#in case anyone’s confused the reader is the bird

[robo-writing]

Captain price brings home a stray (kidnapping, implied petplay dynamics, John being your caretaker of sorts)

John Price was never an animal person.

Animals don’t scare him, but while growing up the neighborhood kids would always seem to find a stray, run home with it and beg their parents to keep their new friend—cat, dog, maybe even a squirrel they found running in the backyard. His parents had no such troubles to worry about.

This persisted through adulthood, and being a Captain he especially couldn’t afford to keep a pet. Too much time away, too much responsibility. He could have the most independent animal and the poor thing would die in a week.

It was a surprise to him that he soon adopted a little bird.

He found it one day, after the rest of his team had already left. Alone and afraid, it had barely made a noise as he came closer, suddenly intrigued in the pitiful creature. It didn’t even make a single noise as he picked it up off the curb, the softest little sniffles escaping it.

His heart broke at the sight, something he never thought would happen. He brushed a thumb along its head, then brought it back to his truck where he placed it in a faded red blanket, then drove away. He placed the little wrapped up bird on his couch, offered it some food before stowing away for bed.

Not once was he worried that the bird would destroy his house while he slept, he was certain of that.

When he woke up, the bird was still there.

It looked as if it hadn’t moved an inch from where he placed it, the morning light shining right on top of it as it slept. It’s now that he could see the pretty thing in all its glory, albeit a tad dirty.

He taps the bird, softly chirping before awaking fully. It looks up at him with wide eyes, looking around before trying to inch towards the front door.

A futile attempt, as the moment it tries to fly away John grabs it, soothing the scared animal into a somewhat relaxed state.

“You’re alright now, you’re safe,” he mutters, large body overtaking your own. “My name’s John, I’ll be taking care of you from now on.”

Confused, you simply nod in response.

[waitimcomingtoo]

I’ll Cry If I Want To

Pairing: enemies to lovers!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Synopsis: you get stood up on your birthday and Peter attempts to cheer you up despite your feud

Masterlist

Peter walked into the kitchen in the tower and was immediately greeted by a confetti popper exploding in his face followed by a tender kiss on the forehead from Tony.

���Oh, my. Good morning to me.” Peter smiled at the greeting.

“Damn it, Parker.” Tony groaned. “I thought you were my little girl.”

“Don’t feel bad, daddy. A lot of people confuse Peter for a little girl.” You said as you walked into the kitchen behind Peter. The two of you made eye contact and you gave him an innocent smile while he rolled his eyes at you.

“Ha ha.“ He said sarcastically and then hissed at you like a cat. You gave him a look as you walked over to your dad.

“Happy birthday, baby girl.” Tony said and pulled you into a long hug.

“Thank you, daddy.” You smiled and hugged him back.

“Thank you, daddy.” Peter said in a high pitched voice to mock you. You and Tony looked at him and he quickly cleared his throat.

“Sorry. What I meant to say was, happy birthday. I didn’t know that was today. I mean, I’d been wondering why you looked so old but I assumed it was from your lack of sunscreen use.”

“Nice try. I wear sunscreen everyday.” You replied.

“Really?” He gasped. “Might want to up that SPF a few. You look like a crumbled piece of paper and not in a fun Taylor Swift way.”

“Don’t talk to me about skincare, Rudolf.” You snapped and tapped your nose twice to point out the zit on the tip of Peter nose. He covered it with his hand and narrowed his eyes at you.

“Children, please. No fighting. It stops my moisturizer from sinking in.” Tony sighed and rubbed circles into his skin.

“Sorry, daddy. I just wanted to make sure Peter knew about the giant pimple on his nose in case he was going to see anyone today.” You said as you smiled sweetly at Peter. He discreetly flipped you off by scratching his cheek with his middle finger.

“Any plans for the night, jelly bean?” Tony asked you.

“Nothing crazy. My friends are coming over later for a sleepover.”

“Oh God. Is this gonna be one of those crazy parties where you all get drunk and things get out of hand and you accidentally kill someone and have to dispose of the body together while hijixs ensues?” Peter. whined.

“No, because this isn’t one of the pornos you watch.” You scoffed.

“Pfft. That is not what I watch.” He insisted. “Where would I even find something like that? What would I even type? I’m open to suggestions.”

“Shut up.” You laughed. “You’re such a weirdo. And don’t be hanging around when my friends are here. I already told them you’re a pervert and on the FBI watch list so you don’t have a chance with any of them.”

“I don’t want to date your freakbob friends anyway.” He scoffed. “And to keep it down tonight, will you? I already wake up the birds chirping every morning. I don’t want to hear you birds all night too.”

“I actually came up with a solution for that. What if you killed yourself?” You asked through a smile.

“That’s a great idea. I might give that a whirl today if I’m not busy.” He replied and matched your smile.

“You? Busy?” You laughed. “Please. Busy doing what?”

“Peter and I are gonna be in the lab doing boring stuff with the suits. Adjustments, additions, and what have you.” Tony answered you.

“Oh. Okay. Do you need any help?” You asked.

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that on your birthday, baby girl. Peters got it.” Tony replied, making your smile falter a little.

“Yeah. I’ve got it.” Peter boasted and gave you a smug look. You glared at him for a moment before looking back at your dad.

“I’ll catch you later for some cake, okay honey bun?” Tony told you before kissing your forehead.

“Okay. Bye. Have fun.” You smiled sadly as he left the room.

“You look greasy, by the way.” Peter said once you were alone.

“Like I care what you think. Even your hairline won’t stay with you.” You scoffed and nodded towards his forehead.

“It’s not actually receding, is it?” He asked and touched his hair.

“Maybe your forehead is just getting bigger.” You shrugged and popped a grape in your mouth from the bowl on the table.

“Bite me.” He replied and stopped touching his hair.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You chuckled. “Isn’t that how you got your powers, spider boy?”

“Yup. What do you think would happen if you bite me? Would I be able to a do anything a total bitch can?” He wondered, making you pelt a grape at him. He caught it with ease and popped it into his mouth.

“Watch your mouth before I bring out the peppermint essential oils again.” You warned him.

“You wouldn’t.” He said quietly.

“Try me.” You shrugged. You stared at each other across the kitchen for a moment before Peter gave up.

“You win. Here’s your card. Happy birthday, gaylord.” He said as he handed you a homemade birthday card from his jeans pocket before quickly running out of the room. You rolled your eyes at him but smiled once he was gone and read the card. As annoying as you normally found him, you appreciated that he remembered your birthday. Inside the card was a crude drawing of the two of you fighting next to a drawing of a gift card to Planet Fitness.

Peter strolled into your bedroom around 10 pm when he had grown curious as to why your friends weren’t there yet. It was getting kind of late and you had listed many activities that you had planned to do while Peter begrudgingly listened to you talk earlier in the day. You were still in your room by yourself so he went in and knocked on your door to see what was happening.

“Hey dingus. When are your dumb friends getting here? I need to know when I should jam my ears with scissors.” Peter said as he leaned against your doorway. You were sitting on your bed with your knees draw to your chest and your chin resting on top of them as you stared out the window.

“Do that anyway.” You mumbled and didn’t move from your position.

“I’m going to. I can’t listen to you all yap about when Reputation TV is coming all night. And your friend Stacy’s theories are always way off.” He continued. You still didn’t turn to look at him and his smirk dropped when he heard a sniffle. He frowned and took a step into your room.

“Hello? I knew you were dumb but did you forget how to turn your neck or something?” He said to try to make you laugh. You stayed still and he craned his neck to try to see your face.

“Seriously though, when are they coming?”

“They’re not coming.” You said finally in a horse voice.

“Why? What happened? Did they finally realize you’re an annoying brat whose only redeeming quality is access to daddy’s credit card?” Peter teased in another attempt to make you laugh.

“Something like that.” You mumbled. Peter frowned and finally realized that something was actually wrong. He sat down on your bed and reached his hand out.

“Whats going on? Are you okay?” He asked in a soft voice.

“Just go away.” You said sadly and wiped tears from your face. Peter shot a web at a tissue box on your dresser and pulled it over.

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what happened.” He said and handed you a tissue. You gave him a skeptical look and he held up one hand in defense while waving the tissue in the other like a white flag. You sighed and took the tissue before wiping your eyes.

“They found out it wasn’t a yacht party or at some fancy restaurant or some elitist club in Tribeca so they all cancelled.“ You said as you nervously ripped the tissue up in your hands.

“They cancelled? Why?”

“Because no one wants to come to my party. They want to come to a Stark Industries party with puppies in the gift bags and acrobats suspended from the ceiling and Avengers walking around like party clowns. Just hanging out with me wasn’t cool enough so they all bailed.” You sniffled and turned back to look out the window. Peter raised his hand to place it on your shoulder but then drew it back. He didn’t know if he was who you’d want to comfort you and he didn’t want to push it.

“I’m sorry.” He said instead.

“Like you care.” You laughed sadly and held your knees tighter to your chest.

“I do care.” He insisted. “And I’m very sorry this happened to you tonight.”

“No you’re not.” You scoffed. “You’re probably thrilled to see me like this. This is probably the greatest moment of your dumb life.”

“It’s not.” He said quietly. You finally whipped around to look at Peter and he saw the pain in your red eyes.

“It’s not? Look at me, Peter. I’m pathetic. I’m alone on my birthday because I wasn’t good enough for anyone to hang out with.” You exclaimed. Peter went quiet as you slowly caught your breath. You teased each other all the time but you’d never actually yelled at him before. You wiped your eyes with the tissue before staring at your hands.

“You were right.” You said quietly. “I am just a spoiled brat who people only like because of my connections. And I’m sure you’re anxiously waiting for me to shut up so you can say “I told you so” and prove to me once again that I’m always wrong.”

You and Peter sat in silence for a minute without looking at each other. Peter felt guilty that you were expecting him to kick you while you were down. You were feeling your own guilt for snapping at him when he was trying to be nice.

“I’m not gonna say that.” He said after a beat.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Just go away.” You said miserably and turned back to the window. Peter opened his mouth to say something but shut it when he couldn’t find the words. He patted your shoulder twice before getting up and leaving your room. You turned to look at the door once he was gone and felt yourself missing his presence. You turned back to the window and stared out at the night sky through your teary eyes and let time pass.

After a while, you started to smell something. You sniffed the air until you recognized it as the scent of a something burning. Out of sheer curiosity, you wrapped a blanket around your shoulders and padded into the kitchen. You found Peter in the kitchen with a lace trimmed pink apron tied around his waist and flour smeared on his cheek. You smiled in surprise and leaned against the wall to watch him for a minute. He was humming to himself a song you didn’t recognize while scrapping a burnt black lump of something into the trash can. When he finally turned around, he jumped when he saw you.

“Jesus. You scared me. But I guess I should’ve known the smell of something baking would have your big back running to the kitchen like I hit the bat signal.”

“Shut up.” You chuckled. “What are you doing in here?”

“Well, your parents went to a movie since they thought your friends would be here. That means no ones home.” Peter began.

“And?” You asked.

“And so I thought we could fulfill a lifelong fantasy of mine and making sweet love to you on the kitchen counter.” He smiled suavely and raised his eyebrows at you.

“Excuse me?” Your jaw dropped as he drummed his fingertips on the counter.

“I’m joking. I’m clearly baking a bake. Or, I tried. I guess 500 degrees was too hot.” He said and looked at the burnt cake in the trash.

“Yeah, that’s a few hundred above what it should be. But why are you baking? We have a chef for that.”

“Because it’s your birthday you miserable bitch. And everyone deserves a cake baked with love. Now do you prefer chocolate or vanilla frosting on your burnt cake?” He asked and held up two cans of frosting. You looked between the two before your eyes settled on him. You hugged your blanket tighter around yourself and shook your head.

“I don’t want your pity.” You said quietly.

“You don’t have it so shut up and grab a spatula before I rescind your choice in the matter and funfetti the fuck out of this cake.” He replied and held out a spatula. You stared at it and felt compelled to take it and join him, but you were still throwing yourself a pity party.

“No.”

“No? Look, I’m trying to cheer your dumb ass up so can you please work with me here?” Peter sighed and looked at you. You stared at him for a while before cracking the slightest smile. He noticed the smile and knew he had succeeded in his plan to cheer you up.

“Fine. But I’m not eating that. That’s what Santa puts in the bad kids stockings. We’ll make a new one. But I’m not touching raw eggs.” You told him and grabbed your dad’s matching pink apron from the drawer.

“I wouldn’t expect you to, Princess.” Peter mumbled under his breath. You glared at him through your lashes as you threw some flour and sugar into a bowl. Peter went to put the butter in but you pushed his hand away.

“It can’t be cold butter or it won’t mix properly. It has to be room temperature.” You explained as you filled a measuring cup with water.

“Oh. Let’s pop it in the microwave then.”

“We can’t do that either. Then the hot butter will scramble the eggs. Do you want little egg bits in your cake?” You asked him as you microwaved the cup of water for a minute.

“Maybe just a little.” Peter replied as he watched you put the butter into a small bowl and then place the bowl on top of the microwaved water.

“There. This will soften the butter without making it hot enough to scramble the eggs.” You explained. He looked between your little invention and you for a minute before smiling.

“Wow. That was really smart.” He said genuinely. “Women really do belong in the kitchen.”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes as you set the temperature to the correct heat on the oven. Peter couldn’t help but watch you over his shoulder as you combined the rest of the dry ingredients and expertly cracked an egg in one hand. He rarely got to see you like this, no makeup and in lounge clothes. And he definitely never saw you upset before. He was used to the perfectly groomed and standoffish version of yourself so this change of pace brought him unexpected joy.

“Move over. That’s not how you mix batter. You need to fold it.” You told him and reminded him of the you he knew. You bumped him with your hip and put your hands over his to help him fold the batter.

“Like laundry?” He asked as his cheeks heated up.

“Like you know what laundry is, Pigpen. And no. A different folding. Like this.” You said and helped him mix the batter until it was the desired consistency.

“Oh wow. That worked really well. I usually just go sicko mode until it turns into goop.” He confessed.

“And how does that work out for you?” You asked him.

“Look in the trash and you’ll find out.” Peter replied and eyed the burnt cake in the garbage can. You playfully rolled your eyes at him and kept helping him fold the batter. Everytime he tried to stir the batter, you gently corrected his hands to fold it instead.

“Why don’t you just do it?” He asked when he started getting frustrated with himself.

“Because you won’t learn if I do it.” You replied in a softer tone. Peter went quiet since you were being unexpectedly nice to him. You let the batter sit for minute once you were satisfied and then poured in into a cake pan.

“There. Thats gonna take about 30 minutes to bake and then it needs to cool before we frost it.” You told him as you shut the oven door.

“Oh, so we have 30 minutes? Then circling back to that making love on the counter idea-“

“Shut it.” You warned him. Peter pretended to zipper his lips and throw away the key. You cracked a smile before starting to clean up the kitchen. Peter wordlessly helped you tidy up and you exchanged a soft smile with each other in the silence of the kitchen.

“What was your worst birthday?” You asked after a long beat of silence.

“Are you talking to me?” Peter asked after looking around.

“Peter, we’re the only ones in the room.”

“Sorry. It’s not like you’ve ever asked me a personal question before. It’s usually “are you stupid?” or “can you go away?” or “do you need a tampon cry baby?” He recalled, making you feel bad for always being so mean to him.

“Oh. Sorry about that.” You said quietly. “I sound a lot meaner than I thought I was.”

“I’m mean too.” Peter shrugged.

“You tease me.” You shook your head. “I’m just cruel.”

“I think we are an equal amount of mean to each other. Don’t let it keep you up at night. I’m sure your chronic yeast infections do that enough.” Peter tried to lighten the mood, but you didn’t crack a smile. You seemed faraway in thought and he was curious as to why.

“Do you think I’m hard to be around?” You asked after a minute. Peter was about to crack another joke until he saw the look on your face. He could tell you needed a friend right now and was filled with determination to be one.

“No. I think those girls you called your “friends” are hard to be around.” He said seriously. “I’ve seen you with them. They’re the mean ones. Them bailing tonight has nothing to do with you. They’re a bunch of shallow jerks who only care about the material things in life. They don’t care about having deep connections with people. They only care about deep pockets on people. I know this isn’t the first time they’ve ditched you. And I know you feel alone even when they are here because you’re never fully included. You think no one notices because you tell stories about your charming adventures together but I see it in your eyes. They make you feel like an afterthought. You act tough and pretend it doesn’t bother you but I know that it does. You shouldn’t hang out with them anymore.”

“Then who am I going to hang out with?” You shrugged sadly. “Without them, I don’t have any friends.”

“Sitting alone is better than sitting at a table where you’re the topic of conversation when you get up.” Peter said simply. You stared at him for a moment before your eyes fell to the floor.

“I just don’t want to be alone.” You said quietly. Peter nodded his head in understanding and let a silence fall between the two of for a while. He was going to say that you wouldn’t be alone because you’d have him, but he didn’t know if you wanted to hear that.

“Can I ask you something?” He asked.

“No.” You said immediately. You made eye contact and you let out a sigh.

“Okay. Go ahead.”

“Why don’t you like me?” He asked without looking into our eyes. You saw that coming and stared at him to try and get a sense of what was going on in his head. He slowly looked back up at you and gave you a weak smile.

“Do you remember that time the power went out in the city due to that Max guy or whatever and we all lit candles and hung out in the tower?”

“Uh oh.” Peter gulped. “You answered my question with another question. That can’t be good.”

“Shut up. Do you remember or not?” You asked and gently kicked his foot with your foot.

“I remember that.” He told you and held your gaze.

“You were new around here. You had just gotten your powers that year so I didn’t really know you yet. I had gone to look for more candles and found you crying on the floor of the linen closet.

“I remember that.” He nodded. “It was all so overwhelming to be here with the whole team. I had never felt so small.”

“I know. I told you I felt like that too sometimes. And then we stayed up for hours talking about every stupid thing we ever worried about and gave each other advice. I think at one point I gave you advice on how much conditioner to use.” You said as you replayed the night in your memory. You had a look on your face that Peter had never seen on you before. It was natural and relaxed and playful, all things he knew to be the opposite of you. It was so rare that the two of you were getting along and he didn’t want to do anything to ruin in.

“A dime sized amount and not on the roots. I still use that advice.” He chuckled. “You were so nice to me that night. You came in and pretended I wasn’t crying so that I wouldn’t be embarrassed. You just sat down with me and started talking ad if we’d always been friends. You quieted all my fears that night. I was initially so embarrassed about it but then I felt a lot better knowing someone had my back no matter how bad I messed up.”

“I always had your back.” You insisted. “Even when I was mean to you. If you were in trouble with my dad, I was always here talking him down and trying to get him to see your side. He sees you through the lense of his child that he doesn’t want hurt but I’ve always seen you as a hero who wants to help. I even got him to give you the suit back when you were 15. And it was my idea to put the warmers in because you told me you’re always cold.”

“Really? You were rooting for me this whole time?” He cracked a smile in surprise.

“Yeah.” You shrugged. “Always.”

“Then how come you act like…” Peter trailed off in fear of insulting you.

“Like what?” You asked, sounding like you already knew what was coming.

“Like you hate me.” He admitted. You felt your face burn in embarrassment and shook your head.

“I don’t hate you.” You said sheepishly.

“You don’t?” He asked in genuine surprise. You looked at him and he could see the guilt in your eyes even in the dim light of the kitchen.

“No. I don’t. I never did.”

“Then how come we don’t get along anymore?” He asked. He had only gone along with all the teasing since you began it, but he had always wondered why it started.

“One of the things we had talked about that night was how my one regret about being homeschooled was never getting to experience a prom. I told you had dreamed of it since I was a little girl and it broke my heart to know I’d never have one. So then you said…” You trailed off, thinking he’d remember what he told you. His face showed no sign of remembering it but he racked his brain anyway.

“I said what?” He asked, breaking your heart just a little more.

“You promised to take me. To yours.” You told him. You and Peter stood in silence for a moment before he burst out laughing. Your sadness immediately hardened into anger at the sound of him laughing at you.

