her. But those possibilities must’ve occurred to her and she didn’t want either, or she probably would’ve asked.

“Oh. Yeah. Sure. I understand.”

He didn’t understand. He couldn’t possibly, and Iris knew it.

But she wasn’t going to lose another amazing story on his account. She would just have to make this up to him later.

“See you at STAR Labs?” he called out as she strutted down to the end of the hallway.

She spun around and walked backward.

“Actually, I think I’m going to be busy. Maybe tomorrow?”

The pain was written all over his face, but she couldn’t let herself focus on that right now or she wouldn’t follow through.

“Yeah, sure…I’ll see you later.”

“Bye!” She twirled back around and went down the stairs to exit the building.

Barry went back inside his apartment and called in to work.

  ...

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

[mxliv-oftheendless]

Green Wounds, Ch. 6

Alright, we’re back with Green Wounds! I gave you guys a short filler that ended on a bit of a cliffhanger last time, but I promise this’ll make up for it! At least, I hope so lol. I’m actually seriously excited for you guys to read this chapter; it’s the first thing I wrote for this story, and it’s quite possibly my favorite scene out of the whole dang thing. I really really hope I did this scene justice, but I guess I’ll find out. Also on a side note, this picture is my favorite so far lol I love it.

Now without further ado, read on and enjoy!

All manner of folk came to the baby prince’s christening, even a trio of pixies who sought to foster peace and goodwill.

The christening had been wonderful so far for all parties. Gifts had been given for the baby prince throughout the day, and at the moment a crowd of people from all over the kingdom was gathered in the throne room, dressed to their finest, while King Ace and Queen Jeanette sat on their thrones. Off to the side, on a lower platform, was a bassinet, and inside the bassinet was the baby prince himself.

He was a month old now, so it was still a bit too early to figure out where he had inherited most of his traits from, but most people who had seen him said he looked rather like his mother. He was a bit small for a normal baby, but other than that was healthy and happy. His parents had named their newborn son Eric, and Eric had spent most of the day either dozing or blinking up at the people who looked at him.

Many in the kingdom had left gifts for their new prince. But there were those who had decided to bestow gifts from outside the kingdom as well.

Tiny male voices floated into the room, and the King and Queen, as well as the crowd, looked up as three pixies flew into the throne room, dressed in pink, green, and blue. Two of them, the pink and blue pixies, seemed to be bickering, while the green pixie was looking around in fascination.

As they flew closer to the King and Queen, the green pixie’s eyes fell on the cradle, and he grinned excitedly. “Look, there’s the baby!” he said to the other two, pointing to the bassinet. “I love babies!”

“Yes, I know, Erik, but concentrate, please,” the pink one said to him. “I’m not telling you again.”

Queen Jeanette smiled welcomingly at them as they hovered in front of the thrones, while King Ace gave them a look that seemed rather… impassive.

The pink pixie, who seemed to be the leader, went first. “Greetings, Your Majesties. I am Vinnie of the Moorland Fair Folk.” He bowed to them.

The blue pixie went next, also bowing. “I’m Tommy, Your Kingship… and, Queenship.”

The green pixie bowed next. “And I’m Erik, Your Royalnesses.”

Queen Jeanette looked at him. “Forgive me, but your name is Erik?”

Erik looked rather surprised at being directly acknowledged, but after getting a gesture to reply from Vinnie he bowed his head again. “Uh, yes… ma’am. Erik with a ‘K’.”

Queen Jeanette smiled slightly. “How funny—that is the name of our son.”

The pixie now was incredibly surprised. “Really?”

“Indeed… though his name is Eric with a ‘C’.”

Erik smiled. “Huh,”

Queen Jeanette turned to her husband, who was still looking silently at the pixies. “They bring gifts for our son, I believe,”

“We do,” Tommy said, smiling eagerly. He made excited gestures with his hands. “But these are not just any old gifts. For you see, we are magic!”

“And very good with children,” Vinnie couldn’t help but add.

King Ace seemed to be considering how to reply, and for a moment the pixies wondered if he would turn them down. But then he nodded and waved his hand. “Very well. Go on.”

The pixies grinned at each other, then flew over to the bassinet. Vinnie went first, smiling down at Eric and waving his hands, sending wisps of pink magic over the baby boy. “Sweet Eric, I wish for you the gift of kindness,”

He flew to the side and let Tommy go next. Twisting blue magic cascaded over the prince. “My wish is that you will never be blue, only happy, all the days of your life,”

Last to go was Erik. He smiled eagerly and let light green magic curl around his hands. “Sweet baby, my wish for you, is that you find—”

He never finished.