“Wait, you’ve been pissy towards me for the last few years because I broke a promise I made at 15 years old and didn’t take you to a stupid school dance?” Peter asked through a laugh. You glared at him for his reaction and he immediately stopped when he noticed you weren’t laughing too.

“Oh. We’re not laughing?” He asked.

“Why is that funny to you?” You snapped. Peter saw the moment slipping away from him and started to panic.

“Well I was- I was a kid.” He said simply. “I had a huge crush on this girl Liz and we were finally becoming friends so I asked her and she said yes. That was years after I promised you that. I’m sorry but I didn’t remember.”

Peter thought you were going to yell at him and hurl a parade of insults his way, but you just nodded your head and looked down at the ground.

“You’re right. We were just kids. Forget I said anything.” You mumbled and started walking towards the door to leave. Peter knew he had messed up big time and possibly just killed any and all chances of the two of you becoming friends.

“Wait.” He said desperately just as the kitchen timer went off. You stopped walking and watched him haphazardly take the cake out of the oven and throw it in the stove top as he blew on it.

“You should stay. We have to frost it.” He said with a weak smile and an even weaker attempt for you for stay.

“You can’t frost it while it’s hot. It’ll slip right off.” You said without looking at him.

“Oh. I didn’t know that. Well then do you want to talk some more or-“

“I have to go.” You cut him off and swiftly left the kitchen.

You went back to your room to resume the pouting you had started earlier. You felt guilty about walking out on Peter but it had hurt you to know that a promise that had meant a lot to you didn’t even stay in his memory. You stared out the window and sulked as you thought yourself into a deep rut. It didn’t take long for Peter to start making noise in the kitchen, interrupting your thought spiral. You heard things falling out of cabinets followed by Peter swearing. He bumbled around for a while and slowly drove you crazy with all the noise he was making until you couldn’t take it anymore. Just when you were about to text him and tell him the knock it off, you heard the dulcet sounds of “The Dancing Queen” coming from downstairs. You groaned in frustration and got out of bed to go downstairs and see what was happening.

When you got to the living room, Peter was standing there in one of your dad’s suits that hugged him a little too tightly around his muscles. The room looked like it had been decorated by a child with poorly hung streamers, ripped up construction paper to act as confetti, and bunches of webs that Peter had tried to shape into stars and moons. He had dimmed the lights and put a single bowl of chips on the counter, which he proudly stood beside.

“What the hell is this?” You asked him.

“Will you go to prom with me?” He asked with a huge smile.

“No.” You said immediately. “Please kill yourself.”

“I will.” He promised. “After one dance.”

“I’m not dancing with you. I’m not doing any of this.” You told him and turned to leave. You heard a “pst” right before feeling a web hit your back. Before you knew it, Peter tugged on the web and sent you stumbling back into Peter’s arms. He caught you with ease and winked when you landed in his arms. You rolled your eyes at him but felt a smile tugged at your lips.

“Please? Just one dance? Then I’ll let you go and hate me for the rest of your life.” He pleaded as he stared into your eyes. He looked so desperate that you found yourself nodding before you knew what you were agreeing to. He smiled in excitement and twirled you around before slowly swaying to the beat. You begrudgingly sighed and wrapped your arms around his neck while his stayed in a respectable place on your hips. You could feel his eyes on you but you kept yours on the ceiling.

“You can look at me, you know.” He teased, making you begrudgingly look him in the eyes.

“Oh. I almost forgot.” He smiled and pulled something out of his pocket. You looked down and saw a few poorly drawn flowers webbed to a rubber band.

“Your corsage, my lady.” He said as he slipped it onto your wrist.

“This is so stupid.” You laughed but secretly loved the thought he put into everything.

“It’s about to get even more stupid. Wait here.” He asked and quickly ran into the kitchen. He returned with one of Morgan’s plastic tiaras with a big fake gem in the center.

“Every prom needs its queen.” He said as he placed the crown on your head. You made eye contact as he stepped forward to adjust it and you felt your breath catch in your throat from how close he was.

“You didn’t have to do this.” You said quietly.

“Yes I did. I owed you a prom experience. I’m sorry I didn’t take you the first time. And I’m sorry for laughing at you. You just caught me off guard. I have spent many nights thinking of all the things I could have done to make you hate me. I genuinely forgot about that promise. I had no idea this entire time that you hated me because of prom.” He said as the two of you started swaying to the music again. You felt a feeling rise up in your chest, a feeling you hadn’t felt for Peter in many years.

“It wasn’t just the prom.” You admitted before you could think about it.

“It wasn’t? What else did I do? Did I hotbox the elevator with you in it or something?” He asked. “I did that to Wanda once and now she’ll show up in my dreams sometimes and make me pee the bed.”

“That’s disgusting.” You said flatly. “But no. It wasn’t that.”

“Then what?” He wondered.

“It’s stupid. You’ll just laugh again.”

“No I won’t.” He assured you. “Probably. I’ll definitely try really hard not to.

“Come on. Please tell me.” He pleaded and gave your hip a gentle squeeze. “You have to tell me now or I’ll become so annoying so quickly. I’ll be worse than those people who try to describe SNL skits to you and keep explaining even when it’s clearly only funny if you’re watching it.”

“I can’t tell you. It’s dumb anyway. Forget I said anything.” You said and hoped he’d drop it.

“It can’t be that dumb if it stood between us all these years. What, did you have a crush on me or something?” He laughed through his question. You went quiet and Peters eyes went wide.

“Oh shit. Did you have a crush on me?” He asked in a soft voice. You looked down at the ground to avoid having to look him in the eyes now that you were caught.

“I don’t know.” You sighed. “You were my age and had these cool powers and muscles and unexpected sense of humor. I was homeschooled and had swiped to the end of Tinder. You were my only option.”

“Oh. I see. So you only liked me because I was the only choice?” He said through a laugh but it hurt him. You could sense in his voice that you had just hurt his feelings and for once, that wasn’t what you wanted.

“I mean, not the only choice.” You added. “Cap used to hang around a lot more and he’s not the worst looking. But he’s like 500 so I never really had a chance.”

“Why me, then?” He wondered. You finally looked in to his eyes and shrugged a little.

“Because you were kind.” You admitted. “You didn’t need to take on as much as what you did at such a young age but you refused to do the easy stuff. You used to drive my dad crazy with how for you begged for assignments. You were so determined to get out there and save people, it was almost obnoxious. You were never content getting back stolen bikes. You always wanted to protect people from the big things. Even when you were just a kid. I liked that about you. I still do.”

“Still?” He gulped. “Even now?”

Before you could respond, the slow music that was playing ended and “Munch” started to blast from Peter phone. He scrambled to change the song but the moment had already been ruined.

“Sorry about that. I don’t know who put that on my playlist.” He quickly lied.

“It was you.”

“It was me, yeah.” He admitted and hung his head in shame. You stopped dancing and slowly withdrew your arms from him, making his heart sink.

“This was really sweet. Thank you, Peter.” You said genuinely. “I should probably get to bed now. I just want this day to end.”

“But we haven’t frosted the cake yet. It’s still your birthday. You can’t go to bed without any cake.” He said in a desperate attempt to get you to stay.

“I don’t know. It’s late.”

“Come on. It’ll be fast. That’s one of my powers. Spider can frost cake really fast and so can I.” He said and rushed over to the cake. He held it up and gave you a lopsided smile, convincing you to stay.

“Fine. Let’s make it fast.” You agreed and walked over to him. He smiled at you joining him and got out the frosting. He handed you a spatula and you started to frost the cake.

“You don’t have to keep wearing that if you don’t want.” Peter chuckled and went to take your crown off. You quickly swatted his hand and adjusted your crown.

“Back off. It’s mine.” You said and stepped away from him. He chuckled again and you laughed too.

“I really do appreciate everything you did for me tonight. I hope I can make it up to you one day.” You told him.

“You can make it up to me right now if we clear off this counter top and-“

“No.” You cut him off.

“Worth a try.” He mumbled.

“Really, though. You cheered me up tonight and I didn’t think that was possible.”

“In a way, I’m glad your stupid friends cancelled on you. It gave us an opportunity to spend time together. And this was the least I could do for not taking you to my real prom. Which was total buns, by the way. I missed most of it because I was putting my dates dad in jail.”

“Well I’m glad that didn’t happen tonight.” You laughed softly.

“Me either. I wish I took you to the first one. We could have been friends this whole time if I had just remembered my promise.” He sighed.

“It’s fine. It was a long time ago. I’m done moping about it. I’m ready to eat this cake and be friends from now on.”

“I’m ready for that too.” He smiled at you. “Especially the part about us being friends. But also for this cake because it’s kinda giving me a boner from how good it smells.”

“It does smell really good. I can’t even blame your boner. But if that thing even looks at me you’re getting impromptu gender reassignment surgery with this spatula.”

“Ouch.” He chuckled and looked over at you. He didn’t stop looking at you until you felt his eyes on you.

“What?” You laughed shyly.

“I can’t believe you ever liked me. And that this whole time, I had no idea. I am so not cool enough for a girl like you to like.”

“Yeah, well. It wasn’t like I dropped any hints.”

“Maybe not. It just doesn’t feel real. I wouldn’t believe it even if you weren’t always mean to me. You reciprocating my feelings was not something I ever thought would happen.”

“Reciprocating? You liked me too?” You asked as your mouth went dry.

“Are you kidding? You’re my mentors insanely hot and totally off limits daughter. Of course I liked you. Not to mention you’re funny, smart, good with a screwdriver and the apparently my biggest supporter. Though you did it in secret. Make no mistake, birthday girl. I had the biggest crush on you for years. Even when you were being mean to me.”

“Oh. I didn’t know.” You said quietly. You had your back to him as you washed your hands but you could feel his eyes on you. You peaked over your shoulder and sure enough, Peter’s eyes were locked on you. You gulped and turned back around when you heard him walking over to you.

“You know, as mean as your insults were, they were always clever. And you always looked good saying them. How could I not fall for you?” He said as he came up behind you. He was close enough that you could smell his cologne, along with a scent that was just distinctly Peter, making your heart pound in your ears. You turned around and leaned against the counter as you looked into his eyes.

“Well how do you feel now?” You asked with unwavering eye contact.

“I feel like those feelings never left.” He admitted. You had never heard such confidence in his voice and it was just the thing to tip the scales back in his favor.

“Hm. Interesting.” You shrugged and turned back around. It was almost like you could hear the disappointment in the air once you had your back to him again. You decided not to torture him forever and give in to what you both wanted.

“Peter?” You asked and looked over your shoulder at him.

“Yeah?”

“Clear the countertop.”

Tag List 🏷️

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave​ ​

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant

@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona

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@nellabellaa @pinklxmonade @boogywoogywoogy

[gay-dorito-dust]

more benjicot and cannibal with reader please im begging 🙏

There was once upon a time where Benjicot was scared of your dragon Cannibal, after all it wasn’t every day to see one in the Riverlands, and so the day you dropped into his life unexpectedly upon the back of the behemoth did the young lord of house Blackwood knew this was going to change his life.

It did but he didn’t necessarily expect it going in the direction where he now had almost daily arguments with the elder dragon about hogging you all to himself. You were his betrothed! He would be allowed to be with you at some point of the day without your clingy dragon glaring at him!

Benjicot wasn’t going to give Cannibal respect if he wasn’t going to let him spend some time with you in Raventree, he was stubborn in that belief and unfortunately Cannibal was equally as stubborn in keeping his rider close by at all times due to his distrust of others. Meanwhile poor you during all of this were forced to be stuck in the middle of the feud between dragon and man; Needless to say you were confused on how your beloved dragon and your future husband became like children when in competition for your attention and affection.

You had enough to give out to the both of them but it seemed that both Cannibal and Benjicot wanted all of your love and affection for themselves and won’t settle for anything else, which meant you were suspected to see one try to sabotage the other at every given moment, and while it’s something that you’ll never admit to but seeing them make fools of the other never failed to make you catch a case of the giggles.

You fondly remembered the times where Benjicot was showing off his skills with the sword to you during training, always glancing over at you to make sure you were watching him and smiling when you were, only for Cannibal to huff and sweep his legs from under him by using his tail.

‘Benji!’ You called, trying to stifle your laughter as you ran to your beloveds aid, helping him stand as he looks over at Cannibal, who was looking in another direction to avoid responsibility of making him looks like a idiot in front of you. ‘Are you okay?’ You asked with a small smile as Benji pouts.

‘You’re laughing.’ He says almost defeatedly as he holds you against his chest. ‘Your dragon tripped me up and you’re laughing at your betrotheds pain. You wound me my beloved.’ He adds as you cooed at him softly and pressing kisses to his face in apology, unaware that Benjicot was staring down Cannibal cockily as the dragon only growled at him; The young lord had long since grown use to Cannibal’s threats as he knew that you wouldn’t be too pleased should Cannibal bring him harm, so the beast of old legend was forced to growl and huff from a safe distance.

‘Better?’ You asked as you pulled away, Benji quickly changed his face to a softer one as he rests his head against your own.

‘Better.’ He replied. Cannibal growled dangerously low as Ben only flipped the behemoth the middle finger behind your back before stealing a kiss from your lips as a reward, cheekily bitting your bottom lip because he could.

Not even the next day did Ben see you coddled into Cannibal’s side as the dragon looked at him as though to say what are you going to do little bird? He clenched his jaw as he knew that he was at a disadvantage whenever this happens because Cannibal wouldn’t let anyone, not even a raven get close enough without the threat of being consumed alive by the behemoth.

‘You win this one reptile.’ Benjicot said under his breath as he was forced to find something to occupy his mind in the meantime until Cannibal decided that you could run back into his arms, where he’d keep you hostage for twice as long as Cannibal. Benjicot didn’t care if he had to carry you with him if he had to in order to consider the day well spent, he’ll do it and he’ll do it ten times over just to rub it in Cannibals face.

Cannibal huffs in pride as he drops his head to nuzzle your head with his snout, making your laugh as you patted his warm, rough scales in response as you cuddled further into your dragons side as you felt the lull of sleep overcome you.

Benjicot had never been more jealous of a anything in his entire life then he did in that moment, he should be the one holding you until you fell asleep, but he couldn’t help but hold respect for the old beast for protecting you as long as he had because he wasn’t certain where his life would’ve lead him had you not come into his life. So he guesses the old lizard was good for something, giving him his future spouse.

So while he and Cannibal may compete for you, they knew that they’d drop everything just to keep you safe and loved because you deserved that much for bringing them peace and light in their respective lives. You were the most important person to both Cannibal and Benjicot, so if anything were to happen to you, may the old gods have mercy on their soul as they might catch an enraged Blackwood upon the back of an equally enraged Cannibal as they tore the realm apart to get you back.

[loved-reid]

You’re So Golden [s.r]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: Reader admires Spencer Reid.

Warnings: Admiring someone? Having someone as your sun, I honestly don’t know, if anyone sees anything let me know immediately! :)

Note: I love this one, it’s nice and short and it’s kinda inspired by “Golden” by Harry Styles. :))

Notice: IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE SHORT

The yellow pale file folders were almost covering her view of the boy in front of her, only his dark hair and eyes visible.

The stacks upon stacks of case files were almost overwhelming to her, but every once in a while looking up to see his hazel eyes moving frantically along the papers assured her it wasn’t all that bad. For he provided some calmness to the activity, just feeling him nearby would ease her anxious nothings.

Her gaze would mostly stay too long upon his face, his pink lips she died to kiss one day, and his hands-

His middle finger was laid out on the paper, quickly scrolling down the text provided before he shut it, moving forward to the stack in front of him and grabbing another one, making a loud smack when he replaced the previously used file.

If she got lucky she would spot a tongue sighting, peaking out from in between his lips as he concentrated.

She found herself laughing at his infested expression, even more so at his raised eyebrow as he looked at her, features replaced with confusion.

“What?”

His voice was almost innocent, eyes sparkling with oblivion, not having a single clue on why she thought the situation was humorous.

She shook her head in response, her laughter slowly dying off as she did so. “I don’t know how you do this kinda stuff, Dr. Reid.” She questioned, closing a file before putting it back and finding another one to look through.

He scoffed out a chuckle, his own majestic laugh bubbling out of his chest, producing a noise she wanted to hear as much as possible; which would be all the time.

“I surprisingly kind of enjoy it, find it very therapeutic, actually.” He answered, obviously moving on to another file even though he just grabbed one for what felt like two seconds ago.

“Therapeutic you say? How?” She wondered, a look of ridiculousness flooding her features.

He nodded, eyes now looking at the stack in front of him. “Yeah, just sitting here with you and reading, nice and calm, I would say.”

She found an unexpected flush spread to her cheeks at his comment of being with her, being calm with her presence near him. Her heart stuttered, lungs stopping for a couple seconds as the blood rushed to her head, brain trying to comprehend what he spoke just seconds prior.

“You’re calm around me?” She practically squeaked, sounding like a bird calling from the trees. She felt like a love sick idiot, cheeks flushing and flooding with redness at a single comment.

He nodded again, hair bobbing. He looked up this time, hazel eyes meeting hers. His eyes didn’t need sunlight to shine, for she always seems to see some sort of rays within them doing all the work. In fact, she didn’t need the sun, for he was her sun.

He kept her warm and happy, giving her all the light she needed in her life. And she loved him for that.

She loved Doctor Spencer Reid; and no shade or thunder clouds could change that. His light would forever shine upon her skin, browning it in just the right way.

He looked at her, eyes keeping her warm. “Why of course I do, why would it be otherwise?”

She shrugged despite the repetitious flutter of her heart, trying to look like the comments didn’t just make her become a stuttering mess. “Don’t know, I just feel flattered, that’s all.”

The admission was blurt out but once it was out there, she couldn’t take it back. Not that she wanted to, for she felt like he had to know that she was grateful for the statement. Grateful that he was comfortable around her.

“Flattered?” He repeated, a confused curve on his lips. “But I didn’t day anything flattering.”

She laughed, moving the file stack that delegated them so she could look at him. A light purple button up covered his figure, along with black trousers, doing his legs wonders. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, a watch decorating his wrist.

He looked almost edible, and she couldn’t help but what a taste.

She shook the thought off as quickly as it came, shaking her head to do so. “Yes you did, you said you’re comfortable around me, therefore I feel flattered.” She explained, looking at him earnestly.

He smiled soft, reaching over and touching her hand gently, despite his dislike of germs and physical touch. The contact was brief yet meaningful, his fingertips brushing hers ever so slowly, hands rubbing over her knuckles a couple times.

“Well I’m glad you’re flattered by the truth.”

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡You And Him｡⋆.

Aaron Hotchner x plus size reader

Calls from Jack were precious so Hotch was more than okay with you answering them

Warnings: fluff, thoughts on the future

WC: 579

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

There was a certain order of events that always transpired on the jet ride home after a case was done; A round of teas and coffees would be brewed by Rossi (who claimed no one knew how to do it properly), Derek would don a pair of headphones that should have been thrown out years ago and play obnoxiously loud music, JJ would take a much-deserved nap, Emily had a habit of reading cheesy romance novels while Spencer played chess against himself. And Hotch called home.

Hearing his boy’s voice or even just his breathing while he slept, calmed his anxiety down to almost nothing. It soothed him more than he could ever say out loud.

A smile pulled at his lips as Aaron’s phone lit up with his former sister-in-law’s name. He didn’t even bother glancing around the cabin to check if anyone was watching as he answered the call.

“Hey buddy.” The typical heavy breathing of a child filled his ears before there was a soft hiccup.

“Hi dad.” Hotch’s brow scrunched in concern and pressed the device closer to his skin, as if he could impart some comfort onto his son through the screen.

“What’s wrong?” Across the table from him, your eyes snapped up from your report, your attention now solely focused on him.

“Is um, is Y/N there?” Immediately, Aaron sagged into the airplane seat, his smile returning tenfold. Your relationship was fresh, still filled with the anxiety and excitement of firsts as you explored each other. You were infinitely nervous when he had finally introduced you to Jack as his girlfriend and not just the colleague you had been before.