A powerful gust of wind tore through the room, blowing out all the candles and making the chandeliers groan and creak as they swayed dangerously above everyone’s heads. Grey clouds rolled over the sun, dimming its cheerful light and throwing the throne room into a light shadow. The powerful wind threw some of the people off-balance, and the three pixies were forced to grip the edge of the cradle so they wouldn’t be blown away. Cries of fear went up.

Then a dark shadow appeared on the wall, and footsteps echoed through the hall along with the constant, rhythmic tap of a walking stick. The cries died down to shocked, fearful murmurs as the crowd parted to make way for the surprise guest and the inky-black cat that followed at his heels.

Despite his best efforts to stay calm, Ace’s entire face went pale. In her throne beside him, Queen Jeanette could only stare blankly, though she was looking rather intimidated. The eyes of the three pixies widened and they whispered in panicked voices, “Starchild!”

A few more steps toward the thrones, and the dark figure came into the partially-dim sunlight.

It was indeed Starchild. Compared to the humans surrounding him, the faerie was perhaps of average height. But what he lacked in stature he made up in appearance. His paper-white face, the black star over his eye, and his blood-red lips all made for an off-putting look, combined with the look of cold, mild amusement on his face, as though the fear of the humans was simply rather entertaining. He wore all black—a black jacket with silver-studded collar and cuffs over a black and silver very-low-cut vest, black leather pants, and black platform boots that raised him up a few inches, all underneath a long black cape that showed off scatterings of silver glitter when he moved. In his left hand was his black walking stick, the constant echoing taps making everyone go silent. His entire appearance gave off a sort of poise and terrifying elegance. His cold eyes, which were fixated particularly on Ace as he approached, had a gleam of sinister anticipation—he’d made the right choice in choosing to bide his time. He’d been waiting so long for this day, and right now, it felt so much better than it would have been if he had just destroyed everything at once.

Not that he planned on doing that at all, however. Oh no; he was going to make sure everything Ace had worked for his entire life would slowly and systematically crumble.

When he had neared the steps to the platform where the cradle was, he finally stopped, with one final echoing tap of his walking stick. Starchild kept the cold look of amusement on his face. “Well, well,” he said pleasantly, as though this all was simply mildly yet pleasantly surprising. He let a sinister smile creep onto his face as he glided up the steps, his cape trailing behind him and Peter following.

“What a glittering assemblage, King Ace.” His tone was clearly mocking, and the fact that he was speaking directly to Ace made Queen Jeanette’s head turn to look at her husband. Peter jumped up to sit on his shoulder, and Starchild raised a hand to idly stroke his fur as he looked around at the crowd in pretend-interest. “Royalty, nobility, the gentry, and…” He turned to see the pixies by the cradle, Vinnie trying to glare at him. His smile widened, now having a tinge of genuine amusement, and he chuckled. He’d been wondering where the three pixies had disappeared to. “How quaint,” he sneered. “Even the rabble.”

Tommy and Erik sank down slightly, lowering their gazes, while Vinnie bravely stayed where he was.

Starchild turned from them to look back at Ace, and very nearly frowned. His face was still pale, and he looked afraid… but not afraid enough.

Starchild raised his head and projected his voice so that it echoed throughout the hall. “I must say,” he kept his voice light, full of faux-concern, “I really felt quite distressed at not receiving an invitation…” he trailed off, blinking innocently at Ace, as though to imply he wanted an explanation.

Ace finally spoke. “You’re not welcome here.” His voice was curt, but too quiet to be actually threatening.

The expectant look dropped from Starchild’s face, replaced by a look reminiscent of a kicked puppy. His eyes lowered, and he let out whimpering noises, as though he were about to burst into tears.

Then the look flipped into one of cruel humor, and instead of crying, Starchild smiled and began to laugh sinisterly. “Oh dear,” he chuckled. “What an awkward situation…”

Queen Jeanette leaned forward, her face still one of fear. “But you’re not offended?” she asked Starchild, her voice sounding slightly hopeful. Despite how much he was enjoying himself, he felt a quick pang of sympathy for the woman. She couldn’t be blamed for all this, and unlike her husband, she was afraid simply because of his frightening display. It wasn’t her fault she was married to such a horribly selfish man.

But even so…

Starchild turned to her, laughing lightly. “Oh, you silly dear,” he smiled sweetly at her like she was a cute little girl, “of course not. And to show that I bear no ill will… I, too, shall bestow a gift on the child.”

At that, Ace shot to his feet, now as afraid as Starchild wanted him to be. “No! We don’t want your gift!”

Peter hissed at him, and surprisingly, it made Ace fall still as Starchild glided over to the cradle.

“Stay away from the prince!” Vinnie demanded as he neared.

Tommy and Erik flew back up again. “Yes, stay away!” Erik echoed.

Starchild smirked. How adorable. With a simple flick of his hand he sent the pixies flying across the room into a small ornate chest, the lid slamming over them and trapping them inside.

Peter jumped off his shoulder onto the cradle’s canopy, and they both looked down at the baby boy lying inside. He stared uncomprehendingly back at Starchild, making the faerie wonder if he even knew what was going on… or what was about to happen.

Starchild stared at the baby for a long moment, letting out a remarking hum. It was the ever-so-annoying conscientious part of him that was making him pause. Are you really so cruel as to curse a little baby? it whispered, sounding desperate. He’s done nothing to you. It’s Ace you want to harm. If you do this, there’s no turning back.

But then Starchild thought of his wings. His beautiful black wings, the wings he’d never thought to cherish more until he no longer could. The wings that had been ripped away by the man who told him he loved him, all so he could have some meaningless crown on his head.

Starchild lifted his hand and made a slow circular motion in the air, deep purple magic swirling around his fingers. “Listen well, all of you,” he proclaimed, his voice echoing once more. He waved his hand so that waves of the deep purple magic cascaded over the baby boy. “The prince shall indeed grow in grace and kindness… beloved by all who meet him…”

Queen Jeanette, who had stood up alongside Ace, spoke again, perhaps in an attempt to mollify him. “Th-That’s a lovely gift,”

Starchild raised his head to glance at her, then turned his eyes to Ace. Ace shook his head at him, not quite pleading, but still rather desperately. “Don’t do this,” he begged, his voice so low only Starchild could hear.

How funny; he assumed he had a say in the matter.

Starchild raised a finger and pressed it to his red lips, almost playfully. Then he turned to straighten up and step away from the cradle. This was where, to use the human phrase, the other shoe would drop. And oh, would it drop.

But as Starchild turned his head, something in the far corner of the room caught his eye.

It was a spinning wheel, pushed haphazardly into the corner, but placed in such a way that the spindle still caught some sunlight. The tip of the spindle gleamed especially brightly.

Starchild almost grinned as his plan changed. He thought his original plan had been good… but this was even better.

“But…” He stepped away from the cradle so he was in the center of the platform, and lifted his arms. Deep purple magic trailed after his hands and enveloped his body like flames as his eyes gleamed the same purple. “Before the sun sets on his sixteenth birthday, he will prick his finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel, and fall into a sleep like death! A sleep from which he will never awaken!”

A wave of the purple magic left him and traveled over to the baby boy, washing over him as his curse began to bind itself to the infant.

Whatever pride that had kept Ace from outright pleading was now gone. “Starchild, please don’t do this! I’m begging you!” He sounded incredibly desperate now.

Starchild’s mouth quirked up in a smile. Now that was the reaction he’d been hoping for. But now his mind was turning again. Perhaps he could work with this…

“I like you begging,” he remarked to Ace, his enjoyment in his voice. “Do it again.”

For a moment, Ace hesitated. His eyes left Starchild to look out at the now-silent crowd, who had been watching the entire thing. He didn’t particularly want to kneel, Starchild knew.

He was about to repeat his command when Ace slowly sank down to his knees. His eyes flicked briefly to the men watching from the side, before gazing at him imploringly. “I beg you,”

Starchild smiled wickedly at him. “All right,”

Hesitant relief came to Ace’s expression, but it quickly vanished when Starchild spoke aloud again. “The prince can be woken from his death-sleep. But only by…” he stared right at Ace, “true love’s kiss.”

He turned to look out at the crowd, raising his arms above his head. “This curse will last to the end of time!” he declared, his magic coiling tightly around him. “No power on Earth can change it!”

The magic exploded, flying out over the crowd and sending many to the ground. The crowd screamed in panic as the floor rumbled and the clouds outside darkened until they blocked out the sun’s light completely.

Grinning widely, Starchild walked briskly down the steps and left the hall, Peter bounding after him. He was sure he would never forget this day—it had turned out to be so much better than he could have possibly hoped. Intoxicating joy surged through him, and he threw back his head and began to laugh as he left the hall. It was a loud, wicked cackle that bounced off the walls and bore into the skulls of all who heard it. As Queen Jeanette raced to the cradle to check on her son, Ace stayed where he was, watching Starchild strut away, cackling loudly and carelessly.

And his laughter was all Ace could hear as Starchild swept out of the hall and vanished.