But just like he knew you would, you and his son were thick as thieves and evidently, that carried over into when you were away for work. “Yeah buddy, she’s sitting right in front of me.” Your breath hitched and he knew that heat was now crawling up your neck. 

“Can I talk to her? Please?” His heart melted at Jack’s sincere plea. He would never deny his son, especially not when it came to this. 

“Of course.” Your head was tilted in confusion until Aaron pulled the phone from his ear and held it to you. “It’s for you.” 

Your beaming smile lit up the whole cabin as you practically snatched the device from his hand, cradling it to your ear as if you were holding a baby bird. “Jack?”

Aaron couldn’t hear his response over the roar of the airplane’s engine but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway because as soon as you sunk back into your seat, your eyes sparkling with love, he became lost in his fantasies.

He could see you clear as day, standing in front of him in a white dress, glowing in that way you did when you were overwhelmingly happy. Jack would be between you, both as your man of honour and his best man, unable to choose which side he wanted to stand on. Maybe there would even be another little Hotchner in the crowd with your eyes and Aaron’s dimples. 

Possibly even two of them, or three. 

Your quiet giggles made his heart skip a beat and Aaron thought that he didn’t mind if you took all his calls from Jack on the way home if it meant that he could hear your voice, unburdened by the depravity of the job.

He wondered if it was too early to start shopping for rings.

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[k3igol0ve]

ೀ⋆｡˚ BEAUTIFUL STRANGER ꒰➳ Keigo Takami x Reader GENRE: FLUFF ✧.*

  ' 13th December 20XX ', the day you first met the love of your life. The day Keigo met ‘his beautiful stranger. ’ 

A chilled and leisured morning, you had wakened up earlier to get a bright and early start to the day. ‘Early bird gets the early worm’ or in your case, ‘Early bird gets the first and best choice.’ December was one of the less hectic months for you, the year coming to a close. Nonetheless you had to wrap up the reports for the year. The sooner you had finished it, the earlier you’d be free from the confines of work.  6:50 AM, you were fortunate enough to attain a window seat at your favourite cafe, a small minimalistic cafe snugged in the corner of a busy street in Japan, almost unnoticeable. You were greeted with a smoky, and nutty smell when you entered; the aroma of strong coffee. The cafe had a homely and cozy atmosphere to it, vaguely similar to something out of a Ghibli movie. Lined by the lightly frosted window was a rustic wooden bar table, the window had curtains that hung neatly at the sides. The table was adorned by small glass potted plants and two wooden birds. There was a suspended wooden shelf on top, lined with glass jars, a wooden globe and a small mini speaker. The vines from the potted plants on hung loosely on the edge of the shelf. The chairs were brown and fluffy, ensuring comfort. The staff were exceptionally friendly and polite. They provided great service, having greeted you by your name as you were quite the regular at their cafe. Other than bringing them business, they often enjoyed and appreciated your company. Today, a mini wooden chalkboard laid on the counter of their cashier; an appealing offer listed on it. ‘ National Cocoa Day , hot chocolate and selected mochas buy 1 free 1. ‘ You pondered over it, and decided on giving the free mocha or hot chocolate to whoever would order next. You hadn’t really thought much about it, but having two drinks would be a waste especially since you couldn’t drink that much. At least it could potentially make someone’s day.  You headed back to your seat with a wooden tray that consisted of your order. A forest green coffee cup, filled with hot chocolate with small marshmallows floated ontop, and a plain croissant. Your laptop was conveniently placed on the table, though before you got started you stared out of the window. The sun soberly rose across the horizon, a hue of yellow surrounding its wake, light overwhelming the once navy blue sky as it turns a lighter shade. The ring of the door chime snapped you out of your daze, reminding you to proceed with your work.

7:20AM, Now, Keigo was adamant on starting his day with any form of caffeine. He had accidentally stumbled onto this specific cafe as he was heading to his agency, quiet and out of attention. It was what he needed, a piece of tranquility to start his day before he got an earful from the commission or from anyone really. The bell hung above the door jingled as a signalled his arrival, his wings folded neatly as he observed the foreign surroundings. A total of 4 guests and 2 staff, which was just perfect as this cafe wasn’t suited for crowding either.  The staff greeted him, fully composed which was somewhat surprising and unusual to him but he appreciated it. The overexcitement in the air was more often than not overwhelming, and this reminded him that he was human too. He eased somewhat a lazy smile on his face as he looked at the menu above, though the barista was quick to ask if he was interested in a free mocha instead.  He tilted his head curiously, an almost confused and unsure looked on his face. “What for?” He was used to people giving him special treatment, and thought it was just that until the barista responded. The barista shrugged and gestured towards you, who was engulfed in work. You looked as if the work had swallowed you whole and as if you were stuck in that chair, unaware of surroundings. He was barely able to register what the barista had said after. Keigo doesn’t know what it was, though when he looked at you his heart skipped a beat. Frankly, Keigo didn’t believe in love at first sight, but just staring at you had captivated his attention. It felt like something snapped in place, like some kind of fairytale bullshit; he refused to believe in. He was staring for more than a second too long. He had even subconsciously, ruffled his hair to make himself look neater as it was messed up by the morning December breeze when he flew here. He glanced at himself from a reflective surface. His avian mind taking over him without notice, he had the urge to be presentable, and neat to appeal to you.  Why was he doing this? Especially over someone he just met? His thoughts were jumbled, he failed to realise his gaze was still attached on you as he innerly freaked out.  This felt so unfamiliar, foreign and strange, Keigo didn’t believe in love and attraction, never felt it, unfamiliar with that very concept. You noticed a gaze trained onto you, you turned your laptop brightness on the lowest trying to determine who it was without scaring them off. Looking into the reflection, you noticed a winged individual with a familiar uniform and jacket, one you had seen so many times on TV. That stranger only recognised as Hawks. Being respectful, despite your inner self being pleasantly surprised and shocked, you flashed a tiny sincere smile. Only then did Keigo notice he was staring for too long, he was embarrassed, almost flustered. His heart fluttered when he saw your tiny smile directed at HIM, it was so innocent, so bright and genuine. He’s unaware that your smile has sneakily earned a place in his mind and heart.  He didn’t expect that you’d catch on and he quickly turned around looking back at the Barista who was waiting for his answer to a question he didn’t even hear.  “Sorry what was that?” He sheepishly apologised, scratching the back of his head with an apologetic light hearted closed eyed smile. The barista repeated what they had said earlier but Keigo was internally conflicted, when he shouldn’t be. He should be familiar with these types of situations especially since his outer persona was supposed to be charismatic, and here he was acting like a school boy with a crush. It was different with you, but he convinced himself he was just out of it today. He was the one that lost composure, his mind scrambled, how the tables have turned.  He hadn’t even heard what the barista had said, again. Way too embarrassed to ask them to repeat, he just agreed to it. Too consumed by his thoughts to think straight, his instincts were pumping adrenaline; fight or flight.

He chose flight, he wanted to get out of here as soon as possible because as long as you were in the same room as him, he would be unable to even function properly, unable to think rationally or even form coherent words. He doesn’t know what hit him, it felt like a love potion but worse because it was realistic. As soon as he got his drink, he dipped. Walked out as fast as possible and took to the skies, he felt embarrassed and unusual. You were left confused, wondering if you did something wrong.

Then Keigo remembers he forgot to thank you and mentally swears, he didn’t even say anything to you at all; another excuse to meet you once more. He would have to find you after that encounter because your smile would plague him until he would see you again.

Throughout his day, he wonders what if he stayed in the cafe for a little longer, to approach you and to thank you, to ask for your name, to maybe even exchange a few words and possibly exchange numbers. He’s frustrated he did none of that, and he berates himself for it. What if he never sees you ever again?

‘A fairytale moment could have occurred, but my beautiful stranger will have to remain a stranger until I see them again.’ INSPO. LAUFEY - BEAUTIFUL STRANGER This felt so corny to write

[blog-name-idk]

The Plot Twist | 04

Written by @blog-name-idk and @eserethriddle

Summary: Once upon a time you would have jumped at the chance to live the idol girlfriend life. The cameras, the action, the whirlwind romance. But what was once a dream has now become your worst nightmare, and you fully intend to fight the universe as it repeatedly conspires to set you up with your seven perfectly good soulmates from Bangtan Sonyeondan.

In which we punt Y/N into all the fanfiction tropes and you do your feral best to subvert the love story.

Because nani the fuck, you are The Plot Twist.

Pairing: OT7 X Fem!Reader

Genre: Soulmate!AU, crack, humor, idol!AU, light angst, slow burn, romantic comedy, just a fun silly old time

Rating: 18+

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Chapter 4: "You like Pac-man, right?"

"How dare you!"

You’ve just finished entering the final character to G0d$l@yeR_69 when you look up from the post-game leaderboard screen.

"Pardon?" you ask in confusion, slightly alarmed by the speed in which a masked man is walking towards you and the Pac-man machine. Even with the mask, the exaggerated furrow marring the man’s forehead is more than enough for you to discern that he is less than pleased. You square your shoulders, in case you need to defend the precious apparatus. Well, that and protect Lee-ssi, but mostly the Pac-man game.

"You're G0d$l@yeR_69?" the man squawks, voice irate. He gives you a once over and bristles further. You can almost imagine his fluffy hair rising like the feathers of an offended bird, and he… kind of sounds like one, too. You struggle to stifle your snicker when he gestures broadly to your grown stature, incredulous even as he finally discerns to himself, “You’re not some pint-sized punk!”

“And yet here you are, humbled all the same.” you respond haughtily, dusting off the imaginary lint off your burgundy dress. “Based on your reaction, I take it you’re ‘Jin the PacMan God’?”

You pause.

Wait.

Jin?

In fact, this offended cockatoo of a man actually looks… familiar. Broad shoulders, nice eyebrows, and –

Your blood pressure skyrockets as you realize exactly who is yelling at you. Unfortunately, your temper rises faster than your self-preservation.

"I'm sorry, BTS Jin is the same stupid kid who calls himself 'Jin the PacMan God?'" you blurt before you can stop yourself. "What self-respecting adult wastes so much time on an arcade game?"

He raises an eyebrow at you with a pointed stare, and you shrug. You don't fit into that category. You certainly don't respect yourself.

"A grown woman calls herself G0d$l@yeR_69?" Kim Seokjin jabs in return, crossing his arms, now looking more sulky than angry.

"Well, it's accurate to lore," you retort with an uncaring flip of your hair, doing your best to look bored rather than reflect the panic beginning to clog your throat. His genuinely offended gasp would have made you laugh if you weren't currently running through the possible exit routes in your head.

And then Jin says, "Well, you must be cheating!"

The egregious accusation dispels all thoughts of escape from your head. Your pride and integrity as a gamer have been insulted, and you narrow your eyes at the self-proclaimed pro-gamer before you.

You’re fully prepared to defend your honor.

It's on.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Jimin doesn't get it.

How could he be unlucky enough to get sidelined a second time in a row? He wasn't even late this time! But because there had been more men than women (a bit heteronormative for his tastes, but that's the current state of most official speed-dating events), he and a few others had to wait aside for a rotation. And then somehow, everyone had already decided to pair up before he even got to meet anyone!

Perhaps it's karma and he's being punished for telling his Jin-hyung that he sort of kind of definitely looked like a certain pink Moluccan bird species when he was all riled up and red-eared.

With a sigh, he leaves the building, shoulders slumped. He can't quite bring himself to call Jin yet, and so he decides to walk aimlessly for a while. Perhaps some fresh air will cheer him up.

It's a bustling street, and he nervously brings his mask up higher on his face lest he be recognized. No one seems to be paying attention however, and the people going about their daily lives remind him that despite his woes, life goes on.

An arcade catches his eye, and he shrugs to himself. A few rounds of killing zombies or racing fake cars will take his mind off things. It's a school day, so it's unlikely the place will be packed.

When he walks in, he hears a familiar screech, accompanied by the sound of a boot stomping on the ground.

"Yahhh! How did you do that?! That's not fair!"

What is Jin-hyung doing here? And what is he yelling about?

Curious, he follows the voice past the shopkeeper who looks torn between concern and amusement, to where Jin is ranting at someone obscured by his frame.

A p(r)etty sigh.

"I'm sorry this is so difficult for you to get through that coconut haircut of yours, but has it occurred to you that I'm just better?"

Huh, that voice is also familiar.

"That’s just prepos–"

"...Hyung?"

The voices cease as the two arguers turn to look at Jimin, and he feels his breath catch in his throat.

You look particularly lovely today, with a form-fitting burgundy dress that shows off much more soft-looking skin than the business or lounge attire you wear on the rare occasion he actually sees you.

And his Jin-hyung, next to you, all rose-colored cockatoo.

It's more than enough to set Jimin off-balance.

"Oh! Hi, LN-ssi!" he hurriedly squeaks, cursing his voice for cracking. What are all his voice lessons even for?

At least you can't tell his palms are suddenly sweating. Your eyebrows rise and Jimin realizes you never did tell him your name, that he just saw it on your mailbox and it stuck in his brain. Oh no, do you think he's a stalker now?

"You know this phony?" Jin cries, oblivious to the internal crisis his dongsaeng is currently experiencing.

Jimin's brows crinkle. Phony?

Your head whips to his hyung at his words, your eyes narrowing.

"I believe you saw proof with your own two eyes," you say icily, though your gaze has a fire that makes Jimin gulp. "Maybe you should get them checked? Sometimes they can fail with old age."

Jin's jaw drops, and as a constipated sound of outrage leaves him, you take the opportunity to brush past and march to the exit. Jimin, still confused, steps aside automatically to let you pass and you give him a reluctant nod.

"Jimin-ssi."

As you leave, Jin turns to Jimin to demand answers, but he barely hears it over the fluttering in his tummy.

It's the first time you've ever addressed him by name.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The twelve-year-old boy opens his hand, revealing hard candy wrapped in shiny, yellow paper.

"You like Pac-man, right?" he asks, smiling brighter than the sun.

You accept his offering, sure your own face is radiant enough to power all of Gwangju. You can't say you have strong feelings for the buttery treat, but you do for the little boy who fills your days with laughter and sweet memories. You could spend forever playing with him at the park by your houses…

Except your parents get the brilliant idea of starting their own restaurant in Seoul. You are heartbroken when the decision to move is made, but you do your best to support their dreams, even if it comes at the expense of your only friend.

Out of sentimentality and denial, you save the shiny candy wrapper, holding it when you're sad, as if it's a talisman that can ward off the lonely ache in your chest. It's hard being the new kid in a big-city school, and though you present your mother's strong facade when your new classmates tease you about your satoori, it hurts. You have to be strong.

After one particularly bad day, you decide to drop into the local arcade, because all it will take is one smile from your appa to disintegrate your cracking veneer. You're a big girl, basically an adult at a whopping eleven years old! You're not a baby anymore, you just need some extra time to set yourself right.

You weave through the attractions, passing racing games and claw machines when something catches your eye. A familiar yellow character smiles at you from a game cabinet, and for a moment you feel like he is still there with you.

You walk up to the Pac-man arcade machine with newfound resolve and a sunny smile to match.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“Sometimes I wanna drop by Gwangju,” Jung Hoseok begins, taking his seat at the dining table next to Taehyung, “But then I remember they already demolished the playplace from my childhood and think, huh, maybe not. Thing is, they sold really good tteok there.”

“Pan-fried tteok?” Taehyung leans back, remembering the taste of his own favorite rice cake flavors from Daegu. “My hometown had that, too.”

“Sometimes the cart owner-ahjussi would give us candy with our orders. I miss it a lot.”

Hobi's eyes take on a wistful look, and Taehyung pats his shoulder.

It must have been some really good candy.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"Honey! I'm home!" you call, setting your briefcase on the floor as your husband rushes up to you wearing a cute apron that has nothing on his sweet face and sweeter smile.

"I just finished dinner," he says, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek that makes your chest fill with the glow of a million fireflies.

"What, mudcakes again?" you ask fondly. You thread your fingers with his, uncaring of the dirt on his palms, giggling at the pout on his face.

"You said they're your favorite!" he complains petulantly, though he doesn't pull away.

"They are," you agree, squeezing his hand in yours reassuringly. You beam at him, and his cheeks turn pink. "If it's something you made, it's my favorite."

You're suddenly tugged towards him and you squeak in surprise as wiry arms crush the air out of your lungs.

"You're my favorite," he mumbles into your hair, and it's the happiest you've felt in your entire nine years of existence.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

It's great to be back in Gwangju, away from all the insanity happening in Seoul. You can finally relax and live life rather than constantly look over your shoulder in the fear of running into another member of BTS.

Fuck you, fate! You're taking a break.

You knock on the old, familiar door, and it opens to reveal a kind, lightly lined face that breaks into a huge smile at the sight of you.

"Halmeoni!" you announce happily, stepping into your grandmother's arms and hugging her fiercely. She hugs you back just as hard, squeezing you with her deceptively spindly limbs as you melt into a hold that feels like childhood.

"We've been waiting!" she replies cheerfully before ushering you to the living room and calling your grandpa to come greet you. The house is the same as you remember, a comforting echo of days past.

"Oh! We ran into that boy you used to play with at the store earlier!" your grandma says just as you pick up your cup of tea. "The one you used to play house with!"

You laugh, thinking fondly of your childhood friend. Perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad if he had been your soulmate, rather than a group of the seven biggest idols in Korea. Or perhaps not – the things that are so simple to children don't always translate to adulthood, and those memories hold an untainted innocence that you wouldn't trade for the world.

You bring the cup of homebrewed tea to your lips, only to choke at your grandmother's next words.

"I invited him over for dinner!"

You stare at the twinkle in your suddenly menacing grandmother's eyes. In just one simple sentence, she has transformed from the kindly, loving fixture of your youth to yet another cruel, scheming matchmaker. Truly your mother’s maker. Leaving Seoul might have saved you from idol-related phenomena, but clearly not from your family's attempts at grand (and great-grand) children.

Instinct drives you to your feet and you grab your purse, tripping over the rug as you rush to the door.

"I have to go," you call over your shoulder, uncaring of the baffled expression on your grandma's face.

"But you just got here?" she says in distressed confusion, and your stomach fills with guilt at the sadness in her voice. "We haven't seen you in so long, dear."

You still, hand on the doorknob and so, so close to freedom and safety. Eventually, you sigh, shoulders slumping as the resolve trickles out of your body.

"Never mind, I'm going to take my stuff upstairs," you say in resignation, grabbing the carry-on still by the door and carting it to the guest room. The wallet feels extra heavy in your purse, and when you're safely within the confines of your room you sit on the bed and pull it out.

You reach behind the ID card in the plastic slot of your wallet and feel the soft, crinkly edges of a fond childhood memory.

You like Pac-man, right?

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Hoseok still remembers the smile on your face whenever he gave you the extra candy he would get with his tteok in the park. As well as the thinly hidden devastation on your face the last time he saw you, and you told him your family was leaving for Seoul.

Despite him being older, he had always admired your courage and tenacity, the way you would charge head-first at the things you wanted. Your unwavering support whenever he was feeling down or uncertain. During hard times as a trainee, he would sometimes picture your determined expression and feel an extra spark of energy.

He really isn't sure what to expect, or even if he's in his right mind, coming to dinner to see his long lost… friend? Play-spouse?

Would you even remember him?

The door opens, and Hoseok's heart jumps at the sight of you. The tentative smile on your face fades into an expression of utter shock, and he belatedly remembers exactly who he is.

"Wh–what the–I–" you stammer, looking just as mortified as Hoseok feels. In his ruminations of childhood, he had completely forgotten his present state of being and how it might impact new encounters. "Can I help you?"

"Y-Y/N?" he asks tentatively. To his bafflement, you flinch as if he had screamed at you.

"How do you know my name?" you ask, stepping back with your hand on the door. You look five seconds away from slamming it in his face, and despite his misgivings, Hoseok's heart sinks. For some reason this cold reception feels worse than if you were a saesang.

"I'm… I'm here for dinner?" he says tentatively, proffering the seonmul he brought. The expression on your face is so reluctant that for a moment he takes a whiff of the bag in case the pastries from the most expensive bakery in the area have somehow gone bad.

With a spark of panic, Hoseok wonders if he accidentally went to the wrong address. The house is familiar, and you look similar to the little girl he remembers, but perhaps he's just let his hopes affect his memories. Why else would you look so shaken, other than a strange man showing up out of nowhere?

"But you're… you're not–"

"Y/N, what's taking so long?"

Relief fills him momentarily as your grandmother comes behind you, though it's tempered by the way you haven't relaxed.

"But this is… this isn't…" you stammer, face pale as you look between Hoseok and your grandmother. It hits him that you probably don't remember his real name, as you had been too young to pronounce it correctly when you had first met.

"You used to call me Hoba," he says with a smile, realizing that this is why you must be so confused – you've recognized him as Jung Hoseok of BTS, and thus not your playmate from so many years ago. "It's nice to see you again."

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

This cannot be happening.

Not only is the smiling boy from your fondest memories Jung Hoseok of BTS, but he just somehow had a break in his schedule the same weekend you're in Gwangju, and he ran into your grandmother at the supermarket? You left Seoul to get a break from these ridiculous situations and not to end up having dinner with one of your soulmates!

What kind of contrived, unimaginative bullshit is this?

"These are for you," Hoseok tells your grandmother with a formal bow, offering the pretty, pastel pastry box you had refused to accept earlier. She beams approvingly while you pinch yourself. Hard.

Through the pain in your arm, Jung Hoseok is still standing in your entryway, a sunny nightmare you can't wake up from. The old wrapper, once a magical talisman to ward off gloom, is lead weight in your pocket.

"Um," he begins awkwardly, looking bashful. It is not cute. He is not cute. "And this is for you."

He holds out a fuzzy yellow ball you immediately recognize, and you stare at it in shock. Your chest is doing something very funny, like tachycardic arrythmia. Yes. Hilarious.

Hoseok evidently takes your silence as disapproval, and wilts like a flower deprived of light. "Uh, sorry, you probably don't like Pacman anymore…"

"I do," you reply faintly, reaching forward to take his gift. Only to be polite. That's it. Certainly not because his dejection makes your insides roil with guilt. "Thank you."

"Of course," he replies, looking only marginally relieved by your lukewarm response. "Oh! You dropped something."

He dips low to grab something, and to your horror, your wallet is open –

"Wait, is this–"

"I JUST LIKE THE CANDY!" you blurt in a near scream, feeling your entire body light on fire. This would be humiliating in the best of situations, and Jung Hoseok discovering you kept the wrapper from an old candy he had given you, like a sentimental loser, is decidedly NOT the best of situations.

His resulting smile almost blasts you off your feet, and you wonder if overexposure to sunlight can lead to cardiac arrest.

“Y/N-ah,” Jung Hoseok says, tentatively, but with soft affection. It is more devastating than you could have ever imagined. “I missed you too. Have you been well?”

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Masterlist | Next

[arabellasleopardcoat]

 A Thousand Words (Daemon Targaryen x Reader) 

Summary: You want to marry him. He wants to fuck you. The two things are not as incompatible as they sound. 

Requested: Yes! Predator/Prey with Daemon.

Warnings: Smut. Vaginal unprotected sex. Animalistic sex? Sadistic Daemon. Toxic relationship. Mentions of breeding kink. PWP with baby plot.

You leaned down, examining a few bergamot flowers more closely. Asking for permission in a low voice, you cut three of them. They would be enough to soothe the children’s bee stings. 

As you placed them in your basket, you heard a twig snap, followed by leaves crunching. You straightened up immediately, flowers forgotten by your feet. Your eyes glanced towards the tree line. There were no animals near you, apart from a few birds. Yet, the noise had been loud. As if the twig had snapped from something heavy stepping on it. 

You knew these forests like the palm of your hand. You had grown up here, after all. There were no animals heavy enough to make such a noise around this area. 

“Is someone there?” You asked, feeling a bit silly for doing so. Other than the chirping of birds and the soft murmur of a river near, you heard nothing. But if there was someone there with ill intent, they weren’t about to announce themselves. 

Keeping your movements very slow, you picked up your basket and kept picking flowers. Despite always enjoying long treks in these woods, you were unable to concentrate on the beauty surrounding you. Uneasiness pooled in your stomach, all the hairs on your body standing up to attention. You couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Every few steps, you looked over your shoulder, but there was nothing there. 

This outing was meant to be meditative for you, and you were clearly not reaching that goal. The pressure of being the Lady of your household sometimes got to you. When you were a woman, it was as if you had to do twice as much to prove yourself worthy. Nature had always been a respite for you, yet today, peace seemed to evade you.  You felt too anxious, too nervous, to be able to tune in with yourself. The ambience had been ruined by the sound, triggering all your paranoia. 

You decided to head back towards the castle. Since you were still uneasy, you decided to take a few confusing laps, just in case you were being followed. You walked towards the darker part of the forest, where the trees were older and taller, their branches overlapping and obscuring the view of the sky. To anyone who was unfamiliar with the place, the twists and turns you were taking would throw them off. 

Unfortunately for you, whoever was after you was not unfamiliar with the place. Now that you were in the more isolated part of the forest, you could hear footsteps after you, even with your pulse beating loudly in your ears. With a muttered curse at your own idiocy, you hiked up your skirts and started to run. 

It went badly. You tripped over a root, going down hard. The skin of your palms lifted, slowly starting to bleed. And someone pounced on you from behind. Hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against a solid chest. 

“Have I startled you so much you forgot your way in your own lands?” You recognized the voice just as you were about to shriek. Daemon Targaryen and you didn’t have much in common. In fact, you were total opposites. While he preferred the noise of the city, you enjoyed the calm of the woods. He liked dornish red, while you much favored arbor gold. He liked bedding a new woman every night, you liked compromise. And, of course, how could you forget? Daemon liked chasing, and you liked running. 

“My Prince!” You tried to sound scandalized. This game of yours was one of your favorites to play, and you guessed this was why the Rogue Prince kept coming back to you. He enjoyed the thrill of the chase too much to not give in to it.  “You aren’t meant to be here.”

“I can’t stay away from you. You know that.” 

“You should.” You frown at him, playing your part. Despite it, you cannot help the teasing tone that your words take next.  “It’s not proper, for a Lady and a Prince to be alone together, so far from other people.”

Daemon doesn’t answer. Instead, he pulls you more into his body, your back flush to his chest. He starts to press lavish kisses to your nape and shoulders. You nearly moan. Nearly. Because you have a part to play. 

“Don’t. No. We could get caught.” You mutter, urgently trying to get him off you. So far, getting him into your bed had proven a piece of cake. Getting him to come back to it, slightly harder. Getting him to offer you marriage, damn near impossible. 

In the eyes of others, you were nothing more than friends. Not even courting, despite his constants visits to your household. It certainly got tongues rolling among the realm, but there was nothing official yet. 

“Come on. Just let me have you.” Daemon bites down on your shoulder, softly. “You know you want to.” 

“Out in a forest?” You laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous.” 

“It’s not ridiculous if we both want it.” He pushes your dress slightly lower, tracing nonsensical patterns on your back.  “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it, with how much you like the outdoors.” 

“No.” You are lying through your teeth, and he knows it. Knows you. But it’s such a sweet game, that the two of you play. For you, it’s the high of getting to scream and bite and be as wild as you wish to, away from the stiffness of your everyday life. For him, you guess it is part of being a conqueror and getting to rough you up a little. 

You are at a stalemate. You will never admit it to him, how much you enjoy this. Not only are you too proud, but you feel slightly embarrassed by it. There is a certain pride in being different, in not conforming to the role society has decided was yours to fill. Fate bends to your will, after all. You are someone who makes things happen, not someone that has things happen to her. Be it your own marriage plans, to commanding your household with an iron fist. Yet, you crave being made to feel helpless. 

Daemon is not about to budge, either. When he thinks he is right about something, he is right about it and there is no room for arguing. His grip on your waist gets more restrictive. You stay like that, kneeling on the floor as he sits patiently behind you. 

“What about a… Friendly wager?” Daemon kisses your earlobe as he speaks, softly. “If you win, you can leave. I won't bother you again.” 

“And if you win?” You know already that Daemon is going to win. Not only is he competitive, but you don’t want him to leave you alone. Like, ever. You would marry him in a heartbeat, were he to ask. So if it is necessary, you will lose on purpose. It’s not the first time the two of you played like this. You have gotten talented at it. The key is in not making it too obvious, less you anger him. The male ego is such a fragile thing, and Daemon needs to be handled with care. He is as proud as you are. 

“I get to take you. Here. As you are, in this forest.” He whispers, as he leaves behind soft, wet bites over your shoulders. Already, your blood is warming. You feel hot all over. Were it not madness, you would slip out of your cloak and dress and try to cool down. 

You ponder on it for a few seconds, distracted by the feel of his mouth and the way his skilled fingers pull down your bodice. It’s a bad idea. A terrible one, in fact. But it does sound tantalizing. To be run down by Daemon, held down and fucked as if the two of you were nothing more than animals in heat is… Well, it’s certainly something. You don’t know if it’s the moon, or the way he seems to have a talent for convincing you of bad ideas, but you cannot help the way your cunt pulses when you think of it. 

“Fine.” You say, in an annoyed tone. As if you are not as aroused as he is by the idea.  “What do I have to do?” 

Daemon’s breath hitches. You can hear it and feel it, pressed this close to him. He takes the tiniest intake of air, chest moving softly against your back, before stuttering a little. 

Surprised. You know even without looking at him. Out of all the games the two of you play, this one has to be the one that has taken it further. It’s risky, and he probably offered it on a whim, knowing the odds were not in his favor. But you said yes. And that changes everything. 

“Try to get out of the forest before I catch you.” His voice sounds dazed. It’s clear Daemon is still in disbelief. Yet, he is clearly eager to play because you can feel his hardness pressing into your lower back. 

“I assume I will get a head start.” You tilted your head back and gave him a cheeky smile. The sort of smile that drove him mad. Daemon gave you a rare, soft smile, before kissing you. It was warm and demanding, forcing you to open up to him. When you parted, you were the one feeling nearly drunk on sensation. He was back in control. 

“I’m feeling generous, so I will count to twenty before giving chase.” Daemon spoke, but the words didn’t really register in your mind. You blinked at him, slowly. Your brain had been turned into mush thanks to the amazing kiss. He smirked and spanked your arse.  “Starting now. One.” 

Jolted out of your trance, you stood abruptly. Your clock was running and you wanted so badly to complain you were not ready, but there was simply no time.  Beside you, Daemon kept counting. 

“Three… Four… Five…”  Bewildered at the injustice of it all, you scowled. But Daemon's face remained smug, and so you had no choice. You stood up, wiping your palms on your dress, and ran off as fast as you could. You got a bit tangled in your skirts and had to stop to hike them up properly. 

“Seven… Eight… Nine…” It was pronounced with a hint of laughter. Almost halfway. You wanted to scream, but you knew Daemon. He never played fair. Instead, you chose to duck behind some trees, so hopefully he would lose your trail. 

You kept running, until you no longer heard his voice. The only noise you could hear now were your own agitated breaths and the soft sounds of the forest. If you were to make it out, you still had a long way to go. 

Since you didn’t really want to make it out, and you were getting more agitated the more you ran, you stopped.  Deciding to remain still until you heard his footsteps again, you sat down on the grass. But soon, you could hear the tell-tale sound branches make when being pulled apart, twigs and leaves crunching under a pair of boots.  

It was not as long as you thought it would be, and so, you startled a little. There was a bit of panic gripping you, as well as excitement. You were pretty sure he would tackle you into the ground when he saw you, and you were not anticipating that pain. That this was happening made you feel small in all the right ways. As if you were no more than something to be conquered, to be caught, by a much bigger predator. 

Crouching, you sprung out, your movements louder than you would have liked. You thought you had more time. This was not going how you expected it to go, not at all. You had barely calmed your breathing down when you were running again. 

“Come here!” You heard him scream, and you resisted the urge to look over your shoulder and watch just how close he was. You sprinted, pushing your body harder. But your body was already tired from your earlier run, when you thought someone was following you. You were slower than usual. 

“Come on. Give in.” Daemon’s voice sounded too close. He was not running after you, from what you could hear. Merely walking. Circling you, closer and closer, until he was ready to pounce on his prey. 

The thought made you embarrassingly wet. Your thighs clenched, trying to get some friction on your cunt, but with how you were moving, it was nearly impossible. 

“You boast a lot, my Prince. But I don’t see you doing anything.” You answer, cheekily. This time, you do turn around and look at him. His eyes are dark with hunger. It makes you feel small and powerless.

You remind yourself this is why Prince Daemon likes you so much. He loves how submissive you can be, how willing to play his game. You let your face show everything you are feeling, face contorted between arousal and fear, eyes darting restlessly searching for a way out. 

Daemon walks calmly towards you. Instead of running, you remain rooted in place. It seems fear has frozen you. You let your skirts fall back down around your ankles, dropping all pretense to keep running. 

He takes his time, circling you like a hound would do with a bunny. Waiting for the right time to sink his teeth and tear apart, until you are no more than exposed tendons and flesh. 

“Now, now. Don’t look so fearful.” Daemon brushes your hair behind your ears. The touch is tender, a contrast to the sadistic glee shining in his eyes. It's clear the chase has been as exciting for him as it was for you. “I am a gracious winner. I won’t hurt you. Too much.” And with a dark grin, he is pulling your cloak open, tearing at the bodice of your dress, pushing you down. It all happens in a flurry of movement, too fast to follow where his hands are, too brutal to realize when it is that you end up on your knees.  

Without needing to be told to, you go to your hands and knees. Daemon chuckles, pulling your skirts up and your undergarments out of the way. 

“This was what you needed, wasn’t it?” You can feel his hand making its way between your thighs, checking your wetness. Your face heats up in shame when you hear the loud squelching noise his finger makes when entering you. Never have you been so aroused from looks and words alone. And Daemon can definitely tell. 

You fix your eyes on the grass beneath you. You can hear how Daemon unbuckles his belt and shrugs off his pants. Then, you feel his weight on top of you, as he goes on his hands and knees too. His legs bracket yours as he forces you to lower your chest, pushing your face into the earth. 

More shame and arousal twist on your belly. This is not how a lady should be treated, taken on her hands and knees, teats out and hanging out of her dress on a forest floor. Daemon is about to fuck you as if you were a common whore, and you can't help the gush of wetness that floods your center when you think of it. 

“You did.” He gives an incredulous laugh, noticing how you are absolutely dripping. He rubs the tip of his member against your folds, coating himself on your slick. The feel of it against your hole, firm and scorching hotel, makes you squirm with the need to take him in. “You really did.” 

“Stop teasing.” You complain, trying to move your hips and chase him. It's useless. The position Daemon has you in lets you do little but be smothered by him. 

Suddenly, there is a pull in your hair, making you shriek. Your roots hurt, so you arch your neck, going with the movement his fisted hand is imposing. 

“And who do you think you are, little girl? To order a Prince?” It's nasty and menacing, whispered in your ear as he forces your body to bow. “It must be so hard, acting so tough all the time. So collected, so proper. When, in reality, you just need someone to take you as the wanton whore you are.” 

You can only gasp, seeing white stars reflected on your eyelids, the stinging pain of the pull heating your poor scalp and neck. 

“I hunted you down. I brought you to your knees. I own you.” Daemon pushes forward in a single, punishing thrust. You scream, desperately scratching the grass for purchase. He is not very deep, but he feels huge, splitting you open in all the right ways. Often, when Daemon and you go to bed together, your foreplay is much longer. He is not as young as he used to be, or so he says. Despite it, Daemon finds ways to prolong your encounters even when his body doesn't cooperate. You are not used to taking him without preparation and it shows. 

 “I am in charge.” His voice comes out strained, through gritted teeth. He pulls at your hair, just for the sake of it. You feel sweat start to gather at your temples and lower back, both from the strain and how heated your blood feels.  “Do you understand?” 

 “Yes.” You mutter, struggling to form a coherent thought thanks to the way he is fucking you. 

“Louder.” Daemon snaps his hips against yours. His grip on your hair gets even more punishing. “Tell me you understand.” 

“I understand.” It comes out in a sob, as you try to hold on to the grass, the earth, anything. Your fingers hurt from clawing at the dirt, your face slowly getting squished against the grass. Despite how much you struggle to stay somewhat upright, you are no match for his strength. 

“What was that, my Lady?” The smell of moss and sweat fills your nose, as Daemon presses you down in an even more brutal way. He kneads at one of your breasts, cruelly. “I didn’t catch it.” 

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” You scream, voice hoarse. Your words melt off into a litany of moans, punched out little noises that seem to come out from so deep in your chest that they are more like sobs.  

He lets go of your hair, encouraging you to lift your hips instead. 

“Raise your hips.” His hand rubs at your hipbones, demanding. You obey, too weak to fight him. This is the part you like the most when you play like this. The way your mind goes blank, and you can focus only on obeying him. “Good girl. What would your servants think if they saw you like this? Their lady, reduced to a breeding bitch.” 

The demeaning words bring you out of your haze. He can’t… Surely, he wouldn’t. You won’t allow him to ruin your reputation, not like this.  You try to get up and fight his grip, but Daemon lowers his hand and starts rubbing at your pearl until you are a trembling mess. The last thing in your mind is getting away from him. 

“You take me so well, little girl.” He coaxes more and more pleasure out of your body, forcing it to rise to impossible heights. You feel like you are about to fall off the edge, stomach tensing, knees buckling until you are face down in the dirt. His hands on your hips are the only thing keeping you upright, as you scream and scream, whole world blooming into pleasure.  “You were made for me.” 

No matter how much your cunt flutters and twitches in pleasure, Daemon keeps fucking you. He doesn’t seem to care that you are overstimulated, that it’s too much. He chases his peak unashamedly, losing all inhibitions. 

“I’ll fill you up with my seed. Put a bastard in your belly." The words are spoken in a frustrated tone, probably not even meant for your ears. "You won’t be able to keep running, then."

While you have insisted on previous encounters that Daemon pulls out, you find yourself curious about his words.  Is he really going to spill inside you? Being one to avoid compromise so badly, you would not have expected Daemon to even think of doing so. Has your teasing driven him so mad he is unable to contain himself? 

Never before have you felt so smug. You have him. Finally. The satisfaction is too much to bear, so you decide to reward him by clenching around his member.  

The reaction is immediate. Daemon curses and his hips lose all rhythm. He muffles his scream on your shoulder, panting wildly. 

You get to marry him not even a month later. After all, returning to your castle in a grass stained dress, with the Prince in similar conditions, is a picture that speaks for itself. 

[misstycloud]

Yandere harpy x reader

TW: bad writing

A/N: sorry I’ve been gone for so long. I’ve been so busy and had no energy at all. But all the exams are over now so I’ll have more time to write now yay! I threw this jumpscare story together for you, sorry if it sucks.

Anyway, let’s welcome bird boy to the club! ;)

————

It was scary how much it resembled a human in some ways, yet you knew it definitely wasn't. From the moment you laid eyes on it, it was clear the creature was male. Which contradicted what you knew about it, for it wasn't the first time you had seen such a being. They were featured in a lot of myths, records of their appearance and power.

Harpy, that's what it was. At least, that's what you think. It was the closest you could come up with that resembled the bird-man you met. The upper body and head was human. He, the harpy, had a thick mane of tangled, dark hair. Due to all the exercises he must go through on a daily basis, his chest was well muscled and firm. If it were anyone else, you'd love to take a good look, but that was not the case.

His humanity ended there. On his back, sat a pair of large, strong wings. They too, were dark in colour. Legs did he not have either, not human ones at least. The bird feet had sharp talons that made you anxious whenever you looked at them, even though you knew he'd probably not use them against you.

And thank god you didn't have to see his private parts, that was thanks to the ruffled feathers covering the area. It would be a lot harder to handle him if he walked around with his bird dick hanging out.

This left the confusion, if he really was a harpy, then why did he appear so different. One, he was a male, which none of the harpies in the myths were, there they were all female. Also, he seemed more human like than them, physically that is. In the Greek stories, harpies are depicted as birds with the heads of women.

Crouching down and leaning against the cave wall, you try to avoid glancing at the approaching form. A coo left him, directed at you. You ignored it, there was no way you'd willingly indulge in its desire. When he received no reaction from you, he frowned, nudging you with his head.

When he had returned from his outing and noticed you weren't in the nest he'd created, his first thought was that you had fallen off the cliff connected to his cave in the tall mountain where he'd settled down. He was horrified at the image of you inching closer the the ledge, standing there and glancing down until suddenly the ground under you gave away and crumbled.

He shuddered. You would never have any reason to be scared as long as he is near, for he will do whatever it takes to protect you, his mate. His sweet, innocent mate. The male harpy had never seen someone like you before, but you were very similar to him. Except the wings and instead having those weird naked legs and arms, of course. How unpractical it was, having no wings.

There's no way you could fly like that! Maybe you were defected from birth? He felt sorry for you, you must have led a very hard life. Not being able to hunt for yourself or protect from predetors that wished ill intent upon you. Oh, dear. In the harpy world, should one of the chicks be weaker, it was inevitable the others wouldn't abandon them.

Not even those males you were with when he found you, showed any indication of protecting you. Unworthy, they were. They didn't deserve company from a female as lovely as you. He doesn't care about your defects,which is much more than he could say for the other males.

They were also strange looking with the same differences from him like you, but it didn't mean they should be allowed to slack of their responsibilities. He was glad he got rid of them. Now you could live with someone who actually knew how to take care of their partner.

"Stop it.." you whispered in defiance, wishing he would just let you be. Of course that would not happen.

The creature kept trying to usher you into the giant nest made from twigs. He always seemed the happiest when you were in it, you supposed it was some kind of instinct engraved in his bird-brain. You weren't dumb, you understood the signals and behaviours he was exhibiting.

The fond touches, protectiveness, trying to feed you, and the special dance he'd preform in front of you. You could see how he felt when you refused to move along with him. But why should you care about his feelings when he obviously had no regards for yours, if he did he would not have murdered your friends in cold blood.

You shrieked in surprise, the harpy lifted you up and was walking towards the bed made of natural elements. Gently, he set you down in it and you watched as he went and grabbed the dead carcass of a rabbit. It wasn’t there previously which meant he must have caught it recently, when he was out.

You frowned and pushed it away when he offered it to you. There was no chance you’d eat it, it was raw and you’d rather not catch anything. Then there was also a part of your pride you wished to protect, if you ate it meant giving in. Until now you had managed to avoid consuming anything he gave you. Although, you did eat when you absolutely had too, and in those cases it was fruits and nuts you still had in your backpack. But they were beginning to run out. You were grateful that you were able to keep your bag, when he first took you, what if he had thrown it out?

The male cawed at your defiance and entered the nest as well, placing himself behind you and pulling you into his lap. Protectively, he formed his wings around you, in the process making it slightly darker and harder to see. It was something he loved doing. Another one of his instincts you supposed. It made him feel like a worthy mate, someone who can protect you and provide. He ruffled his feathers in pleasure at the thought.

You winced as he dug into the flesh of the deceased animal, ripped out a bloody chunk and tried to make you eat it. “No, I don’t want that.” You said in a firm tone.

The harpy made multiple attempts, all failing of course. In the end, he leaned down, looking at you with a sad face while shaking you lightly, but you refused. He stared thoughtfully at the meat chunk for a while before gobbling it up himself.

Good, you thought and went on to ignore the male currently holding you previously. At least he won’t pester me about it anymore. However, you were deeply wrong about that.

It wasn’t long until weird sounds began erupting from him, you glanced back at him with suspicion. He was gagging and it hit you, he was going to throw up! You tried to pry his arms off you and escape to oncoming accident, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Let go of me! I’m not letting you puke all over me, you stupid bird!” You nearly wanted to throw up yourself at the thought.

You quickly looked away when he leaned over his hand and coughed up a slimy red substance into it. The meat he consumed earlier had been turned to a big mucky goo. It was the most disgusting thing you’d ever seen. But what almost made you faint was when he pushed it towards you.

“No, no, no, no!” You exclaimed in protest.

The male’s brows furrowed at your action and demonstrated an eating gesture with the chewed down flesh.

“Yes, I know you want me to have it but I must decline.” You simply wanted nothing to do with it, sadly he did not appear to understand that.

Having read bird relating books before, you also recognised this behaviour. It was called regurgitation and was when parents feed their chicks by partially digesting food from their own stomachs and then transfer it to their chicks.

The harpy male could not comprehend the reason why you did not eat his catch of the day. He could hear the sounds emitting from your stomach so you were obviously hungry, so why? In the beginning he thought that maybe you didn’t know how to eat it, so he decided to help you and rip off a piece. When you still didn’t do anything, he chose to help you further through first digesting the food in his stomach and then give it to you. Unfortunately you did not seem too happy about that, going as far as to reject his hold and try to flee to another part of the cave.

The whole thing made him incredibly pessimistic. He only wished to take care of you! The male had never had a mate before since harpies mate for life, and he didn’t know it would be so difficult to have one. He didn’t regret you or anything, but he couldn’t deny you were a little harder to care for. It wasn’t your fault, of course. The ones he blamed were your parents, they must have been horrible to you because you didn’t look like a normal harpy.

His blood boiled at the thought. However, that wouldn’t matter anymore, because he won’t let you be alone now that he is here.

When nightfall came, you were forcefully wrapped in his embrace again like he has done ever since he brought you to his home. You two were laying down in the nest, your back to his chest, one of his wings under you to create a more comfortable bedding and one wing over you for a blanket. One of the harpy’s feet was gripping your calf in a secure hold, hindering you from sneaking off. Although, his arms around your waist were a pretty good chackle too. You hated to admit it, but it was actually quite nice.

His feathers were softer on the inside of his wings and very warm. Because of the height you were at, there would sometimes be strong winds which caused you to freeze. Your saviour would then be your kidnapper. He would appear and cover you with his feathers to keeep you heated. You could see how much he enjoyed it when it happened. Not very surprising, really, since it was the only time you’d allow him close.

Oh how you wanted to wipe that smile off his face.

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

after reading “Allergies (Not Really)” I CRAVED more Reader and Mia, and I brainstormed many ideas until I thought of the perfect one.

A couple years later, there’s a case in the town Mia now stays at. Reader and Hotch were talking to the principal at Mia’s school and Mia was walking in the halls, spotted Reader, and immediately ran to him, hugging him. Reader was shocked, but quickly recognized the girl and nearly starts crying.

(If you choose to do this, you can add/get rid of anything :D)

A/N: Annnd I'm back. I think? Anyways, this has been in the making for yonks so hopefully you enjoy it. Also, sorry if you've been tagged twice I kind of just went crazy and made sure everyone was definitely tagged aha.

Description: Mia and reader reunite, chaos ensues.

Warnings: gun shots, unsubs go to the school, guns, schools targeted, criminal minds levels of violence (maybe even on the slightly tamer side).

Taglist: @xweirdo101x @xdark-acadamiax @ara-a-bird @heidss @chubbyboyinflannel @pendragon-writes @migwayne @bigolgay @technikerin23 @supercriminalbean @honestlycasualarcade @caffeine-mess @1s3v3n1 @oddmiles @kevyeen @stealing-kneecaps @criminalskies @woodandwaxwings @wizardmon3 @aphroditeslovr @ducks118 @azeal-peal @13thdoctor-run @introvertpan84 @goth-boi-atlas @iliketozoneout @pinxeajin @wizardmon3 @aphroditeslovr @winterwitchxxfan @introvertpan84 @iliketozoneout @percyorigins @logicalhorror

"(Y/N), you're with me, we're heading to the school," Hotch says and you nod. That didn't seem too bad. You both headed there, talking to the principal for a while, trying to gather the facts, gathering everything the principal could offer in relation to the case. You suspected that the unsub that was attacking the students was a previous student here (or possibly multiple previous students).

Mia's eyes widen when she spots you in the corridor, dropping her bag, she races towards you.

You stumble on impact, confusion covering your face, "Wha-?"

She looks up at you as she quickly wipes her eyes, "Texas?"

"Mia?!" Your eyes widen, "Holy-" You cut yourself off, reminding yourself that you were in a school. Mia doesn't say anything, simply hugging you tighter and you follow suit, trying to ignore the stinging in your eyes and the lump beginning to form in the back of your throat.

She grins up at you, seeing your eyes red rimmed, "Let me guess, allergies?"

"Yep." You answered with a nod.

A boy jogs up to the pair of you, holding a bag in his right hand in addition to his backpack. "Mia you... ran off... so fast..." The boy gasps out, placing his free hand on his hips, face flushed. "Nearly.... trampled to... death..."

Mia rolls her eyes, "You're so dramatic," She laughs and the boy shoots her a grin.

"But it was good acting though."

"Mediocre at best," Mia teases.

"Who's this?" You ask Mia, turning to the boy stood next to her.

"This is my boyfriend, Jake," She smiles and you give her a soft smile before turning to Jake (the smile quickly disappearing). "Jake, this is the FBI agent I met when, you know..."

"Nice to meet you, Sir," Jake says, giving you a small smile, "Mia's told me a lot about you."

"I'm sure you're a nice kid," You said slowly, choosing your words carefully. "But if you hurt her, I have a gun n I ain't afraid to use it,"

"(Y/N), you can't go around threatening people," Hotch said, sighing deeply.

"It's merely a warnin',"

"Okay, chill your beans, Texas," Mia huffs, "Jake's a nice guy, so just chill,"

"I'm just sayin'-"

"Chill, Texas." Mia said, crossing her arms before she furrows her eyebrows, "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Recent murders," You said, "BAU got called in,"

"That makes sense," Jake nodded slightly.

"How about you? You have anyone special?" Mia grins as your cheeks tint pink. "Oh my god you do?! Who are they?!"

"You remember Agent Jareau?" When Mia nods, you continued, "She and I are... courtin',"

"Courting?" Mia snorts, "So you're dating?! How's that going?"

"'S goin' good," You said with a small nod, "But I ain't 'bout to talk to a kid about my datin' life,"

Mia rolls her eyes, "You know I'm not a kid, right?"

"Nah, you're still a kid," You replied and she huffed slightly.

A few days had passed, everything was fine until Hotch sent you back to the school to check in to see if the principal had thought of anything new that would aid the investigation when everything went…tits up.

There was, in fact, a group of unsubs and, after you had made your way to the library. It was a relatively small library but a library nonetheless.

You press your hand firmly against the steadily bleeding wound on your stomach, what with the gun pressed to your head and the threats of the unsub shooting a student, you force yourself to stay still. You could take them all and you weren't good to any of them dead.

The most you can do is talk, try to distract them long enough for the team to breach. "You've got me, surely that's enough?" Are the words that pool out of your mouth.

"Why would that be enough?"

"Can I reach into my back pocket to grab my ID?" The unsub nods, the other's finger close to the trigger, just in case. You reach behind you with your least bloody hand, fishing your badge from your back pocket. "I'm SSA (Y/N), I work for the FBI as a part of the Behavioural Analysis Unit."

"Well, well, well, we bagged ourselves an FBI agent!" The leader cheers, you watch out of the corner of your eye as Mia jumps, clinging on to Jake's hand like a lifeline.

"Let the kids go." You say, "They'll be more willin' to cooperate with you."

"Oh, we don't want their cooperation." He sneers, "We want to cause as much pain and suffering as possible before we go out. Now... who should we start with?" His eyes glide across the room before they land on Mia. "You. Come here."

"Hey, no, leave the kids out of this-" Your head snaps to the side as the butt of the gun collides with your head.

You watch as Jake moves in front of her. "I'll take her place."

"No, Jake-"

Jake shoots her a soft smile before shaking his head, "It's alright."

"Aw, how sweet." The unsub taunts. Jake walks forward until he's in front of the unsub.

You stagger to your feet, "Why don't you stop bein' pathetic and targettin' kids, huh?" You raise an eyebrow, "What is it, you that weak that you can only ass'rt dominance over kids?"

He points the gun and you force yourself to stand, tackling him to the floor. When his gun clatters, you reach for it, aiming it and taking the unsub’s out, one by one.

The gun shoots as you had tackled him to the group, piercing Jake's stomach. When you tackled the unsub to the floor, he had squeezed the trigger on instinct. You manage to grab the gun, shooting him, and then his friends, one by one. They're sluggish to react, not having expected this.

And soon enough, they're all down. You go to them, one by one to take their weapons. You then turn to the students to make sure they're all alright. Your eyes immediately shoot to Mia, and the figure on the ground next to her. You stagger to them, dropping to your knees.

You quickly wipe one hand down your jeans, cleaning the blood off it as much as you can before you push down against Jake's stomach to stem the bleeding.

"Just hold on,” You give him a reassuring smile before you turn to Mia, “Mia, you need to run down the hall, let people know we're in here."

"But Jake-"

"I've got him, you need to get help,"

Mia nods before she rushes off.

"Jake?" You shake him ever so slightly and his eyes flutter open to look up at you, "Mia's gone to get you some help, you just need to hold on," Jake gave a shaking nod.

"Mia-?"

"Is absolutely fine. You did good kid, real good." You give him a small smile, pressure still on the wound.

"Thanks," Jake bites out, grinding his teeth in pain.

"And hey, you're taking this really well. I know grown men who cry for their Mamas," You say, giving him a reassuring smile.

Jake huffs a small laugh, wincing slightly. And soon enough, Mia runs back in with some medics and your team.

You look up at them, "they're all down, gsw. Only Jake here is injuried, I believe." You say.

Hotch raises an eyebrow, "And yourself," He says.

You shake your head, "'M fine, sir,"

"Liar," Is all Hotch replies with. You huff, "Don't even try to argue it. You're both going to the hospital."

Turning, you look at Jake and decide not to argue. You give a short nod.

[grievedeeply]

In that case, could I request a Kratos with a daughter!reader where it's her first time hunting and she gets hurt by the deer/bear or whatever creature she's hunting ?

the rite of passage.

pairing: kratos x child!reader ( familial )

summary: it is a rite of passage in your family to learn to hunt. your father intends on teaching you.

notes : i picture the reader at about 11, and you're older than atreus by at least a few years. i think he's about 7 in this :) i haven't written for kratos before so i'm a bit worried about this but i hope you enjoy it anyway LOL.

it was necessary to learn how to hunt. for your survival, for your family's survival, as well. it was something you had to know how to do, and your father intended on teaching you.

your mother had volunteered to do it herself, but he insisted on her staying behind with your brother, atreus.

he had been growing up too quickly. even you saw that. you didn't remember much about the day he was born, but you remembered the smile on her face as she looked down at him. you remembered the first time she had placed him on your lap. you looked down at him, confused. then, you smiled.

you were protecting him by doing this. you wanted to keep him safe, though you knew that was something that was far from possible. he would have to learn the world the hard way, as everyone else does.

you pulled on your boots, grabbed your bow from where it hung upon the wall, and stepped out into the sun. your bow was still slightly too big for you. your mother had made it in preparation for this day— and she was working on one for atreus, as well. she said it was better to make it early than to make it too late. you could only nod in agreement.

your father, kratos, followed you and shut the door behind him. "are you ready?" his voice echoed around you, and you looked over your shoulder up at him with a small smile on your lips.

he was always busy, out doing something that seemed more important than you or your brother. you tried to reason that he was doing everything he did for you, but you would be lying if you said the lack of his presence wasn't saddening. it was still your formative years, you told yourself, there was still time. no matter how much you reassured yourself, there was a part of you that knew he would always find something to do outside of the stave. whether that be hunting, or gathering materials— it didn't matter.

he would always be gone.

he led you through the trees, your boots covered in mud and grass as you followed after him. you could only imagine your mothers displeasure at the sight, but you pushed it out of your mind to focus on the task at hand.

"what are we hunting?" you questioned, clutching your bow tightly in one hand. you didn't even know how to shoot it. you wondered why he didn't tell you to shoot at a tree or something— to at least give you a warm up. he remained silent, his steps much heavier than yours ever would be. you imagined every animal hearing him from miles away. how did he ever get anything done out here?

you let out a sigh from underneath your breath. you knew he heard it. he always did.

you turned your attention upwards, towards the leaves on the trees and the clouds in the sky. it felt as though they understood you better than anyone else ever would. you spared a glance at your father, who continued leading you through the woods. he walked at a leisurely pace for him, but it took a bit of effort for your smaller legs to keep up.

"deer." he said, splitting the calmness of the air with his monotonous sounding tone. "we hunt deer." he told you, stopping in his tracks. "what do you see?" he asked you, his eyes meeting yours. you looked around, shrugging your shoulders. "a lot of trees..?" you questioned.

"think."

you pursed your lips, taking another look at your surroundings. there was nothing that stood out too much to you, at least not at first. all you could see was trees. you could hear the birds calling in the distance. you wished you were one of them.

your eyes landed on an uneven patch of leaves, and you could see the dryness of the grass underneath them. "there," you pointed with your free hand, "tracks?" you spoke, sounding more like a question than a statement.

"correct." your father responded. he gestured for you to follow him with a quick movement of his head, and he led you over to where the tracks visibly began. "you will track it." he told you, no hesitation evident in his voice.

"me?"

he nodded.

you turned your head back to the tracks after prying your eyes off of him. what was he thinking? you didn't know what you were doing. you resisted the urge to groan, at the idea. you crouched down to get a better look, noticing that the pattern of the leaves being ruffled up from movement continued for at least another few feet.

"this way," you said to him, "i guess." you muttered to yourself. you didn't know what you were supposed to get out of doing this. there was no way you would find a deer like this. you didn't even know how to find it once you lost its tracks.

your father followed behind you, steps lighter than yours were. how was he doing that? with his size and stature, you could only assume that he was horribly loud while hunting. how was he making himself so quiet on his feet? you had so many questions. none that he would answer right now. you knew him too well.

you zoned out for a moment, though you continued to follow the path the deer had made through the bushes. what were you doing out here? how was his teaching method actually teaching you anything? it seemed like you were the one teaching yourself. you pursed your lips, and stepped into a clearing.

you lost it.

you turned on your heel, throwing your arms up in frustration. "i lost it—!" your sentence was cut off by the heavy pressure of an animal on top of you. you could feel the horns of it— whatever it was— piercing through the skin of your abdomen. it trampled over you, it's hoofs clearly trying to find a way to escape from the situation. your father rushed towards you, sliding on his knees to reach you quicker.

the deer ran off, startled by his arrival. your bow had been snapped in half by the sheer force of the animal, and you could feel tears welling up in your eyes. what would your mother say? would she be disappointed in you? you put your hand on your stomach, lifting it up after a moment only to be met with the sight of blood.

you cringed, suddenly feeling nauseous at the sight. "y/n." your father's voice rang out in your ears, and you could barely keep your eyes open enough to look at him.

he had suffered far worse out here, right? you thought to yourself. why was this such a big deal to you? why were you bleeding so much? how did you let yourself get so started by the thing?

"stay awake." he told you, his hands replacing yours. they were bigger than your entire abdomen, almost. he applied pressure to it, trying to stop the bleeding. it couldn't have been that bad, right?

"okay," you said to him, voice breathless as you forced yourself to watch him. were you losing consciousness from this?

why couldn't you see him anymore?

you opened your eyes, and the sight of a wood ceiling filled your vision. you smelt something— something sweet. your mother's cooking. a weak smile formed on your lips, and you tried to push yourself up with the palms of your hands. you were in your parents shared bedroom, not your own. you glanced down at your abdomen, and the events from before flashed through your mind?

how long had it been since that happened?

"you are awake." your father's voice came from the doorway, and he sounded relieved. you nodded, "barely."

"good." he replied, taking a few large steps towards you. his hands came to rest on your shoulders, gently pushing your back against the sheets again. "lie down." was all he said, and you couldn't bring yourself to argue with him.

"how are you feeling?" he asked you, tone clearly hesitant to keep the conversation going for some reason. did he not know what else to say. "i'm fine. hurts a little, still." you shrugged your shoulders with pursed lips.

"good. that's.. good." he cleared his throat, lifting his hands from your shoulders. he hadn't realized he was still holding onto you. it grounded him. you were alive.

seeing you laying there like that.. it reminded him of a past he wished to leave far behind. he couldn't bear a loss like that again. not you. he promised himself he wouldn't let you get injured again. not from an animal, certainly not from any person or god.

"what's wrong?" your voice took him out of his thoughts. "nothing is wrong." he replied without missing a beat. what was he thinking about? you wondered. the look on his face.. you couldn't help but to wonder.

"i am glad you are okay." he told you.

"me, too."

"we will resume our hunt once you are fully recovered."

"are you gonna teach me anything this time?"

you could've swore you almost saw him roll his eyes at your words, "i was teaching you."

"right."

tags : @graciegizmo3184 @anzanishira @chocokaylarobin @uncoveredsun @caelestis-lyrae @prio-motu @bluehorizon987 @freyrees | join my taglist!

[thoughtsfromlayla]

Chapter Two - Trepidation

Summary: With palace life, you are never truly alone, but that doesn't mean you aren't lonely. Even when you meet new people, it seems they place you at an arm's length away. You walked on eggshells while people worshiped the very steps all the same. 

Notes: ~5.1k words, centers a lot around Reader this chapter, Morpheus doesn't appear until the later bits soz

Warnings: Morpheus being a lil bitch, reader is a chronic overthinker and same girlie

Tag list is open! Just let me know :)

☾ ✴ ๋࣭ ⭑․⋆⋮. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆⭒˚.⋆⋮⋆․ ․⋆⋮. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆⭒˚.⋆⋮⋆․ ․⋆⋮. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆⭒˚.⋆⋮⋆․

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Trepidation (n.) - a feeling of fear or anxiety about something that may yet happen

It’s very unlady-like to sneak back into your own room. You had only done it once before, when you were younger and less refined and even then you were caught by the housekeeper soon after. But this time it seems the stakes are raised. The halls are completely empty, the moon still has domination over the night sky, and the sun has yet to make its debut.

You have stayed in Morpheus’ bed for a few hours after he left you alone. The rules of palace life are still vague to the best of your knowledge, but after tossing and turning without getting any sleep, you figure it would just be easier to do it in the comforts of your own room. Is this considered rude? You’re not entirely sure. It seems rude to leave your husband’s chambers on the night of your wedding. Then you remind yourself that nothing actually happened… so perhaps it wasn’t as crude as your mind made it out to be. 

You stop dead in your tracks when you see a lone guard stood at the front of your door. Your hands are quick to cross over your chest, the mere nightgown you were wearing was certainly not presentable to anyone else’s eyes. You stay frozen as you glance over his appearance. You were so dead. They’re going to hang you by the gallows and parade your sad body throughout the kingdom as a warning to other maidens that sneak out of their husbands rooms in the middle of the night. 

The knight is dressed in black armor, completely different from the other soldiers you’ve seen around the castle who seem to don silver instead. His helmet represents that of a bird of some kind, a raven if you had to guess. With his arm crossed, he came off domineering and revered and you had half of a mind to turn back around so you wouldn’t get caught by him. 

The beak of his helmet clinks against his chest plate and your muscles stiffen while confusion swipes across your face. A loud snore completely catches you off guard and you brace your teeth against each other as the sound reverberates across the empty halls. Your eyes dart around, hoping to any deity that is willing to listen to you that no one was around to hear. 

A long pause passes and not even a cricket chirps. Another snore emits from the black knight before you consider it safe to pass. You slide your feet across the floor, keeping your footsteps as quiet as possible as you walk up to the bedroom door. Every noise seems to heighten to something ten times greater than what it actually was. The click of the door knob, the slight creak of the door, and the locking mechanism all made you grimace in case it is enough to wake the sleeping knight. 

The bed is grandiose, cool, firm, and simply perfect against your tired body. You think that you would get a few winks of sleep before the sun rises. Yet, even in moments of peace your mind wanders to Morpheus. His words are like cough syrup in your mind, they coat every crevice of your thoughts, no matter how unwelcomed they were. 

“I am no monster,” His words echo in your mind. 

But he is a cheater… is he not? To (not) so secretly see his previous lover at his wedding and to chase after her, leaving you alone on the dance floor surrounded by doting couples. To admit to her that he still loved her. The confession that wasn’t meant for your ears still cut into your unguarded heart, leaving it broken before it could even flourish. 

You try to distract yourself by counting the amount of swirls that were painted on the ceiling. Each time you get somewhere past 50 your mind wanders again to last night and you start over. By the time the first sign of daybreak makes it past the heavy curtains, you feel your eyes begin to droop. With a deep breath you welcome sleep, finally. 

…

It doesn’t last, not even a second, when the doors to your room open with a slam. Your body reacts quickly to it and sits up with a start. You stare face to face with Agnes, who wears her own surprise on her face before she returns her emotions neutral. 

“Forgive me, Your Majesty. I presumed you were with the King. May I draw a bath and get you ready for the day?” She asks. 

“Um, yes,” You reply hesitantly. You watch as she goes to some conjoined room you didn’t notice before and enters it.

There's the sound of objects being moved around and water sloshing before steam fills the room. The scent of something sweet fills the air as she walks out. She gestures for you to come to her, which you do so with heavy feet. 

Sleep once again tugs on your eyelids and you barely register when she removes your nightgown from your body. The warmth of the bath lulls you further into the tub and you reluctantly lean your head against your folded knees. 

Agnes, seeing her queen in, well for lack of a better word, utter disarray, goes back to the cupboards and starts looking for some other herbs. She stacks the boxes on top of each other before making her way to your side. With a certain amount of gentleness, she places the boxes on the floor and kneels in front of the bathtub. 

“Cinderbon flakes for muscle aches, my queen,” She starts as she sprinkles the red flakes into the water. “And some rose petals for romance.” Agnes pauses as she hears you groan under your mop of steamed hair. 

She hesitantly places the rose petals into the water just as she did with the flakes before. “Lastly, some milk from a Natterhorn to aid with sleep…” She whispers finally as she pours a ceramic jug of cream colored milk into the water. 

She mixes the concoction slowly with her hand before adding another bucket of hot water to help you relax further. You hate to admit it, but everything she added certainly helped. You feel her move behind you as she begins to wash your hair, ridding the last of the stardust from the wedding night. Agnes keeps quiet, presuming that is what you wanted most, and she would be correct. 

The maid doesn’t comment on why you were not in the King’s chambers, nor how there wasn’t a single blotch of red on your nightgown, a telltale sign of any consummation. She’s curious, but she knows it’s best not to say anything in case she loses her tongue over it. If she were any younger, she’d be running off to her other maid co-workers and sharing the new gossip, but after a rather traumatic event to an old friend, she’s learned her lesson through her. 

“I’ll leave you to soak, Your Majesty.” Agnes wipes her hands on her apron as she approaches the door. “Please, ring the bell when you wish to be dressed for the day, my lady.” With that the door is shut and you’re left alone once more. 

“Please stop calling me your majesty,” You mutter to yourself.

Titles are not uncommon in your life, but something about “your majesty” was too much for you. It separates you too much from those who will take care of you. You miss your own lady’s maid, the one that has grown with you since infancy.

That title seems too grand, it places you on a pedestal and you can already feel the height it has placed you at. You’re afraid if you peak over the edge, you will plummet to your death. One wrong move, one wrong word, one wrong tick, and everything would be over. You walk on eggshells while people worship the very steps all the same. 

Eventually, when the bath starts to run cold and your fingers are beyond wrinkled, you leave the bathtub. You wrap a towel around your body and tug on the bell that hangs by your bed. Soon after, Agnes appears again, this time with an army of maids behind her. They’re quick to make work of you, easily dressing, combing, and readying you within the half hour. 

When they left your room once again, you’re fighting with the corset string behind your back. Agnes had somehow managed to tighten it beyond human comprehension and then manage to hide the strings beyond your fingers. After a frustrating few minutes with no results, you give up with a huff. 

Cautiously you open the door, peeking your head out. You weren’t exactly given a schedule for today and if sleep wasn’t going to find you, you might as well find something else to do. For example, exploring the castle. Hopefully, no one would point a finger at you and get you into any trouble. 

“Oh, good morning, Your Majesty,” A voice calls out close to your ear. 

“Ah!” You scream, your hand comes up and pain tingles across your palm as it makes contact with metal. 

“Ah!” The voice screams back as the slap makes contact with his helmet. It doesn’t hurt, the armor doing its job quite well, but the noise was bouncing around the helmet, rendering it no better than a bell. “What an arm you have there, Your Majesty.”

You stare wide eyed at the black knight as your pulsing hand places itself over your accelerated heartbeat. 

“You!” You gasp with a pointed finger as the knight finally registers in your mind. “You’re the one that I snuck past last night… this morning?” You correct yourself. You drop your finger quickly, realizing perhaps a bit too late how rude it was. 

At your comment, the black knight stiffens. “Er… What do you mean you snuck past me? I was guarding the door, no one came in or out.”

You blink, once, twice. “Right, you fell asleep?” You say in a way that may help him remember. That snore he made was surely a thought to remember. 

His head cocks to the side, making him look all the more bird-like with his helmet on, and he stays like that for an awkward amount of time. Your eyes darted off to the side when he still hadn’t responded to you. 

“What?” His response finally came. You could hear the embarrassed smile behind the helmet. “Haha… what?” He says again, laughing dryly. 

“Well, I won’t tell anyone, but I guess you probably shouldn’t do that.” You try to soothe him to the best of your capabilities. 

“I’m new?” Came his defeated response, his armor clanks against each other as he slumps from his perfect posture.

With a heavy sigh he turns around and bangs his head to the crevice between the door and the wall. The sigh leaves the crevices of his helmet like a whisper, reverberating between the metal to make it sound like a soft caaaaaaa…. The helmet makes a heavy gong sound as it makes contact with the wall. Another sigh comes before he speaks again. Caaaa….

“I just got this job, I just got sworn into knighthood by the King, how can I mess up already. I’ve been in the academy for so long, I mean granted I wasn’t the best, but I still made it to the personal guard… right? I graduated, didn't I?” At this point, you’re sure he’s mostly talking to himself.

Moping would’ve been a better word for it, actually. 

“What is your name, good sir?” You ask with a tap on his shoulder. It was mainly to get him to stop groaning and moaning so loudly in the halls. 

He turns around, takes a deep breath to calm himself, and answers. “Sir Matthew, Your Majesty.” He salutes as he does so, bringing one arm behind his back, the fist of the other over his heart. Your mind rattles as it remembers the symbolism for the salute: Your heart for the kingdom, cover your back for you will stab your own before your brothers.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sir Matthew,” You greet for the first time. “I’m Y/N.” You curtsy to him, which he returns with a low bow at the waist. 

“Oh, yes, I know who you are, Your Majesty.” He nods as he returns to his regular position. His hand rests easily on the hilt of his sword. 

Of course he knows who you are. The moment turns ever the more awkward, and you’re determined to leave the situation. With a final nod you turn to walk away, anywhere was better than here. It’s not a few steps later that you hear the synchronized steps of Matthew following behind. When you paused, his steps paused, too. You take two steps, his steps followed, two steps exactly. 

“Sir Matthew?” You question as you turn around and face him. 

“Yes?” 

“Are you following me?”

A confused pause. “Yes?”

“Okay… Why?” You ask. You could feel a tension headache forming along the crown of your head and you’re not sure if it’s the tight hairdo or Matthew himself. 

“I am your personal royal knight, Your Majesty,” He explains as if the information was self-evident. 

“Ah,” You respond. You’re still confused, but whatever. 

You begin to walk again and Matthew’s footsteps follow. Stopping briefly you turn to him again. “And you follow me everywhere?”

“Yes, always three steps behind.”

You raise an eyebrow as you take a step backwards. You watch as Matthew takes a step forward, copying you. You take a step forward and he takes one back. 

“This might get annoying.” You think to yourself as you begin to walk normally again. Now you have a nanny. An idea strikes you then and you turn around abruptly once again. 

“Sir Matthew,” You start.

“You can just call me Matthew, your grace, if that pleases you better.” He quickly interjects. 

“Fine. Matthew,” You pointedly say. “What exactly are your duties? Your responsibilities?”

“Well, I look after you, my queen. I make sure you aren’t to be harmed and do as you so wish. Though I would prefer if your wishes for me can be solved with brute force.” Matthew explains simply. 

“If I were to wish you to not follow me?” You ask unsubtly. 

“I cannot, it is within my creed, and orders from His Majesty.”

You intertwined your fingers in front of you again, twiddling the digits between each other as you thought to yourself. Matthew stares forward as you do so, staying quiet until you speak again. 

“If I were to ask you to make sure a certain person never sees me?” You ask slowly. 

“I would make it so you forget they exist,” Matthew answers brutally. 

You internally scoff as he says so. It would be near impossible to forget such a person. Jealousy courses through your veins as you think of her. Perfect curls, smooth skin, and soft pink and gold. 

“Do you know of a woman named Calliope?” You ask finally. “I wish to never see her.” 

Matthew stays silent for a few moments, and you think you’re already overstepping your boundaries. The knight did mention in passing that your orders are easily overruled by the King’s. Perhaps you didn’t have enough power to ask him of this, especially knowing the relationship between the two. 

“Yes, of course, Your Majesty.” Matthew’s head tilts to the side once more and it suddenly dawns on you that he probably knows the affair was happening. Knights are silent but that doesn’t mean they don’t listen. And surely he would have heard about their love story and how a random woman comes in and marries the King, turning a perfect love story into an affair. 

You turn before he can say anything else. A stone finds its way into your throat and a silent cry almost makes its way out of you. Your steps quicken, hoping that some distance will prevent Matthew from seeing the growing frown on your face. 

The castle, for the most part, looks like every other part of the castle. The halls are long and winding. It was made of old stone, smelled heavily of petrichor, and decorated with arts from several centuries. Busts of kings and queens past are set periodically throughout the hallways. Most of the rooms you managed to peek into are empty, with white cloths covering the outline of beds and tables. 

You do manage to find something interesting but it is locked behind a set of heavy doors. Even with Matthew behind you, you know it best to not ask him to cut the door open so you may look behind what those huge barriers were hiding. You gave up as soon as one sharp tug did nothing to the locked secret. 

You continue exploring, eventually finding yourself outside. You walk along the colonnade, the castle’s arching design taking over the columns throughout the roofed walkway. Occasionally you could smell the hanging wisterias when the wind blew past. 

“Wow,” You sigh with admiration. You peer over the railing, hand supporting yourself, at the grand garden the castle had hiding behind its hedges and walls. 

The garden was filled with even more statues, fountains, and flowers that created a beautiful mosaic of nature and all of its inhabitants. You can see the various species of butterflies and bees that flew around pollinating the flowers in late spring. 

A moving, round orange thing catches your attention as it moves meticulously through the garden. As if sensing your attention, it turns and stares at you. Your eyes widen even further as you realize that it was a sentient pumpkin man. Smoke puffs out of his eyes and mouth as he takes another long drag from his pipe cigarette. His gloves and overalls are covered in dirt, but he somehow manages to keep his white undershirt pristine. He grumbles before returning to his work, his wooden frame groaning as he lifts a particularly heavy ceramic jar to a new location. 

Giggling interrupts your observation as a group of women come closer to you. Matthew moves to the side as you turn to face them. You give them a smile and they curtsy to you in return. Judging by their clothing, they were certainly noble, or ladies with titles. 

You go to open your mouth, to greet them, or introduce yourself. Perhaps even to invite them to afternoon tea, but before you can they’re quick to leave, giggles continuing. 

“I heard that King Morpheus didn’t even touch her last night, during their consummation,” One whispers, giggles littered between the words. She thought it was quiet enough, but the design of the colonnade let you hear every word she gossiped to her friend. 

“Probably because the King still loves Lady Calliope,” The other chortles back. “Gosh, can you even imagine? Marrying a man who already has a mistress?”

“How dreadful indeed.” 

Your words die in your mouth as you listen to what they say.

“It’s just gossip.” You try to reason without yourself. “Yeah, gossip based on true events. In which case, they’re just speaking the truth.”

Matthew only watches you as you try to regain your composure. He watches as you close your eyes and take in a deep breath, holding it for several seconds before letting go through your mouth. He’s done the same breathing exercise several times before tournaments. He doesn’t particularly find himself caring for palace gossip, to be quite honest he was too concerned with being the best knight he could to listen in. 

He knew of Calliope, sure, but that was due to her extended stay as a diplomat from a neighboring kingdom. She was often seen in the hallways, or sharing court with the King on how to further the alliance between the two kingdoms. They were always amiable, but perhaps Matthew was too thick in the helmet to notice anything more. 

“Matthew, how can I get down to the garden?” His queen’s voice brings him out of his own thoughts. 

“Down the corridor, there is a set of stairs, my lady,” He answers with a nod in the right direction. 

“Perfect, let’s make our way down then,” You smile at him and turn quickly. Tears prick at your eye line once again, but you’re determined to not let them fall. Never.  

Just as Matthew pointed out, a layered staircase leads you straight into the royal gardens, just past the large fountain was a labyrinth of roses that you know you’ll explore some other time. You take your time hunting down the pumpkin head man, stopping by the garden fountain and playing with the little tetras that lived in the water. 

You tuck a few strands of stray hair back into place using the water’s reflection before you decide to continue on your side quest. The pumpkin man finds you first before you could find him. Smoke still puffs out of his eyes and mouth and he raises a vine that acts as his eyebrow when he sees you. 

“Ay, you look familiar, I feel like I should know you or something.” He gestures towards you with his pipe. He takes another long drag before recognition takes over his face. “Ah, you’re the new boss lady.” He claps his gloved hands together.

“That’s me.” You smile. “Are you a gardener?” 

Matthew taps you on your shoulder before leaning close to your ear. “Can I also call you boss lady?” He whispers, hiding his words with a hand from the pumpkin head’s view.

“On special occasions,” You jest quickly before returning your attention to the squash. 

“Put some respect to my name, why don’t you. Sorry, I’ve got a mouth on me. Probably why the big boss puts me away from people.” He grumbles and turns away. 

You go to follow him as he continues to move a large bag of soil over his shoulders. 

“Oh, this job is going to kill me,” He groans under the weight of the soil. “I need new branches, these are getting too brittle for me.” He explains to you behind him. 

He takes you to a new part of the garden where everything was quite bare except for a lone tree and a small pond. It was a beautiful little get away once he placed new flowers and other decors. 

“By the way, I’m Mervyn, no titles, just Mervyn Pumpkinhead,” He answers your previous question. “Yes, I’m a gardener, and janitor, and fixer upper, whatever.” He huffs another puff from his pipe. 

He looks at you up and down, your soft smile was that similar to the sun now that he really looks at you. Also your youth surely gave you some more muscle than him. 

“Ehh, now that I’m looking at cha… why don’t you plant the flowers in this area then. I’ll give you full control, I have other things to do today.”

He hands you a small shovel and points to a stack of nursery plants off to the side. You open your palm and the dirt covered tool falls into your hands. You’ve never gardened before, but you think you can manage. Mervyn is off before you could protest, anyway. 

You grab a few potted nursery plants and ask Matthew to grab the rest before you start digging holes and planting them. It takes time and a little bit of effort, but soon enough you’ve planted the pieces where you think they would bloom nicely. You dust off the caked on dirt on the front of your dress with a satisfied sigh. 

A small tickling sensation makes you see a small caterpillar crawling on your forearm, bringing it to your eye level to admire the small creature. You turn to Matthew to show him the cute little thing, but his gloved hand comes closer, snatching the small bug from your body. Before you could say much, Matthew unhinges the mouthpiece of his helmet and throws the poor caterpillar into the void. 

“Matthew!” You exclaim, shock ripples through you in fits of laughter. You are in total disbelief; your eyes and ears can’t process what you’ve just witnessed as Matthew continues to chew on the bug. 

“Hmmm, takes like chicken,” He comments before bringing his hand over his beak and hinging it back into place. 

You’re still gawking at him, your hand goes to cover your mouth, muffling your next words. “You… just ate a bug!”

“Oh, shit,” Matthew swears as he returns to his perfect three pace away stance. His posture returns stick straight and you’re about to ask him what changed his behavior when someone calls out your name. 

“Y/N?” A new voice joins your conversation and you turn around, ignoring the satisfied hum that came from Matthew as he swallows his little afternoon snack. 

“Morpheus,” You breathe out, disbelief has yet to leave you. 

This time around, the king is accompanied by two other figures. One, dressed almost identical to Matthew, the only difference is the white crest that bore the King’s symbol proudly in the middle of her chestplate. The other wore typical court clothing, a large book was resting between her arms and hip, her glasses gleaming in the outdoor sun. Silence follows the curt greeting that was cut by a forced cough. 

“Greetings to you, Your Majesty. I am the royal court advisor, Lucienne.” The one in glasses introduces herself and gives you a warm smile that you returned. 

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lucienne.” 

“And this is Captain Jessamy of the royal guard,” Lucienne continues. You give a smile to Jessamy who returns it with the same salute that Matthew did this morning. The white crest on his chest plate shines brightly in the sun and you can tell, even without seeing her face, that she bares the symbol proudly. 

In contrast to the two women, Morpheus looked like he would rather be anywhere than here, making conversation with you. His face shared the similar frown on his lips that your father shared when he was having a difficult day. 

“Has your day been well, my lord?” You ask, taking the risk of his potential wrath. Matthew is good company, but you fear it’s not the company you seek. 

Agnes and your maids are there for you, but they could never quite understand what you go through, would they? Mervyn was nice, a nice breath of fresh air (or smoke in his case). He talked to you as if you were just as equal as any other, but there was still a distance that he put you at. 

Everyone held you at an arm’s distance. 

Even now as you look at your husband, the very definition of pristine, proper, and passive, he too stood further away from you than would have been deemed necessary. 

“No,” He replies dryly. 

You wait a moment, thinking that he would go into elaborate detail as to why. But, those few seconds pass and the two of you, nor your company, have moved an inch. You’re all too aware of how you look now, hair fussed, hands and dress covered in dirt. It’s the exact opposite of Morpheus. 

“What His Majesty means to say, is that there was a rather difficult court meeting we had to attend to this morning. It did not go as planned.” Lucienne interjects when the silence becomes too much, even for her. She enjoyed silence, don’t get her wrong, but this was just painful to witness. 

“Oh,” You frowned at the newly presented information. “Would you like me to join you next time? I believe two heads would be better-”

“No,” Morpheus interrupts you with a raised hand. 

Your mouth shuts slowly and you think your heart cracks a little more in your chest. To not love you is one thing, understandable even if you gave it enough time. But, to not even let you into his court, to help him rule his kingdom as his equal. It’s like the words he spoke from your wedding night meant nothing to him now. You were nothing but a common bird trapped in a golden cage. 

Morpheus’ notices, it’s hard not to when you so clearly express your emotions on your face. The thought of an apology crosses his mind for interrupting you, but it quickly gets buried by other thoughts of his kingdom. There was the tension of his sibling’s kingdom, wanting to wage a useless war against his Dreaming. His other missing brother, his sister who decided royal life was not for her and decided to travel the world. In all truth, his family was just as messy as the politics he spoke of that morning. The burden is not his to share, it’s not yours to carry either in his mind. 

“Well,” You clear your throat, your fingers unknowingly playing with the strands of your matching bracelets. “Is there anything I can do here?” 

“Do whatever you want, Y/N,” He answers honestly. With a look behind you and the general state of your appearance he speaks again. “It seems as if you have already found gardening.”

He walks away without another word. Lucienne and Jessamy follow without a word either, and you stare at his receding figure until you’re unsure if it’s his black robe you're looking at or merely a far away tree. 

Anger rises inside of you and you snap the bracelet against your skin to prevent it from bubbling to the surface. At the corner of your eyes, you can see the same girls you met earlier, peering at you over the railing of the colonnade. No doubt gathering more gossip to spread to their friends. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have eaten that bug.” Matthew’s comment brings you out of your own self-loathing. 

You smooth a finger across your wrist that has long since turned red and face your attention to your knight. 

“Captain Jessamy is so cool. Did you see that white crest on her chest? Gosh, what I would give to get one of those. But, nooo, she’s just so perfect of course she would be the only one so far to have that. God! Why did I eat that bug!” Matthew’s admiration turns to jealousy like the flick of a flame. He sighs again and the air pushes out of his helmet. Caaaaa….

“I don’t think she noticed you eating it,” You reply in earnest with the slight raise of your shoulders. 

“You think?”

“I wouldn’t dwell too long on it.” 

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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I fear our lovers are going to have a shit time next chapter. Hope you like even more angst :)

♡ Yours, Layla

Tags: @dnarez @arunawayheart

[erenspussy420]

Oh well like for crewel and Crowley (seperately )x Latina reader

Rivals to lovers

Soulmate au

Fluff plz

Sorry this took too long to finish but hopefully you like it!

1.8K words

Fem Reader

SFW (However my blog isn't so you have been warned.)

......

......

Soulmates, a rather direct term for something so vital in the lives of Twisted Wonderland. There is a reason for the plural, instead of the singular term. For one does not have one soulmate but rather two, so to speak, a rival or an enemy many say in your life. And the other as many would garner the true soulmate, the true love.

A touching sentiment, knowing somewhere out there is the other part of you waiting to reunite in the vast sea of life. Those who will understand the depth of who you are and you in turn peek into their heart of hearts. Even the most bitter of men and women, crave that companionship.

At least it would be should you actually know which side is which. The citizens of the world tried to figure it out, taking guesses but to the dismay of many it seems that it is not as direct at times. It made a rather interesting story about how one meets their true soulmate, and their hated sworn enemy.

In some cases, they were the same person!

Some lament at such the idea of having their arms confuse them, some don’t mind and seem to relish having an enemy, some finding the way to find true love a challenge, but all agree they rather have both names than none—-

Unlike these poor souls whose arms will stay bare.

.

.

Dire Crowley: 

‘It doesn’t bother him, not one bit!’ He proclaims, as he tugs over his sleeves. A big fat fucking lieeeee. Anyone can see or rather pityingly watch the rather pathetic display when it's the annual staff parties, and Crowley drinking himself into the bottle.

Woe is poor Dire! Arms care to the world, no name on either one. Not even a smidge! He always keeps his arms covered in long sleeves, as he could anyway. Summer’s are a challenge for him, he tends to overheat quite easily regardless of his ice magic. He looks longingly at those bright hideous Pleasure Island shirts.

When he’s alone, he rolls up his sleeves and looks at them forlorn. He is a fae raven, and for so many years it's been lonely. It's not uncommon that sometimes a fae and a human or beastman will be soulmates, usually they appear as they are born, but Crowley has yet to see any ink paint his smooth skin after a decade of waiting…and waiting….

He has been practicing making a nest, so leave the man alone when he steals your shit.

Until one day, the day he yearns for came true. It was during the opening ceremony, did he feel a hot sensation climb up his arm. It was so strong, he practically kneeled over, grabbing onto it as it glowed bright like copper, and once it died, it left a singular name in cursive letters. He couldn’t believe it! You were here! You were finally here! 

Crowley is laughing, crowing up a storm that the housewardens and newcomers felt wary and a bit scared as Crowley hugs his students, twirling them around. He would kiss their cheeks if it wasn’t for the fact that can be counted as harassment and most of these ruffians have claws.

Happy day! Happy day! He had noticed it's the same name for both sides. Oh dear, but it didn’t matter because as of this day, he wasn’t alone! ….Oh…Oh dear, there was quite the commotion, quite the ruckus! Nothing can damper his mood! Not even a cat setting everything on fire and a magicless human!

Then he catches your name, and oh dear….the headmaster had frozen stiff…until your gaze is now covered in feathers and a man sobbing into your arms crying "how beautiful you are!" And "thank the Sevens! I waited for so long! So long to bask in your gaze!”---while you’re yelling in spanish about the crazy bird man, smacking him with his own shoe.

Truly a beautiful sight you have finally arrived! So much so that Trein had to take over since Crowley hasn’t stopped trying to preen your hair and crying into hair.

Once he finally gets himself in control, does his actual duties as a headmaster and deal with the fact you are not of Twisted Wonderland and from another world completely. He’s totally working on a way home— just let him get to know you as he does.

He catches himself staring too long at you. He can’t help it, he’s waited for you for so long! Every curve, every angle of your face makes his breath hitch. You have a bold look to you, confident and with a loud laugh that adds more to your charm.

Oh when he pisses you off, he can tell the second the house is filled with the scent of roasted dried chilies. Cue Crowley wheezing.

He does try to learn the Spanish you speak, wanting to learn more about you and the culture you hail from. Its rather sweet, even if you were teaching him swear words at first.

You have a big sense of community, his soulmate is so generous! Which does make him pout as he watches you, mother hen some of his troublemakers by putting the fear of God into them. 

Though he does like how you bring him into a dance in the kitchens, teaching him the simple steps of dances that have him being twirled around in your arms.

Adding into the second role of being a soulmate, you have pushed Crowley into being more active with his students, something most of his staff has thanked you for. As you were working on your master’s before being run down by the horses in the middle of Los Angeles. 

Even working harder than before, Crowley is utterly in love with his soulmate.

Crewel Divus:

“Hm? I see your eyes seem to find my arms rather fascinating, little pup?” The corner’s of his lips quirk in amusement, but the sharpness of his gray blue eyes made his students squeak. It was one of those rare times, Divus had his sleeves rolled over his arms, letting his unruly pups finally take a gander at who their professor soul mate could be. Most, however, made bets if Crowley was his enemy.

But it was bare and pale, the gawking student had found their mouth shut by the aid of a familiar whip pushing up their chin. “Hm, since you seem so fond of being idle, I can keep you busy,” a loud thwap of his whip smacking his gloved hand,” Detention, cauldron duty.”

As a young youth he was rebellious and scrappy in all the ways that come with being a teenager. Always in fashion regardless of how he looks, however it is noted his arms are bare to the world and Divus doesn't care what the world thinks of his unfortunate status.

Frankly, Divus pushes on the importance of it, he hates what it brings on him with expecting eyes and unlike Crowley who hides it— Divus will make you see he doesn't care about what the world thinks. As far as he is concerned, Crewel is standing here with or without a soulmate to his name. With or without you, Divus Crewel is not to be pitied.

Though, it cannot be said he hasn’t beaten a loud mouth punk twice or thrice when entering NRC.

Growing up however, after getting through his angst and anger, Divus accepts it. Maybe he traces over where the name of the person who can push him to capabilities, caresses the bare arm that was supposed to be his soul companion ... .and it takes his dogs covering him to bring him out of that stupor. 

He’s obsessive in a way that isn’t easily noticeable, something that reflects in his own outfits, his black and white outfits having a missing half in cufflinks, buttons, or belts. There is a way he walks, still poise and confident that seems to make space for someone who is supposed to be there. One has made the mistake of taking the second glass he has set aside—purposefully or not.

The day you finally had come into his life with a bang, literally as he can describe the sudden burning sensation in his arms that evening, Crewel had finally set up his room. The burst of such power had him kneel over, gripping the sides of his vanity so harshly he broke a chunk of it in his bare hands. It was as if something was being carved into him, not his skin he didn’t notice that but his own soul has been molded.  In a hurry, he rips up his sleeve, his cufflinks flying to the corners of his room but that didn’t matter.

His soulmate is here.

Oh when he first meets you, he takes you in. All of you, from the shade of your hair, to the curve of your eyes, the features of what makes you–you. Each note, his mind is already building up the things he can create for you.

You are nothing he expected but that is what thrills him. 

What his eyes picked up was your clothes. Well made, and tailored, stylish with personal flares. A fellow fashionista!

The second he brings you to his workshop, he knows—he knows now that all those cliche romance novels he reads when he’s fully alone means it clicks. 

He loves the embroidery of your culture that is prevalent in every outfit you make. Bright colors of – pinks, greens, yellows and reds. Everything you make has this brightness to it, eye-catching and so utterly full of pride.

There is a way you speak that is also so different from the Spanish variant he is used to, its more playful, relaxed and a bit cocky.

He’s careful in making sure you settle in Twisted Wonderland, while trying so hard not to prod you for too many questions. Though he does admit, he lingers nearby when he hears you sing in Spanish, the grin you have as you sing something he knows is pretty dirty as it seems the Shaftlands share the latin roots as you call it with French in your world. So don’t think he doesn’t know when you're cursing under your breath!

But he does admire the arsenal of insults you seem to throw on the fly when angered. He saved a video of you perfectly tearing off your sandals to throw it at Crowley for ditching his duties on you both. Three seconds is impressive.

Your fashion taste and his tend to clash, but he loves the way you make your canvas come alive during fashion shows he got you to join in. But the second you and him collaborate on a fashion line together, he sees that drive in you that makes him want to chase.

[toournextadventure]

revenge

Summary: (An "everyone but her" one-shot set during college) When you wandered into the woods after an argument, Wednesday gets a call that chills her to the bone. Whichever hunter had hurt you was going to pay. Wednesday was going to make sure of it. Personally.

Word Count: 4.6k Warnings: guns, graphic injury, graphic torture, blood, death, swearing Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist)

Fucking Outcasts.

Ron hated them. Hated how they came into his town, around his wife and kids, and had the nerve to act like they belonged? They needed to be put back into their place. His home was no place for them to be walkin’ around, showin’ off how much of an abomination they were. It was unacceptable.

But he was no idiot. He knew it was illegal because, for some unknown reason, they were considered human by law. There was no tellin’ why anyone would consider those freaks to be human, but he knew how to keep himself out of trouble. With the law, at least. So he went on his hunting trips, got out some anger, and went back home.

Now, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to take an opportunity when it presented itself.

After all, it wasn’t every day that he went hunting and got the perfect opportunity to start fixing the Outcast problem. Surely he couldn’t be faulted for deciding to go out and hunt on a beautiful fall day. It was something he did nearly every weekend during hunting season. The sky was blue, the clouds were fluffy, and the wind created just the right draft to keep the warm comfortable. There was nothing out of the ordinary.

Until Ron saw you. Oh, his hunting trip just got so much more exciting.

He had seen you in the forest far too many times in the past. Every time, there would be another Outcast freak to accompany you. More often than not it was some small black haired young lady that looked fairly normal, all things considered. But then there would be that werewolf girl or that vampire or even that gorgon kid. All freaks, all of you far too loud and invasive in his woods. Not once had he ever seen you alone.

Well. Not once had he ever seen you alone before now.

Admittedly, he would have rather had the chance to go after the werewolf. Think of all the praise he would get for takin’ that little bitch down. It wasn't every day someone got to take down a werewolf and live to tell the tale. But you? Well, you were a trophy in your own right. He was more than happy to mount your wings on a wall if that was the gift that was given to him. After all, a monster is a monster.

Your back was turned to him as he creeped up on you from behind. There was no tellin’ what you were doin’, but he could hear you talkin’ to someone. Something about bugs, he picked up. Good, he thought, too distracted to notice. The rough bark pressed into his arm as he stabilised his rifle against the limb, aiming directly at your left shoulder. The moment he saw the phone in your hand, he gently squeezed the trigger.

His first shot was a little high. With the ease of a practiced hunter, he cleared the round from the chamber. A slight jolt of adrenaline coursed through his veins when you lifted your phone up and he could see the bullet stuck in the case. What look did you have on your face, he wondered. Were you even aware you were being hunted? The next round was chambered and his aim was lowered before you even finished putting the phone back in your pocket.

The slight jolt of adrenaline turned to exhilaration when he saw your body pitch forward when the shot connected with your left shoulder. His pulse only continued to race when you slowly lifted your bloody hand up, confusion evident on your face. It was impressive, at least in his mind, that you hadn't screamed. Not yet, anyway. It was almost upsetting to miss out on those screams. But then when you hesitantly turned around and made eye contact with him?

Oh, it was like seeing those pearly gates.

"Better fly, little bird," Ron said with a grin as he leveled the rifle at your head.

Oh, the thrill in his veins as he shot at the tree beside your head and heard your scream. Finally a scream, and oh what a delicious sound it was. The way your hands flew to cover your head as you ducked down? If he hadn't been so eager to play with you first, he would've killed you on the spot. But he wanted the thrill of the hunt, to see the fear seep into your very bones. Without any intention to fire, he lifted the gun and aimed it at you once more.

You locked eyes with him for only a second before darting off in the opposite direction. Even from his position he could see the blood pooling through your shirt. The cool breeze reminded him that you must be wearing at least two layers; oh, he had gotten you good.

Ron let you get a little further away before looking down the scope, his eyes following your legs. Thank God for the hair trigger as it took only the smallest bit of pressure before the shot echoed through the trees once again. Sadistic satisfaction reflected on his face as you tumbled forward, rolling across the ground clutching your right knee.

Leaves and twigs crunched underneath his boots as he stalked closer and closer. Even from this distance he could hear your pathetic whimpers in a humiliating display. He took his time loading the next round, giving you the chance to stand up.

It took another bullet into the ground beside you - he heard the groan you let out when it grazed your hip - before you pushed yourself to your feet. The half-run, half-skip you had to do was satisfying to watch. It led to a significantly slower pace, perfect for him to walk after you and still make ground.

A laugh fell from his lips as he fired and you screamed again, throwing yourself behind a tree. He knew which tree, he could see the blood on the ground where you had just been standing. If he listened carefully, he could hear your gasps from his current position.

“Little broken thing,” he said with a shake of his head. Steady fingers loaded a newly filled cartridge into the chamber. “Can’t you run better than that?”

“Can’t you shoot better than that?” You called out from behind the tree.

Ah, he thought with a smile as he lifted the rifle again. You're a fiesty one. A single pull of the trigger and the bullet dug into the tree, sending bark flying in all directions. All it would take was one well placed shot to scare you out of your hiding spot. He had three more rounds to use as he please, it was an easy choice. Luckily it only took one more shot before you took off, finally jumping into the air.

Oh how beautiful those wings would look mounted in his trophy room. As he looked down the scope, it almost seemed a pity to clip them. They were far too stunning to damage. But hey, he had mounted damaged trophies before, what was one more?

Through the scope, Ron could see the bone at the base of your wing break under the impact, blood and feathers spewing from the wound. He didn't bother stopping his laughter as you plummeted to the ground a few hundred feet away, crashing through the tree limbs until hitting the earth.

He couldn't see you, but he could hear you. Could hear the gasping and the whimpers, the wet sounds coming from every breath you took. As much as he enjoyed the hunt, he was ready to take your corpse back home. It was a trip to celebrate.

His feet walked over the blood splatters littering the leaves on the ground until they disappeared. There was one large pool of blood to his left, but you were nowhere to be found. He looked around, eyes trailing over every possible place you could be before landing on a hollow log.

There was no way he could get in it to check, and even if he could it was far too dark. The noises of the forest were picking up as the day turned into afternoon. Cicadas screaming their song, birds chirping about the beautiful day, wind whistling through the trees. Yet, he couldn't hear your gasps.

A part of him suspected you were hiding in the hollow log. All Outcasts were cowards, it wouldn't surprise him if you were hiding like one. But his instincts told him no, it wasn't possible. The blood spots disappeared, and with all your injuries there was no way you would be able to hide it. But just to be sure…

He held the rifle to the log and pulled the trigger for the last time. Bark flew, a few pieces leaving stinging scratches on his arm; a welcome pain when it accompanied a win. Waiting for a moment for any noise that would indicate you were there. But it was silent. Only the call of the forest gave him comfort in his assumption.

"I'll find your corpse tomorrow," Ron said into the open air. "Don't fly too far, ya hear?"

Silence was his only answer.

—---

The apartment was eerily quiet as the setting sun filtered through the blackout curtains. La Llorona fell from the gramophone like a whisper, just loud enough to be heard but soft enough to caress the nerves, creating a calming sensation. It bounced off the ancient brick wall to fill every inch of the space and completely enveloped Wednesday into something akin to a trance.

A steaming cup of tea rested beside the typewriter as she hammered away at the keys. The words jumped off the page not from her genius, but from sheer frustration. They didn’t flow, they didn’t connect, and more than once she found herself typing out her internal anger towards you. Though, she supposed it was no longer internal once they were inked into the paper.

She should have rejoiced in your absence; it created the perfect atmosphere for her to write and relax. But of course you had to ruin that as well by not making noise or going about your own business in the shared space. Who would have ever thought that her exceedingly specific writing environment now included your presence?

But she would be damned if she just let you back in after that ridiculous display of yours. You had the nerve to argue with her when all she was trying to do was keep you from getting yourself killed? Did you not remember the last time you had gone out for a stroll in the woods? The scars on your side should have been enough of a reminder for you.

“You’re not going,” Wednesday said once you hung up the call with Eugene. He seemed to call you often nowadays.

“Come on, he’s got the flu and just wants some bugs to cheer him up,” you said with a cheery smile.

“Have you forgotten what happened the last time you went bug hunting for Eugene?” She asked. You blinked rapidly as your smile slowly fell.

“It’s barely mid-morning, Wends,” you said with a hesitant chuckle. “The sun is up and the full moon isn’t for another 10 days.”

“And yet you always seem to find another way to get hurt.”

She could see the muscles in your jaw tense up as you crossed your arms over your chest. The way you cocked your hip was indicative of your mood, if Wednesday couldn’t already tell from the look you were giving her. All the air in the apartment thickened as she held your gaze, nearly suffocating her under your scrutiny.

It was a small price to pay if it meant you would stay home where it was safe.

“You never think things through,” Wednesday said, “and it gets you hurt.”

“No one ever said you had to be my keeper,” you said through clenched teeth. “I rather remember you choosing that on your own.”

"Clearly you need one." She was getting dangerously close to setting you off; it was evident in the way you stood taller, your slightly ruffled wings folding closer to your body. "But I have more important matters to attend to without adding your lack of common sense to the plate."

"Well it's a good thing I didn't ask you to accompany me then, isn't it?" You snapped. There it was, the line she had crossed; it was far closer than she had thought.

"I won't be the one cleaning your wounds when you get back," Wednesday said with a note of finality. She turned away from you to look out the window in a simple effort not to meet your eyes.

"Don't worry, Addams," your venomous emphasis on her name stung like salt in an open wound, "you won't be my first call." Your voice was accompanied by the jingling of keys. "I'd hate to impede on your more important matters."

The door slammed shut.

Wednesday flinched when the phone in the kitchen started ringing. The slightest smile slipped past her defenses at the stupid ringtone you had set. The Addams Family theme song, you had said with a ridiculous half smile that vanished the moment she had slapped the back of your head. Only in the privacy of her own mind would she admit she almost enjoyed it.

She cringed at the squeak of the chair on the hardwood floor as she pushed it back. You had promised to fix it not so long ago. But there was still time, there was no hurry. Her footsteps were accompanied by their own squeaks, following her into the kitchen until she picked up the phone.

"Addams residence," she said simply. If you were there, you would've teased her for it.

"Hey Wednesday?" Of course it was Eugene. "Have you heard from Y/N lately?"

"No," she said simply, "not since she left this morning."

"Do you know where she is?" He asked. "She's not answering my calls anymore."

"Perhaps her phone died," Wednesday said in an effort to calm herself more than Eugene. "She never remembers to charge it."

"Normally I would agree, but our call was cut off," he said with a sigh. "She was showing me a bug when I heard something loud and the call cut out."

Oh. Oh, that was something. That was certainly something to concern herself over.

"I haven't been able to get a hold of her since then," Eugene finished, but Wednesday's head was already swimming.

"I'll find her," Wednesday said in a detached voice, "thank you for telling me, Eugene."

She didn't give him the chance to reply before hanging up the call and immediately pulling up the tracking app that Enid had so kindly installed all those years ago. The tracker was in that worn leather bracelet, so as long as that was still intact, she could find you.

Please be intact, she thought as the app continued to load. Her breath was caught in her throat as she waited, waited, waited until finally your location popped up. There, she thought as she zoomed in, still in the woods.

She sent a quick text to Enid before she was out the door, her feet carrying her down the stairs faster than ever. The one good thing about this little town was the proximity to the woods. It was only a few minutes away by foot, and usually made for a lovely picnic location. But now, with the sun setting and the temperature dropping, it looked intimidating. You were in there, possibly dying, and she froze.

No, Wednesday thought, an Addams doesn’t freeze. With a deep breath in, she stalked forward into the woods with a clear goal in mind. Her eyes stayed locked to the painfully bright screen of the phone, watching as your location got closer and closer. You’re too far from home, she thought when she realised the lights of the nearby town had stopped flickering through the trees.

Her jog stumbled into a stop once she reached the area you were in. She turned in circles looking for you, for any sign that you were there. Trees all around, sticks and leaves covered the ground, there were a few stumps, a fallen log. Nothing to indicate you were in the area.

“Y/N!” Wednesday shouted when, after five minutes, she still found no sign of you.

The crickets started up after her call, eliminating any chance she would have of hearing your answer. Your bracelet was here, it was right here, so where were you? Why weren’t you answering her? Every possibility ran through her mind as she spun around again, desperately waiting for a sign. Anything.

Then she heard it. Over the crickets and the wind and the sound of her own feet, she heard it. A deafening wet gasp that rang in her ears. It was a noise that stopped her heart in her chest and dunked every nerve in her body in ice water. Within an instant she was kneeled beside the hollow log and peering in.

And within that same instant, she felt the pooled blood on the ground soaking into her pants.

You were missing a shoe. That was the only sensible thought running through her mind as she tried to work your body out of the log. Blood stained her hands as she pulled you out, but she couldn’t stop looking at your bare foot. When had you lost your shoe? She blinked as she pushed your wings down so they wouldn’t get caught against the bark. Would you be so terribly upset at having lost it? She blinked again as your shoulders appeared and she could sit you against the tree stump.

There was no way she would be able to get all the blood out of your jacket, she thought as she pressed her hands against the gaping hole below your sternum. Fresh blood pooled around her fingers; deliciously warm against the cool fall air. With the hole closed, your breathing sounded a bit more complete, less like you were breathing through a wet cloth.

“Wednesday?”

Oh, Enid. She arrived just in time, it was time for you to go home. It was time for her to get you home and patch up your wounds because surely these weren’t too bad. You were resilient, this wouldn’t set you back. A few bandages, a few days of rest and you would be back on your feet in no time.

“We need to get her home,” Wednesday said when she felt a hand rest lightly on her shoulder. “She needs some rest.”

“Okay,” Enid said softly. “Okay, I’ll carry her.”

She blinked rapidly as Enid finally came into view, sliding her arms underneath you until she could lift you up. Oh, she thought, my hands are shaking. In the dark, she couldn’t see the blood staining her skin. She just stood up and turned to Enid. You’re resting, she thought when you still hadn’t moved. Just resting.

“Knew it was a great night.”

Wednesday’s head shot up at the voice; it was no one she knew. A silhouette in the dark; a tall silhouette with a gun pointed right at them. The sun might have set, but Wednesday knew a gun when she saw one. And this one was aimed with a precision that would have terrified most.

“Came out for one, go home with three,” the man continued. She couldn’t see it, but she could hear the smile. “Say goodnight, little girl.”

She expected to hear the echo of a rifle, see the flash of the muzzle, feel the sting of a bullet tearing through skin. Instead she saw electricity, heard the man scream before falling to the ground. Her eyes stayed on him just long enough to ensure he wasn’t getting back up before looking at her saviour.

“Yoko?” She asked.

“Why is it always you three?” Yoko asked. “This is exactly why I chipped all of you.”

“Call Bianca,” Enid said; Yoko nodded and made the call. It took only a few seconds until it was done and all three girls started walking back to the apartment building.

But when Wednesday passed the man on the ground, she stopped. He had mentioned coming out here for you. The hunting rifle was cocked and ready to fire, and the bullets looked big enough to cause the hole in your chest. He had come back out for you. Why had he smiled when talking? He had come out here for you.

“Wait,” Wednesday said. The footsteps stopped. “Bring him too.”

There was only the slightest pause before Yoko appeared in her view once again, bending down to toss the hunter over her shoulder. No one questioned Wednesday’s motives; they didn’t have to. Plausible deniability, they would claim. Wednesday didn’t care.

She was going to make him pay.

—---

Wednesday watched Bianca finish stitching you up with glazed over eyes; overall you had needed 57 stitches across all wounds. It was rather impressive in and of itself. Four gunshot wounds, a shattered wing, multiple lacerations. Potentially a collapsed lung, Bianca had warned.

“We’ll watch for infection,” Bianca had said as she cleaned her hands, “and we can take her to an Outcast doctor in the morning.”

In the morning. That was nine hours away; plenty of time for Wednesday to have her fun. Only when she had finished making sure you were comfortable did she make her way down to the basement. None of the gang even attempted to stop her; they all knew it was of no use.

The hunter’s muffled screams could be heard from the moment she opened the basement door. It sent a jolt through her veins as she walked closer. To see him tied to the chair, at her mercy this time. She hoped he felt what he had made you feel in the woods.

She pulled the cloth down from his mouth.

“Not much of a hunter,” she said. “You were taken down by a little girl.”

“I took one of ya down,” he said, “and she screamed like a lil bitch.”

Wednesday’s face never changed. Not even when the world turned red and she could just imagine the screams you had let out. Had he enjoyed it? Hearing you scream, watching you run for your life? She hoped he had, because she was about to feel the same way.

Each grunt, groan, and scream she pulled from his lips did the opposite of what she had anticipated. Instead of easing her own fear, it only increased it. She enjoyed seeing him cry, felt a thrill when she saw the blood fall from fresh cuts. It was exhilarating to see him suffer.

But as the hours dragged by, all she could think about was if this was how he felt when you were at the other end of the rifle.

All it did was increase her own anger. The flash of the taser stayed longer, his screams echoed louder, the cuts got deeper. It didn’t ease her fears, it didn’t ease her anger. Her mind kept flashing images of you, bleeding and broken and dying, and he was still alive? He could have killed you, could have taken your body and no one would have ever found you.

She buried the knife in his thigh, her eyes falling shut as he screamed again. It was a pathetic scream; high-pitched and childish. The sound was grating, and she almost wished he would just shut up. Didn’t he understand that this was not going to help him? If anything, she wanted to do worse just to shut him up.

The basement door opened behind her but she didn’t dare look. The gang knew better than to come down and show their faces. They didn’t care to know what was going on. It was probably just Enid making sure she hadn’t forgotten something down there; it had happened too many times before.

“Wends.”

Oh. Her head spun, eyes wide as she saw you leaning against the doorframe. You were in nothing but boxers and a sports bra; your blood was already soaking through the white bandages. What were you doing up? You were supposed to be in bed. Someone should have been watching you, where were they? Did they not understand you needed rest? What could have possessed you to stumble down three flights of stairs?

“It’s not worth it,” you said, so softly that it hurt Wednesday’s heart.

Her mind was reeling. Why would you care what happened to him? She didn’t know what exactly had gone on out there, but you had nearly died. For all Wednesday knew, you had died; she still couldn’t believe you hadn’t bled out in the woods. He had hunted you for sport, had played with your life, and you didn’t want her to kill him?

“Go back to bed,” was all she said. But her eyes didn’t leave your frame that was sagging further and further against the doorframe. You sighed, and Wednesday watched with bated breath until you finally breathed in again after far too long.

“Just make it quick,” you said. Your eyes shifted to look right behind her; the hunter. “You should start praying.”

You didn’t leave the basement like she had wanted you to, but as you started to sink to the floor, she finally realised that you couldn’t go upstairs on your own. Any energy you had managed to muster was gone. Damn you, she thought as she ripped the knife out of the hunter’s leg. Now I have to make it quick.

She didn’t say a word before yanking his head back and dragging the knife across his neck. With the right depth and pressure, it only took a few seconds before his gurgling screams came to a stop. His blood coated her shirt and for a moment she felt dirty. Not from the act, but from his disgusting life sticking to her clothes. She would need to burn it tomorrow.

But for now, she had something much more important to attend to.

Wednesday placed the knife back on the table and rushed to you before you could fall even further. It was one of the few times she thanked your genetics for making you lighter than you appeared. All it took was a little bit of elbow grease to get you back up the stairs and into bed.

Only once you were settled did she crawl into the bed after you, keeping her distance so as not to risk any sort of injury or agitation to your wounds. Her eyes trailed over every bruise, every bandage, every stitch, every bump and scratch. You had been alone out there for hours, bleeding out and dying while she was home, getting increasingly angry with you for something that was so meaningless in the grand scheme of things.

“I’m sorry,” Wednesday whispered when you took a deep, shuddering inhale. It sounded painful, and all it did was send a knife through her heart.

Tomorrow, she could clean up her mess while you were being tended to at the hospital. But for now, in this moment, she was going to watch over you the way she should have earlier. To watch your every breath, to make sure you weren’t hurting. It was all she wanted. She could scold you for being so foolish another day. Right now, she was just thankful you were still alive. She didn’t think she would survive if anything happened to you.

Maybe she would bring out the ring sitting at the back of the closet once you were healed. Surely you would be less reckless then.

[heliswife]

HI HELLO I SAW UR AKITO POST W CASE 143 AND STARTED JUMPING AROUND LIKE LITTLE PILGRIM KIDS ON THE MAYFLOWER WHEN THEY SAW LAND

anyway !! can you do a toya fic based off of IVE’s heya? especially the lines,

“ Should I break this icy heart? Yes, I mean your startled heart. “ ” The moment you’re drawn in, I’ll bite “

“ Brighter, redder, It's okay to rise up and burn Higher, up higher Even if you hide, you're still in the palm of my hand The deep darkness, the thick clouds will Hide you beneath a long night again “

So maybe with a reader who’s super drawn to how placid Toya is, and has a huge crush on him, and after a couple months of pining is determined to win his heart ? tyyy and no pressure

NOT ME RUSHING TO WRITE THIS ASAP I LOVE HEYA DEF ON MY TOP THREE IVE SONGS 😍 AND I LOVE YOU LITTLE PILGRIM KID ON THE MAYFLOWER!! I tried my best to follow the plot but I sorta got distracted 🤷‍♀️ i hope you like it anyways!!

You were first drawn to Toya when you noticed him in your class. He didn't stand out much compared to anyone else in your class, but that's exactly what got you attracted to him. You didn't act on this crush at first, knowing that he wouldn't like you back anyways. However, there was that 0.1% of hope that told you to try talking to him.

It started with simple conversations, getting to know each other better. You learned that he liked music, and he enjoyed drinking coffee. He wasn't the biggest talker at first, confused even, when you attempted talking to him for the first time. But now you two met up after school to study and chat more.

Your third outing is what made you want to try and take things a little further. You sat closer to him, made subtle touches such as when you're giving stuff to him or a touch on the forearm as he passes by you, and even not breaking eye contact when he caught you staring at him in class (terrifying, I know) At some point, Toya returned the gestures in his own way. He'd help you carry things and compliment your style. You still felt as if he only liked you platonically, but still, something told you that you had to confess to him.

It was the perfect chance after he walked home with you from school. "Hey, Toya? I've been wanting to tell you this for a while now. I really like you, not in the friend way."

Toya's eyes slightly widened, and the two of you were silent before he muttered the response, "You really return the feelings..? I like you too, y/n. I'd be glad to be your boyfriend." His soft hand touched yours, thumb stroking the back of your hand. "May I kiss you?"

You nodded, and as he finally let himself approach your face, everything else was swept away. His lips were soft and he was right about liking coffee, cause that's exactly what he tasted like. After the kiss ended, the only sounds were your breaths and the birds tweeting.

"I'll.. I'll get going, y/n. Thank you," Toya said. He smiled at you and walked away from your house to head to his own. You watched him leave, your two eyes targeting him and watched as he slowly became a silhouette, merged with his surroundings. Going, going, gone.

[specialagentlokitty]

Farah x reader - the fun of it

WAIT NO 76 AND 72 GO TOGEHTER SO WELL Farah's gilfriend just absolutely loves nature, and would do anything to get closer, inclduing the roof, and worryi g Farah to no end??? - @casserole-from-dads-asserole 💜

72: “Why are you on the roof?” “I saw a bird.”

76: “You’re making me go grey.” “You’re old, that’s normal.”

One minute you were next to Farah while so stopped to speak to a few students asking her for advice, and when she turned around after she was done you were gone.

Furrowing her brows a little she looked around in confusion.

“Have you lost something headmistress Dowling?” Aisha asked.

The five fairies stopped walking to look at the leader of their school, and she turned to face them.

“Someone. Did you see (Y/N)? She was right here now she’s gone.”

“No sorry, surely she couldn’t have gotten far though.” Terra smiled.

Farah nodded her head and carried on looking around for you, trying to figure out where it is you had gone.

You used the vines to push yourself to the roof, and you climbed up, sitting on the edge as you looked at the large bird.

“Well you’re an unusual sight for the school, what are you doing here?”

The hawk titled her head a little, examining you, and you smiled softly as you waited for her to finish looking at you.

After deeming you weren’t a threat you happily sat down and smiled to yourself, only to frown a little when you felt your phone vibrate with a text.

Pulling it out you looked at it.

Farah: where did you go?

Shuffling to the side a little you turned around and looked for her, and when you found her you took a photo and sent it to her.

You watched Farah pulled her phone out of her pocket and look at it before turning around.

Farah: get back down here!

You: in a minute!

Farah: why are you on the roof?!

You beamed go yourself.

You: I saw a bird!

Stuffing your phone away you shuffled out of her sight and she stood with her arms crossed waiting.

A few moments later you came padding around the side of the building and walked over to her with a huge grin on your face.

“What if you fell?!”

“It’s fine! I do it all the time!” You beamed.

Farah rolled her eyes at you and pulled you back around the side of the building away from the sight of the students.

“What do you mean you do it all the time?” She asked.

“I mean I’m on the roof at least once a day. I’m shocked you or anyone else hasn’t noticed yet.”

“Oh my god…” she whispered.

You watched Farah run a hand down her face as you smiled sweetly up at her.

“You’re making me go grey.”

You hummed a little, cracking a smirk.

“You’re old, that’s normal.”

“Oh I’m old am I?”

“I mean you’re five years older than me. Therefore your old, but that’s okay, we all get old one day.”

Farah shook her head a little, reaching out she placed her hand on the side of your face and leant in and you closed your eyes.

But she didn’t kiss you.

Nope.

Instead she leant next to your ear.

“If that’s the case then I guess this old woman is too old to be dating.” She whispered.

She walked away and you blinked and looked to where she ran.

“No! Farah that’s mean!”

You chased after her, trying to catch up to her but she was an unnaturally fast walker.

“Farah! Don’t be mean!” You pouted.

She turned around, walking backwards as she shrugged a little bit.

“You said in old.” She called back.

“No! I was joking! Please! I love you!”

Farah turned around and carried on walking and you hugged a little.

“Fine I’ll go sit with my new friend!”

Farah spun around.

“Don’t you dare go back on that roof (Y/N)!”

You grinned, slowly backing away as she walked closer.

“Don’t you dare.”

“Im doing it! At least the hawk will love me!”

You spun around and ran away from her and she chased after you, back around the corner to where you just came from and you stood there with your arms crossed.

Farah walked around the corner and you grinned brightly at her.

“I knew you’d follow me.”

“Of course is follow you, you’re a walking hazard.”

“Ouch, okay. That hurts but it’s true.”

Farah smiled and walking over to you, placing her arms on your shoulders and you placed your on her hips.

“Stop. Climbing. The. Roof.” She whispered.

“I. Make. No. Promises.” You copied.

Farah sighed heavily, but she wore a soft smile, planting a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“What am I ever going to do with you love?” She asked softly.

“Accept I’m a bit stupid and love me?”

“Of course I love you.”

You smiled and rested your head on her shoulder, wrapping your arms around her waist.

“You’re still old.”

“I will walk away right now.”

“No!”

Farah laughed.

She loved to wind you up, it was one of her favourite things to do, to pass time.

You knew she loved you, but sometimes she just liked to see you pout because she thought it was adorable